#and bruce is just a perfect model for them

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Probably won't do this every time, but I just wanted to show off the full image of Bruce in his green robes from this piece :3c

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

More Platonic Bruce x Reader than Batfam, but they are mentioned and will have a bigger role in the future.

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect

Just a reminder for everyone, your bodies are perfect and beautiful! Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Part 2

Part 3

Blinding lights and hundreds of eyes are enough to thwart people from the runway. It makes people stumble, trip, or even run from it. Their mind focuses on if they mess up, the world will see. Their managers, agencies, everyone will forever refer to it when they ask them to walk for them again. 

They focus on their walk, the way the clothing either hugs or drapes off their bodies, how the shoes don’t fit, the way their hair is styled, and how the makeup can burn. They try not to focus on how their stomachs ache, how the heels cut into the thin skin on their feet, and that everyone in this room that is dressed and prepped, are equally or more or less beautiful than them. 

Y/N L/N seemed to be the topic of conversation at all of these events. A newer runway model who has been eating it up. From their first runway debut to this one, they have always left people in awe and dropping to their knees for more. It is hard to believe that they are only 18. Y/N has been a photoshoot model since 15, but on their birthday when they turned 18, they finally agreed to their agency’s desire to make them take on the runway. 

It was the best choice for their career. Y/N’s manager was the daughter of their mother’s manager, back when she was alive and used to do modeling. Her manager threw her own daughter at Y/N, and stated that they were the best people to work with because they know Y/N. Whether Y/N was cursed or not –they have yet to figure that out– has nearly the same exact features as their mother and the same ‘air.’ One that demanded everyone to pay attention to them, and is a natural for posing and had a natural strut. 

They’ve been right, and Y/N doesn’t know if it is because of them that they all made it this far. They knew what looked best on Y/N and what wouldn’t work. They knew which designers would adore them and which designers wouldn’t fit. 

Those who know Y/N though understand that the ‘air’ was only on the runways and photoshoots. Y/N is actually a very demure person, while not a wallflower, they were someone who could blend in the crowd. 

Alfred once told them that every country should be grateful to not have Y/N working against them, because Y/N can just disappear. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” They smiled at their fellow models, slipping into the person of Y/N L/N, child of M/N L/N and Bruce Wayne, and nodding, “Of course. When am I not?” 

Cheryl whistled, a fellow model that has been Y/N’s mentor in some way, walking around Y/N and smiling, “Designers sure know how to dress you up. I think almost every runway walk has had your hips on display” Y/N chuckled at her, “It’s because of these hips dips. You can probably drink soup out of them.” 

“If it was ice cream I’d be down, but not soup.” Jon was another model who has been in the scene for a long time. He was a handsome man with a diamond face. 

“Models get ready.” A shuffling of feet and high heels clip clopping sounded in the backstage, and Y/N took their place in front of everyone. They will be the one opening the show today, an honor that the 18-year-old took gratefully. 

Opening a show was a big deal, setting the tone for the show in general and also the tempo. Y/N took a deep breath, and at the cue, their mind went blank as they began walking. Their eyes focused on the end camera, and the walk on beat to the music. Once at the end, they looked directly into the camera and struck a pose. Highlighting the slit hips and underboob design, showing off the almost sheer fabric that had the slightest hint of shimmer in them. A statement piece. 

Turning around they walked back to where they emerged from, making sure they kept their face in control for the last camera. However, a sight at the corner of their eye momentarily broke them out of their blank space. Five familiar people that should not be here. Sitting in the front row, wearing nice tuxedos, and almost making Y/N stumble. 

Almost. Controlling their features, Y/N returned their focus to the camera and disappeared in the entrance they emerged from. Smiling at all the 'congratulations’ ‘you looked great,’ ‘you look beautiful,’ they went back to their manager, Maya, and whispered, “I need you to confirm five people in the front row on the left side. They are four chairs down from the camera.”

Maya nodded, scurrying away and without a doubt checking it out. Y/N could feel the curiosity and dread build in their stomach. If they are who Y/N thinks they are, then the after party is going to be interesting. 

“What’s wrong?” Jon wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, bringing Y/N out their thoughts, “Nothing really. Just thought I saw some familiar faces.” Jon made a weird face, but dropped the issue when another model, Logan, strolled on over. 

“Did you see them?” 

“See who?” 

“The Wayne family! They are in the front row!” Y/N closed their eyes in misery and a headache began forming. They saw Maya running back, her face pale and a large frown on her face. Jon glanced at Y/N, taking in the annoyed expression and scrunched nose, “Hmm, no I didn’t. I was too focused on looking at the camera, Logan.” She rolled her eyes, “Oh, it was only a second.”

Jon and Y/N gave each other a dry look, remembering the last time Logan had said that and somehow the camera managed to snap a photo when she was oggling at someone. Y/N shook their head, “I momentarily saw them, but I didn’t think it was them. Do you think I can get the oldest son’s number?” 

‘You’re not his type.’  Y/N thought but didn’t say, shrugging and smiling in amusement, “Logan, what would your girlfriend say?” The model stuck her tongue, “She’d ask to join.” Before Logan could say anything else, Cheryl waltzed over, “Stop being inappropriate, there’s a kid present.” 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, if you can’t drink yet you can’t have this conversation.” Y/N made a face, “That’s the stupidest sense of logic I have ever heard.” Everyone laughed at them, clapping Y/N’s shoulders and helping each other fix their wardrobes. Some stylists came over to fix their makeup and hair just in case. Everyone was getting ready for the last walkthrough, and honestly, Y/N was dreading it. 

As the front runner of it all, Y/N’s face will be seen by the now confirmed Wayne family and Y/N isn’t confident in themselves enough to not make a face. 

The show will be closing soon and then there is the afterparty that all models are expected to attend. It's a networking place, where other designers, brand ambassadors, and just people who are rich enough to get a ticket can talk to the models and try and recruit them. Its a place and time to mingle for those who have an open schedule and unfortunately, Y/N has an open fucking schedule. 

This was their last show in Paris, and then they have one destination and then it will be done. Runway season will be officially over and then it will be smaller gigs and back to the every now and then runway. 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took a deep breath and fixed their face, eyes forward and chin up. 

‘I’ll call Alfred when I get home.’ 

+++

‘I want to go home.’ Y/N nursed the drink in the flute, filled with sparkling cider instead of champagne. They stood off to the side, changed out of the clothes they wore on the runway, and instead in a deep-v top and leather pants. Still dressed to impress, but at the moment they just wanted to curl up and go away. Y/N’s hotel room has a bathtub in it and Y/N really wants to just sit down in hot water and relax. 

Y/N was constantly scanning the crowd, moving further against the wall whenever they saw black hair and blue eyes. 

Maya said one more hour, then it will be acceptable to leave. She was doing all  the talking and networking for Y/N, trusting that when it came to meet the designers Y/N will charm them enough to want to have them keep coming back. Sighing once more, Y/N took a longer sip and wished to be home. 

Something moved the hair near their ear, and Y/N almost threw their glass at whoever it was until they caught sight of blue eyes and black hair, staring at and analyzing them. 

“Tim…” 

“Hello, Y/N.” Y/N gave a practiced and polite smile, “Odd to see you here.” Tim shrugged, “Seeing that the designer is friends with Bruce, and told us of your show and that you will be leading the walk, of course we had to come.” Y/N nodded, “In Paris?” 

“Where else? You’re next one is in New York right?” Y/N gave a polite chuckle, “Since when did you pay attention to fashion week?” Tim took a sip of champagne, “Since my younger sibling decided to run off and become a model.” 

Y/N took a sip of the sparkling cider, not missing the way Tim was eyeing them with interest and curiosity. They smiled against the rim of the flute, “ ‘Run off’ huh. I don’t think those are the words I would use. I never hid it and I didn’t pack my bags in the middle of the night and sneak through a window.” Y/N set the empty flute down, still smiling politely at Tim who was still watching them, “I simply walked out the front door and no one stopped me.” 

“Y/N–” 

“Y/N! There you are!” A tall woman, hair dyed a shade-off from white gray and wearing the crispest red suit, strolled over. Y/N gave a larger smile, opening their arms and welcoming the hug, “Ms. Gabbana, you look lovely as always.” The woman laughed, “That’s the botox. Anyways, you looked so amazing opening the show!” 

Tim was quickly forgotten as Francesca Gabbana, an Italian high-end fashion designer and luxury brand owner, chatted away with Y/N. Her presence called forth other designers and models and soon enough, Y/N was entrapped in a small group talking about the next runway show next week. 

They talked about the dreaded flight to New York, and where they will be staying. It will be Francesca’s show next week, along with some other high end designers. Francesca seemed particularly excited for Y/N’s, and when Y/N first saw the design, they had to hold back the shivers.

“Right, Y/N you’re from Gotham aren’t you? Will you be visiting your family?” With the attention all on Y/N, they smiled tightly and shrugged, “We’ll see. They are always so busy so I think it's best if I don-” 

“I hope Y/N visits, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” A large hand clapped Y/N’s shoulder, and from the facial expression everyone was making, Y/N knows who it was. Peeking up through their lashes, Y/N could see Bruce’s smile on his still handsome face. 

Cheryl was the first to recover, her eyes narrowing slightly, “How… how do you know each other?” Y/N glanced at Bruce, who right now is Brucie, and before he could say anything Bruce gasped, “Y/N, you haven’t said anything?” The young adult shrugged, “It never came up. Bruce Wayne is my father.”

The room erupted, and Y/N actually wanted to go die in a hole. What proceeded afterwards was the most intense questioning for the next two hours. 

++++

“Bruce, why are you here?” Y/N asked over dinner. He tossed the crouton around in his salad, waiting for his father’s response. They have never had a 1 on 1 meal together. It was alway family meals, and even then Y/N rarely showed up for those. There was no need too. They never noticed when Y/N was there or not. 

The Billionaire playboy shrugged, “Is it wrong to see my child open a highly sought after show?” Y/N chuckled, “No, but you have never shown any interest in this before.” Y/N never hid his modeling gigs. Often using the family weight room to keep in shape and also turned one of the unused offices into a strut practice room when Y/N lived in the manor. Hours and the amount of money spent to ensure their skin was perfect and their hair was nice, and that they looked beautiful. 

Y/N never hid their modeling job, even as a teen, and yet the only one who seemed to notice was Alfred. 

“You never said anything.” 

“I didn’t think I had too.” Y/N can recall trying to show Bruce, Dick, Jason, anyone that would bother to look, a photo of them making it onto Vogue. Not the cover, not yet, but as a newer model within the prestigious magazine. They made it at 16. 16, and only modeling for a year! Francessca had them in a piece that was first page worthy, and it fit Y/N like it was meant for them. 

Alfred was the only person to look at the magazine Y/N held open with their trembling hands, and ruffle their hair and congratulate them. 

“You didn’t even tell Alfred where you are living.” No, because Y/N doesn’t want Alfred showing up unexpectedly and seeing the almost empty fridge. The thought of the older man’s disappointed look and inquisitive questions would have Y/N breaking down crying. 

“Hmmm, I’m always moving around so I didn’t want him showing up when I am not there.” Bruce nodded, taking a bite of his lobster, and watching Y/N take a small bite of the salad. Y/N swallowed with great difficulty, “Bruce-” 

“Since when does a child call their parents by their first name?” Y/N sucked their teeth, “The only one who calls you ‘father’ is Damian.” 

“You used to.” Y/N shrugged, “You never seemed comfortable with me calling you that.” Bruce rarely answered when Y/N called him ‘dad’ or ‘father,’ and yet he alway responded when someone else called for him.  Y/N would watch from afar as Bruce came running to them in need, but when Y/N needed help they had to figure it out on their own. 

At some point Y/N stopped calling for Bruce entirely, running and calling only to Alfred.

Y/N is not mad about it. They never were. Dull E/C eyes accepted it and pushed forward, watching the explosive fights, the angry words, and the silent apologies. Alfred’s words affirming that they all loved each other, despite everything saying otherwise. Y/N watched, and continued to watch as they focused on themselves when Y/N began making a name for themself. 

They’re not mad. Y/N never was. Hurt? Maybe, but not mad. That is just their hand in life. Besides, it made the modeling career easier. No need to worry about missing any events, Y/N wouldn’t be invited even if they had lived there. Holidays weren’t huge, nor were birthdays. The only one Y/N sent a card to was Alfred. 

