#alfred did NOT want him doing it but he relented

[beeceit]

the more I read and reread the comics the more I realize that a lot of the fanon criticizers are just as bad as the fanon only folks, are we even reading the same books y'all are yelling at them to read????

not talking about people who are chill about criticizing fanon and avoiding what isn't their taste, talking about the ones who bash people and act like they're the only ones who understand canon while also having their own interpretation that's not only inaccurate but meanspirited

like tumblr specifically has a problem with overcorrecting, both with fandom and real life discourse, I know that

but goodness y'all both need to read lonely place of dying because that did NOT go down the way some of y'all are saying it did

[streetlamp-amber]

can we just stay in bed? (18+)

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 2.8k | divider by @cafekitsune | requests are open!

CW: smut (MDNI), p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), soft sex NOTES: i usually don’t write soft smut like this so i don’t really know if i’m 100% satisfied with this or not but i still wanted to share, let me know your thoughts :)

The joyful singing of the birds in the forest surrounding Wayne Manor could be heard from miles away as the sun was rising over the treetops, marking the beginning of a new day in Gotham. A lone ray of sunshine made its way through the gap between the two curtains hung over the window of you and Bruce's bedroom, illuminating the darkness with a soft golden glow.

Today was Saturday, meaning you didn't have work waiting for you or school to drive Dick and Jason to. The only plan on the schedule this morning was to sleep in, even for Alfred.

But your husband had other plans.

Bruce woke up on his own, his body was now used to being up early to make sure the boys had completed all of their homework before dropping them off at school. He was laying on his back with your head nestled in the crook of his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin at a gentle rhythm while your arm and leg were hooked around him, keeping your body flushed against his. A grateful, satisfied smile formed on Bruce’s lips as he hugged you closer to him and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved waking up with you in his arms, it was his favourite part of the day – when all his worries about Gotham were still dormant in the back of his mind, when he could bask in the peacefulness of the morning with your steady breathing reminding him how lucky he was that you were so much of a hothead, you had him pull over on the side of the road to reprimand his reckless driving when he almost rear ended your car. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, because your anger and your indifference to his celebrity status had already caught his heart right then and there, the fact that you were breathtakingly beautiful was only a plus. Six years had passed since then and Bruce had tried his best to remain on your good side in that time, but it happened sometimes that you let out your anger on him – like when he let Dick patrol with him for the first time. He found that he was still as captivated and enamoured with you as he was when the two of you first met, you’re just so hot when you’re angry, he can’t help it.

Overcome with the love he held for you, Bruce started peppering soft, barely-there kisses on your cheek, your nose, your jaw and your neck, moving you to lay on your back as he did so for him to have better access to your skin. His gentle touches pulled you out of your slumber and you stretched out your limbs, your husband never relenting with his affections.

“Good morning, my love,” Bruce whispered in between kisses on your throat.

You giggled, the softness of his lips tickling you. “Good morning,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck while his held you tight under your back. You turned your head to glance at the digital clock on your bedside table, noticing the time displayed in red light. “Isn’t it too early to be awake on a Saturday morning?”

“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he comfortably laid on you, his face now resting in the crook of your neck.

“Ten past seven,” you answered, your hands finding their way to your husband’s hair. Your fingers threaded through his soft waves and you felt him hum in satisfaction against you.

“I’m not sleepy anymore,” he weakly argued, eyes closing as your scent comforted him.

“Bruce, I can literally feel your breathing slowing down like it does when you fall asleep,” you chuckled.

“Then we should do something to stay awake and enjoy these minutes of peace we have that are oh so rare,” Bruce suggested with an impish tone.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, “we haven't made blueberry waffles in quite some time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stood up above you, trapping you under his body with his elbows resting on both sides of your head. “Can we just stay in bed?” He asked, his crooked grin on his lips as he leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose with his.

“And do what?” You feigned innocence, but your husband knew you too well – he had known you for more than six years after all, he liked to think he knew you more than he knew himself – and the mischievousness in your eyes didn't go past him.

“I have a few ideas in mind,” Bruce said before claiming your lips with his. You breathed a sigh of relief that he absorbed and he placed himself in between your legs.

He stood up after a minute for the both of you to get some air and teasingly tugged at the hem of your shirt (which really was one of his old Princeton shirts from his university days). “I think it's not fair I’m the only one who's bare chest,” he said, raising the shirt just above your bellybutton.

“I think you make a compelling argument, Mr. Wayne,” you playfully agreed then removed said shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Bruce didn’t waste any second, immediately peppering your chest with kisses the moment your skin was freed from your clothes. You relaxed into your pillow, enjoying the attention your husband was giving to every inch of your body. He took his time to savour your taste and you let him. There was no rushing this morning, only the two of you in your bubble of love where time and the outside world didn’t exist.

He nipped his teeth all over your chest, leaving soft bite marks in his trail, and sucked on your nipples, his hand massaging your boob his mouth wasn’t currently attached to.

“Bruce…” You mewled after he spent five minutes on each of your breasts, only now beginning his slow descent down your stomach. Ten minutes of working you up had you now very impatient and wanting for more.

“Patience, my love,” Bruce said against your skin, getting closer to where you needed him most. “We’re taking it slow this morning, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Mmm, I know of two certain boys who will be knocking at our door in less than an hour to see if you’re awake so you can watch the morning cartoons with them,” you argued, raising up your hips when he started leaving kisses on the inside of your right thigh.

“That won’t be a problem,” your husband reassured you before claiming your clit in his mouth, making you squeal in surprise. “Good thing I had the walls of our bedroom soundproofed,” he paused his sucking on your bundle of nerves to tease you with a grin on his shiny lips.

You glared at him, unamused, which made him chuckle at your cute face and he quickly kissed your thigh before going back to his previous task. He lapped the slick in between your folds like a man who had spent fourteen days in the desert and was drinking water for the first time. His tongue teased your entrance before diving in, grunting in pleasure when your hips bucked up closer to him, making his nose brush against your clit. Bruce could never get tired of you, of your taste, of the sounds you made because of him. It spurred him on and for the time being, his only purpose in life was to satisfy you.

He couldn’t even begin to explain the control you had over him, the way you guided him through this life like a lighthouse in a storm. He was putty in your hands, has been ever since the two of you met, and he knew very well how lost he would be without you. Yeah, he would be financially secured thanks to his family, but in every other aspect of his life, even as Batman, he wouldn’t be who he was today without you. And Bruce, who had never really been good at vocally expressing his feelings, would let you know how thankful he was to have you in his life the way he knew best: by pleasuring you to completion like no other person ever has before because no one has taken the time to learn every single reaction of your body like he had.

“Bruce…” you whined as your hand tugged at his hair. You needed more, you needed more than just his tongue inside of you so you pulled him up by the head, bringing him to your level, and attached your lips to his, tasting yourself on him, while your legs wound around his waist. You felt his hard cock brushing against your center through the fabric of his boxers and jolted at the slight pressure applied on your clitoris.

The two of you slowly and messily made out, Bruce’s right hand holding your cheek and his left one clutching onto your hip. Your hands had found their way to the waistband of his boxers, trying to pull them down to get what you wanted. Bruce helped you, his left hand leaving your hip to remove the only item of clothing still on, his mouth never detaching from yours as he did so.

Once fully nude, Bruce retracted from you, standing on his knees before dipping his fingers between your folds to gather some of your wetness and rub it over his dick. You watched him with anticipation, the sight before you something you could never get tired of. Your husband was straight out of a dream and, still to this day, you’d pinch yourself sometimes to make sure you were awake, that this was your life.

That somehow, Bruce Wayne fell in love with you.

But he was also so different from how he presented himself to the media, to the public, that sometimes you forgot you married the Bruce Wayne, heir to the powerful Wayne family, prince of Gotham. To you, he was just your silly husband who was incredibly hot and put everybody else before him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Bruce brushed the tip of his cock against the lips of your pussy. “I hope I’m not too much of a bore, darling,” he said, a teasing undertone lacing his words.

“No, just admiring the view and how lucky I am that my husband is so damn hot,” you replied playfully though there were no lies to your answer.

“Clearly you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror lately babe because I’m the lucky one,” Bruce told you, his eyes confidently holding yours to show how truthful he was. He lined himself with your entrance, his stare never leaving your face so that he could drink in your expressions when he sheathed himself to the hilt inside you.

The two of you groaned in pleasure and Bruce took a moment to bask in your warmth, his eyes roaming all over you.

“Especially when you look so goddamn gorgeous with my cock inside you,” he added onto his previous comment, making you roll your eyes at the machoness of his words.

“Shut up and start moving already,” you chuckled.

“As you wish, my darling,” he leaned down to kiss you again and started rolling his hips to a slow, steady pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands found their place at his nape, scratching his scalp and tugging his hair, making him moan in your mouth. Your tongues danced to the same rhythm as Bruce’s thrusts, the both of you drowning in the feeling of the other.

Sex with Bruce was usually more rapid, more frantic, more bruising, more fiery, and you loved it. You loved how he could make you forget about the gala happening right down the hallway and the handprints he’d unconsciously leave on your hips from his grip. But you also loved when sex with Bruce was languid with no hurry. When one made you forget everything, the other basked you in love and made you feel like you were in a dream.

Bruce’s mouth left yours to trail down your cheek, then your jaw, until it found its place in the crook of your neck. He deposited open mouthed kisses all over your skin, licking it and leaving small nips on it. He easily found the pulse point behind your ear and, knowing you could easily hide that spot, started sucking on it and doubled the pleasure building inside you.

It made your breath hitch and your nails dig in his back muscles, leaving small red crescents on his skin. You felt him smile against your skin, his pride always swelled up to the reactions he was able to pull out of you.

“Mph, you feel so good darling,” Bruce groaned in your ear and kissed it. “You always do.”

“And you make me feel so good baby,” you answered, squeezing your walls around him as you said so.

Bruce’s head appeared in your eyeline again, his famous grin on his lips as his eyes roamed over your face, full of love. “I love you,” he told you.

You were about to say ‘I love you’ back but he didn’t let you, claiming your mouth with his instead to drag you in another make out session. He changed the angle of his hips at the same time and the tip of his dick brushed your G-spot, making you mewl. Bruce’s left hand fell down to the back of your right thigh, gripping it tight as he held it a little higher. It allowed him to go about one more inch further, said spot now being hit with every thrust.

“Oh God, yes,” you freed your mouth from his as your head fell back, your eyes squeezing shut due to the pleasure gradually overtaking your senses.

“Look at me, darling,” Bruce asked you and you obeyed, struggling to keep your eyes open as the two of you held eye contact. “Are you close?”

He knew you were, he knew your body like the back of his hand, but he still asked you the question just to be sure.

You couldn’t answer him. Your mouth was in a permanent ‘o’ shape as breathy moans escaped your lips with every thrust and you were unable to focus for more than one second on how to speak. So you nodded your head yes.

Bruce’s hand that held your thigh let it go to instead dip between your legs, easily finding your clit and rubbing it in circles with just the right amount of pressure. He proudly watched as you unravelled beneath him, your orgasm hitting you with full force. As he helped you ride it out, he reached his own climax and fell over you, but still made sure to not put his entire weight on you, as the two of you caught your breath.

Your husband removed himself from inside you and rolled over to lay next to you on his side so he could face you. “I love you,” he said again, kissing your temple covered with a sheen of sweat.

You turned to face him, your hand reaching to hold his cheek as you replied, “I love you”. You kissed him on the lips, this time short and sweet, and Bruce laid on his back so you could snuggle up against him with your head on his chest.

“You know, we should wash up before the boys come knocking on our door,” you said after a few minutes of peace.

“Can we just stay in bed for another minute?” Bruce childishly whined, his fingers brushing up and down your bare bicep.

“You're such a big baby,” you teased him, chuckling.

“Well sorry I’m a little spent from our early morning activity,” he lightheartedly argued.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” you said, rising on your elbows to look over him. “I’m going to the bathroom and I’ll bring back with me a wet cloth for you to wash yourself and then we can cuddle and maybe go back to sleep until Dick and Jason crash through the door to drag you downstairs and watch cartoons. Sounds like a deal?”

“Sounds like a really good deal to me,” Bruce answered, bringing you down to peck your lips before he rested his hands behind his head. “You should come down to the tower next time we’re looking to make a deal with another company.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine with leaving all that work to you,” you pecked his lips once again and stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover yourself up. “I’ll be right back,” you said behind your shoulder as you walked towards the bathroom connected to your room.

Bruce didn’t hear you, too preoccupied with staring at your ass to focus on anything else. God, I’m the luckiest man in all of Gotham, he thought to himself before you disappeared through the door frame.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi idk if you're taking requests rn but can you please do if possible batfamily x male reader who's younger than dick but older than jason and he is really shy around batfamily because he came to the family after damian idk if this makes sense and while out on patrol an enemy injects him something that turned him into a toddler but he still has all his memory the rest is up to you im sorry if this doesn't make sense😭

It's fine, it makes perfect sense, don't worry my dear anon. I know exactly what you mean. Did I use this GIF before? Yes. Does it work in this context? Yes. And did I use this GIF for a story before where I also wrote about a shy reader? Yes.

Summary: (Y/N) is shy around his family. That is until he is turned into a toddler.

Warnings: shy (Y/N), (Y/N) is turned into a toddler, not a lot of bad warnings, besides mentioning Bruce being stabbed for the purpose of this one shot.

(Y/N) was always shy, even before Bruce adopted him. But that shyness completely intensified when he was adopted into the family. He was younger than Dick, but older than Jason, which would put him somewhere in the middle. If only he didn't come after Damian came into the family, it might have been easier.

Coming into a new family where there are already four siblings and you are the fifth one... It's not easy to say the very least. Meeting new people is not easy and (Y/N) always struggled with being shy and just over all... A bit overwhelmed. More often than not, (Y/N) could be found with a blush on his cheeks. Very quiet too... Feeling self conscious more often than not.

Bruce tried to make his son more comfortable. So did the other boys. All of them in their own ways. Bruce talked to (Y/N) about becoming a vigilante. Which (Y/N) thought was a good idea. But due to his shyness... (Y/N) was very hesitant to do so. He didn't want to impede anyone due to his shyness.