It made traveling easier. There was no such thing as homesickness. It made taking more gigs easier, more destructive behavior easier to handle. 

“Y/N,” Bruce called to him and Y/N paused while eating. Raising an eyebrow in question as Bruce set down his own eating utensils. Ocean blue met E/C, and Y/N tried to place the emotion in those blue eyes. 

“For what it is worth, I… I am sorry about the neglect you have faced within our home.” Y/N’s mind stopped functioning and they stared at Bruce in shock. The man either ignoring him or not realizing that Y/N was staring at him continued. 

“You… you didn’t deserve that, especially when you were grieving and that fact that I could not see that shows my fail–” 

“Wait wait wait!” Y/N held their hands up, cutting off Bruce, “What are you talking about?” Bruce stared at Y/N with questions in his eyes, and blinked in shock when he saw the genuine confusion in his child’s eyes. Y/N looked floored, “Bruce… I-I… what?”

Bruce knows he’s not a good parent. He is intimately aware of his failings and shortcomings, and how some of them haunt him. They claw into his skin, his mind, and chest as a reminder of all the times he has failed his children. He and Dick barely started talking, Jason and him are slowly mending that bridge, and Tim and Damian seem to hate each other and Bruce doesn’t know what to do about that. It seems the only children he hasn’t officially fucked over are those that aren’t even his. 

Then there’s Y/N. A child of his genetic makeup, just like Damian, only Y/N’s mother was a model Bruce had treated as a hookup whenever she was on the east coast. Y/N was 13 when they came into Bruce’s care, older than Damian and a few years younger than Tim. Their mother was caught in a drug-use scandal, one that cost her her career and then her life. Her choice left behind a traumatized child, walking in on the body as she decomposed in their bathroom. They had been forced to pack up their bags and move across the country to live with a parent that they only heard about once or twice. 

Bruce somewhat knew of Y/N. He knew that Y/N’s mother had been pregnant, but when he asked if she wanted child support, the woman huffed and said ‘no thank you.’ Her income was enough, as a high in demand supermodel, and she didn’t need Bruce’s ‘pity’ money. 

So, he never sought after her and she never phoned him. 

Until CPS called and told him of the news and the now homeless 13-year-old child he was now in charge of. 

Y/N and him never really connected, and Bruce wonders if some of that is his own fault. He was always too busy with Batman, then his drama with Dick, and Jason’s whole dying thing, the persona of Brucie Wayne, then there was Tim, then Jason coming back from the dead thing, then Barbara’s whole Joker incident, then Damian…. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t too busy, he just never made time for Y/N. Which, the other never seemed to complain about. If they did complain to Alfred, the butler never said anything, and neither did their brothers. Y/N was just a ghost living in the manor that showed up for meals because it was expected, and then… left. 

Now he sits here, across from his child who doesn’t seem to understand the wrong done to them by not only Bruce, but the rest of the family. 

“Where did this come from?” Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it was because of Alfred that Bruce and the family finally realized what was wrong. The tour of Y/N’s old room, still kept clean due to Alfred’s insistence, but instead of clothes on the ground and signs of life within the room, it had photos of Y/N's past modeling gigs. Hundreds of photos, some framed, some not, as they covered the walls. Magazines that had Y/N on the front cover, magazine pages that had Y/N taking up the entire page.

The tour of the room-turned-practice room. Full of mirrors, and a 4 inch wide ply board used to practice walking. The shoes that were hidden in the closet, some too big and some too small. Blood staining the heel area of most of them as the image of Y/N practicing until and through the blisters filled all their heads. 

The meal regime, still written hastily down on the post it notes, and the exercise routine that didn’t match the calorie intake. The broken mirrors in Y/N’s closets and the clothes that now looked like they would be too big on the present-day Y/N that is sitting in front of Bruce.

The written blogs, printed and folded in one of their drawers, relating them back to their mother. Accusing them of the same thing they accused M/N. Highlighting Y/N’s faults, Y/N’s mistakes, Y/N’s features, and Y/N’s heritage. 

‘Child of drug-abuser model M/N L/N, Y/N L/N using the same drug?’ A 15-year-old Y/N posed in a way to show their figure was the picture that was used. 

‘Child of famous model M/N L/N able to hold up to the heat?’ Another photo of a 16-year-old Y/N looking exhausted as they walked out of a building. Eyes red and bags under their eyes. 

‘Beauty genes skipped a generation.’ Y/N is 17 in that photo. 

‘Y/N M/N will never be as beautiful as M/N L/N without extensive work.’  Y/N is 15 again in this photo. They had kept every critique, every mean and poorly written article about them, and kept them. Some of them were tweets, printed instagram photos, and magazines. 

Bruce could see the drastic changes in Y/N throughout the photos. The strict lifestyle changes affected their appearance and made them look even more like M/N. The Y/N in front of him, still beautiful, but Bruce knows the thoughts behind the perfect skin and perfect hair. 

It would seem that one of the things Y/N inherited from Bruce would be the internalizing of every little bad thing to happen, and deny that it has affected them while they wore the scar of it on their sleeves. 

“Bruce, you didn’t neglect me. I had food, clothes, a manor… where did you get all of that from?” 

“Emotional neglect is still neglect.” Y/N still looked confused, setting their fork down and controlling their expression as they processed that. Okay, so yeah maybe Bruce wasn’t an attentive father, but the man never hit Y/N. He never said anything about Y/N that Y/N would have to go to therapy for. Besides, Bruce’s lack of attention paved the way for Y/N to do this! 

Y/N’s lips formed a serene smile, “Bruce, I’m not mad that you didn’t pay attention to me. You were busy with your company, you are legally a dad of five kids, not everyone is going to get the same attention.” They took a sip of the water, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“It wasn’t that I was busy, I just never made time Y/N… and for that I am sorry.” Y/N hates this. Absolutely hates this. All of their excuses for Bruce are being shot down by Bruce himself and it was leaving Y/N feeling a little raw. Wounds they didn’t even know about now being rubbed with salt. 

Y/N stuck their tongue in their cheek and looked around, before smiling once more, “Bruce, I am literally giving you a way out for your guilt, which I still don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty, so why aren’t you taking it? 

“What are you hoping to do?” Bruce stared into E/C eyes and he could see the irritation in them. He set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, “Is it wrong to try and mend broken bridges?” 

“The bridge was never broken in the first place.” 

“You’re right, and that’s because there was never a bridge in the first place.” Y/N cocked their head to the side, watching with an intense expression. Those E/C eyes flickering around, taking in the restaurant and narrowing their eyes, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but did you rent out the entire restaurant?” 

“I did. So we can talk freely.” 

“The other ‘customers’ are Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Bruce nodded, “Family dinner.” Y/N’s smile held no amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else I would be thinking this is a way for you to slide back in my life in hopes you could get some of my paycheck. But what is a model’s paycheck to Bruce Wayne’s?” Bruce chuckled, “You are making quite a bit. I’m happy you're conscious of your position now.” 

Y/N sipped the water, “How do you know how much I’m making?” Bruce only smiled and continued eating. He watched his child contemplate asking the question again, but then decided to drop it. 

‘Smart.’ Y/N continued to watch him, no longer touching the food and seeming unwilling to even look at the dessert menu. 

“You’ll visit when you’re back in the states, right?” It didn’t feel like a question. In fact, it felt more like a demand poised as a question to keep intentions hidden. Y/N gulped, “I’ll try.” 

“You should, Alfred misses you. Besides, Manhattan, New York isn’t too far from Gotham.” It was such an innocent sentence. One spoken with a smile on his lips and kind sky blue eyes. An innocent sentence, except Y/N has never once told them where they live. 

“A beautiful place, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave. With windows like those and that giant skylight, it is truly a wonderful place befitting a top model such as yourself.” Y/N’s mouth went dry, and they could feel the sweat on the back of their neck as they continued to stare at Bruce. Their instincts implore them to go along with this. 

Urging them to carry on the conversation as they felt the gazes of four others on their back. They gave a wobbly smile, “Ye-yes. I really love it, I am super lucky that I managed to have enough saved up, and that I make enough to own a beautiful home such as that.” Bruce nodded, “As an apology for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, I decided to help out a bit.”

“...Excuse me?” Bruce ignored them, and instead looked at their plate that was still untouched from when Y/N had put down the utensils. He took a bite, “Do you not like your food? I can get something else made for you.” 

“N-no, I’m-I’m just full.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed before making a show of shrugging it off, “If you insist. Do know Alfred will want to feed you when you visit.” Y/N’s smile was becoming hard to maintain, “It was a pleasure to have dinner with you, Bruce, but I have to go. Long flight tomorrow and I need to be ready for next week.” Y/N fished out their credit card, but Bruce stuck his hand out, “Don’t worry about it, dinner has been paid for.” 

Y/N didn’t fight, only nodding and smiling pleasantly, “I suppose I will see you next week?” Bruce stood up, and brought Y/N into a tense hug. Feeling the bone and sinewy muscles in his rough hands. Y/N’s top is open back, exposing the shoulder blades and some of Y/N’s spine. Each one a small knob against skin, looking like the Rocky Mountains. 

“Safe flight, Y/N. See you at the shows next week.” Y/N gave a tight smile and quickly left. The four other pairs of eyes never left their back, and when finally in the safety of the streets, Y/N pulled out their phone and checked their Mortgage app. 

‘Successfully Paid!’ In bright green letters, bolded as if it were a game. 

It’s been paid off. Y/N now owed nothing on that house, and while that might have been freeing, it meant someone could now have access to their mortgage account. An alert sounded on their phone, and when Y/N saw that it was their bank account, notifying them of a deposit Y/N felt the breath leave their lungs. 

A large sum, one that had Y/N blinking at the amount of 0’s, was just deposited to their checking account. Right under their bill for walking on that runway. 

‘Shopping money, for when you visit.’ - Dick 

They have access to their bank account. Y/N’s family, because while Bruce was a solitary kind of guy he never was one to withhold information from his former Robins, now had access to their account. They could see what they were spending money on. 

They know where Y/N lives. From the sounds of it, Bruce was even in the penthouse. Y/N covered their mouth and tried to stifle a sob, the feeling of an invasion of their privacy weighing heavy in their chest. 

++++

Y/N stared at the article of clothing with anxiety. When Francesca had first shown them the clothing, it had only caused slight discomfort. Now, now that Y/N knows that their family is here, and watching, the clothing had felt like it was a metal ball. Francesca stood next to them, admiring Y/N’s hair and makeup, and how it all looked with clothing item. 

“I knew this would look great on you. As a Gothamite, this must feel great right? To be wearing the symbol of your City’s greatest vigilante.” Y/N swallowed down the bile, “He’s typically seen as the boogeyman, but yes. I suppose it does feel odd wearing the symbol.” 

The piece of clothing was quite scandalous, a bat symbol made out of gold rest across their chest, attached to a black silk fabric and lace. It hugged their body, bringing out the hip dips and long legs, as well as exposing their toned stomach. 

“Why didn’t you say anything about you being Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Francesca asked, and Y/N could only shrug, “Just… it just never came up.” Y/N loves that Francesca drops that. There are tons of models who have family issues. Y/N’s are minor. 

Not worthy of anything. 

“Y/N, for what it is worth, I do think you are a one in a century model. No one has taken to the runway quite like you have. I think if you had started the runway earlier you would already be a supermodel.” Y/N smiled at Francesca’s kind words, and they wondered just how they got so lucky to have befriended her. 

“Thank you.” 

“Models get ready!” Y/N took to the back of the line, being offered to close the show just after they had opened one. Another prestigious offer that Y/N gratefully took. Sighing heavily, they watched as the line grew shorter and the sound of cameras flashing and grew louder. 

Taking a deep breath, they steeled their breathing and controlled their expressions. Blocking out the world in the way they do best, strutting. The intensity of the flashes increased, and Y/N made a show of keeping their face neutral. 

Just how Batman does. 

They made a point to not look at the people in the front row. When they made it back behind the entry way, there was no time to catch their breath. They were ushered back into line for the final walk out, and Y/N wonders if they can all see how pale Y/N is. Can they see the sweat on their brow or the fact that their E/C eyes are terrified? 

“You did great Y/N!” 

“Looking beautiful Y/N.” 

“C’mon Y/N, after this its a party!” 

No, no they can’t see it because they are all focused on what Y/N wants them to be focused on. Y/N has spent countless hours into ensuring they loook beautiful without makeup, and ethereal in it, no one will care about their inner thoughts and turmoils. 

Y/N strutted to the music one last time, focusing on the flashing light and hoping that the photos they captured showed exactly what Y/N wants them to see. Once they were in the back, the models stripping and changing into comfortable clothes and all of them getting ready for the afterparty, Y/N stayed seated. The pads of their fingers running against the cold metal that was in the shape of a bat across their chest as their makeup artist and hairstylist undid all of their work. 

Francesca smiled, “You were great Y/N, I knew you would be the right person to pull this off.” 

“Thank you, what inspired this piece if you don’t mind me asking.” Francesca smiled, “Oh, I got a call actually. It was just a call to run the idea by me, but I loved it so much that I accepted it.” Y/N furrowed their brow, “A call?” They began to strip out of the clothing, but Francesca’s startled look made them pause. 

“...What?” 

“You’re not going to keep it on?” Y/N gave a confused look, “We don’t keep clothes, Francesca.” The stylist smiled, “Well, no. But Y/N, that was a commission for you.” Y/N stared at Francesca with a new found fear, and their mouth going dry as they processed it all. 

“Who… who did you say the call was from?” Francesca beamed, “Your father, who by the way I am offended you didn’t say anything about, Bruce Wayne.” Large hands clapped their shoulder, and Y/N would have shouted if it weren’t for the familiar smell of cologne. 

Turning around, they met Bruce’s blue eyes, and the blue eyes of their siblings. All of them dressed to the nines and eyeing the clothes. 

“Truly a wonderful piece, Ms. Gabbana. I could not thank you enough.” 

“Of course! Thank you for the idea!” Y/N felt their breath quicked when Dick’s hands gripped their wrist, and gently tugged them in his direction, “C’mon Y/N, you’ll be late to dinner. Alfred is making your favorite.” 

“At least let them change, Dick.” 

“Todd is right, a drive in that would be difficult. Not to mention that  it is snowing outside.” 

“Y/N, we have some clothes for you. They should be more comfortable then the clothes you came in.” Y/N couldn’t even say anything as they were dragged away, Bruce keeping Francesca busy while their brothers pushed them into a changing room. Dick smiling gently as he passed the bag of Y/N’s clothes, taken from their penthouse, into Y/N’s trembling arms. 

“Bruce paid for that outfit, so try not to ruin it, okay? We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Dick booped their nose, and left Y/N alone in the changing room taht only had a curtain for a door. With trembling hands, they searched the bag for their phone. They have to call someone. Cheryl will help them. So would Jon. Maybe even Maya! Y/N just needs to call– 

“Y/N, we have your phone out here, so don’t panic.” Y/N bit their lip to stop themself from sobbing. One thing. They just want one thing to go right today. 

A knock sounded on the wood that was hoolding the curtain, “Y/N, do you need help?” 

“N-no! No, I’m just try-trying to be gentle with the piece.” Bruce hummed, “Well, try and hurry. Alfred is excited to see you and is expecting us for dinner in three hours.” Y/N gulped, carefully stripping and putting on the sweats and hoodie. Clothes that still smell like their laundry detergent and shoes Y/N knows were in their closet. 

‘Dear God.’ They whimpered as they slipped on the comfortable pair of shoes, and bagged the shoes from teh show, and carefully picked up the article of clothing. The gold bat symbol shining mockingly at them. 

The curtain pulled open, and like a horror photo, the light from behind them casted and eerie shadow. Bruce’s face hidden in teh darkness as he reached his hand out for Y/N, knowing full well his child cannot run. 

“C’mon Y/N, time to go home.”

______________________________________________________________

A Part 2 will definitely happen! Kinda has to, to be honest.

[acid-ixx]

I love your Batfam series! When I saw that you accepted fanart, I scrambled immediately to make a quick, rough WIP

I kinda like the visual idea of reader trying to study or sort a plan to figure out how to settle their debt while their phone won't stop ringing

Tried my best to make it as gender neutral as possible, threw in some reading glasses, and just stuck a few pens and pencils in their hair that they just tend to forget about

I'm not sure how you visualize their coloring, but I like to imagine they have brown hair and eyes

That despite being Bruce's biological kid, it doesn't match his and they feel like it's another thing that separates them from the family

— masterlist !

this is so... ong u guys are feeding me such good food !! i feel so honored to just see this 😭 !! the lighting, the expressions and the overall mood of this really solidifies the piece and i love every single thing about this, ur so talented frfr !! tysm for bestowing me the very honor i am blessed.

this would be an accurate representation of them trying to study for their finals whilst trying to block out the endless ringing from their (most definitely) hacked phone— it gives them an excuse to leave gotham even further, hell even dropping off from college because they'd rather stay up by cramming countless of information into their mind than hearing that dreaded ringtone one more time.

and no, they can't even fucking mute it because babs and tim had already hacked through your phone's system! not even burner phones are safe from them. so yeah... they're definitely bound to throw their phone across the room.

the reader can be interpreted in any way or form and i like how you and @/luffyadolover settled on giving them baggy clothes and oversized jackets ngl !

and i love your ending sentence because this is actually factual from the canon lore of my series! you see, you sport more of your mother's physical traits than that of bruce's, which further sets you apart from, you know, finding at least a semblance of similarity you share with him. and that only worsens the bitterness that resides in your heart once you see damian, who's almost like a picture perfect representation of bruce.

but it doesn't take away the fact that your mother's beauty, unlike your father's rigid edges or his stoic yet charming expression, settles more into the ethereal zone, she could've been a model in another life, hence why she was oh-so successful in pocketing the money of many rich folks.

[beesarekindaswag]

Prompt : The Mean Girls of Wayne Enterprises

Hear me out…. Mean Girls but make it DCxDP.

The public personas that the bats present, modeled after “Brucie” Wayne are the perfect templates for Mean Girls shenanigans.

Imagine : Our favourite ghost boy has decided to venture out into the world after making sure that Amity would be safe and secure (perks of being the recently crowned King). Danny knows he’d never pass the physical tests to be an astronaut but that doesn’t mean he can’t at least achieve part of his space dream. He’d done his research, very thoroughly at that, and overall it was Wayne Enterprises that came out on top. Their aerospace department was miles ahead of the competition - presumably something to do with Bruce Wayne literally being the one funding the Justice League (and if rumour is to be believed, the OG sugar daddy for a certain Bat).

Disregarding Danny’s personal feelings about the JL, the chance to create technology that will be used in SPACE, for space exploration and understanding was too good to pass up.

Just the thought alone filled him with a sense of contentment. Thankyou space obsession.

Which is what had lead to the current situation - an internship at Wayne Enterprises itself. How he landed it, he has no clue - sure, he’s got some smarts (much more than he’ll give himself credit for) but his grades had suffered from his years of literally saving the city (and by extension, the world). Perhaps it was fate? Or more likely, a meddling time god…

Danny wasn’t complaining though.

Only three hours in to the position and he was barely containing his excitement - literally, the fulfillment of his secondary obsession, regardless of how second hand it might be, created such a buzz in his core. He was having to consciously stop his more ghostly attributes from shining through - not even metaphorically shining, damn you LED freckles (yes we’re using the concept of Danny’s ghost from reflecting his love of space - constellation freckles and all)

Now though, he had been released to break in the cafeteria. There was a panicked moment of ‘oh shit, where do I sit?’ But thankfully, his (half) life was saved by one of his new coworkers calling him over with a friendly wave.

“Hey, Daniel, right?”

“I go by Danny but yeah, thanks for the save there” a awkward laugh at his own words, “didn’t expect it to feel like high school all over again”

There’s polite laughter amongst the table and the conversation flows over to casual small talk. At least, it does until out of nowhere, all eyes jump to the doors.

Enter : The Plastics.

Richard Grayson - the dumbest guy you’ll ever meet.

“Once, he asked me why aster isn’t the opposite of disaster”

Timothy Drake - knows everything about everyone.

“That’s why his eyebags are so big - they’re full of secrets”

And the queen bee, Damian Wayne.

“Once he called me an uncultured swine… it was awesome”

(I don’t know what’s better - Damian aged up to match Danny or tiny Damian being Regina)

What follows is a comedic story: Danny meeting the three, them assuming he’s going to be out of touch being from the Midwest (he is but only in the sense that his version of normal is Fenton dumbfuckery) , him eventually getting past their public personas by just not giving a shit for their drama - he grew up with the QUEEN of mean girls, the Wayne boys have nothing on Paulina Sanchez.

Just, Mean girls Waynes… that’s it - that’s the post.

[casscainmainly]

Cassandra Cain and Asian Stereotypes

So I've seen people debating whether Cass is a racist character or not because she falls into certain Asian stereotypes. While this discussion is valid and important, a lot of the conversation (on this website and beyond) is steered by White/non-Asian people, or people who haven't read a lot of Cass' stuff. This is my take on Cass and Asian stereotypes as a Chinese Cass fan. I do not speak for all Asians, or even all Chinese people, who are absolutely free to disagree with any of these arguments.

Stereotypes I will cover here: Silent Asian, Model Minority, and Hypersexuality.

The Silent Asian Stereotype

The most obvious stereotype Cass runs into is the Silent Asian. I would recommend reading the linked article for more information. Silent Asian characters are Asians who are part of a core cast, but rarely speak. Kimiko Miyashiro in The Boys, Lilly in Pitch Perfect, and Katana in Suicide Squad are all examples of this. The article also mentions Ben from Umbrella Academy, who can only communicate with one character, thus limiting his dialogue.

Why does this happen? Removing Asian characters' dialogue reflects the Western conception of Asians as demure, rule-following, and meek, never speaking up or acting out. It also means writers don't have to spend as much time writing these Asian characters, who are secondary to White protagonists.

The problem with the Silent Asian, then, is not the silence itself, but the consequences of silence. Mute Asians exist, as do Asians who don't speak much; in media, Silent Asians are harmful because they indicate an unwillingness to focus on the Asian character.

This is why Cass, even before she learns to speak longer sentences, is not a Silent Asian. While her conception undoubtedly has unfortunate echoes of this trope, she defies it by being the protagonist of the story. A protagonist cannot be a Silent Asian, because a requirement of the trope is being a secondary character. Cass' feelings and actions are the center of Batgirl (2000), so allegations of this stereotype don't actually make sense.

Furthermore, the trope is about passivity and acquiescence to a White authority. From her introduction, Cass is neither passive nor acquiescent - her origin story is literally about defying David Cain, a White male authority figure. Beyond her not speaking much, she ticks none of the boxes for this stereotype. I think it's time for people to stop mentioning this stereotype in conjunction with Cass, who in every possible way subverts it.

The Model Minority Stereotype

The model minority myth is the belief that Asians are more successful and talented than others, particularly other minoritised groups. Like the Silent Asian, the model minority myth paints Asians as obedient and submissive. This is, in many ways, more insidious than the Silent Asian - there are still people who believe this stereotype (and jokes like 'of course you're good at math, you're Asian') is somehow not racist.

Though this myth seems positive, make no mistake that White people invented this tale for two reasons: to put down Black and Brown communities, and to prevent Asians from ever fully assimilating into White culture.

Cass plays on this myth very interestingly. I've discussed in this post how David Cain and Bruce's assertion that she's 'perfect' is a blatant reference to the model minority myth - by describing her as 'perfect' to them, they are centering their own desires, erasing Cass' individuality.

This is partially why I don't like 'Cass is Bruce's favourite' and 'Cass is an angel who can do no wrong' interpretations when people are just saying it without context. Cass being Bruce's favourite, or Bruce seeing her as an angel, is not a good thing - it is a representation of his biased attitude towards her. He is unable to accept her being a murderer because he is trapped within the model minority mindset. This is not saying Bruce is a full-on racist, but that his actions and perspectives are coloured by his Whiteness.

Cass' abrasive personality, willingness to defy Bruce and David, and very real flaws (her inability to see grey areas, communication difficulties, etc.) make her avoid this stereotype. Additionally, her close relationships with Black characters like Onyx and Duke are essential to combating the anti-Blackness at the core of the model minority myth. Her character evokes the stereotype (perfect martial arts silent fighter), but ultimately defies it through being the star of her own story (and also not being good at math. The fact she doesn't have anything to do with tech is actually one of my favourite aspects of her character, because I am TIRED of tech Asian characters).

The Hypersexual Asian Woman Stereotype

Asian women are often exoticised and fetishised as the ideal sexual partner; think of the term 'yellow fever', which describes men lusting after Asian women. The hypersexualisation of Asian women in media once again goes hand-in-hand with Asians being submissive. They are seen as innocent and child-like, while simultaneously being seductive and sexually experienced.