Bruce promised him that they could work on it and at the same time train to go out on patrol. Bruce wanted to make sure that (Y/N) is fully prepared to go out. Sometimes, (Y/N) could overthink a lot of things and Bruce wanted (Y/N) to just trust his gut feeling. Go with your gut, trust yourself.

Of course, an overthinker overthinks everything and that sometimes makes it a bit more difficult to function. Of course, overthinking for a while when it's your first few times being on patrol is normal, you are trying to get into your rhythm and to get the initial nerves out. But the problem is that (Y/N) is a chronical overthinker. So Bruce made sure to shadow (Y/N) all the time.

Bruce made sure to instruct his sons to do the same. To make sure that they shadowed (Y/N), just for his safety. (Y/N) didn't mind it, but he would like to have a tiny bit of autonomy and a little bit of confidence in himself.

His brothers were sympathetic to that, but Bruce's orders were still standing. And Bruce did know that (Y/N) was getting a bit restless and annoyed as he couldn't have some independence. But Bruce wanted to be sure that (Y/N) could take care of himself if he was alone. And after numerous conversations with Bruce, Bruce relented and (/YN) was happy to have a little bit more autonomy.

Bruce was still worried of course, but knew that (Y/N) could take care of himself. Just like all of his children could. But Bruce is always worried about all of his children. So, he made sure to put a tracker in (Y/N)'s suit.

Just in case, Bruce told himself, trying to ease his guilt of doing this.

He knows that he couldn't tell (Y/N) because he would freak out at Bruce. Where's the autonomy if you have a tracker? And (Y/N) was happy to be trusted enough to go on his own...

Bruce was caught in the middle.

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave, taking a night off due to a stab wound. And Alfred might have threatened him with certain things if he even thought about going out on patrol. So Bruce decided to be on the Bat computer, offering support for his kids and for them to go out on patrol alone, without him as physical backup.

It was all going good, but it was a full moon. And far too quiet. And Bruce knew that something was bound to happen. And he was right. But he expected one of his kids to be hurt. Maybe something broken.

Not (Y/N) being turned into a toddler. Bruce nearly fell out of his chair once he got told what happened. It was an up and coming villain, one that Bruce didn't want to see in Gotham city. He didn't know that the enemy was dabbling into stuff like that. He stood in shock as Dick was holding a little toddler, wrapped in Damian's cloak, since the suit was far too big on him now. The suit was in Damian's hands.

" Is (Y/N) okay? Do you know what his cognition levels are? Toddler or what? "

" I'm still a teen in my mind. " (Y/N) said quietly and Bruce sighed in relief. He didn't know how he would feel if he had an actual toddler in here. He has no experience in raising one and Bruce didn't think that he could even handle on. Bruce gently walked forward and took (Y/N) into his arms, trying to calm down his nerves.

(Y/N) was okay. That's what Bruce wanted to hear. He's okay. Not dead. Not harmed... Bruce sighed in relief as he held his son close to him. His shyest son, the one who overthinks everything, the one who often blushes...

" Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? " Bruce asked softly and (Y/N) nodded, seemingly not wanting to talk. Bruce didn't mind it. He could work with nods and shakes.

" Alright, lets find some clothes for you and then Alfred will feed you and then off to bed. " Bruce said to (Y/N), who nodded, happy to eat something.

Alfred watched in silence, still shocked, but soon recovered from it.

" I'll make you your favorite master (Y/N). Come on, lets go. " Bruce put (Y/N) down and (Y/N) walked over to Alfred, reaching for his hand. Alfred smiled as he led (Y/N) up to eat something.

Bruce then turned to his sons.

" Did you manage to catch the guy? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" He got away. He was just within my reach. " Jason crossed his arms, looking pissed.

" It's okay Jason, don't blame yourself. Once I'm fully healed, I'll help you two. For now, we need to locate the enemy and ask him for how to reverse the affects. But for now... I'll enjoy this time. I've never had a chance to raise any of you as toddlers, " Bruce confessed and everyone chuckled.

That much was true, they were all older and no one came in when they were toddlers, they were more closer to teenage years. So Bruce would really like to enjoy this period.

Can anyone blame him?

And that's what they all did. They enjoyed this time with (Y/N), Bruce more than the others. Bruce enjoyed how much smaller (Y/N) was and the fact that he could carry him in his arms. Thank God for Bruce's workout plan. And the money to get all the things necessary. Thank God for that.

(Y/N) became a bit compact with the transformation so whenever he got nightmares or got scared in general. Bruce seemed to notice that fear intensified. More often than not, (Y/N) would climb into bed, seeking comfort in his dad. Bruce never minded. How could he? No one else minded either.

It was oddly nice to have a toddler in the home. And while yes, (Y/N) still has his memories as a teen and is not as whiny as a toddler would be so it's not a fair comparison per se, but still. They liked it. Jason loved teasing more than anything in the world. (Y/N) hated it and often whined about it like a toddler would and it made Jason even more amused.

Dick enjoyed this stage too. It's nice to have someone so small around here for some reason. Tim simply buried himself into work to find the enemy. Damian didn't know where to stand on this issue. While he loved his brother even before this, although never showed it outwardly, he wanted his older brother back.

Because this messes with your mind. You have an older brother who was got turned into a toddler. It messes with your perception too. Damian was a little bit freaked out a little bit by it. Okay, not a little, but still.

And yes, (Y/N) was annoyed being a toddler. Being too small to reach anything, Jason teasing him, everyone treating him like a baby... He's had enough of it. He wanted to get out of this little body as soon as possible.

He wanted to be back to him old self.

And that wish was granted when he has seen Bruce smiling after patrol, showing him a serum.

" This will bring you back to your old self. "

(Y/N) sighed in relief. Thank God.

[timmydraker]

How I think each character would react to Tim not taking care of himself:

Dick:

As the most Older Sister coded character I’ve ever heard of, I think he’d struggle to not immediately try and take everything on for his brother. He’d want to lessen his work load and have a long talk with him about being responsible for his wellbeing but would also be scared to overstep and cause any kind of rift.

Eventually I think he’d settle on asking Tim to just take a shower and eat something. He’d start small, not making it as an order because he doesn’t want to be a douch, but firm enough that Tim can pick up his concern.

Dick is 100% the type to check on him several times and make sure he’s hydrated and well rested, especially after a bad night, to the point that it might be a little overbearing.

He’d probably also make sure Bruce would respond as best her could when the man seems hellbent of being allergic to emotion.

Jason:

Now, while I don’t think Jason is as emotionally unstable as a lot of people think he is due to the pit, I do think he’s awkward as hell when it comes to Robins. Everyone knows he loves kids and is basically a guardian of all children in Gotham, but his fear of his fate becoming theirs probably gets to him.

So when he sees Tim fixating on a case that’s either cold or old enough to not be relevant, he quickly realises that the boy is also it as obsessive as Bruce is with the Joker, just more brood with his obsession being all crime.

Jason sees his once unyielding desire to help people like him in a (mostly) spoilt rich kid and feels those good old heart strings yank.

Unlike Dick, he’s not as worried about coming off as an asshole and quickly becomes determined to get Tim into a comfortable bed with a good book that won’t drive him mad looking for clues. He uses his strength against the younger lad and gets Alfred to help him convince Tim to eat some proper protein food.

When Tim mumbles a tired ‘thank you’ to Jason, his instinct is to say no problem before running off to hide away from his family so he doesn’t have to confront that maybe the poor kid who had to take after him is better than he ever was.

Damian:

Growing up with assassins leaves Damian with as many emotional troubles as his father, but luckily for the youngest active Robin, he has good around him now.

When he notices Tim has been in the same spot at the Batcomputer since he saw him that morning, he just assumes that he’s doing important Red Robin work. It’s only after he looks at the screen and sees that Tim is actually going over how the sewer system all the way in Metropolis is going that he scoffs and begins to drag Tim’s chair over to the elevator.

Tim by this point would be used to his brother doing this as his odd way of showing care.

He learns to relent quickly because Damian will make good on his threat to get Alfred or Bruce and tell on him for his lack of self care.

Damian doesn’t talk to his brother, never knowing what to say, but he is a smart kid who’s more observant that people give him credit for. So, he will put Tim in front of his room and shove him inside before standing In front of the door until Tim goes to shower.

Then it’s just a matter of asking Pennyworth for some food and leaving it on Tim’s bed along with Alfred the Cat (who is far better physical comfort than he is) and then promptly deny he ever did anything outside of making sure Red Robin was fit for combat.

If he sometimes makes Tim herbal tea without any help, that’s no one’s business.

[aealzx]

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Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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“You came all the way out here to ask me to identify a plant?” Pamela was understandably incredulous as she blocked Tim from entering her current residence.

“Weeelll,” Tim drawled, shrugging with one shoulder. “Spoiler and Orphan said you’d be the best to contact. We could go elsewhere, but then I’d have to find somewhere else for these bacon and egg sandwiches,” he explained, revealing the hand that was behind his back to be holding a paper bag for a local food joint. It was a bribe. Or payment for services rendered if one wanted to be posh about it. But he was fine calling it a bribe.

“Aw hell yeah!” Harleen’s voice came from further in the establishment, and Tim caught just the faintest hint of a smile twitching Pamela’s mouth. She tried to resist, but Tim held his ground with a decidedly innocent smile, the bag of egg sandwiches still held in offering.

Eventually Pamela sighed and held out her hand. “Fine. What identifiers do you have for it?” she relented, letting Tim set the bag of food on her palm.

“Not much honestly. The locals call it a blood blossom, but I doubt it’s a haemanthus coccineus. We don’t have a picture, but we’re told it looks like a red rose bud with black leaves,” Tim answered. He’d done his own research already while waiting for the food to be made, and that was part of the reason he didn’t feel bad for following through with the others’ idea to ask Pamela. He had a few guesses already, but it would be nice to get a second opinion.

“A rose with black leaves?” Pamela repeated, her disappointed expression becoming thoughtful. “That’s it? Nothing else?” she asked soon after, frowning deeper if possible.

“Nothing else,” Tim confirmed, both disappointed and pleased that Pamela also didn’t seem able to come up with an answer.

“Sounds made up,” Pamela answered bluntly, shifting to move back into the building. “There aren’t any roses with black leaves unless they’re mutilated. The closest you’ll get is a begonia switzerland if you’re just going by appearance.”

“Oh…. that’s what I thought too,” Tim hummed, raising a curled finger to his chin.

Pamela’s eye twitched. “Then why did you-.... Goodbye,” she stammered, then figured it wasn’t worth her time to deal with Tim further, and closed the door on him.

Tim could only snort in amusement, raising his voice for just a moment. “Thanks for the info! Enjoy the food!” he called, grinning as he turned to grapple himself back to the rooftops.

So the blood blossoms were either an extremely obscure name for some other plant, or they didn’t actually exist. And if they didn’t exist, then what had poisoned Danny? At least Dick and Damian were heading straight to the manor to follow up with Alfred about meals, and bring the tissue sample with the plant based poison to where Bruce could use their tech to better analyze it. And Barbara had already mentioned she’d meet them there, so while they might not have a good start on two of the three questions they should at least be able to figure out who these kids were exactly.

—----------

“They don’t exist,” Barbara’s conclusion about the five Phantom kids they had custody of was short, but did little to answer any questions the others had. After spending a few hours gathering her data she had decided to join the others at the manor, the three who had returned from the rescue mission, Bruce, and her now gathered in the Bat Cave by the computer. Admittedly that hadn’t been something they fully expected to hear, so there were sagging shoulders from both Dick and Tim at the announcement.

“You ran the search in all of the databases, yeah?” Tim asked, immediately trying to figure out what they had missed. Barbara was usually extremely thorough. It was hard to believe she came up with nothing on a group of five people. Especially when two of them had superhuman abilities.

“Yes, Tim,” Barbara responded quickly. “If you’ll let me continue before you try to solve the problem yourself I’ll save you some steps,” she added, getting a mildly teasing smile. When Tim relented with a mild shrug Barbara turned her chair back to the computer, pulling her reports up on the huge monitor.

“The DNA samples came up with no results. Amity Park doesn’t exist on any map. There’s no social media posts about any combination of their names. And the photo Jason sent of Jazz’s ID also has no results. It doesn’t even resemble the official driver’s license format of Illinois or any of the other states, so it’s not hard to see why the bank teller would call it a fake,” she listed, bringing up the reports from her data scouring as she mentioned them. “The only activity I can track from them is here in Gotham, starting 72 days ago. I believe that’s when they first arrived here.”

The date caused Bruce to shift, breaking out of his silence once it seemed Barbara had finished summarizing her findings and drawing a connection to a separate report he’d gotten more than a month ago. “72 days ago is when the Justice League got readings of an anomaly on the outskirts of Gotham. Investigations revealed some remains of unknown technology, but no one was there with it.”

“...What kind of anomaly?” Dick asked, tensing slightly at a thought that crossed his mind. Unknown DNA, unusable bank and ID cards, two of them claiming to be beings that were never heard of before now.

“Please don’t say multiverse breach,” Tim whined, revealing that he’d had the same thoughts as Dick.

Instead of answering them Bruce just opened a different report, having been locating it as his sons had been speaking. When the data appeared on screen both Dick and Tim let out extended groans, their forms sagging even more as Barbara chuckled softly.

“It had to be dimension garbage,” Tim whined more, squinting at the report confirming suspected multiverse breach residue in the affected area.

“That explains all the missing data,” Barbara commented, just glad to have an explanation for why all her research was coming up blank prior to the anomaly. It was because they literally had nothing on this earth before then, and not because they were some sort of geniuses that could manage such an extensive data wipe to make even her systems come up with blanks.

“That also explains why Dr. Isley was unfamiliar with the blood blossoms,” Damian added, seeming unfazed by the revelation.

“And literally everything else that was weird about them,” Tim encompassed, frustration bleeding into his tone. What kind of puzzle didn’t even have answers in this world? He felt like that was cheating.

“Do they seem aware that they are no longer in their dimension? We’re sure this wasn’t a deliberate transport?” Bruce asked, masking his growing concern for the dislocated children by suggesting they might still be hiding something.