This stereotype is genuinely perpetuated in Batgirl (2000), mainly by the art in Horrocks' run. Where in Puckett's run there is refreshingly little sexualisation of Cass, once you hit Horrocks' run you get a LOT more shots of her lying down, sexually suggestive covers, etc. People have discussed this already, probably to more effect than I will do here.

However, as I wrote in my Gender and Sexuality posts, the writing is actually fairly defiant of this trope. Cass is vocally uncomfortable with hypersexualisation, and neither of her male love interests stick around. The problem with the Hypersexual Asian Woman is the focus on White sexual interests, where the woman is objectified for the White male gaze. Simply because Cass is the protagonist, the writing focuses on her sexual interests, and in the end it's about gaining control of her gender presentation and sexuality.

Cassandra Cain Vs. Asian Stereotypes

The through-line that connects all these Asian stereotypes is a lack of agency. There's a reason passiveness is the main trait for all of these tropes- the Asian body must be weaker than their White counterparts, in order to be tools or weapons against other minoritised groups.

Cassandra Cain, a character born from a choice that defies White male authority, rises above this passiveness with flying colours. The details of her character certainly fall into some of the above tropes, and the way her character is handled later (evil Cass, New 52), is certainly racist. However, the reason she means so much to me is because at its core, her story is a story of Asian agency. And that in itself is unstereotypical.

[danny-chase]

Not to be obsessed over one moment in canon but Bruce's words here kill me every time i read them

The New Titans #55

Specifically, "He was just like you." Comics went a long ways after this to assure readers Tim was #notliketheothergirls (Jason) by continually contrasting him to Jason and pointing out how different they were. But comics rarely talked about how Dick and Jason were very similar characters, and how they went through similar arcs - starting out as perfect boy scout role model kids, and growing discontent and angry with Bruce's ways and not being people he could control. It ended very differently for them, but it could have ended the same, if Joker's aim had been dead on. In universe, who lives and who died seemed to come down to chance, and I'm obsessed with Dick thinking that it should have been him

[knifegiver]

For the next Battinson movie I need them to give him Dick Grayson. If ever a Batman existed who would think letting angry gremlin Dick run around without pants to fight crime was a good idea, or even just the best idea in a heap of bad ideas, it’s Battinson.

The movie should start with Batman being on patrol, stopping a robbery or something. To show that he indeed has learned something from the first movie, he takes down the criminal efficiently but not brutally. And he sticks around to make sure the victim is alright.

We cut to a circus tent, happy music, bright colors. We see tiny Dick performing with his parents, everything is perfect as it should be. But then the tone shifts. The happy music begins to lag, colors and shapes get distorted as we see Dick’s parents plummet downwards. Dickie is jumping after his parents, the ground comes closer, the shapes that once were the Grayson’s get closer but more distorted. Just when Dickie is supposed to hit the ground we cut to him waking up in a cold sweat.

Dick is breathing hard, trying to get his panic under control and to keep silent as to not disturb anyone. He flinches when Bruce, standing awkwardly in the corner, in his under-armor and still with the eye grease, asks him if he needs a hug. Poor Dick hadn’t even noticed Bruce was there. He launches himself into Bruce’s arms, who blinks in a pushed-down anxiety attack. After a good long hug Dick tells Bruce that he still smells like the armor, to which Bruce tells him with the smallest, tiniest smile that he wanted to make sure Dick was alright before he went and showered. Dick uses the situation to ask when he can FINALLY come with Bruce on patrol. He has been training really hard and he has become good! It’s time that Batman lets him go on patrol. Bruce panickedly tells him that they will talk about it tomorrow and sends Dick back to bed.

We cut to breakfast. Bruce reluctantly eats actual breakfast. He has to be a good role model for Dick, after all, as Alfred says. After a long awkward silence Bruce blurts out that he doesn’t know how to postpone Dick’s debut as Robin, anymore. He has tried everything, insisting the boy needs more training, giving the little one just one more test for his detective skills. He has no excuses left. Alfred politely snarks that maybe promising the boy that he can go be a vigilante hasn’t been the smartest thing in the first place.

Before they can unpack that, an energetic Dick enters and immediately launches into his explanation on why he should be allowed to patrol for sure! Bruce tries to refuse but is immediately steamrolled by the tiny ball of rage he all but adopted. At the end of the scene Bruce just says “No.” We cut to Batman and Robin on patrol.

[g1rlr0b1n]

Look guys!!! It's G1rlR0b1n 💖💖💖 (bet you didn't know this is what my handle meant lol)

Yet another commission by the super talented @tamdrry!!! (this was done a while ago I just hadn't gotten around to posting it)

So, there was actually a fic that was supposed to go along with this but... I never got around to finishing it 😭

If you want to see what I had planned to write you can check it out under the cut. 👇

One of my personal headcanons is that Damian is nonbinary (or trans but for this particular story, just nonbinary for now)

Anyway, he starts to discover this after spending a lazy afternoon with Cass and Steph in Cass's room.

They're cleaning out her closet and think it'd be fun to play dress up with her little brother. He relents because he likes feeling included and he enjoys their company and doesn't 'want to mess this up'. They're several piece swaps and a whole makeover in when the girls finally settle on what they have decide is the perfect 'fit. Damian turns to see himself in the mirror, mini skirt, crop top, fish nets, combat boots, smoky cat-eye, glossy lips, and he just…freezes… doesn't react… until he does. He starts to cry and flees from the room. The girls don't know what to do but they run after him. He nearly knocks Bruce over in the hallway, then the girls come storming after and he stops them.

Bruce: what's going on?

Steph (she looks worried): we were just messing around, we didn't mean to make him cry!

Cass (also upset and crying herself): we didn't mean to hurt him.

Bruce: ok, let me talk to him. Go back to your room, we'll chat in a bit. Try to calm down, ok?

The girls nod reluctantly but turn and go back to Cass's room. Bruce had long suspected that Damian may be having a difficult time with self-discovery from little things he's picked up on and from when he was at that age himself. he had a feeling something like this would be coming sooner than later, after all, emotions and individuality were not traits looked highly upon by the League of Assassins… or (he admits) with the Batman. he knocks on his door and when there is no answer he peeks in. Damian is sitting on the carpet in front of his floor length mirror.

Bruce: hey chum

Damian:

Bruce: can I sit down?

He says nothing again but scootches over slightly

Bruce: you wanna talk about it?

Damian:

Bruce: Cass and Steph think they've upset you.

Damian shakes his head: I'm not mad at them. (He emphasizes the word 'them')

Bruce: are you mad at yourself?

Damian nods but says nothing else. Bruce pulls him into a hug and he allows it, buries his face into him, cries, and Bruce just holds him there. They say nothing else until Damian finally let's go an eternity later. Bruce tells him he won't make him talk about it and he won't make him explain himself to the girls but he is going to tell Cass and Steph that he isn't upset with them unless he would like to do it himself (he'll tell them nothing more than that, he emphasizes). Damian's not ready to face them, he tells his father he can relay the message, and he does, later once Damian has asked to be left alone. The girls are relieved, they don't ask questions, they respect Damian's privacy. It's one of the reasons why Damian loves them.

A week later Bruce takes Damian to go to a fashion show with him, he goes because his father has been nagging him to put more effort into him public persona long before this anyway. There he sees androgynous models wearing mashups of typically male and female clothing and something starts to click. He feels seen for the first time but the feeling is uncomfortable and he begins to sink into himself, Bruce pulls him into his side, and he doesn't pull away.

Another week goes by and Damian comes home to find a large box on his bed, tied up with a large red ribbon. There is a tag that just reads, "fighting evil by moonlight". He opens the box and there is a new Robin uniform inside reminiscent of one of his favorite characters, Sailor Moon. The tears he cries are from happiness this time.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Imma try to chill so that instead of raging,i can just explain this politely:If you're in the Batfam fandom or are interested in joining,please be respectful of the Batkids' canon characterization and stories with exception of the offensive bits because that way,you will be able to fully appreciate and enjoy them as characters and get along with long time fans too as they'll appreciate you for it since Batfanon is so overwhelmingly popular and you'll be helping combat it

You want a ray of sunshine optimist who's actually realistic instead of a cornball and has depth and layers and is beloved by everyone in the DC world?Read for Dick but avoid Tom Taylor and Devin Grayson as their writing of him is extremely ableist,misogynistic(see Babs' character regression for his sake and the 'disposable black love interest' trope times 10x towards Kory)and anti-romani with Taylor being a whole ass zionist and Devin only made Dick romani to fetishize him and wrote canon Batcest and even other pedo ships.She has since apologized for the latter so Batcels can't use her as validation

You want a goth boyloser who's a lone wolf and has an awful relathionship with Bruce where both feelings are completely justified but he himself is morally gray and treated as such rather than coddled?Read for Jason but avoid og Rhato because it's a shitfest that screws over everybody involved including Jason himself and nobody who likes it cares about him at all since it's the worst thing to ever happen to him,INCLUDING The Joker.He was also textually miserable the whole time and is way happier with his new cast on top of being better written

You want a relatable teenage boy who's a positive role model for irl ones and is canonically into dudes and can be the token normie that reacts to the weirdness of his family for jokes?Read for Tim and please don't believe anyone who tries to tell you he's a bad person or a raging misogynist because they're the same niggas who stan Jason the ex-serial killer and Slade the pedophile who's child abuse even of the non-sexual kind is his defining character trait as stated by Marv Wolfman,who MADE him.He's literally just a 17 year old boy who's not perfect and people are just ageist and generally hateful.Everybody should care about Tim Drake /ref

You want a strong female character who's genuinely super weird and real and does justice for the girls that don't fit in and are abused by men but is also really funny and feminine?Read for Stephanie and don't buy into the bullshit propaganda DC keeps trying to keep selling since her debut that she's 'just a girl' or somehow less hardcore than the Batboys or ESPECIALLY the fandom's emphasization of her blondeness when she got it from her abusive dad and has never shown pride in it and was never an 'It Girl',she was the school outcast at ALL her schools,including college.Just because Stephanie Brown is a white girl that dosen't mean she's a white feminist or a prop or basic-She's literally a pastel punk who has a Metalica poster in her room ffs

You want a wasian with gender fuckery who was raised to be a weapon and had no parents until Bruce adopted her and became super human through crazy ass means and is a mega cool edgecase?Read for Cass and keep in mind she was created with the intention of defying easian woman stereotypes,including existing for white men and nothing else and that includes not forcing her to like Jason or steal her Shiva origin to give it to him and as an afro-dominicana,Jason feels more afro-dominican than he does anything else and we HAVE an asian Jason Variant but he was south asian,specifically indian and not easian/chinese so it's even more orientalist than before with Sanjay Tawde's canonicity in mind(He is from The Doom That Came To Gotham for anyone interested)

You want a brown boy raised by a bad organization he has complex ties to because his connection comes from his family who is very much a little shit and anger filled but also a sweetheart who's truly trying his best?Read for Damian but keep in mind he's a victim of anti-arab writers,he's not a demon or a villain or an animal-He's just a hurt little boy who's almost never known anything but pain and being seen as a monster compared to white boys and that's why so many Damian stans are so grateful for Flatline/Nika because she loves him as much as we do and gives him the TLC we wish we could(platonically in our case but still)

You want a troubled but good kid who has god-like superpowers and loves to run his mouth,gives Bruce's headaches with his shenanigans and is not only an unconventional Robin but Jason's Robin and vice versa?Read for Duke and don't even look in the general direction of runs that leave him out-Which do the other Batboys dirty too every time anyway!!Duke has refered to Bruce as his dad and Bruce has refered to Duke as his son and ALL the Batkids see him as their brother and the poor guy feels left out of them because DC are a bunch of antiblack pieces of shit who baited us with the first ever black Robin just to exclude him for his blackness and act like they were being 'careful'.Nah,FUCK that-If Cass can be respectfully written as Bruce's kid,so can Duke!He don't got parents either,the ogs got Jokerized and Gnomom is emotionally abusive and he's literally a minor!

And they're just the core Batkids!!!If you're looking for another type of character,then they definitely exist and i'd be happy to tell you who fits it so i can tell you what to read/watch/play for them!Trying to switch the Batkids CAN be good depending on how you do it but 99% of the time it's just bigotry!REAL bigotry minorities can't stop dealing with just by logging off and fandom is supposed to be a safe space for weirdos-Not 'nerds',WEIRDOS.Black people and woc and mentally ill people and autistics and abusive survivors and EVERYONE,not just stupid ass kinksters that think kink is inherently anti-establishment and white people who had 'hateful ideology phases' and think it's universal and play victim when told otherwise

'All Batboys are trans and autistic!'but then they leave out the most autistic-coded and tboy swag filled Batboy just because he's black and use the 'mains' excuse when they've never read enough comics to know that became a thing,that it wasn't always a thing and that it dosen't make SENSE for it to be a thing.'All Batkids are/do [x]' but they leave out the girls even though 'Batkids' is the gender neutral term as it's meant to refer to the whole gang.Do not fall for it.They're about as gooth faith as 'Allmighty God Superman who fucks all the women' dudebros.Please be kind and be a real superhero fan by reading the comics so you can join us in dunking on them.Please,you'll be doing the comics fandom a lot of good and you might even help influence the comics industry itself because it responds to mass fan appeal way far back and that's how we got a fair amount of runs and adaptions we do today and yesterday and tommorow.I promise it'll be infinitely more fun than fanon too

[gaarasfiance]

Cardigan

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader (version of jason isn’t mentioned but i wrote it with his original storyline death from Batman: A Death In The Family, not a later, retconned version)

Warnings: angst but also fluff, reader is a famous singer, use of Y/N, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, lmk if i missed any), swearing, makes references to other songs (Lover by Taylor Swift, Lucky People by Waterparks, and Favorite Record by Fall Out Boy), i reread this like 8 times but i couldve missed things so don't flame me if theres any fuck ups in there lmao

Word Count: 4,175

A/N: (yes i know cardigan is part of the teenage love triangle songs, yes i made it into somewhat fluff because i fucking wanted to, whats it to you? I was just listening to cardigan (by taylor swift if you were unaware) in the shower and had this beautiful idea of like what if rather than it being about getting cheated on, i make it about the reader experiencing Jason’s death (and resurrection)? also i color coded the dialogue which is something i normally don't do soooo fun little touch i guess.) (originally posted may 22, 2023 on an alternate account)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Italics mean it’s a flashback, bold and bigger means it's a song lyric, regular text means it's happening in real time. (with very obvious exceptions) Cool? Cool. also, real quick, THE FLASHBACKS ARE NOT IN PERFECT CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER!!!!

“HELLO GOTHAM CITY!” The crowd roared in excitement. Y/N was excited too, it was her first show in Gotham in a long time. This was her first tour in a long time. Of course, she let the public think that it was just because she was a teenager focusing on school, not because when she was 16 her first love the love of her life had been brutally murdered…

“It’s really nice to be playing a hometown show, and since this is my first one in forever, how about I play you something brand new?” Screams erupted in the audience, people pulling out their phones to get the first recording of a brand new song. 

“This one means a lot to me, it’s about someone very special to me, and how he came back to me when I needed him most. This is a quieter one so I'm gonna need you all to listen, and please don’t judge me if I cry during this. Alright, this one’s called ‘cardigan’ everybody!” 

Rows and rows of people buzzed with excitement as the music began to play.

~

Vintage tee, brand new phone

Y/N and Jason walked in, strutting about as if they were models in the new vintage tees Y/N had bought for them at the thrift store just days before. They strolled about the mall, eventually making the stop to get Jason a new phone, he had dropped his from a rooftop on patrol the night before. Oops. 

“Jay, baby, you can’t just use Bruce’s credit card without asking all the time” Y/N smiled, knowing Jason wasn’t going to listen to her 

“Says who? Besides, I told him I was taking it. If he didn’t want to pay for me to get a new phone, he should’ve given me a secure pocket in the suit for it like I asked.” Jason shrugged. He wasn’t atrociously rebellious at all times, but he knew Bruce had more than enough money for him to get a new phone, and to treat his girlfriend, and best friend, when he wanted to. “Plus, if I didn’t take his card, I wouldn’t be able to spoil you, would I?” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple as they walked out of the store.

High heels on cobblestone

Y/N’s heels clicked loudly against the cobblestone walkway as she made her way to the entrance of the Wayne gala, arm linked with Jason’s. 

“Are you sure I look alright? I’ve never worn a dress this fancy Jason. Should I even be at a Wayne gala I mean–” Jason cut her off.

“Sweetheart you look perfect. And if anyone tells you otherwise I will personally ask Bruce to kick them out.”

“Jay, you can’t do that.”

“According to who? I have adopted Wayne privilege and you’re the one who’s Bruce’s favorite”

“I am not Bruce’s favorite!”

“Yes you are, princess.”

He dragged her into the gala, excited to spend a night with her, and after that, her first Wayne gala was nothing but history, as she attended every single one at her lover’s side.

When you are young they assume you know nothing

“That boy is a delinquent Y/N! I doubt you even know anything about him, has he even told you how he came to meet Mr Wayne?” Y/N’s father shouted. He’d never liked Jason, despite him being Y/N’s best friend for years before things ever became romantic. She used to be able to avoid it, but when her mom moved out of state for work and Y/N wanted to stay in Gotham… well this was her only option.

“Yes dad, I know how he met Bruce! You realize I knew him long before he was adopted by Bruce Wayne right? That I didn’t just go for him because he was rich? You assume because I’m young that I know nothing!”

“Clearly you don’t know anything if you would choose to be with a boy who is a thief! He tried to steal Mr. Wayne’s tires!”

“He was trying to steal them because he was living on the streets and needed money to fucking eat, Dad! Clearly you’re the one who knows nothing here!”

She stormed out of the house, furiously texting Jason and trying to will away the angry tears. 

Sequined smile, black lipstick

Y/N grinned at Jason, her black lipstick fresh as they prepared to go to a party. Bruce had cleared Jason of Robin duty for the weekend and they’d decided to take time to enjoy being normal teenagers. 

“What do you think?” She asked, still smiling

“I think… I’m really tempted to kiss that lipstick right off of you”

“Come do it then.”

Sensual politics

“Do you ever think about sensual politics?” Y/N looked up at Jason, her head in his lap as he read a book.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘sensual politics’?”

“Like the politics of being flirtatious or like building a relationship with someone, but like also kind of a play on sexual politics and people’s perception of the difference’s between men and women and the politics of it, you know? Like they’re both very different things but you can name them the same thing”

“And you’re calling that sensual politics?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I wish I could understand what’s going on in that brain of yours. You’re such a nerd, princess”

When you are young they assume you know nothing

“Jaybird, if you hurt her, I hope you know I’ll have to break your legs” Dick shrugged as if this was common knowledge.

“I won’t hurt her, Dickwad. She’s the best thing to happen to me.”

“Okay, but you’re young and stupid, anything could happen.”

“Just because you knew nothing when you were young doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

But I knew you

Years ago, Y/n was 11 and Jason was 10. Y/N was on her way home from the school when she saw someone she recognized. 

“Hey! You’re the boy from the library! You showed me my favorite book!”

Jason flushed, unaware that she’d remember him, or that she’d take the recommendation he’d once given her seriously

“Yeah uh, hi. My names Jason, Jason Todd.” He stuck his hand out to shake.

She placed her hand in his and shook. "Y/N."

Dancin' in your Levi's

Y/N and Jason slow danced in her room, her record player spinning some old collection she’d snagged from Wayne manor.

“I was unaware that Levi’s were ballroom attire, Monsieur.”

“And I was unaware your bedroom counted as a ballroom, Mademoiselle”

Drunk under a streetlight, I

“Jason you’re drunk.”

“No I’m notttt. Please Y/N pleeeeaaassseee be my girlfriend.”

“You’re drunk Jay, if you weren’t then you’d remember I already am.” She laughed, watching her lover shoot up in excitement

“Really? That’s so cool!”

I knew you

"Y/N what do you think? Do you think he'd like this for his birthday?"

"Why are you asking me? You're his brother!"

"Yeah but you know him better than anyone else"

Hand under my sweatshirt

"Jason Peter Todd get your cold ass hands out from under my sweatshirt!"

"What do you mean princess?" He dragged his freezing cold hands further up her back

"Eek!"

Baby, kiss it better, I

Y/N carefully finished wrapping the bandages around Jason's waist.

"I can't believe you got stabbed!"

"Kiss it better?"

"Dork." She pressed a kiss to his bandages, before making her way up to his lips.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

“What’s got you down princess?” Jason quirked an eyebrow, the moment Y/N entered the manor there was an unhappy energy on her, like she was faking her smile. He knew her all too well. “Come here”. He opened his arms to her, gesturing that she should come lay with him on the excessively large couch (rich people bro) and she happily obliged, latching onto his side like a koala with her head on his chest.

“It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed. Just… forgotten.”

“I could never forget you. Sometimes people lose things that are important to them. If you’re an old cardigan then I’m finding you and putting you on because the whole time you were my favorite.” He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“How poetic” She could feel his chest shake as he laughed.

“What can I say? I’m a man of literature. Speaking of which! Do you want to watch Pride and Prejudice?”

“Again?”

“Yes, AgAiN”

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, beaming. “Always.”

A friend to all is a friend to none

“You can’t keep acting like nothing is going on Jason. You love her, so why are you friends with someone like the asshole who ruined her reputation?”

“Dammit Dick, I didn’t even know that he was the one who did that until a like week ago!”

“And you’ve hung out with him twice since then! A friend to all is a friend to none, Jaybird.”

Chase two girls, lose the one

Surely all of Gotham had heard them arguing from their favorite spot on the roof of the library.

“Jason I understand that you want to go meet your birth mother, but why does that mean you have to not be in touch for an undetermined amount of time? I don’t understand why finding her means leaving me!” Y/N hadn’t meant to shout. She wasn’t actually mad at him. She understood why he wanted to go, but that didn’t make him leaving hurt any less. Why should she have to lose contact with him, let him run off to another continent without any knowledge of if he was okay?

“Sweetheart I’m not leaving you, I’m just trying to find my mom…”

“Yeah, at the expense of me! Jay I will never prevent you from doing something this important to you but that will not change the fact that this hurts me. That I’ll be lying awake at night not knowing if you’re okay or if you’re even going to want me when you come home! Not even being able to ask Bruce if you’re okay because you plan on doing this without his knowledge! For fucks sake Jason do you realize how that would feel?”

“God dammit Y/N why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because you’re LEAVING ME. You know what, go ahead and go Jason. You’re choosing to chase two girls and you’ve lost this one.” She made her way down, trying not to let her hands shake from all the emotional turmoil, at least not until she was on the ground again. There was no way she would know how much she’d regret saying that to him.

When you are young, they assume you know nothing

“It’s your first heartbreak Y/N, you’ll get over it. It was teenage puppy love, something was bound to happen.” Her father had no clue. It had been days and she hadn’t heard from Jason. Last she checked with Alfred, Bruce had followed him out to the middle east somewhere. 

“This was, this is so much more than that. You’re doing it again, assuming that because I’m young I must know nothing.”

“Clearly you don’t know anything.”

But I knew you

“When were you gonna tell me that you being a literature nerd was knowledge Dick wasn’t supposed to get his hands on?” Y/N gave him a look. The look that says ‘i didn't know this was a secret so you can't be upset i spilled’

“Shit, princess, please don’t tell me you told him… he’ll never let me live it down!”

“Oops?” She shrugged. He started to say something else but she kissed him before the words could escape. “It’s alright Jay, it makes you a romantic. And it means I know you better than him.”

Jason smiled. “I guess you’re right…”

Playing hide-and-seek and

“Do you wanna play hide and seek?”

“Sweetheart, aren’t we too old for that?”

“Who said that? Come onnn"

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“You know I can’t say no to you.”

Giving me your weekends, I

“You know we don’t have to spend every weekend together right? You can hang out with your friends or your family if you want.”

“Why would I do that when I could give you all my weekends?”

I knew you

"How did you know to tell Bruce I wanted adjustments on the Robin bike?"

"Because I'm just cool like that. And i know you. Now come on, let's take it for a spin!"

Your heartbeat on the High Line

Y/N pressed the side of her head to Jason's chest as a stranger took their photo on the High Line. The trip to New York had been spontaneous, something they'd decided to do for spring break.

After taking her phone back from the kind stranger and thanking them, Y/N turned to her dear boyfriend.

"I could hear your heartbeat you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you'd think it was our first date or something." Y/n grinned.

"Because you make me feel... I don't know, like Pip if Estella was actually good for him?"