“Please, these kids can’t hide anything that well,” Tim huffed, giving a wry smile. “The only reason they’re able to hide anything is because they’re also oblivious. Otherwise it’s way too easy to tell they’re keeping something a secret.”

Bruce only frowned more at the response, and Barbara couldn’t help add her own support of the idea that the Phantoms had no idea they weren’t even close to home. “They seemed to have had enough to deal with, I don’t think they had time to consider it. Almost 80% of their activity ties back to them looking for ectoplasm. The other 20% is just general medical care and necessities of living.”

“Ectoplasm is the stuff they said Danny needed,” Dick added unnecessarily.

“I remember,” Bruce responded, though he could also understand why the kids had such a hard time tracking down a source. Most of Gotham didn’t even believe in ghosts, and the only people he or his family knew that matched the category were Boston and Greta. “Their search led them to a Lazarus water exchange.”

“Yeah. But apparently even though it’s similar enough, the Lazarus water is ‘freaky’ and they don’t want to use it according to Danielle,” Dick confirmed, using air quotes for what the small girl had said.

“All five of them have traces of another substance I’ve never seen before that seems similar to residue from Lazarus water as well,” Barbara spoke up to add, reaching over to the computer once more as she once again had their attention. The DNA analysis reports were enlarged, and she used a screen sketch app to mark the unusual traces. “It’s most prominent in Danielle and Danny, though Danny’s levels read a lot lower. But the other three have small traces as well.”

“The one called Danielle made mention of Danny having expended a significant amount of energy, to the point his accelerated healing ability has been hindered. And that there was a lack of locations with an abundance of said energy for them to absorb,” Damian recalled, ignoring the face Tim pulled as he slowly turned to look at him.

“You made that sound way more complicated than she did,” Tim grimaced.

“Silence Drake,” Damian retorted simply.

Dick could only snicker while keeping his gaze on the reports like Bruce was doing. “This will make it easier to track some of the substance down. I’ll see if I can create a collection device to make it easier for us to get larger amounts, and work on a way to neutralize the residual plant material,” Bruce commented, already making plans for the next course of action.

“After dinner,” Dick enforced, resting his hands on the back of Bruce’s chair.

Bruce seemed to consider it, falling silent and keeping his gaze on the monitor, giving no answer other than a short grunt after a long stretch of quiet.

Dick only leaned on the chair more, pulling it back slightly. “Aaaaafter dinner, Bruce. Thirty minutes isn’t going to be that big of a loss,” he prodded.

“...Alfred put you up to this, didn’t he,” Bruce pointed out instead of responding to the request.

“He did,” Dick confirmed, admitting to being requested to make sure Bruce got at least one hearty meal before getting lost in his work once again.

Bruce considered it longer, and by then the rest of his children were already on their way back upstairs. Did he really want Alfred hassling him again? “... Very well. After dinner,” he relented, getting to his feet with a slight sigh and locking the computer screen.

_________________

Dimension hopping confirmed~ And I just realized I now have 2 fanfics that involve dimension hopping X'D that was unintentional.

Questions for the people following/interested: because I'm not familiar with most of DC or really DP's canon and fanon content and there's so freaking much of it out there, which characters would you like to see involved? No guarantees that they'll be in if I can't figure out how to get them to fit, but I need somewhere to start researching stuff X'DD. Also there's essentially 2 goals, wake Danny up, and get Team Phantom back home. How difficult should these tasks be, and which one would people rather have more focus on?

This fic originated from a prompt I found, so I think it might be fun to kind of keep that going? A different kind of writing exercise than what I'm used to. So that's why the questions instead of me just going heheh have a cliffhanger.

Though I will say I'm still of the opinion of no romance, so please don't suggest pairings |D

_________________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, @fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics, @honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl

[piedpiperart]

Phantom of Gotham 18

Chapter 17

”I can’t believe you!” Tim exclaimed, punching Danny in the arm when he spotted him in class. 

“Ouch!” Danny laughed nervously, rubbing his arm. “You-”

“You could have told me you were leaving! Or at least talked to us about it first,”Tim said, exasperated. Danny watched him throw himself into the seat next to Danny dramatically and throw his bag down, only to dig through it for a tupperware of… oh, were those Alfred’s cookies? Danny hoped they were for him. Alfred’s cookies were awesome. “Now even Damian is bugging me about you and telling me to just take you home after school.”

“Uh, you guys did say I could leave and that you wouldn’t call CPS,”Danny reminded him, rubbing the back of his neck. Tim gave him a look, blowing some bangs out of his eyes.

“Yes. And we’ll stick to that. But you know we only said that because we’d hope to convince you to stay at the manor. Because we’re rich and we have an infinite amount of space for you to stay,”Tim stressed. “Seriously. Where are you staying now?”

“Not telling,”Danny deflected immediately. “You guys got a frickin’ vigilante working for you, I’m not a snitch.”

“That’s not-” Tim threw his hands into the air exasperatedly. “Fine! But only talkers get cookies,”Tim glared, sliding the tupperware of solid gold goodness away from Danny’s hands. Danny pouted, but didn’t relent. 

The day continued like that, with Tim trying to convince him to stay at the manor, while Danny deflected and changed  subjects like a bored teen changing channels on a tv. I was getting cumbersome for both of them by lunch though, and they’d settled for a truce. Danny ended up getting a few cookies while Steph joined them at the lunch table. She was soon cackling over the Waynes losing a potential adoptee and for Danny sneaking out. They high-fived. Tim was not amused. By the multitude of texts to Tim’s phone, the family wasn’t either. 

RobinHood

Went to the Pizzaria, kid’s stuff is gone. 

LittleJohn

Damn. I got nothing on my end. Any ideas?

RobinHood

Tail him after school

MaidMarian

You think he’ll notice?

LittleJohn

Well, he might if he’s got a ghost looking out for him Steph. We’re not sure where Phantom went the other day but we do know that Danny got out of the manor without triggering any security.

RobinHood

Plus Phantom is friends with Danny. 

MaidMarian

Eh, we can still try. Or just kidnap him as civilians (≖⌣≖)

LittleJohn

Eh… Maybe. Last resort.

RobinHood

I could just take him from school

MaidMarian

•̀ ᎑ -

LittleJohn

No!! That would be so much worse oh my god

Jason sighed at his brother’s lack of creativity. He’d thought the Pizzaria might have been cleared out but seeing it for himself still made his heart sink. If only there was some clues to where the kid had gone, he thought. No doubt he was anywhere but around Hood’s territory now. 

To be fair, he wasn’t nearly as worried about the kid now that he knew he had ghost powers that helped him survive. Still, Jason knew living on the streets wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Part of him thought that maybe the kid was scared that everyone hunting him would put the Waynes in danger. He wasn’t wrong to think that, but they could handle themselves. Sure, ghosts were a new thing for them, but they adapted. Made plans. 

Jason wasn’t sure they’d be able to keep Danny or Phantom in one place without using some kind of ghost technology like the GIW or call in a magic user. Except Jason didn’t want to think about having weapons that Danny’s parents made to hurt him. From what he could tell, ghosts weren’t as much of a problem to humans as humans were to ghosts. Jason didn’t need ghost weapons to deal with the GIW, and he sure as hell was gonna deal with them. 

The Bats had been gathering information on them like crazy. Babs was still hacking their databases and Batman was putting together a plan to inform the Justice League. They weren’t entirely sure this was something the Green Lanterns needed to take up to the OA, but if it was they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. 

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

Damian was furious. 

He’d been texting Timothy nonstop about Danny and yet- unsurprisingly- his older brother had been unable to convince the boy to come back to the manor. Frustratingly, Timothy had not even responded to any of his text messages since lunch time and hadn’t come to the manor after school. Even Todd wasn’t answering any of his messages- plans- to convince Danny to join the family. It had been two days and Danny had still been staying who knows where. The family had not even tried to follow him home out of some misguided respect for privacy and free will. He was sure Danny was somewhere abandoned, likely somewhere lacking proper water and heat. Damian was beyond frustrated that all his hard work getting Danny used to a stable meal plan was for nothing. 

It was ridiculous how dumb Danny was acting in regards to his own safety. As one of the few species of half ghost around, he had the survival instincts of a paper bag, and Damian was of the opinion that he should be trying a lot harder considering his status. Damian had no idea why Danny would think they wouldn’t be able to protect and care for him at the manor. Obviously, Danny was an asset when it came to the Ghostly dimension given his halfa status and friendship with Phantom. There was no other reason why he wanted Danny to stay. It wasn’t like he missed the boy. Even if he was better than Timothy in every way, and had intriguing powers that he trusted Damian with. Not at all.

Damian scoffed, adjusting his tie for the third time. He didn’t want to go to this infernal Gala, especially when only Grayson and his father were attending. Cass was still in Hong Kong, and Jason and Timothy had other plans. Damian hoped those plans included getting Danny to stay at the manor. He would no doubt be a good sidekick for when Damian was older, and he would not be letting Danny slip through his fingers. 

“Are you ready Baby bat?” Grayson asked, a grin on his face and despite the formal wear, he’d somehow convinced Father to let him wear a glittery monstrosity instead of a tie. “There’s gonna be a few people B wants us to keep an eye on, wanna help me with surveillance?” Damian scoffed. “Why not. It’s not as if there will be anything else of importance going on,”He added. Grayson gave him a knowing smile, as if he was recalling just how boring and overly formal these parties were. 

“I’d say you get used to it, but…”Grayson trailed off, sighing dramatically. “Never do.” He shook his head, then they made their way to the front where Alfred and Bruce were waiting with the car. 

As far as Galas go, it was certainly not the most boring, but it definitely wasn’t providing any riveting conversations. As far as surveillance, Damian was able to trade off with Grayson during the night, switching targets and gleaming information as they went. It was no surprise that Mr. Elwood was simply in an affair than any nefarious business deals. Ms. Green on the other hand was definitely collaborating with some of the shader patrons in the Gala, whom Father suspected had ties to Penguin. 

Though, there was one target that Damian couldn’t get a read on. He was tall, haughty, and self-absorbed, yet according to B, had a perfectly clean multi-million dollar business despite multiple complaints and signs to otherwise. Damian in particular hated him on principle for the way he looked down on everyone around him. He ignored how hypocritical that statement might be and chose to eye the billionaire talking with his father. 

“As I was saying, my son Daniel reminds me a lot of your sons,”Vlad was saying to Bruce. He was wearing a gray suit with a black shirt and an annoyingly green tie. Damian was certain it was some type of football paraphernalia. “He’s very headstrong and independent for one. How do you deal with your sons when they refuse to listen to reason?”

“Oh?” Brucie said with an exaggerated confused look. He ignored the concerning question for now.“I was unaware you had any children.”

Annoyance and something else flashed across Vlad’s face before he schooled his expression to exasperation. Damian sneered at the man internally. “Ah of course, Daniel is technically my godson, but he’s like a son to me. We have a lot in common,”Vlad explained, a sneer suddenly forming and taking Damian by surprise,”At least more than his father has with him. Honestly, his mother could do so much better than that bumbling idiot.”

“Where is this Daniel then?” Damian cut in, garnering the attention of both men. Vlad seemed surprised to see him, if not a bit jealous. “If you are so close, how come he didn’t join you here?”

“I would have loved to have the little badger here beside me,”Vlad’s face twisted into something like sadness, but missed the mark. “Unfortunately, Daniel’s gone missing these past few months without so much as a word.”

Damian frowned as his father offered meaningless sympathies. Daniel? Vlad had been from Wisconsin, but he recalled the man having some sort of dealings in Amity. After a moment he remembered and scowled. This man was the Mayor of Danny’s town. He was the one who’d let the GIW in in the first place, surely. Looking up at the man’s false mask, set on gaining sympathy from his father made him light up with contempt. 

“Of course,”Vlad was saying when Damian started paying attention again.”I had originally come to Gotham to find him, you see. I’d heard something about him being spotted in the area and just had to check it out for myself.”

That was bad. If he was talking about Danny, then Vlad somehow had gotten ahold of information about his whereabouts. Who else had that intel? Was the GIW or the Fentons on his tail? Was Danny in danger? He quickly excused himself from the two adults and meandered over to his elder brother to relay the information. Hopefully they could get Danny to a safe location before something bad happened. 

Chapter 19

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

trying not to introduce everybody at once lmao… here’s the first few. had to represent my diabetic friends here since ezra to the end of the earth fell flat. also var🥹 I just love him, k?

part seven

❝ THE LUMP FROM CALIFORNIA ❞

SATURDAY — JULY 21 — 8:00AM

THEY ARRIVED AT THE REDWOOD ACADEMY CAMPUS BRIGHT AND EARLY, AT EIGHT ON THE DOT. (Bentley only slept for half an hour in Tim’s room. But some is better than none, right?)

Bentley had already taken the pink don’t puke medicine that morning, and was happy to report that while he did feel like he might faint, he didn’t feel like he’d throw up. Which was a win, he guessed?

That morning had been a mess of sleepy goodbyes and scrambling to get ready. Alfred had prepared breakfast at five in the morning (bless him.) and everyone in the house begrudgingly got up to see Bentley and Asten off. They all seemed genuinely happy for them, even Jason, although he still came off as a little salty.

But it was okay — everything was fine. Tim had snuck Bentley the little medicines that morning without Bruce seeing, and everything was fine. (Jason may have seen, but he wasn’t a snitch.)

The lot behind the Aristotle building, where Bruce parked (since that’s where their dorm was), was packed to the gills with students and family members and staff members helping them move in. There were only a few parking spots open at any given time, and the one they managed to snag seemed to be smack dab in the middle of the lot.

There were lots of kids and teenagers there, all walking around to the front of the building with their parents. Like, a lot. With boxes and bags and suitcases galore, and they all looked like they knew exactly what they were doing.

Bentley did not.

“Asten, we’re here, chum,” Bruce called, and both he and Bentley spun to face the backseats.

Asten was sprawled out back there with a big blanket, covered head to toe so he looked like a big lump. The lump groaned.

“It’s too early for this,”

Bruce chuckled lightly. “Maybe you should’ve gone to bed instead of playing video games.”

Asten made an eh sound. “It was worth it.”

Bruce reached back and patted the lump. “C’mon, bud. Up and at ‘em.”

“I’m up, I’m up,” Asten grumbled, sitting up so the blanket fell off of his head. Bentley’s hand flew up to his mouth as soon as it did, and he turned back forward, quickly.

Asten’s hair was literally sticking up in every direction.

“What?” He questioned, and Bentley felt him tap his arm from behind. “Hey, what?”

Bruce chuckled again. “You might want to check your hair.”

Bentley turned back around as Asten pulled his phone out and went to the camera app, flipping it around toward himself.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,”

Bentley snickered lightly. “I guess you slept good.”

Asten scowled at him, brushing down his hair. “I don’t wanna hear it from you, pipsqueak, I heard you having a little fiesta at four thirty in the morning last night.”

Bentley’s eyes widened, and about half a second of silence passed, and then:

“You were awake at four thirty in the morning?” Both Bentley and Bruce’s voices came in tandem, Bentley’s question aimed at Asten, and Bruce’s at Bentley himself.

“No,” He and Asten answered in unison.

Another moment of silence passed.

With an (amused?) exhale, Bruce relented. “Alright, well… we’d better get in there before we’re the last ones.”

The popped his door open, and with a spike of anxiety, so did Bentley. 

The warm summer air rushed into his face (how could it be so much hotter here than it was in Gotham?) and made him feel kinda sticky. The overlapping hum of vehicles and voices seemed to morph into a monotone sound.

Bentley stared at the big, old, huge stone building he’d be spending ten months in. There were lots and lots of kids walking around it.

“Bentley, come get your suitcase,” Asten called. How had they gotten to the trunk so fast? (Why was it so easy to get lost in his own mind?)

Bentley broke from his trance and made for the trunk of Bruce’s black car. Asten and Bruce were already back there, pulling the suitcases and bags out.  

Bentley went back to help, but couldn’t really keep his eyes off the massive, massive building. He ended up getting handed a backpack and a duffel bag. (Which was good, because his suitcase was definitely too heavy for him, since Dick Grayson packed it.)

Someone bumped his shoulder from the left. “You okay, dude?”

Bentley glanced over at Asten, who was looking back at him with the handle of his own rolling suitcase in his hand. His emerald eyes were sparkling like Bentley had never seen from him before. Something like hope, joy.

Bentley nodded, forcing a small smile through his anxiety for Asten’s sake. It was nice to see him so happy, so the smile was pretty genuine. “Yeah. It’s just different. But I’m excited.” 

Asten clapped him on the shoulder. “It’ll be great. You already have friends.”

Bentley nodded. 

Yes. It would be great, even if he had to manhandle it to make it that way. He was going to be a normal teenager, and he was going to have fun, and it was going to be great.

He just had to get through the initial debilitating anxiety.

Nothing he hadn’t done before.

He exhaled and shook his head, trying to shake away the nerves. He’s got this.

Bruce’s hand landed on top of his head, and he settled on Bentley’s right side. “Ready, chum?”

He breathed in, and then he breathed out.

It was just like Gotham Academy. It’d be fine. It’d be good. It’d be great.

“Yes,”

And with that, they followed the crowd.

—

When they made it to the front of the Aristotle building (which was freaking massive, by the way.) they had to wait in line at a checkpoint where they received their class schedules and room numbers and the like. Which took literal ages. 

Ages in the hot sun with heavy bags.

But it was fine. They got to the table and told the lady their names, got a little folder with their room number and class schedule, and they were on their way.

There were so many kids there. Bentley had never seen so many kids in his life, not even when he went to Gotham Academy. He understood now why the school was so big — because so many people went there. So many.

There were also so many types of kids. Lots of colored hair and strange outfits and normal looking kids and ones that were yelling and ones that looked just as terrified as Bentley felt. 

After they received their specific little folders, they went inside the Aristotle building.

The lobby was massive and lush, with lots of velvety rugs and fancy furniture that reminded Bentley of the Manor. There were a handful of vending machines lining the walls, and on the far side sat a grand piano, painted white, and Asten’s eyes stuck on it for a solid five seconds.

(Wasn’t Asten’s grand piano in Brazil white?)

Bruce took one look at the (utterly massive) line for the elevator and cringed. “Stairs it is. What floor are you?”

Asten opened the green folder as best he could with one hand. “Floor six, dorm #174.”

With that, they made their way up the stairs to the sixth floor (which was not fun with the bags, but they made it work.) and scoured the halls until they neared dorm room #174. People kept going past them and kids were running down the hallways and it was kind of stressing Bentley out.

Again, these halls reminded him of the Manor — lined with long, velvety rugs with pictures of students in big golden frames covering every inch of available wallspace. The light fixtures were strange and cylindrical, but still really bright, somehow?

Bruce stopped at a large wooden door with a golden plaque that read 174. “Here we are.”

There was a piece of paper taped on the wooden surface with a list of seven names on it.

Bray, Varian

Callahan, Bellamy

Evans, Asten

McClaine, Koa

Torres, Valor

Wayne, Bentley

Winchester, Rockie

Bentley scrunched his nose up. Weren’t there supposed to be eight people in one room? And wasn’t that only seven?

(Maybe his anxiety was making it hard to count.)

Bruce lifted his hand and knocked four times.

“Come in!” Exclaimed a voice that could only belong to a teenage boy.

They were about to meet their roommates literally right that second, weren’t they? Why was Bentley so nervous? It was always, always in front of a big wooden door that Bentley felt like he was going to faint, wasn’t it? What was up with that?

Bruce turned the knob on the big wooden door in question, and pushed it inward.

They were greeted by a nice little sitting room (by little Bentley actually meant kind of huge) with an assortment of chairs, couches, and bean bags. There was a large bay window on the far wall with a long window-seat on the inside. There was a kitchenette off to the right (which only had a sink, minifridge, and microwave.) And a dining table with two long benches to the left.

And people were looking at them. Only two, but it was still enough to make Bentley’s skin crawl a little.

The first boy he made eye contact with was small, sitting on the farthest edge of the leftmost couch. He had this wavy dirty-blonde hair that kind of reminded him of Nico, but eyes that were brown and sort of looked like Bentley’s. He was wearing black sweatpants and a red t-shirt, and made literally zero facial expressions when he glanced between them.

The second boy was much larger than the first, standing off to the side against the wall with his arms crossed. He was maybe a little taller than Asten, wearing an outfit comprised of black jeans, a black t-shirt, and an old looking bomber jacket (which was very Asten of him). He had these dark green eyes that were creepier than any eyes Bentley had ever seen (was that even a natural color?) and close cut, neatly styled dark hair. And… he had…

Bentley swallowed thickly. The boy had massive metal gloves that covered his hands nearly all the way to the elbow, gloves with huge clasps just like Davis used to have. Could he kill with his touch?

Opposite to the dirty-blonde, this boy’s eyes scoured them all like he was picking them apart and scrutinizing them. His expression gave away that he knew who Bruce was. That he was pleasantly surprised by Asten, at least visually.

And… well, he hardly gave Bentley a second look. Which was fine, considering he had creepy eyes.

Oh, and there was a strangely human shaped blanket lump spread across the other couch on the right side of the room.

An awkward silence ensued, but it was short-lived, as the blonde popped up with a soft: “Whoa! You’re Bruce Wayne!”

Bruce chuckled softly, and the other boy with the creepy eyes scowled at his counterpart. “Don’t be weird, Var.”

His statement went unheard.

“Wow, I’ve gotta tell my mom I’m roommates with Bruce Wayne’s kids! She, like, love loves you!” Var (Which Bentley assumed was short for Varian.) announced with a big smile that faded really fast. His eyes flicked to the other boy.  “Wait, that was weird, wasn’t it?”

The other kid rolled his creepy eyes, pushing himself off the wall. “You two are in room four,” He said dryly, pointing to the rightmost door on the left side of the room with a metal gloved finger. 

With a nod and a soft thank you, Bruce walked in toward the door the boy had pointed at, and Bentley followed behind tentatively. He made sure not to make eye contact on the way there. (He really thought that kid could kill him with his eyes.) The dark wooden door the boy had pointed to had a paper taped to the front, much like the other door had.

Evans, Asten

Wayne, Bentley

They filed into the room. The inside was much bigger than it looked like on the video. There were a pair of nice looking wooden bunk beds pushed up against the left wall, with a nightstand and window right next to it. There were two desks across from it, and two wardrobes settled next to the door. The entrance to the bathroom was on the right wall. Sunlight was streaming in from the happy little window, past which was the Columbus building, another housing complex. There were people scurrying all over the place outside like ants on the run from poison.

Bruce sighed, placing Bentley’s suitcase on the bottom bunk. Asten did the same with his own, and Bentley dropped the bags he was carrying on one of the desks. “Alright, you guys. This is really it. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Bentley glanced around the room. The light fixture was the same weird shape as the hall, but bright. Their roommates hadn’t been mean. (He thought.) He knew that at least one of them liked Bruce. 

He could do this. It’d be great.

“Do you have your chargers?” Bruce questioned, and when both boys mumbled a reply, continued: “Tooth brushes? Floss? Underpants?”

“Dad,” Bentley scolded lightly, flicking an eye to the open door. “We packed everything. Dick made sure of that.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, with a strange little smile, looking around the room. “Okay. I guess I’ll go, then. Let you live your own teenage lives.”

Yeah, Bentley felt weird when he said that, but he decided to ignore it.

Bruce stepped forward and outstretched his arms, which both teenagers found themselves in in a matter of seconds. “I love you both. Text me and call me all the time. Remember — I’m not below gradeschool gossip.”

Bentley snickered — he remembered that line from starting at Gotham Academy. “I love you.”

Bruce leaned down and placed a kiss on both of their heads. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll drive down here to bring you a toothpick.”

“I’ll be sure to abuse that privilege,” Asten snickered.

Bentley chuckled lightly, releasing Bruce and stepping back.

With a soft smile, Bruce put his hand on the side of Bentley’s head. “I’m so proud of you. I know how different this is.”

Bentley smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

“If you need anything…”

“I know,” Bentley smiled. “I’ll call my dad.”

“And I’ll call the billionaire I have wrapped around my sad little Brazilian finger,” Asten piped up, and both Bruce and Bentley chuckled. 

Bruce reached over and ruffled Asten’s hair. “I’m proud of you, too.”

He scoffed. “Are you kidding? I’m already having the time of my life.”

Bruce smiled brightly — maybe a little misty eyed, but it was just minute enough that Bentley could’ve been imagining it. “Well. If you don’t need anything else, then I’ll go.”

Bentley looked down at his tennis shoes (he really was rocking the same sweats, vans, and hoodie combo as Asten.) then back up at Bruce.

He was thirteen. He was fine. He didn’t need his dad all the time anymore.

(So then why did he start to feel supremely claustrophobic when Bruce gave them one last hug and excused himself? Why did his anxiety triple as he watched him go through the dormitory door and out into the hallways beyond?)

“Doing okay, ginger?”

Bentley glanced over at Asten, who was shoving the suitcases under the bed. He was looking at Bentley with this look that made it feel like he knew absolutely everything that was going on in his head.

“Yeah,” Bentley replied. “You?”

“Peachy,”

“I can’t believe Bruce Wayne is your dad!”

Both Bentley and Asten flinched, whirling their respective directions to face the door of their bedroom. The dirty blonde was standing there, but when Bentley’s eyes landed on him, the smile heard so clearly in his words had already turned into a pout. “That was weird, too, wasn’t it?”

Asten shrugged. “I mean, it happens every time anyone is seen in public with Bruce Wayne. So, really, it isn’t weird at all.”

The other boy seemed to regain his bubbly demeanor thanks to that. “I’m Varian. Varian Bray. And you’re Asten and Bentley?”

Asten nodded. “Yep — I’m Asten, he’s Bentley.”

Varian sent smiles to each of them, so Bentley sent a subtle one back. Now that he was closer to him, Bentley noticed that he had a little machine strapped to his right arm, with a screen and the reading 66 on it. “That’s cool. I’m Varian. Wait, did I already tell you that? Anyways,” He started, pointing to the little commons area. “That other boy in there is Rockie. He’s nice but he thinks he’s too cool to come say hi. Oh, and that cocoon on the couch is Koa. He’s from California so he has a bad case of the jet lags. It’s, like, five in the morning over there or something.”

Bentley nodded as he spoke (because not responding was rude) and took a step to the side to see the lump from California. 

“You two were the last ones here. Valor is in the room right across from you, also jet-lagged, because he’s from Phoenix, which I’m pretty sure is in the same time zone as California,” Varian explained. “Rockie is his roommate. And Koa is mine. The four of us have been in the same dorm for a few years now. We had some seniors we liked but they graduated, and some of the boys we used to have stopped going here, so now we had two free rooms. I think the boy in the room next to yours is a first year — his name is Bellamy. But I’ve never met him. He was here before I got here this morning and he hasn’t come out. He doesn’t have a roommate and I’m not really sure why, maybe it’s because he has cool powers. I think-“

Bentley, with a quiet exhale, took to unpacking his little backpack for no apparent reason. Did Varian always talk this much? Because it was, like, a lot. Like, a lot.

That long stretch of talking was also when he realized Varian had a faint accent. So faint that he’d missed it for a while, but now that he realized, he couldn’t stop hearing it. It wasn’t like Asten’s, Portuguese or Spanish or the ones that sounded like those. It wasn’t French, because French was really distinctive. Bentley didn’t know what it was.

“-have done. Anyways, I think you’re going to fit in good. You seem pretty cool. I think Valor is-”

“Varian? Can you do me a favor and shut up?” Mumbled the lump on the couch, frustratedly. “You talk louder than a Metallica concert. I was able to sleep through one.”

Varian frowned. “You had the flu.”

“But I slept. Which I’m not doing right now,”

With a subtle eye roll, Varian opened his mouth to speak, but the number on the machine on his arm changed to 65, and it beeped four times, loudly.

“Go eat some food, psycho,” Koa, the lump on the couch, called.