"Did you just reference Great Expectations at me as a way of expressing your feelings?"

"Maybe?"

"Kiss me."

Once in twenty lifetimes, I

Y/N often thought of how her mother had once told her that true teenage love like the one she had with Jason only came once in 20 lifetimes. Although, in retrospect maybe it's twice in two lifetimes, or once in one, for the partner who didn't die.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

"Would I still be your favorite person if I was a worm?"

"Well no cause you wouldn't be a person anymore, but you'd be my favorite worm-"

"You know what? I'll take it."

"You'll always be my favorite."

To kiss in cars

"Jason Todd, you are a menace to society."

"What? How?"

"You brought me out to Bruce's Rolls-Royce to make out."

"So?"

and downtown bars

"Who would've thought the boy wonder had a fake ID?"

"Maybe his girlfriend who's cousin made it for him"

"What? Which one?"

Jason smirked at her, knowing it was going to eat her alive not knowing yes im projecting how nosy i am onto the y/n "Sorry princess, that stays a secret"

Was all we needed

You drew stars around my scars

"Jason, it's just an old scar from scraping my knee a little too deep, it's no big deal!"

He continued drawing small stars around any scars he found on her, gently dragging the red marker along her skin. "I didn't say it was!"

But now I'm bleedin'

When Jason hadn’t come back, Y/N had done one of the only things she promised him she would never do: taking up vigilantism. She told Bruce it was only temporary. She told herself it was only temporary. But the longer she was in the game the more attached to it she became.

"FUCK!" Y/N yelped as she sat on her bathroom counter, pressing a damp rag to her wound, carefully wiping it off. "God dammit, I used to be patching up Jason's stab wounds, not getting stabbed..." She picked up her phone, dialing the only number she cared to call anymore.

"Yeah, Dick? Can you come over real quick? Need you to make sure this stab wound doesn't kill me..."

The audible "WHAT" echoed throughout the bathroom, despite the phone not being on speaker.

'Cause I knew you

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

Y/N found Jason at their spot on the roof of the library after Dick informed her that he'd had a particularly rough argument with Bruce.

"Because I know you better than anyone else."

Steppin' on the last train

Jason dragged Y/N towards the last train of the night, what they never knew would be their final date before everything went astray.

"Come on! The last train is the best one!"

Marked me like a bloodstain, I

The image of Jason, dead, being carried away by Bruce was forever marked in Y/N's head. He was dead. There was nothing else to say.

I knew you

Speaking at Jason's small memorial was never something Y/N saw herself doing.

"I uh- I really don't know what to say. You all always said I knew him better than anyone else, and I just wish I could've known the way to prevent this."

Tried to change the ending

Y/N tried so hard to change the ending of her story. Make it so she wasn't just the girl who lost herself in grief. But until unless she saw Jason again, nothing was going to happen.

Peter losing Wendy, I

As she sat there writing 'Cardigan' it occurred to her that Peter losing Wendy was a choice, and her losing Jason never was, but it fit. Their love was a magic only to be found in Neverland.

I knew you

"Hey Red, do I know you from somewhere in civilian life? You seem familiar..."

"No way, too new in town, sorry."

She knew she knew him. She just couldn't place why...

Leavin' like a father

Even though she'd told him just to go, Jason still stopped by Y/N's house before he left to find his mother.

"Please don't leave me, Jay." She cupped his cheeks, pressing his forehead to hers as tears streamed down her face

"Don't cry, baby, I'll be back before you know it."

Running like water, I

Of course, Y/N hadn't known the identity of the Red Hood the first time she'd spotted him. All she had time to think was wondering why such a large man, with guns nonetheless, ran from her like she was out to get him.

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

"Why do people love to assume that because I'm young I must know nothing about love or heartbreak?" Y/N had asked one day. No one answered. No one knew. They only knew that they were all too aware of just how much she truly knew about both of those things.

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

"I want a blue jay on my forearm. Full color. Can you do that?"

Y/N had walked into the tattoo parlor like she owned the place. She needed a way to let him permanently linger. The kiss of a needle in her skin the only way to physically represent him.

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

"What if I had made him stay?!"

"Y/N there's nothing you could've done that would change things."

"But what if—"

"There was nothing any of us could do."

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

"Thought you told me that you quit smoking years ago Red."

"Yeah, well, old habits die hard."

"Rough day huh?"

"Yeah. Girlfriend from before all this almost saw me in the library today. She doesn't know about me."

"About you being a vigilante?"

"She thinks I'm dead."

"You know, maybe I'll do this and be totally mistaken and realize i'm delusional, but I swear to whatever fucking god is listening if i tear off that domino mask and Jason Todd is under there I will be pushing you off this rooftop."

"If I've been hanging out with Y/N this whole time I'm throwing myself off."

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

Y/N was playing a show in Los Angeles, touring at age 15 was insane, but then again, she never thought anyone would listen to her music.

"Alright everyone, I may be young, but I also consider myself to be quite versed in romance, who knows, maybe it's my lovely boyfriend, or the fact that I'm a hopeless romantic, but either way, this one's called Favorite Record!"

Even at a young age, she'd known everything she needed to about love, because it encased her every moment she spent with her favorite person.

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time

She sat at Jason's grave in the Wayne family plot for more hours than she could count, swearing at his headstone

"God dammit! Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you come back to me?" Sobs wracked her body. "I was waiting for you to come home."

Chasin' shadows in the grocery line

Every once in a while Y/N would see someone and think someone was him. Maybe it was her brain's sick way of coping. She reached towards the stranger in front of her.

"Excuse me-"

But when he turned around Jason was gone. It was just another high school boy who had vaguely reminiscent hair.

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired

A knock came on Y/N's bedroom window. She opened it warily before the Red Hood came clinking in.

"Thrill of letting me think you were dead over?"

"Y/N please-"

"Did you sit and watch as I grieved? Stand by while I lost my mind because I thought I'd lost you?"

"Sweetheart, just let me explain–"

"Don't fucking 'sweetheart' me. Get out. Get out of my fucking room."

And you'd be standin' in my front porch light

"Get off my damn porch Jason." He was standing in civilian clothes, shuffling his feet nervously as if he was a little kid again.

"Not until you let me explain!"

"Fine. You get to come in for five minutes. See if you can explain to me how there is any way you can justify this."

And I knew you'd come back to me

Y/N sat with her jaw slack in shock after hearing Jason's story. How saying he died wasn't even a lie, how he'd been brought back, the madness he'd experienced, the resentment for nobody killing the Joker. (she flat out told him she would've if she thought she could do it without getting herself killed in the process)

"i'm such a fucking asshole."

"No you aren't"

"No you went through this whole traumatic experience and I've just been a dick to you!"

"And it's been totally justified! You should've been the first person to find out I was back. Honestly I'm surprised Dick or Bruce didn't tell you..."

"I'm going to ignore the urge to castrate both of them and just be happy you came back to me."

You'd come back to me

"I'll always come back to you."

And you'd come back to me

"Make sure you come back in one piece?" They were on the same mission, much to Jason's dismay, but they had to be split up.

"When have I ever not come back to you?"

"...."

"Don't answer that."

And you'd come back

They'd made it out of that atrocious mission. It all worked out in the end but it certainly had taken longer than they planned.

"hey, you came back in one piece, just like I asked."

"I always do, just for you."

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

Y/N heard Jason coming in. His duffel bag clunked loudly against their closet floor, and she assumed he changed out of his gear at a safehouse before returning to their apartment. She flipped over the edge of the blanket, making room for him to crawl in bed with her. Once sufficiently comfortable behind her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Jason spoke.

"Hey Y/N?"

She turned around in his arms so she could face him. "Uh oh, you didn't call me any kind of pet name, just my name, whats up?"

"Nothing I just... I just wanted to let you know you're still my favorite."

~

The tears were flowing freely by then. The audience screamed, cheering at the sweet song. “My favorite person didn’t get to be around for a while, but… he came back to me, and that’s all that matters. Now that's enough crying, I’ve got some much more fun songs, ARE YOU READY GOTHAM CITY!?” And with that, the show went on.

Hours later, Y/N made her way backstage, where she was immediately enveloped by the arms of a mystery man. She wasn’t scared though, she knew who it was. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he spun her around. 

He sat her down gently, beaming. “You wrote a song about me?” “Jay… baby a lot of my songs are about you.” 

“What?”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you managed to not know that even though I’ve told you before.”

“I just assumed you weren’t serious!”

“... You really think that Lover or Lucky People or Favorite Record, could have possibly been about anyone else?”

“And if I just like hearing you say it?”

“Then I’ll tell you forever.” When their lips met, it was a promise, one that this, this feeling in this moment, was real, and that it wouldn’t ever go away, because they knew everything when they were young. 

[adobe-outdesign]

I am so late to this but I had only just realised Neopets added new gray nostalgic styles with brand-new artwork for combos that don't exist pre-conversion! Do you have a favourite out of them?

(I already did the main grey review here before the new pet styles were released.)

Even as someone who enjoys customization, I think the execution of it was pretty poor. It definitely should've been that you could freely switch between the UC design and the converted design at any point, and the option would exist for pets that were painted after conversion instead of it being a thing you had to grandfather into. Likewise, I'd argue that TNT should've done new UC designs for colours that used to get special poses even after customization, so you wouldn't be losing the beautiful art.

It took the NC Mall and 17 years, but new TNT finally wised up and switched all UCs over to purchasable NC pet styles. Originally it seemed like they were only going to include pre-existing UCs; then, it seemed like they'd do pre-existing UCs plus some other pets with old art but no UCs; and then, finally, we learned that TNT would be giving pets that didn't even have old art styles. This is a great idea, as it gives the pets that didn't get a chance at unique art (Lutaris and Vandagyres being good examples) to have some. Plus the converted versions still exist, so it's just more designs for everyone.

(Pictured: Two UC/styled grey pets with pre-existing old art.)

The most interesting part about these new styles is watching new TNT trying to mimic the classic Neopets' art styles. There's no hard rule as to how old Neopet art worked (because different artists worked on different pets), but the following are what I'd consider the most consistent and important points:

Shading: Hard-lined cel-shading with only one or two layers. Generally high-contrast, especially for grey pets. Sometimes there'll be a small amount of highlights, but not always.

Lineart: Not too thick or too thin with natural weight variation.

Design: Not always present, but often times will include fun little plays on the original design like the Yurble's uncurled ears.

Pose: Easy to read with a good sense of motion. Matches the proportions of the original basic colour pet.

Of course, just because a new pet style isn't quite on point doesn't make it inherently bad (though I personally like the on point ones more, and have highlighted the best in that regard below). The new grey Xweetok style is pretty off compared to an actual UC; like, here's the old sad blue Xweetok pose, which is somewhat similar to it:

You can easily see that there's way too much detail in the shading and highlights (highlights too thin/plentiful, shading too hairline and layered too closely together), and the proportions and design details are also way off model (eyes missing the black "liner" at the back; head way too big; paws too big; ears slightly too big). But dang, it's absolutely adorable, and much much better than the converted version, which looks vaguely ill. It's a good example of how much personality a style can add.

Favorite (New) Species:

Blumaroo: BROKEN HEART FEET. BROKEN. HEART. FEET!! That's such a wonderful detail, and 100% feels like something a UC version would've had. The pose is also really good, and the shading and lineart are pretty accurate (the lines are just a smidge too thick, but obviously not actually a problem).

Bruce: Another pretty good pose with excellent lineart and shading (might be the same artist for this and the Blumaroo)? It's adorably mopey and little things like the extra chubby cheeks and bigger bow add a lot.

Hissi: The shading's not quite as accurate as the above two (one too many layers on the wings, which are also a little too fluffy relative to the non-converted Hissi's wings), but the pose on this one is perfect and really feels like something that existed back in the day. I really like the eye shape in particular and how it affects the entire upper brow, so to speak.

Least Favorite (New) Species:

Bori: Sorry, Bori, but you're not quite right. There's just a lot of things slightly off with this one, like the shading (WAY too much fur detailing that doesn't flow with the actual lineart fur; too low contrast; highlights too minimal in areas like the tail fur). Like I said above, accuracy doesn't matter if the design and pose are good, but that also feels off here. The pose is just kind of strange, like it's about to be smacked or something, and the head is like... off, like it's too far down and too far in in a way that makes it look like it has no neck. It's still got a lot more personality than the converted though, so that's good.

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 2

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

First Part

Part 3

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking

This is more of the family side than it is of Bruce. Next part will be everyone.