Varian rolled his eyes again, and with a dramatic slump of his shoulders, left the room. 

Bentley scrunched his face up. He had a machine on his arm that told him when to eat?

“He’s diabetic,” Asten said softly, sensing Bentley’s confusion. 

“What does that mean?”

Asten shrugged lightly, standing up and sitting on the bottom bunk of their bed. “Like, his body doesn’t make the chemical it needs to regulate his blood sugar, so that machine, plus, like, food and exercise, does it for him.”

“Oh,” Bentley nodded. “What happens if it doesn’t?”

Asten shrugged. “He’ll get sick if it goes too high or too low. And then if it goes, like, way high or way low, he’ll need to go to the ER.”

“Oh,” Bentley repeated. “You seem to know a lot about that.”

Asten nodded, eyes drifting off into the other room. “My mom was diabetic.”

“Oh…” Bentley replied, because apparently he couldn’t say anything else. “I… I’m sorry.”

Asten shook his head. “No sweat, kid.”

Bentley exhaled in response, eyes drifting to the doorway, through which he could see Varian grabbing something out of the little mini-fridge with a pout.

Jumping into a group of friends that already knew each other — not an easy feat.

But he’d managed to pull it off with Asten and Nico.

Maybe they could do it again.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld ❤️

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[dairy-farmer]

Pretty young Timmy. He was Jack and Janet’s baby, they spoiled him to ruin. He’s a monster, does what he wants when he wants and will always get his way, and so he’ll him god if you don’t prepare for him to *fight* — screaming, crying, punching and kicking and breaking anything he can get his hands on.

When they die he’s young, Bruce is his godfather, and Bruce is relaxed at first, spoils him, his parents just died so he’ll give him some leeway. But after acting out at some big gala Bruce puts his foot down, no matter what Tim does he’s going to fix him. Dick and Jason and Alfred are all there when Tim asks for a new phone — he’d broken his when he threw it at Bruce’s face after he’d told him he wouldn’t order him takeout for dinner. Tim creams for hours, days, the others beg him to give in but he won’t relent. He’s going to fix the kid, he has to for his sake, it isn’t healthy for him.

So Tim does what he does best when the screaming won’t work and moves onto the next tactic, always worked on his parents before. He comes into Bruce’s room one night, climbs up and straddles him and starts riding him. Tim asks so sweetly if Daddy will buy him a new phone while Bruce starts gasping, telling him yes as he cums inside him and Timmy clenches down.

Bruce never told him no again, and Timmy got somewhere to release his anger?

Not that great for formatting that just a stream of consciousness so not the best, basically spoiled brat Timmy having sex with his new guardian Bruce so he keeps getting his way, Jack and Janet were the same before they died. Maybe he does it with the entire family?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! spoiled baby timmy who got whatever he wanted because he knew exactly what to do for adults to give him what he asked for. sometimes they're more stubborn though and no amount of demanding or crying works!!! but when tim was younger he figured out a foolproof method.

despite his age tim was a very smart baby and he listened and watched everything his parents did. so when he listened to his dad beg his mother for a 'blowjob' through the door of their bedroom and her continually refuse, tim knew he'd hit the jackpot. adults are able to give tim everything he wants. so when they don't give into his screams then he needs to leverage the only thing that he has over them.

tim ends up breaking his new toy from paris when he kicked it down the stairs following a tantrum. the only way to replace it would be to pay teh very expensive fee of shipping it from the small store all the way across the pond. and jack may have spoiled his child but he wasn't about to do that. and for the first time ever jack drake put his footdown and said no. until tim corners him in the bathroom after janet has left for work and sinks to his knees.

tim is a very clever little child and he knew how to use the family computer to figure out what it was that his dad wanted so desperatly.

by the end jack drake is panting and tim is tugging on his dress shirt and whining about if he'll get tim a new toy now and so jack agreees. so long as timmy does that for daddy again.

the next time tim tries sucking jack's dick for something it doesn't work. and tim is devestated! until he applies himself and figures out something else his daddy might want.

tim goes into his dad's office while he's on the phone having left his panties in his bedroom and only wearing his skirt, determined to get what he wants. tim bounces and clumsily lets his dad fuck his little hole until jack is gripping him tight and close and flooding tim's insides with the warm 'cum' tim read all about.

it's not as bad as tim thought it would be. with how adamant his mom refused to do it he thought it'd be worse but so long as tim gets all the candy and toys he wants he'll fuck hsi daddy as often as he needs to! tim informing his father as such with a determined pout has jack surging forward and roughly fucking tim against the desk a second time while tim whined about wanting the new gaming console he saw on tv. the next day tim get his console and is on his back for every game that comes out that he wants.

bruce is a tough nut.

tim's parents being dead only earns him so much leniency and when tim acts out too much he gets reprimanded and grounded and gets his things taken away from him!!!

and tim is furious!!! because jack and janet used to get him anything he wanted. janet would fold easily because tim would threaten to stopp fucking jack if she didn't get that thing he wanted and jack gave in so long as tim warmed hs cock for a little while.

but bruce is stubborn and tim's sure he can handle it. until his phone breaks and bruce refuses to get him a new one. he tells tim something about him earning the money for a new one on his own and the word just sparks the idea in tim's head.

and it works. bruce's cock is bigger than jack's and tim has to work harder, grinding close and pressing the head in. bruce startles awake just as tim manages to sink all the way down and just stares at tim with big eyes as he bounces and rolls his hips just the way his old dad liked. bruce might be different but he folds too, agreeing to tim's request for a phone just as long as he gets to cum inside.

tim wonders if he should ask about the vitamins his dad used to make him take, once saying about how it would make sure there were no problems 'here' while patting tim's abdomen before turning and muttering about how the last thing they needed was another tim.

tim wondered if he should ask bruce about that because tim hated being sick. but he was too focused on bruce flipping them over and beginning to fuck furiously into tim to ask.

[sarcasticbambi]

Found Souls Chapter II

<Prev Next>

Looking back on those years, Damian thinks just how much things have changed.

Not only did he learn that his early education and life experiences were not normal, they were also extremely traumatising to his person on levels he’s still trying to understand. Thankfully, his family has been very helpful in helping him understand and overcome such issues.

One of the things he remembers struggling with the most, was trust.

It took, in Dick’s words, “too long” for him to be able to tell them when he needed something that was not required for his “cover” as a student at Gotham Academy.

Like his art - he’d sneak out to buy supplies whenever they ran out, usually using patrol as a cover for it.

That was until he was caught by Jason one time when he had to go closer to Crime Alley because his regular store was closed after a Rogue attack.

Jason descended the alley he was trying to change, and asked him what he was doing sneaking around. After a “heartfelt” conversation, Jason explained to him that he did not need to sneak out during patrol to get art supplies or any other personal requests. That he just had to ask Alfred or any of the other siblings and they’d certainly be happy to help.

They then had a robbery which they were the closest to, so after confirming with Oracle that they’d take care of it, Jason promised to take him to the supply store after patrol, and they’d buy everything he needed and some more for reserves.

Jason also asked to see his art, but that took another year or two to happen.

He’d apparently also gotten Alfred in a frenzy over not having an “appropriate space to engage in his hobbies”, and thus came to be “Damian’s Art Room”, which was only accessible to him and whoever he’d let in, the number of which has increased throughout the years.

The other thing he seemed to have a big issue with was, to no one’s surprise, loyalty.

Considering that his early developing stages were spent in the League, and that not really everyone was happy with him being the Demon’s grandchild, he was a target every other time.

Teachers, trainers, and even assistants had attempted on his life, so he learned very early on not to trust anyone, and that their “loyalty” was not always towards who it should be. In the League, you either had someone you trusted and several connections, or you had enemies - even if they masked themselves as your comrade (not friend, never friend.).

These topics were less of an issue after he moved to Gotham, but were still very much troubling in his life, especially when it came to his wings and soulmate design.

The first and only person to know his soulmate design during his first 3 years in Gotham, was Alfred - and it was only because of an injury and he refused to get treatment because he didn’t want anyone to see it - that way, no one could use it as a weakness, or to threaten him with, like they did in the league.

It was only after being told of Alfred’s extensive medical training and that it’d only be the two of them in the room until treatment was over, that he relented to having it taken care of in the Batcave, since the other option was being taken to an actual hospital.

This was almost at the end of his first year living in Gotham, and it wasn’t until he turned 13 that he trusted his father and Dick with his soulmate design.

It took a long time to get there, but when they did reach that level of trust, he found that he quite enjoyed it. There was no judgement for preferring to hide it, nor was there mocking for the fact his design was so pink and filled with cherry blossom flowers and little ladybugs on them.

Actually, it had the opposite reaction. They were saying that whoever his soulmate was would be a lovely person and probably cared a lot for nature and would be a good match for his love for animals. And wasn’t that a great feeling? To have his family and the people that he’d come to trust be as happy and excited for him to meet his soulmate as he was?

It had been the only thing on his mind the entire time he was in the League, after all. He’d been mocked and punished several times over having such a feminine design even though he was the Demon Head’s Heir, as if it was something he could control. Sometimes, he was even threatened to have his wings cut off because whoever was behind that design, couldn’t possibly be a good match for him as the future ruler of the League of Assassin so, they were thinking of making it impossible for him to ever find them. His only saving grace was that his soulmate mark was nowhere close to resembling that of those living around him. Now, looking at the person he cares for the most - more than himself even - he remembers just how he went from valuing his soulmate design above all else because it meant freedom, to actually being free and letting himself loose to find his own love story.

And it was the best choice he could ever make.

<Prev Next>

[therealcalicali]

PREVIEW: WHITE LIES AU - BOOK 3

“Eiriana….” Ivar said as he finally cast his gaze in her direction. “What are you trying to get at this evening?

“You forget that I overhear things. And from what I recall, you and your brothers have made an enemy of King Leif Ericsson. Therefore, any news of you being incapable of fighting would give him reason to strike Kattegat.”

Truth be told, he longed to cause great havoc. Not only against the likes of King Alfred and Värro. But also with Prince Hallmund; whom he blamed for introducing you to his cousin in the first place. However, it seemed wiser to leave such battles for another time.  

“I will make my health a priority.” Ivar relented. “But do not make whispering in my ear, a new habit. That is the duty of my Advisors. Understand?”

“Of course, my King. But also remember, until Queen Y/N’s return,  do not behave like a jilted lover. Break things in private if you must. But desist with these outbursts that cause tongues to wag.”

“Go away, Eiriana!.” Ivar hissed with eyes darkened by rage. He then returned focus to his meal. "I do not want you here when my brother arrives.”

“As you wish.”

“Ronan, you boast a great deal in Värro’s absence.” Princess Tiffally countered; sounding far older than her fifteen years. “But you never make such claims otherwise; even Maester Gilead calls you a braggart.”

“Maester who?”

“You know very well who he is. We have all been under his tutelage; at one time or another.”

“Hmm, the name is still unfamiliar. But then again, I do not make habit of gossiping with servants.”

“But you make habit of placing bets with them.” Eleven year old Princess Dorrit interjected to the amusement of everyone.

As the debate continued, King Daegar set a hand upon the Queen’s own. But though she did not shrink away from his touch, Lythia made it clear that she would protect Värro without his blessings.

“My wife….” King Daegar whispered. “We cannot mistreat Queen Y/N based upon emotion. Moreover, I have already given my word as host and cannot withdraw such a promise.”

“Then my position remains unchanged. Or have you forgotten the girl is wedded to Ivar Ragnarsson?”

“Aye, this I know.”

“Yet, you remain apathetic.”

Though frustrated to no end, King Daegar listened to his wife’s concerns. But without realizing it, a smile soon crossed his face.

“Do you find the subject matter amusing?” Queen Lythia snapped.

“Not at all. It is only that you remind me of my late Aunt; Lady Elastane. She too possessed great wit. However, she could be overprotective to a fault.”

“Well, at lease she would be concerned for Värro.”

“That is hardly fair. I also want the best for him, and the rest of our children.”

Regrettably, his words fell on deaf ears. So as the feast continued, the topic was dropped entirely.

“Father, I would like to join Värro in his duties upon his return.” Prince Ronan abruptly announced to the astonishment of his parents and Ser Barrish. “Obviously, find matters of state to be a chore most times. But perhaps it is high time I participated formally. After all, I am heir to the throne.”

Though wary of Ronan’s sudden show of interest, King Daegar nodded. But Queen Lythia was exceedingly pleased. For it had been her prayer for her two eldest to work side-by-side. And if God was kind, they could even behave more like brothers than feuding rivals.

“This is exhilarating!” Prince Ronan declared with a boyish grin. “Now I can hardly wait for Värro and Queen Y/N’s arrival.”

“Is that true?” Asfrid asked Prince Värro. “You will convince mother to allow me riding lessons?”

Certainly, Torsten’s illness was a source of despair for all aboard the vessel. However, no one felt the impact more than your kindhearted daughter. For this reason, your brother Kori, and Huntsman Icarus provided distractions whenever possible. But on this particular afternoon, Värro volunteered his services.

Thus, as the two chatted in the lounging cabin, he filled Asfrid’s mind with happy thoughts.

“I cannot guarantee your mother's blessings. However, we can improve our chances by taking the right approach.”

“How, may I ask?”

“Firstly, we need to host a proper Name-Day celebration; since hers passed without ceremony. And with you knowing her tastes better than anyone…” Värro said as Asfrid’s eyes widened with anticipation. “You shall take charge.”

“Really?”

With a nod, Värro told Asfrid that she could choose everything down to the last detail. A thought that made her clasp her hands gleefully. But after processing the notion a while longer, your daughter's smile gradually became a pout.

“I have no coin to my name.” Asfrid sadly confessed. “And mother says I cannot carry any until I am much older.”

“Your Highness, it would be an honor to bear the costs. Especially since I requested your guidance in the first place. So, are we surprising your mother…or not? ”

“Oh, yes Prince Värro! And I shall do my very best.”