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

“Young Master Y/N, what a pleasant surprise.” Y/N smiled at Alfred, opening their arms and sagging in relief once they hugged the butler. The three hour car ride had been tense, with everyone asking questions and Y/N trying their hardest to be polite while not losing it. The fashion show still fresh in their mind, and the clothing Francesca had given them was gently folded and placed in the trunk of the car. 

“It is good to see you, Alfred. It’s been too long.” The old man huffed, “Indeed. A year of only phone calls and cards does make it seem like it was a century ago since I last saw your face… in person.” Y/N smiled, giving Alfred a playful look before remembering where they are and how they got here. 

The smile on their face became practiced, expression smoothening out as they turned to face the rest of the family who were all waiting patiently. Dick was smiling brightly, unraveling his scarf and walking forward, “Hey Alfie, you should have seen our Y/N walk. They really made the show.” 

“I find it insulting they made you walk last,” Damian chimed and crossed his arms. Y/N gave him a small smile, “Being a closer is as much of a compliment as being the opener.” The young boy scrunched his nose, “I preferred the show in Paris.” 

“Francesca Gabbana designed the piece, Alfred you’ll have to see it.” Tim was the one carrying the case that had the piece in it. The old man hummed, “I saw it on the television, but perhaps seeing it in person will be better.” Jason shrugged, walking in and gently nudging Y/N with his larger shoulders, “Although, did she have to make the Bat symbol just the front piece? It barely covered anything.” Y/N could see his jaw clench like the very thought of other people seeing Y/N’s stomach. 

Bruce was the last to walk in, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over his arm, “Fashion designers do not care about function, only beauty.” Y/N smiled tensely, “It is a form of art.” The older man smiled at Y/N, and the model couldn’t get rid of the image of the Bruce they saw backstage. 

“Of course it is. One of the most demanding forms of art as well.” Y/N couldn’t place the tone, but there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Alfred shuffled, “Well, dinner is almost ready. Young Master Y/N, if you want you can wash up in one of the guest bathrooms. Your room is currently being used as a trophy room.” Y/N chuckled, “Oh dear, you’re not hanging up my photos are you?” 

“I did tell you I would be.” Y/N shook their head, “Thanks Alfred, but I don’t have any clothes here.” An arm swung around their shoulder, and Y/N stiffened under the sudden touch. Jason was smiling at them, “C’mon Y/N, we have some clothes for you.” Y/N felt the sudden spike again in their spine, alerting them that something was amiss and only bad things would happen if they asked questions. From how everyone was looking at them, Y/N specifically, it was like they were waiting for Y/N to ask. Impatiently waiting for that landmine to explode in front of them. 

“How kind of you, I wasn’t expecting that.” Y/N jumped over it. 

“Of course! How could we not have clothes ready for when our younger sibling comes home. Even though it’s been almost three years, I hope everything still fits right.” Just to land on another landmine. Y/N kept the smile on, years of being talked down to by photographers have helped them create the perfect mask of politeness. 

“So, which bathroom in which guest room?” Tim stepped forward and gently guided Y/N out from under Jason’s arm and further into the manor. Y/N stayed half a step behind, taking in the gothic manor and the decorations littering the hallway. 

Out of all the siblings, Y/N is closest with Tim. Not really siblings, and not really even friends, but if his relationship could be described as a length rope attached to each person, Tim’s would be the second shortest. Right after Alfred. They are close in age, and Tim was the first one to comment on Y/N’s photo when Y/N had first started modeling. 

It was only once, and it may have been in passing, but Y/N had held that interaction close to their heart. The first and last comment from a sibling about their modeling. An acknowledgement of sorts, that made Y/N momentarily believe that they were noticeable, only for that to be squished that same day. 

“You’re photo in the Cosmetology magazine, it looks really good. Red suits you.” 

The way that color looked on Y/N was the same as how a red rose looked on a green stem; like it was always meant to be. Y/N has seen the comparisons between them and their mother. M/N L/N was a beautiful woman, with large eyes and pouty lips, the very definition of innocence. A puppy-dog look that fit so naturally on her face. 

A white rose. 

While Y/N had a more sultry tone, a more powerful presence, one that demanded attention. 

A red rose. Not so innocent, or pure, but who can be when you see your own mother dead in the bathtub. Drug allegations and the loss of her popularity caused her downfall, and she loved her popularity more than she loved her child. Y/N finds it hard to blame her, because after they have gotten a taste of what beauty can get them, they can see why their mother got addicted to the camera flashes. 

The assurance that yes, they are beautiful. They are beautiful and worthy of the cameras. 

But with every camera flash, is a terrible comment. A terrible blog, highlighting their faults and insecurities. Someone dissecting every motion they made, every microexpression, ever comment. 

“Here you are, Y/N.” Y/N’s attention snapped back and sure enough they were in front of the door. Tim waited patiently for Y/N to enter, “Thank you, Tim.” The young man shrugged, “Sure. Clothes can be found in the dresser and shoes in the closet.” Y/N nodded, waiting for the other to leave. Instead Tim turned around and faced Y/N, waiting for the other with a raised brow, “You’re not going to ask about the clothes?” 

Y/N gulped, “I feel like if I ask, I won’t like the answer. I’d rather live in ignorance for now.” They walked past Tim, opening and closing the door, but before they saw Tim grin and a smile played out on his lips, “Smart.” 

They locked the door, and when they turned around Y/N nearly collapsed. They pressed their back into the door as they stared at the room in mild terror. Their room from their condo, fully paid off condo, was present in front of Y/N. The same color palette, the same furniture, hell even the bookshelves are the same. Gulping, Y/N walked further in and when they opened the dresser, their jaw clenched and fingers shook. 

The exact same clothes. 

The bathroom was their saving grace, or so they thought. It didn’t look like their bathroom in the condo, save for the same colored towels. That was until they opened the shower and saw full bottles of the same brand soap, shampoo, conditioner, masks, everything. 

“Just like home. It is just like home, Y/N. Only in the Manor.” They mumbled to themselves, stripping in front of the shower stall and jumping in and not even waiting for the water to get hot. They wanted in and out as quickly as possible. Washing their hair, their body, and not even bothering to do the usual masks and scrubs. 

Jumping out, they quickly towel dried themselves and threw on the robe that was so familiar. 

“Routine… keep to the routine…” Body lotion, while the skin is still damp so it can absorb into the skin better, followed by an oil. For the face it was a double cleanse, first an oil based then water-based, followed by toner, retinol, serums, hyaluronic acid, moisturizer, and face oil. Teeth will be after the meal, but hair… 

“Moisturizer, blow dry, and then oil.” Y/N continued to mutter, trying desperately to not go crazy as the familiar brands flashed across their face and they had to use it like normal. They had too. Cause if they don’t, then Y/N knows that they will go crazy. 

They don’t bother to look in the dresser again, already on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, and instead they opted to flop onto the bed. Y/N buried their face in the pillow, and tried to not think about anything. They tried to force their mind blank, just how they did on the runway. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” Only it wasn’t working. Sitting up, Y/N stared at the door and contemplated answering. The carefully crafted facade was cracking and Y/N doesn’t know if they can keep the mask on any longer. From the multiple shows this week, to the shows earlier today, then this, the mask had outworn its use and now it is slowly begging to be taken off. 

“One minute please.” Only they can’t. Not here. Definitely not here. 

Peeling themselves off of the bed, Y/N stripped out of the robe and grabbed the first shirt they saw, underwear, and jeans. Their house slippers were right next to the dresser, and Y/N wanted to cry. All of it was getting too much and they're not sure how much longer they can be doing this. 

Opening the door, Dick and Jason were the ones waiting for them. Dick grinned, “How insulting of you to look so great in only jeans and a crew neck, making the rest of us look like toads.” Y/N chuckled, closing the door behind them, “I am a model, its my job to look good in every style of clothing.” 

Dick laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder he pulled the other close. Close enough that Y/N could smell the detergent used on Dick’s clothes, and body heat radiating off of the other. They started walking, Jason keeping silent while Dick chatted to Y/N, catching the other up on the past year. 

“There are more to the family now, but they won’t be at dinner today. Cass is with Steph, Duke is studying, and Barbara has dinner with her own family to join.” Y/N nodded, ignoring the small sting that others can be welcomed in while they couldn’t be. Instead, they kept the conversation polite, “How nice! It must be worthwhile to have so many people here.” Dick grinned, and there was a type of sharpness to it that had Y/N squirming. 

“Yeah, but it was never really a full house because not everyone was here.” A jab at Y/N, who muscled through it, “Well, modeling is a travel-heavy job. There was no time to come back.” The brothers stayed quiet, leading Y/N to the dining room table where everything and everyone was sitting and waiting patiently. 

Bruce caught their eyes, and motioned for them to sit at the empty seat next to him, Tim on the other side. Y/N walked over, and took the seat graciously, trying to ignore the weight in their stomach that was making their throat close. Alfred emerged, and like the true butler he was, he began setting their plates in front of them. Perfectly made and being presented beautifully on the white ceramic plates with gold leaf designs. 

Their favorite meal, one that always had Y/N running down the stairs when Alfred would announce his plans to make it, sat perfectly in the center of the plate. Its been so long since Y/N had it, no one quite makes it like Alfred does, and plus its just not really in Y/N’s diet. 

But Alfred made it. Alfred put his time and effort into making it, and Y/N is not going to spit on that. Once everyone had their plate, the dinner table became loud with chatter. Just like hoow it used to be. Dick would carry the conversation for the entire table, Jason would make sarcastic remarks, Tim intelligent ones, Damian’s would be snide, and Bruce would look exhausted the entire time. However, he still partook in them, letting his kids have the family moment of conversing with their parental figure. Smiling and chuckling as he did so, Bruce tried to be that good father figure. 

And Y/N just sits there. They eat quietly and think about their next photo shoot, the next trends that they need to hop on, the workout routine they need to adhere by. Questions do not get thrown their way– 

“Now that fashion season is over, what are your plans Y/N?” E/C eyes blink owlishly, staring at Dick in wonder as all eyes focus on them. 

“Oh, uh, um, well its normally rest season for us, but I have plans to schedule a few photoshoots, commercials, and I know Maya has been talking about me becoming a brand ambassador.” Y/N wants to keep the momentum. Y/N wants to be kept busy to get and stay away from here. 

“You’re not going to rest?” Jason questioned, raising a brow and Y/N shrugged, “I plan to take a few weeks off, but modeling doesn’t really have a set time.” It isn’t a 9-5 job, or vigilante job. Y/N will have to make public appearances, showing up to Galas, grand openings, other fashion shows, fashion shoots, and a lot of traveling. 

Bruce hummed, “Sounds like you’re running yourself thin.” Y/N gulped, “It sounds like a lot, but most of it is traveling and getting ready. Besides, I like being busy.” In high school, Y/N would go from school the the modeling agency where they would schedule photo shoots and commercials. Then it would be meeting with dieticians, personal trainers, estheticians, and then more meeting for future goals. The next steps. 

Y/N was always busy, but so was their mother and she managed. She was a single mother and a high end fashion model. If she can do it, then there is no reason Y/N can’t. 

“But there are other stuff right? Like you need to get facials to make sure your skin looks nice, and working out,” Damian chimed in, and Y/N blinked in surprise at the youngest contributing to the conversation. They smiled, “That’s not really tiring, it’s just time consuming.” 

Alfred walked back into the dining room, a dessert platter in his hands, “Then it is good you will be resting here. Take a few days to enjoy being free.” A cheesecake was set down in front of Y/N, and Alfred pointedly stared at the half eaten meal. He gave Y/N a raised brow, and while the model would normally smile and reassure the man that they would eat later, their face was full of shock, “What do you mean a ‘few days?’” 

Bruce wiped the corner of his lips with a napkin, “A few days. Rest here for a few days, it’ll be good for you and for everyone else.” Y/N gulped, “Why is it good for everyone else if I stay?” 

“Of course it’s good for us. Family sticks together obviously, and with you running off, it really sent things haywire.” There it was again. The phrase ‘running off’ as if it was something Y/N actually did. They smiled, “You’re sounding like Tim. I did not run off, I moved out.” Bruce’s brow furrowed, “ ‘Moved out,’ huh. I didn’t realize moving out meant leaving without so much as a goodbye.” 