[lya-dustin]

Slight preview for part ii for Food of Love

(Apologies to all, my oc Eva (from my other blog @evita-shelby ) has tossed me in the trunk and decided she wants to exist in some form in the last kingdom)

Also Osferth was passed on as Alfred’s maternal kinsman by him and was allegedly named heir after Edward's son in a will charterd in 909. I took some liberties with that, also Osferth was given a pretty good inheritance.

The Kingdom of León is modern day Leon and Castile in northern spain, at the time most of the Iberian Peninsula was ruled by the Emirate of Córdoba)

Cw: mentions of slavery, witchcraft and one little murder

“He is a monk!” Your mother exclaimed in disgust. "And an honest one, really, daughter, I would have preferred a Dane."

You had expected them to be angry for going out of your way to get a husband, but then again, your family was not at all like the others.

“He is second in line for King Alfred’s throne, my love. His belief in god can be excused for now.” Your father pinched the bridge of his nose as his wife fumed over the match. “A cold or a hunting accident could make your daughter Queen of Wessex.”

“You had no qualms on having them as guests these past nights.” You interject having inherited your mother’s stubborn streak and your father takes that as is cue to leave on the excuse of checking on some buisness or the other.

“That is because guests leave, besides you know well why I am opposed to this match.” Your mother countered. “What would happen if he came to discover what we are?”

You are witches, your mother had come from a long line of them before the family fell from grace in the Kingdom of León and were sold into slavery.

According to lore she was such a beauty she was sold to the Emir of Córdoba ,but escaped before the men had the chance to get her to the Emir.

After that she used her clairvoyance to find a ship heading somewhere she would not risk recapture by her enemies and find a man who she saw in a dream.

She is very sure you have inherited her gifts, but you have grown and no ability like that has manifested in you.

Perhaps your daughters will have it, you hope Osferth does not mind a bit of magic if it does happen.

“Father Beocca’s wife is a witch, and he speaks well of her.” You point out. “And as father said, a cold could make him king. He is also a warrior and friends with Irishmen and Danes, he is not prejudiced against us like the last priest you killed.”

That priest didn’t choke on a bone, mother stared at him until he did when he told father he mustn’t be ruled by his foreign wife.

“Fine, you may wed him, but the moment the little monk proves to be unworthy of you, I get to kill him.” Your mother relented thinking he won’t return for you as he promised. “But I do like that you showed initiative, well done, my girl.”

[headingalaxys-spicy]

I have arisen from my deep slumber 😌

Could I request a part 2 for the Yandere Bully America ask? I like these kind of dynamics, which I also have discovered in another tumblr blog a few months ago, where America is being a total douche to the new country. I think their name was llamacup or something like that.

Anyway, have a nice day or night, thank you~

🥹😘

Hello there it’s 2023 and I’m filled with DETERMINATION ahahaha.

I want to answer all my story posts this year! 🌟

Tw: Death-of minor characters and torture.

✨⭐️Happy First Friday of the year⭐️✨

“You’ll never see the light of day again,” was a promise that hasn’t been broken.

Darkness became your new muse for crafting your mindset in captivity. Fear was on the loudspeaker having your mind teeter on the edge. When would you hear the dreaded clicks of his oxford loafers on the marble floor? Anxiety permeated your nervous system causing you to tremble like a neverending earthquake. How did things get this bad? Why, you? Why did it have to be you?

You felt hollow and sullen like a decaying tree succumbing to an infestation of black turpentine beetles. This is already after America stormed into your life like a hurricane and damaged you and your nation permanently with his supreme act of violence against you and Britain at the world meeting.

However while you may have been in captivity your love was not.

“Mr. Kirkland, how would you like us to give you some added assistance? We don’t have our duties at the palace today.” Some of his loyal long-time palace guards wanted to join in on Operation: Silent Alarm.

The messy golden haired blonde ceased his hurried pace towards the black Audi A1 car headed to the airport.

“It’s quite alright, gentlemen. I already have some of my best men with a solid plan to rescue Y/N.”

“Oh come on lad. You know that brute will definitely try to kill ye again. We can be a great backup after all we are trained and well equipped with weapons.”

Arthur couldn’t help but allow a small smile to form on his normally grumpy face. He loved how dedicated some of his people were to him and his royals. He still had to be as discreet as possible in order to get under that crafty American’s nose. It took him a few months in order to finally locate (Country Name). The bastard had her imprisoned in the New Hampshire wilderness underground in an elaborate labyrinth Alfred created back in the 60’s. He also had his pesky guards and security system to break through. Thankfully MI6 was more than ready to deal with this.

He again turned their offer down but requested that they be ready for him and his return with you. He would not be leaving without you. They relented and allowed him to leave so that the mission could begin. Arthur pressed the small button on his discreet earpiece.

“Testing operatives lavender and thyme do you read me? Have the both of you successfully landed in D.C. to carry on negotiations?”

A few moments drifted by while the diver started the car while Artheur continued to make sure all the pieces were in place for his rescue operation.

He waited tensely as he waited for a reply.

“Yes, operative Bluebell. We’ll let you know if we’ve located the Burger Man.”

“Copy that. Tally ho. To save y/n here we go.” Like a soldier getting ready to lead the charge on horseback Arthur sprints to his private jet that would take him just outside of Pittsberg, NH.

*******

After laying down in your own tears and mucus for what felt like a few minutes you lift your head up to look at the somewhat barren room you were confined to. It had the basics of what America thought you’d like to keep you entertained while you’re in captivity. A TV that had basic cable, Youtube, and Netflix. A plain (favorite color) journal, a stack of comic books and manga, art supplies, and a few old books that he clearly pulled from his attic in an attempt to try to find more things to entertain you since he plans on living the rest of your existence out in that tiny room.

You were beginning to go Stir-crazy from being confined for so long. Your only comfort was a man that you considered to be a monster that was crafted from a Stephen King novel. Your life became to that of a drawn out horror movie except the only difference is that the monster had taken a liking to you and fucked your brains out on numerous occasions.

“Damn it.” You spat in frustration. You growl under your breath, you wish the mental anguish would simply fade away. You begin to pace back and forth in your room. You listened carefully to the soft crunch of the marshmallow-like carpet given away under your feet. As you continued to do this for hours you eventually heard a few peculiar sounds that piqued your interest. At first you ignored it considering that what you were hearing was nothing more than maybe America or one of his staff milling about through the… where ever the fuck you were. Not that it mattered. No one could hear you nor could anyone-

The flatscreen TV that's mounted to your wall suddenly sparked to life. It startled you and you quickly jumped up in the air like a cat that’s seen a cucumber and flung yourself onto your plush bed and shielded yourself with your (favorite color) duvet.

“OH SHIT!”

“Y/N, Y/N do you can you hear me?” A familiar British accent called out from the screen.

With heavy drawn in breaths that filled your lungs it took you a few moments for your brain to recognize that it wasn’t the monster….

“Y/N?” He says much more gently this time. As if calling out to a severely injured dog. The tone was heavy with sadness. “Y/N… please …I hope you can hear me.”

A few tears pricked your eyes. His voice was the only thing that sounded like a daydream after being in this watered down version of hell.

“A…Arthur?” You say in a weak hoarse voice. There was still a voice in your mind screaming that it was a trick, a facade, a cruel prank that America was playing. All of the alarms in your brain were going off in a blaring symphony of panic. You were too afraid to remove your cover still and your shaking had begun again.

Silence hung over the room. You dared not to speak again.

Arthur stared at his screen that allowed him to see where you’d been imprisoned. He knew he had seen your slightly battered form run for the covers. He knew full well that you were not in the best headspace for any human nor country to be in. But he still had to try, because being left to America he'll surely turn you into a completely different country. You’d be unrecognizable. He tried not to think about all the ways that you’d change and did his best to put the images of you being America’s wife out of his mind.

Arthur called out once more with his voice cracking, this time you finally decide to take a peak from your massive duvet and look at the screen to see those dazzling emerald eyes. They were coated over with salt water that already began to spill onto his somewhat reddened cheeks.

“Oh my god it really is you. But…”

“Listen , Y/N we’ll save the heartfelt conversations for later. Let’s concentrate on getting you out of here. Within the next 30 seconds I need you to push your nightstand aside. One of my agents has constructed a tunnel that will lead you to the East and into the forest where I’ll be. I just need you to stay calm and….. It’s going to be okay.” He reassures you. Judging by the tension that you had in your face and the terror pouring from your eyes he knew he had to be more verbally accommodating to you in your fragile state.

‘Definitely going to ask France to make us a nice meal and I’ll actually have to be nice to get him to do it. Y/N is in some desperate need of pampering and escapism after this.’ He mused to himself.

You were still shaking tremendously. You hadn’t even registered his words in order to take action. However the agent Rosemary had reached you and effortlessly moved the nightstand from the hidden entrance that crumbled.

“(Country name)?” The agent calls out from the hidden tunnel. “Hurry, we have to get out of here. The guards are distracted but some of the other personnel will come to check on you and we have to allow the decoy take over for you before-”

Numerous footsteps pounding against the marble floor swarmed through the labyrinth. They began to draw nearer to your room.

“Y/N I promise it will be okay just listen to agent Rosemary. She’ll get you out of there safe and sound.”

“What are you guys going to use as a decoy?” Curious as to what your British love interest was scheming.

“This love.” A realistic hologram of you sprung to life from the screen. It was realistic. “Now tally ho. Get the hell out of there!” His transmission ends while your hologram continues to be projected through the screen. It wouldn’t be long before America’s guards figured out that it wasn’t you.

“My lady.” Rosemary pushed you into the escape route and you began to crawl for your life. With the agent right behind you couldn’t help but feel the tension that was in the pit of your stomach and made you somewhat nauseous. You had to cling to the fresher memory of Arthur in your mind to continue your escape and not be caught.

You had to get back to him you were determined to.

*******

In Washington, D.C. Burger Man I mean America was in a deadlock debate with Lavender and Thyme over trade deals. Agent Thyme’s golden hair swished violently as he pounded his fist against the table in heated debate with America.

“You can’t just harbor a personification and then begin a hostile takeover of their government and start spreading your propaganda like some twisted infestation! It’s illegal first and foremost. And second it VIOLATES THE ENTIRE BLOODY UNITED NATIONS CHARTER! And you’re supposed to be a LEADER?! You act like such a petulant child!”

“Funny that comes from a man that had more than half the world in the palm of his hand. How dare you insult me in my own senate.” He hissed back at England in pure defiance.

(they die at the end.)

“You’re acting like a super villain in one of your stupid comic books that you melt your already stupid brain with.”

The verdant versus aqua eyes collided with one another. Neither was the type to let their pride down. The air was tense with a thousand needles and no one wanted to be caught in the crosshairs. Teeth biting, nervous shifting, and over hundreds of eyes witnessing the showdown between two sworn enemies since the betrayal. Some cracked their knuckles to at least relieve some tension that was broiling within the room. America had reached the point where negotiations were at a stalemate and….

America’s earpiece beeped in his ear and although his facial expression stayed neutral and as distant as the moon. His eyes bled out with rage and stared out at ‘England’ with a look that was meant to obliterate one within mere milliseconds. He stood up suddenly as if a giant had been awoken from a peaceful slumber and was in a terrible mood.

He snapped his fingers.

Secret service surrounded Thyme and Lavender. The ruse was up.

“Kill them. Right here. Right now. They’re fakes.” America ordered.

“It was a pleasure working with you, Lavender.” The spell that Arthur originally put onto him wore off and their true identities were revealed. They raised their hands high into the air.

“We did our duty.” Lavender uttered her last words she’d ever speak in this world.

A few hundred rounds were fired off within seconds filling the air with deathly gunpowder. Two less souls came out of the senate that day. The monster raged through the White House all night. It was a scene straight out of hell. Glass broke, things set ablaze, people injured, and some even parished. The only thing that most who were in earshot of the White House could hear

Y/N HOW DARE YOU!

UK I WILL KILL YOU!

Y/N IS MINE!

Then just more hellish shrieks would follow. No one really wanted to question what was going on for fear they would be caught up in the chaos. They stayed away and allowed it to happen.

*******

For the first time in a while Y/N could rest peacefully without having a horrid lucid nightmare that would only bring her down deeper into depression. She finally felt okay for a moment between England’s athletic arms. She actually got to sleep and recharge her broken soul.

“Is everything going to be alright Arthur?” Your anxieties are still nibbling at the back of your ears. It was nice that you could talk to him but you still feared that he’d leave you because you’re damaged and neurotic. A ball of untamable wild energy that no one would want to deal with.

“Y/N it’s okay. I want you to relax. I won’t leave you. I won’t harm you like America. I promise.” He kissed the back of your collarbone. You felt a million bright butterflies fly from that area and through your entire being you felt relieved and could live in the moment. You felt relaxed and safe. Nothing could ruin this for you. You melted like hot butter in Arthur’s arms. You didn’t want to think, just feel. Nothing else mattered.

Except for the brewing storm that was brewing from across the pond.

[as-is-above-so-below]

In the Middle of the Night (Jason Todd x OC)

Masterlist

Chapter 3, Chapter 5

story summary: Melanie Withers and Jason Todd do everything together - including but not limited to stealing tires off Gotham's famous vigilante. The newest additions to the Wayne family begin their journey, learning how to navigate their new family, life as vigilantes, adolescence, grief, and rebirth.

chapter summary: Melanie's birthday and AN ADOPTION!

Chapter 4

December 2011

Bruce wasn't able to enroll them at Gotham Academy before he became their legal guardian, so the weeks following Thanksgiving were mainly spent exploring the manor, causing mischief, and lazing about. As promised, Dick took Melanie out to find decor for her room, just the two of them. He had to use a little force to get her to pick things out as Alfred had, but he was more teasing and antagonizing. It was strangely nice getting to bond with him without Nightwing and Robin in the way. Jason got the same treatment, a full day out on the town and a trip to the arcade. He and Bruce had another spitting argument about the future of Robin; this time, they made sure to lock down the Batcave, barring Jason and Melanie from spying again.

Rude.

Her thirteenth birthday came and went as well. Bruce put up a fight, but she insisted on not having a party. Next year you can throw the birthday bash of your dreams , she told him. Alfred and Jason (mainly Alfred) baked her a delicious cake, which they all horribly sang “Happy Birthday” over. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red for an hour afterward. Dick gifted her a giant, thick quilt that she eyeballed on their shopping trip but had passed up because it was outrageously priced. 

“Dick, I can’t take this–”

“Yes, you can! I threw the receipt out, you don’t have a choice,” he snickered, the tip of his tongue stuck between his teeth.

Smug bastard.

Again against her request, Jason bought her a stereo system, so they could listen to music and dance together. He was a big fan of dancing with her – it was one of the few things they had when they were at their lowest. Even if they couldn’t scrounge batteries for their little pocket radio, he would always sing or hum a tune. Starving, exhausted, and dirty, he could still hold her close and shuffle about whatever place they temporarily called home. She almost couldn’t be upset with him for giving her such a thoughtful gift, but she still gave him a half-hearted shove.

Ironically, the only person who did what she asked was Bruce. Instead of buying her a gift, he surprised her with a visit from the seamstress and Lucius Fox. The seamstress took her measurements and walked her through what she wanted her dress to look like for the Wayne Gala on New Year's Eve. When the woman left, Bruce took her and Jason down to the cave to design their suits with Lucius, which was much more interesting than the dress.

After a half hour spent arguing, Melanie relented and let Jason take up the mantle.

Jason was officially Robin.

His would remain relatively unchanged from the original Robin suit. It would still be red, green, and yellow, with the Robin emblem on his left breastplate. With the addition of pants. And sleeves. And actual shoes.

Okay, maybe a lot was changed, but the structure was there.

When her turn came, she hastily shoved Jason into the elevator, ignoring his complaints. Her persona would be a surprise .

Soft snow flurried to the ground, carried by a cold breeze that had taken over Gotham. The temperatures had dropped significantly in December, and snow had quickly turned from a thin blanket to several inches of fluff. The Gotham City Courthouse was huge and historical; not as intimidating as the manor, but a close second. It was possible that the courthouse itself wasn’t intimidating and instead the task ahead made Jason nervous. As they climbed the white marble steps, his hand shot out to grab Melanie’s in front of him, but Dick came up behind and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You alright there, Jaybird?” he questioned, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. When Jason didn’t respond, he wrapped an arm around his back in a side hug. “I know it seems scary, but it’ll be quick. Won’t be in here for more than thirty minutes, promise.”

Jason’s head bobbed, finally breaking his gaze from the building and meeting Dick’s. “I just… I don’t like places like this. It makes me queasy,” he muttered, suddenly feeling small.

Dick’s palm pressed his shoulder, rubbing gently in an attempt to ground the teen. He didn’t want to pretend to know what Jason and Melanie were going through; when he became Bruce’s ward, he had come from a loving, albeit unconventional, family. He didn’t know what it was like to starve or fend for himself on the streets of Gotham. But what he could do was be a shoulder to lean on and offer his unconditional support. 

Bruce’s hand around Melanie’s steadied her when they crossed through the double doors of the small municipal courtroom. It wasn’t as big as a criminal court, meant only for proceedings such as adoption. There were just enough seats for a few friends or family to attend if invited; that wasn’t the case for them today. Melanie had asked if Bruce and Dick would invite their “super friends” as she called them, but they decided it was too soon to introduce their real identities. So for now, it was just Dick and Alfred joining them. Jason appeared beside her with tender fingertips to her spine, which she leaned into with a smile.

“We’re going to sit on the left there,” Bruce commented, tilting his head in the direction of the long table. “Dick and Alfred will sit behind us. The judge is just going to go over the paperwork and make sure everything is in order. Then she’ll ask the state’s attorney if they object to the motion – Which they won’t,” he quickly added, seeing Jason and Melanie’s eye shoot to his. “They won’t. I promise. Everything’s taken care of, but it's all part of the process. I’ll sign the declaration, and we’ll submit the forms to change your names.”

Melanie nodded in understanding, happy to have the process explained. They’d talked about it several times before their appointment, but it was reassuring to hear it again. The judge entered from the door behind the bench, signaling them to sit down. Melanie and Jason slid into their seats before Bruce settled between them, patting Jason’s thigh with a smile.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Wayne. Considering your experience with Mr. Grayson, I don’t have to ask nearly as many questions as I usually would.” She shuffled some papers around, her glasses on the tip of her nose while she searched through the stack. “Ah, here it is. It looks like everything is in order.” Her glasses were placed on the desk, and her body leaned forward. “Mr. Wayne, do you understand that adoption is a lifelong, permanent commitment? And that you are assuming all responsibility and liability for these children?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Miss Withers, Mr. Todd, do you want this adoption to proceed? Are you happy under Mr. Wayne’s care?”

Warm smiles graced both of their faces as they chirped, “Yes” and “Definitely”, talking over each other.

The older woman grinned back at them, her eyes crinkling. She turned her eyes to Dick in the back, waving her hand. “Hello again, Mr. Grayson. Lovely to see you all grown up. Your brother’s been treating you two well, I hope?”

“He’s obnoxious–”

“ Jason!”

“What?! He is!”

Dick snickered behind them, arms crossed over his chest. He shifted forward over the guard rail and flicked the back of Jason’s head, causing a howl from the kid. He whipped around to retaliate until Bruce scolded the boys with a harsh ch between his teeth. “We are in a courthouse. Knock it off.”

Jason hesitated but decided it was in his best interest to do as he was told.

The judge met Bruce’s apologetic eyes with a gentle shake of her head, her lips tugging at the edges. “I think I’ve seen enough. Is the paperwork for name changes here as well?”

“Yes, your Honor–”

“Bruce,” Jason whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his suit jacket. Bruce gave him all of his attention, his torso moving into Jason’s space. “Do I– Do I have to change my name?” His stomach rolled helplessly, his heart beating in his throat, and his eyes quickly dashed down to the table. He hated feeling like this. The last thing he wanted was to offend the man who was adopting him and giving him so much. What if he got angry? What if he kicked him out? He would never see Melanie again –

The man’s dark brows came together, wrinkles forming between them. His large, calloused hand reached up to caress the nape of his neck. Jason instantly relaxed but still looked away. “Of course not, son. Do you want to change your mind?” His voice was low, speaking only to him as if he were the most important person in the world.

Son.

His bottom lip caught between his teeth, and he raised his eyes back to Bruce’s.

Bruce pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, and his face turned a deep shade of red. He never received that kind of affection from anyone besides Mel and his mom, let alone his father. His stomach stopped turning and filled with warm, fuzzy butterflies at the comforting hold.

Keeping his hand in place, Bruce addressed the woman, “Just for Melanie, your Honor.”

“Very well.” Her glasses slid back onto the bridge of her nose and her pen dragged across the paper. “It will take a few days for the name change to go through. I can have the Records department reach out when Melanie’s new birth certificate is ready. Otherwise, the adoption is officially approved by the City of Gotham!” She cracked her gavel, and a small applause broke out from Dick, Alfred, Bruce, and the woman at the bench. A hand ruffled her hair as she giggled, squirming away from the force. Melanie leaned into Bruce’s side and buried her face there, his arm draping over her with a throaty laugh.

“Before you all go, I do have to warn you, court dockets and schedules are available to the public. There wasn’t a crowd when you arrived because you were early, but–”

Dick’s chest huffed with an accompanying eye roll. “How many people are there?” His voice was practically begging. “It can’t be as bad as when I was adopted, right?”

A sympathetic grimace spread on her wrinkled face.

Dick and Bruce sandwiched them together between their bodies as they exited City Hall. Melanie’s fingers gripped the back of Bruce’s jacket at the flashing lights and loud attempts to grab his attention. Jason walked beside her, holding her hand tightly from Dick’s side. “Holy shit,” he exhaled a short ha! “I don’t remember nearly this many people last time.”

Holy shit’s right.

“Double the kid, double the crowd?” Jason offered, his thumb dragging back and forth across her knuckles.

Bruce scowled with pinched lips and his perfect posture somehow straightened more. Dealing with reporters came with being a Wayne, but that didn’t make it any less irritating. He had hoped to have at least a few hours to prepare them for the media frenzy that would follow the breaking news of two new children. “This is unfortunately a regular occurrence. Consider it an initiation into the family,” he muttered in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Alfred went around back to get the car, so this should be quick. If you’d like to speak, you can, but don’t feel pressured.”

Dick gasped, almost like he was going to jump out of his skin. “Does that mean I can–”

“Absolutely not.”

He visibly deflated, his lips in a deep pout. “But Bruce–”

“Dick, I said no.”

“But the chaos–!”

Dick stopped himself as a pretty redhead met the group halfway up the steps, batting her lashes at Bruce. Jason and Melanie shared a look that said Ew.

“Hello, Vicki.”

DOUBLE ew. Who would willingly go by Vicki ?

“Hi, Bruce. Mr. Grayson,” she gave Dick a quick side-eye. “And you two must be the newest additions!”

“This is Melanie,” Bruce explained, being cordial with the reporter with his dazzling smile. “And this is Jason. They’ve been in my care for the last month.” He neglected to mention just how they came under his care. The public didn’t need to know about their… criminal tendencies. “They needed a home and I’m happy to give them one.”

“That’s wonderful! Would either of you care to comment?”

Jason’s face was plastered with a wicked smirk, mischief rolling in his gut. “Fu-”

Bruce’s large hand slapped over his mouth.

Melanie choked on the laugh in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and Dick chortled next to Jason. Bruce glared at her, daring her to try anything funny. Alright, alright.

“Um…” She looked up at him, her hand pulling harder on his clothes. “I’m–I’m really happy we met Bruce. We were struggling just a month ago and ah… I’m not sure where we would be without him.” Bruce’s hand left Jason’s face and caressed her hair with a small but warm smile. Suddenly, a well-timed car horn all but saved them and she pressed against Bruce’s back, urging him forward.

“Thank you, Vicki, but we have to get going. A quick word?”

Dick nudged his elbow in the direction of the black vehicle through the crowd. “Give them a minute. Let’s go,” he said while moving in between Jason and Melanie, offering his hand to her, which she took. He kept a hand between Jason’s shoulders to lead them to the car, and to keep them both close in the thick crowd. He shuffled them into the car first before sliding in, letting out a hearty groan-mixed huff. “Unbelievable, they’re like vultures. It’s gross,” he muttered, dusting off his arms as if to rub away the feeling of hands grabbing at him. 

Melanie squeezed into Jason to look out the window with him, their noses squished against the glass. Her hands pressed into his thighs to support her weight as she leaned over him. “What are they talking about?” Jason questioned, watching their conversation. The reporter had lowered her microphone and leaned in to speak quietly with him. They were clearly speaking privately.

“He is reminding Miss Vale of his rules,” Alfred informed them, turning his head to look at Dick with a raised brow.

“Rules?” Melanie asked, just as he made his way towards the car. The rear side door opened, and Bruce slid into the seat across from them.

“I cannot trust a single one of you to be civilized with the media,” Bruce grumbled, plopping into the seat with a thud. “I was reminding Vicki to let her colleagues know that they are still not allowed to speak with any of you without my presence until you are eighteen. Obviously, that rule has proven its efficacy. Again.”

“Awe c’mon Bruce, I’m not that bad–”

“You absolutely are. You called Vicki a cheap knock-off of Lois Lane and tried to bite her finger– ”

“She was pinching my cheek! I don’t know what it is with the public and their incessant need to always touch me, but it all started with her! I have no regrets.”

Bruce shot him a look and Dick huffed. No one spoke, leaving the car in a comfortable silence as Alfred drove them back to the manor.

“If I may, Master Bruce,” the butler paused, waiting for Bruce’s affirmation to continue. “Etiquette training is just as important as the physical and mental preparation of their roles. Perhaps Master Dick could use a refresher as well.”

Dick’s long body was thrown across his seat with a dramatic groan, flopping into Bruce’s lap. “Can it at least wait until after we go sledding?”

“Only if I’m invited.”

The next morning, where a photo of Bruce, Dick, and Alfred in a small courtroom sat on display on the center table in the grand foyer, another frame was added. With a much older Dick, Bruce, Alfred, Jason, and Melanie in the same room, with beaming smiles and bunny ears stuck up behind the newest Waynes.

[haveihitanerve]

Dick knew he did it. Alfred knew he did it. But outside of the two of them it was one of Bruce's best kept secrets. (including being batman) Selina also knew, or at least, she suspected, because he had made one for her. He had never outright told her it was his, but she had smiled and kissed his cheek and the next time he had to stop her it was because she had robbed an art museum. She had left a painting of her own on the roof when he had arrived. It had been one of the few times he hadn't caught her. It wasn't that Bruce didn't want people to know he was an artist. It was just that he didn't think his art was that good. It was just something he did when he was forced on bedrest, or stressed, or in need of doing something with his hands. He knew Dick and Alfred disagreed. In fact, every year on their birthdays they demanded he paint something for them. Dick only knew because when he had fallen into Bruce's life Bruce had needed the painting still. He didn't need it as much anymore, it had been therapeutic for him, a way to escape life, but now he found he didn't need to escape as much. That didn't mean he didn't paint. It still helped when he was mad, or scared, or had too many emotions he didn't know how to express. But he didn't show those to anyone. Instead he locked them in the far room in the manor, only visiting it if he had a new painting to deposit. He had never planned on anyone else finding out. Much less discovering his room.

"DAMIAN YOU LITTLE RAT!!!" Tim screeched, slamming his door open and charging down the hall to his little brothers room. "Where is my camera?" He demanded, kicking the door open. Damian looked over at him coolly, seated at his desk coloring his most recent sketch. "I have no idea what you mean Drake." "Don't play coy with me." Tim hissed, advancing on his brother threateningly. "I need that camera. Its mine. I told you to keep your grubby hands off it!" Damian glared back. "Well perhaps if you weren't so careless with it I wouldn't feel the need to give it a better home." he sniffed. "Why you little-" Tim growled, waving a finger threateningly. "I take care of my camera!" Damian rolled his eyes. "Oh yes of course you do brother. Mr. Let me dangle from this rooftop and take pictures of Batman and Robin." The two brothers glared at each other. "Give it. Back." Tim growled. Damian huffed, but hopped off his chair, winding around Tim to the hallway. "Its my camera." Tim repeated as he stalked after his brother, up the stairs. "So you have said Timothy." Damian retorted. "Just get your own camera!" Tim whined. "Or, and hear me out I know it's a crazy idea, ask before taking mine." Damian stopped at the top of the stairs, releasing a little sigh. Tim stopped next to him, waiting. "You- you are right." Damian finally relented. "I- I should have asked. I just wished to take some pictures of the sunrise this morning so I could properly paint it. I am-" "Don't." Tim held up a hand to stop him. "if you apologize I might have to stab you. My baby brother doesn't apologize." Damian's lips twitched. Tim sighed, kneeling so that he was eye level with his brother. "Do you want your own camera?" He asked quietly. Damian shrugged. "I do not know. I like taking pictures but, but i am not as good as you and it might just be a waste of money." Damian stared at his feet. Tim huffed a laugh, standing. "Oh brat. We're billionaires. I'll buy you a camera. It's not a waste if you truly want it." Damian looked up at him. "Truly?" Tim snorted. "yeah Little Wing, truly." He wrapped an arm around his brothers shoulders, tugging him close. "Now, where's my camera?" Damian laughed lightly, leading them to the long window down the hall, and pointed to the camera that was sitting on the window seat. Tim lifted it with care, placing the cord around his neck. "good. Now lets go look at some cameras eh?" Damian nodded, but his eyes snagged on something. "What is in there?" He inquired, walking to the door at the end of the hall. Tim frowned. "I don't actually know. Probably just storage or something." He followed his brother, trying the doorknob. "huh." Damian looked up at him. "huh? What is huh?" Tim frowned. "Not a single door in this entire house is locked." He informed his little brother. "Something to do with us not having boundaries or something." Damian snickered. Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock pick, making quick work of the lock. He threw Damian a grin. "Are you ready?" Damian made a big show of bracing himself, hands up in fists. He nodded. "ready." Tim nodded back, taking a quick breath and pushed the door open.

"What the-" Tim stared at the things on the other side of the door in flabbergasum. "what?" Damian whispered, peeking around him. "Woah." He gasped. The entire room was covered, floor to ceiling, with paintings. They shuffled further into the room, closing the door to have at least a little bit of space, as truly the entire room was packed. It was clear that at first there had been a bit of order, painting hung neatly in a line on the walls, but then it had quickly devolved into chaos, with paintings hung on top of other paintings, laying on the floor, dangling from strings from the ceiling. "Who amongst us is a painter?" Damian asked in interest, stopping to observe a, really quite beautiful, painting of Gotham, right as the sun was coming up, painting the entire city in a nice warm glow. It looked peaceful. Serene. "No one besides you as far as I know." Tim murmured back, eyes flicking along the multitudes of landscape paintings. "Dick picked it up once, but his paintings were awful. Jason can paint decently, but he's more likely to hang them outside, not locked away." Damian hummed. "It is not you?" Tim chuckled. "Dami, you've seen my drawing. No. It's not me." Damian smiled, shuffling around some stacked paintings to look at the wall. Tim stopped in front of a particularly nasty painting, vastly different from the others in the room. It wasn't a landscape, for one, nor a painting of anything, in fact, just harsh, angry strokes of red and green and gray. It even looked burned in some places, in addition to large, slashing holes torn into the canvas, and it seemed crooked almost, like it had not been treated gently. (like it had been dropped from a fifty story building and thrown against a wall). "Cassandra? Stephanie? Barbara?" Damian listed. Tim shook his head, moving on from the strange painting. "Trust me, Steph's artwork, if she has time to make it, is on display. Both her and Bruce are way too proud to hide it away. Cass, she can dance, but she has no other artistic abilities. Babs has about the same painting skill as Dick, if maybe a little better." Damian had gone silent. "dami?" Tim called. "dami where are you?" He pushed some paintings aside, moving to where he had last heard his baby brothers voice. "damian? Woah." Damian stood still, eyes transfixed on the wall. Because on it, was each of them. There were nine rows, from the top of the floor to the bottom, of them. Dick was furthest to the left, with the most paintings. The one at the ceiling was one when he was very young, clearly early Robin stages. The most recent painting, about eye level with Tim, showed him in his Nightwing outfit, winking at whoever had drawn the painting, lips curved in a half smile. Next to him was Barbara, then Jason, then Cass, then Tim, then Steph, then Damian, and Alfred was next, before family portraits took up the last space. The first one, surprisingly, was of Bruce and his parents, then him and alfred, and then slowly each one of them added to the picture. "Timothy." Damian whispered. "Tim, look." Tim tore his eyes away from the most recent drawing of all of them, and focused on where Damian was pointing. It was in Jason's column, a head above Tim. "Woah." Tim had never seen his brother in the way he was depicted in the painting. He was a foot shorter than he was now, and he had a school bag slung over one shoulder, three books in his arm, a cocky, self assured look on his face. His eyes were blue, not pit-green, and he wasn't wearing the Robin, or Red Hood outfit. "Its-" Tim breathed in disbelief. "It's what Todd would have looked like had he not died." Damian finished grimly. "Look." And indeed, written at the bottom of the painting was the date, in sharp black letters. "Holy shit." Tim whispered. The door creaked open and Tim and Damian whipped around. Bruce walked in, carrying a new painting in his hands, and froze when he spotted them.

"I can explain!"

@fixation-central @frownyalfred

hi hi hello hello im here to introduce you to my artist bruce who used to do art w his mom and now does it to express himself to and abt his kids but is always too awkward to share it to them until one day damian and tim are arguing wandering around the manor next to each other and happen upon a room that's just fuckin FILLED with things dated in different times and i have art for this too and aaaaa

Oooooh there was a superbat fic I read recently (by fabularasa I think?) where Clark sees a painting in the BVS lake house and loves it. And Bruce is like ???? I mean yeah I made that but it’s not that good? And Clark is dying.

The point is, yes. Artist Bruce my beloved. Artist Bruce who has to take time off from creative stuff whenever he breaks his fingers on patrol LOL.

[patsypat]

“Moses, his chosen one, withstood him in the breach to turn back his destructive wrath.” Psalm 106:23 The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend, it says in Exodus 33:11a. He was chosen to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. Then when the stiff-necked people angered God at Sinai, God said, “Let me alone, then, that my wrath may blaze up against them to consume them. Then I will make of you a great nation.” What did Moses do when God was ready to destroy all of Israel and just raise up a new nation out of Moses’ descendants? Did Moses just say yes, ok, do what You want, Lord? No, Moses “stood in the breach”. Standing in the breach is a military metaphor, meaning to stand in a break made in a fortress or city wall where an army can rush in and invade. In Sinai, Moses heroically chose to confront God, standing in the gap, interceding like a warrior who tries to stop an enemy at the risk of his life. God relented in the punishment He had threatened to inflict on His people, it says in Exodus 32:14.  We see clearly that we as Jesus’ friends (John 15:15), we may stand in the gap for others. We can plead earnestly like Moses for our family, friends, our nation, whatever we care about. Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote in a poem, “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.” We will never know how much evil has been turned aside, and how much good has gushed forth, when we are at our knees in prayer. What we must take away from this passage is we must never give up praying no matter how dire the situation. We need to stand in the breach like Moses, to intercede for one another, to fill in those gaps in one another’s spiritual armor.  Today, will He find us standing in the gap for our nation, for our leaders, for our people, for our family and friends?  https://www.instagram.com/p/CqG6NohBAXd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[piedpiperart]

Phantom in Gotham 7

Chapter 6

In no time at all Danny found himself in a nightwing t-shirt with black and gray bat pajama pants, hair a bit damp, and sitting on a soft couch across from Alfred with a cup of warm cocoa in his hands. “I assume you have questions?” Alfred prompted after a moment, setting his teacup down on the matching plate on the coffee table. 

“Um, yeah,”Danny stammered, looking from his cup to Alfred. He sighed,”Sorry, um. I’ve never been kidnapped by a vigilante before, so I’m not exactly sure… what to do here?”

Alfred sighed, not at Danny, but he assumed Alfred hoped the Red Hood might’ve explained a bit more before dropping him off with the man. “No need to worry, Red Hood informed me of your situation, young man. You are welcome to stay here, at the very least until the snow subsides,” Alfred informed him. “Beyond that, please make yourself at home. You may find a few familiar faces around the manor, even.”

“Who? What do you mean?” Danny asked, tilting his head and reminding Alfred of a puppy. 

“You’re residing in Wayne Manor, and I am Master Bruce’s butler,”Alfred winked, and Danny’s eyes widened. “I assume you might know the many children he’s adopted from the news. Currently Masters Damian and Timothy are home, but the others may show up at a later date.”

“The Wayne Manor?” Danny repeated absently. He vaguely recalled Tucker ranting about WayneTech. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Alfred waved gracefully,”You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. There are plenty of empty rooms in this place, and it’s been feeling entirely too empty since Master Jason and Dick moved out.” 

“Well… if you’re sure,”Danny relented, sipping at his mug again. “Are you the only butler here? This place is huge.”

“Quite,” Alfred inclined his head,”There are a few other hired hands, but I am in charge of most things within the manor, such as mealtimes.”

“I could help?” Danny offered, perking up. Living in the Pizzeria left little time for cooking in an actual kitchen, and his core hummed at the prospect of helping the old man. “My parents weren’t great at cooking so my sister and I did most of the cooking around the house.”

Despite no one else but Jason allowed in his kitchen, Alfred’s heart warmed at the offer. “I’d enjoy some company, if you’d care to join me,”Alfred smiled, and Danny’s core hummed happily. Danny smiled back, and Alfred could only hope the boy was better than Dick had been in the kitchen. The poor boy somehow had found a way to set a bowl of cereal on fire that one time. 

Before anyone could add anything else, a small boy about eleven years old walked past the room with an apple in hand. The boy in question halted in his tracks and approached the two on the couches. “Another one?” The boy scoffed, and Danny took a moment to take in the kid’s cat t-shirt and nightwing pajama pants. “Pennyworth, doesn’t Father have enough children? Where is he? I must talk sense into him.”

“Master Danny here was sent for us to look after by the Red Hood,”Alfred forewarned as Danny fidgeted on the couch,”He will be staying with us while the snow is hampering his living conditions. Master Danny, meet Master Wayne’s son, Damian,” Alfred added, turning to Danny. 

“H-hi,” Danny waved awkwardly, unsure of what to say to the kid whose house he’s staying in without Damian knowing. “Nice to meet you?” Danny offered.

Damian just scoffed,”Of course. I bet Hood found him on the streets, didn’t he?”

“Hey, it’s not like I wanted to be here,”Danny shot back, exasperated,”Hood threw me over his shoulder and dragged me here. I’d leave if I could but this place is so big I don’t think I’d be able to find the door.”

Damian frowned, thinking,”You wouldn’t survive the blizzard outside even if you managed to find the door. Besides, you’re here now, might as well take advantage of the manor while you can,” Damian squinted, almost like he was testing Danny.

“I’ll have you know that I would have been perfectly fine out there,”Danny sniffed, and Damian’s eyes narrowed at him. “I’d make an igloo and burrow into it like a polar bear. So don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Tt. Your sense of self-preservation is worrying, and I doubt your ability to make a structurally sound igloo,”The kid concluded, looking out towards the windows covered in snow.“Are you implying the snow is preferable to the manor? Why do you desire a cold death out there over warmth here?”

Danny waved his concerns off,”Your giant castle is nice, I just. I had a space to hide out in, and being kidnapped to stay here was not on my list of things to do today.”

Alfred tutted,”An abandoned building with no heat or water was not adequate housing for this sort of blizzard, young man.”

Damian ignored Danny’s mumble proclaiming that he would have been fine, and stated,”I have concluded that you may be stupid or suicidal, so I will allow you to stay here until the snow lets up, if only to not have your death on my conscience,”Damian nodded, then scowled threateningly,”If you try to leave before I or Pennyworth say so, I will make sure you stay by less than pleasant means.” He stated, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Danny made a face at that, wondering if the kid was joking or not about the ‘less than pleasant means’ that he’d go through if he tried to leave. Did they have cameras here? He wondered if he’d be able to go ghost without anyone noticing. “Do not worry,”Alfred stated, standing up gracefully. “Master Damian has a soft spot for strays, you’ll be welcome here.”

“Um… okay?”Danny said incredulously. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be welcome here, yet his core had latched on to the frail old man like a starving cat to a tuna sandwich. He knew he’d only be able to leave once he’d made sure Alfred, and possibly Damian too, were safe during the blizzard. This day just got weirder and weirder. 

“I’m sure you’re tired. If you’ll follow me, I can show you to the guest bedroom,”Alfred offered, and Danny scrambled to his feet. He wasn’t tired in the least, and he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep at all tonight given his fucked up sleep schedule and his need for less sleep than usual anyway, but he didn’t realize that Alfred was probably tired, and needed to rest for the night. 

“Uh- sure, yeah,”Danny rambled, and the two made a detour to the kitchen to put away the cups before Alfred led Danny down a corridor with some decorations and nameplates attached to some of the doors. 

“You’re right next to Timothy, who should be asleep as of now, but if you have any issues he will be able to help you,” Alfred informed him, opening the door to the biggest room Danny had ever seen (not including Vlad’s). “I shall leave you to retire for now, master Danny, but do try and get some sleep. Breakfast starts at 8am sharp, and is mandatory for all those residing in the house tonight.”

“Do you want any help making breakfast?” Danny offered sincerely. He’d try to go exploring in his ghost form, but he knew he’d be bored and restless most of the night as he decided not to go out patrolling. Might as well try to get an early start on the day, he figured. 

“I don’t see why not,”Alfred conceded. “I usually start around 6:30, but feel free to show up whenever you wake.”

“I’ll be there,” Danny smiled brightly. It’d been so long since he’d been able to cook something with Jazz, despite his lack of appetite, he’d missed it. 

“Goodnight, Master Danny,”Alfred nodded, a soft, fond smile on his face. 

“G’night Alfred,”Danny waved as he left the corridor. He sighed, making his way into the room and face-planting onto the bed. 

What a day, he thought. 

Chapter 8