“The things you left behind, you scheduled people to grab them and throw them out. Alfred was the one to stop them from touching your room,” Dick stated. Those blue eyes keep Y/N locked in their seat. The smile on the oldest sibling’s face was anything but kind, “It’s like you wanted to erase yourself from this manor. You left behind almost nothing that would trace you to us.” 

“Not a number to call. We had to get it from Alfred,” Jason chimed, taking a bite of the chocolate mousse cake. 

“Or a letter explaining where you went.” Damian took a sip of the tea. 

“Or an address.” Tim gulped his cup of coffee, all of them watching Y/N. They way their sibling’s shoulders tensed and that fake smile became more and more downturned. Bruce spoke once more, “It seems like you don’t even want to be a Wayne. Taking your mother’s last name despite the controversies.” 

Y/N’s smile turned bitter, “I took her last name because Wayne is more influential and I wanted to start with as little influence as possible. Plus, legally my last name is still L/N.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, “And look how many speculations you got for drug use.” 

“...Since when did you read gossip?” 

“The moment my kid’s photo is attached to that piece of gossip.” Y/N is still aware of all the blogs accusing them of drug-use, the same blogs that accused M/N. People using her photos to compare their features and just cause more drama. 

Y/N took a bite of the cheesecake, and the tension at the table was thick. Usually it was between Dick and Bruce, or Jason and Bruce. Never between Y/N though. Although, Y/N never spoke at the table so maybe that is why they were arguing? Can this even be considered an argument? 

Alfred cleared his throat, “While talking is appreciated, arguments stay away from the dinner table.” So it was an argument. Y/N apologized to the man and took another bite of the cheesecake. Their mind filled with the workout they are going to have to do to burn this off. 

++++

Alfred watched the child he considered a grandchild drink their tea, brewed in the darkness of the kitchen and now sitting at the dinner table again. While a year may not seem long, for Alfred it was. Y/N, who had been there for half a decade, had been glued to Alfred’s side. The man always taking the teen to and from school, and then sometimes to their gigs. 

It was Alfred that took Y/N to their first audition to be a model, and it seems like it was only a few days before he received a call from a woman claiming to be M/N L/N’s manager, and while she may not be Y/N’s manager, her daughter will be. Alfred liked Maya. The young woman always let him know of Y/N’s gigs, she would pick the young teen up and drop him off, and she tried to be as helpful as she could. Maya was a woman born to manage models and their busy and demanding schedules. 

What Alfred didn’t like, was that Maya still had the old school model critiques. Alfred gaped at the woman when she handed him a list of diets for Y/N to ‘lose weight.’ A 15 year old Y/N, who was already slender, now being told they had to be skinny but toned. A child being told that ice cream was no longer an option, and their favorite burgers were banned. 

He furrowed at the training regime, wondering how agencies can expect a teenager to be toned like their already full adult models. Nonstop cardio, ab workouts, and toning exercises. Then strut practice, because if Y/N was M/N’s child, then they were made for the runway. Born to walk in front of cameras and audiences. 

“If Y/N wants to be a model, then sacrifices have to be made,” Was Maya’s response to Alfred's inquiries. She assured him that Y/N would still be eating, and she encouraged Y/N to eat, but now those meals were restricted to certain foods. 

Alfred watched as Y/N struggled at first, their own plate different from the others, and how the blisters on their toes and heels bled through their socks and bandaids. The old man watched as the training and strut practice became an everyday routine. Y/N walked on the wobbling plyboard, barely wide enough for one foot, and the amount of times they fell off of it. The books stacked on their head for good posture and balance, followed by walking on an incline in those uncomfortable shoes, then training the muscles to the point of exhaustion. 

He had watched the child-like baby fat on Y/N’s cheeks melt off and expose cheekbones that looked tight against the skin. Y/N still looked beautiful, not more or less, but Alfred could see the exhaustion in those young eyes and how Y/N juggles modeling and being a student. 

Y/N didn’t even go to their high school graduation, choosing instead to head to Paris for their first ever abroad photoshoot. That kickstarted the traveling and runway model career. Once Y/N got their highschool diploma, they were out the door and becoming busier and busier. 

“I see you still drink onion skin tea so late at night.” Y/N smiled up at Alfred, “Of course. I was shocked to see that you still keep the skins.” The older man sat across from Y/N, nursing his own cup of tea “Of course. In case you ever visited, I thought it would be great to have some in stock.” Y/N gave Alfred a ‘really?’ look, continuing to sip on the still hot tea.

“I saw the piece you wore today,” Alfred started the conversation. 

“It truly is a beautiful piece of work.” Y/N’s jaw clenched, “Did you know about-” Y/N waved a hand in the air, “- about Bruce calling to commission a piece?” The old man took a sip of the earl gray. Y/N shook their head, unable to be upset, “Alfred, a call about that would have been appreciated.” 

“An address would also be appreciated but seeing as you have withheld that information, I saw no harm in sharing Master Bruce’s commission.” Y/N deflated, rubbing their forehead with their fingers, “Alfie-” 

“You only use that name when you know you’re about to be in trouble, so you might as well just say it, Young Master Y/N.” Y/N’s cheeks blushed and their lips pouted, “Alfie, I told you that the reason I didn’t tell you my address is because I am always traveling. I’d feel awful if you showed up and I wasn’t there.” 

“There’s a wonderful contraption called a cellphone, Young Master Y/N. I would call before making that trek over.” Y/N groaned, setting his cup down and trying not to crumble in front of the grandfather figure. Answering to Alfred was always harder than answering to Bruce. 

“Alfie–” 

“Young Master Y/N, I understand your hesitancy is sharing in your life with others. Life was lonely here, and I understand wanting to forget that. However, having only a number to call you is terrifying. What if something happens and I cannot help you?” Y/N gazed sadly at Alfred, “Life wasn’t lonely, Alfie. I had you, right?” 

Alfred Pennyworth, Y/N’s saving grace and lifeline. The person who is proof that Y/N was not alone in the Wayne Manor. The butler always willing to lend an ear when Y/N vented their frustrations, and when tears escaped their E/C eyes. He is Y/N’s biggest supporter. Always buying a magazine that had Y/N in it, and he would listen to Y/N critique the pose and the facial expression. Then he would give Y/N a slice of cheesecake and compliment Y/N, in both the photo and in person. 

Always reassuring the other that a cheat day will not set him back, and rest is what the body needs the most. Reassuring Y/N that their mother would be proud, that Bruce notices them, and that Y/N’s siblings do in fact love them. 

“Besides, why would you even want to visit? My place wouldn’t be as grand as this–” 

“It would be to make sure your fridge is stocked and that you are eating. You have always been the worst when it comes to eating, and I worry that your fridge and pantry are empty.” Alfred doesn’t have to guess that Y/N’s fridge is empty, because he knows it is. 

He knows that Y/N’s fridge is empty besides some drinks, and that the pantry is only snacks. While Y/N may have the excuse of being gone for so long, traveling and whatnot, Alfred knows that Y/N does not spend a lot of money on food. Y/N spends more money on clothes, jewlery, facial and hair care products, than they do on groceries. 

Y/N doesn’t even look ashamed. Nervous, yeah, but not ashamed. They sip their tea without making eye contact. Time to change the subject. 

“Why is Bruce, and all the boys, all of a sudden interested in what I do?” Alfred didn’t Y/N out on the obvious change in conversation, but he let it slide. The old man sighed, “Why would a parent not be interested in what their child is doing?” 

“Alfred.” 

“Young Master Y/N, you have worked tirelessly to get to the position you are now. With no help from the family, you had spent your late mother’s money to audition, then to pay your managers, and now you are making it big within the industry. Is it wrong for a parent to congratulate their child?” Y/N bit their  lip, “So its because I’m finally someone now? Was I not worth attention because I chose not to be Robin?” 

“Young Master Y/N–” 

“I don’t care about that. Like I told Bruce, it wasn’t abuse or anything, he just simply didn’t have time for me and that’s fine. I’m not mad about that.” Alfred watched Y/N get worked up, and E/C begin to shift in nervousness, “What I am talking about is why did Bruce pay off my Condo, and why does he have access to my bank account?” 

Silence fell across the table. Y/N staring at Alfred expectantly, while the butler finished his tea. Once done, he grabbed his and Y/N’s tea cup and headed towards the kitchen. 

“Perhaps, that is a Master Bruce question.” Y/N made a sound of annoyance, throwing themselves back into the chair and scrunching their nose. Standing up from the table, Y/N said goodnight to Alfred, and proceeded up that stairs and into dark hallways. Y/N wasn’t ready to go back to the guest room, feeling their heart rate spike whenever they thought of the replicated room. 

Instead, they walked down familiar halls towards a room-now-turned-trophy room. They reached for the doorknob, but found themselves unable to open it. Y/N didn’t want to see all the photos Alfred had kept throughout the years. Rather, what caught Y/N’s attention was the lacking of doors in the hallway. There used to be two more doors on their left, but instead there was now one. The area where the second door was, was perfectly sealed and now blended into the wall. 

Y/N took a deep breath, and opened the door. They used to be guest rooms as well. The two rooms had queen-sized beds and armoires for the unexpected guests that popped up. Y/N’s room used to be a guest-room, but they ended up liking the privacy because no one else’s room was around their’s. In fact, it was the guest room across from Y/N’s room that they had turned into the practice room, seeing that no one came down this hallway. 

However, clearly people were not because of the renovation done. 

When the door opened, Y/N sought out the light switch. The room was pitch black, and the last thing Y/N wanted to do was trip over something. Feeling around the wall, Y/N rejoiced when they felt the familiar switch and flicked it on. Once the bright light filled the room, Y/N took a deep breath. They were expecting a game room, or an indoor swimming people because that seems like something a rich person would do. Turning two guest rooms into a pool despite it being on the second floor. 

Something not exactly normal, but expected. 

Y/N didn’t expect this. Gone was the wall that separated the two bedrooms, making it one long room, and all the furniture was absent. No more beds, armoires, and it looks like even the bathrooms were gutted and turned into part of the room. All the tables, rugs, sofas, everything that was once in those rooms, were now gone besides the chandeliers that hung on the ceiling. Filling the room with a bright light, that didn’t fit the manor aesthetic at all, and illuminating everything that was in the room. 

While the furniture was gone, the room was not empty. Mannequins lined the walls, on their own podiums and glass cases. While seeing them bare would have been scary, seeing them dressed in the clothes that Y/N had worn on the runways was more terrifying. Y/N, in the runway season alone, walked 86 shows. That is the runways season alone, not including the other smaller shows they have done since graduating high school almost a year ago. 

These weren’t all of the clothes they have worn, there was still a large amount and they were the most iconic pieces. Pieces that a designer would never want to give someone. 

Y/N walked further in, taking in the first mannequin on the right, and they noted that the mannequin looked eerily similar to Y/N. Only missing the facial features and hair, but it looked like the proportions were almost spot on. 

The plastic doll had on the outfit from a runway show earlier in the year, when Y/N walked for Versace. A simple long blazer with deep V cut, stopping mid-thighs where only an inch of skin was shown before thigh boots bedazzled in gold, diamonds, emeralds, and other precious jewels took over the rest of the legs. The earrings they wore were poked into the mannequin's own ears and the bracelets hung off the dainty wrists. In the glass case, next to the mannequin, was the photo taken of Y/N when they were walking. 

The next case was a piece they wore when walking for a newer fashion-designer, one that Y/N did for free just to get to their name out there, and the piece was a gorgeous suit, dyed a beautiful vermillion red that had the slighted shimmer of gold in it. Y/N’s runway photo was once again next to the mannequin. 

The entire room was full of these iconic runway looks, with Y/N’s photo right next to them, and they surrounded all sides of the room and some of them in the middle. Almost like an art gallery of sorts, and Y/N looked at every single one of them. Not in amazement or judgment, but more of horror. 

Y/N knows some of these fashion designers. They have known some of them since they were a child and watching their mom get fitted by these exact same designers. No matter how much she begged, they would never let her take one of their creations home. These clothes were meant to be either safe-guarded in a museum, in their own collection, or in some cases bought by a celebrity and worn to an award ceremony as advertisement. 

In other words, Y/N knows that some of these designers would rather gnaw off an arm then give away their precious creations. Yet, here some of those precious creations were, hanging on the mannequin shaped like the model. 

In the center of the room, like it was the main show, was the Batman-inspired piece. All that was missing was the photo, which wouldn’t be published for another few weeks. 

Taking a deep breath, they stared at the reflection in the gold-plated bat. They were trying to process all of this. It’s one thing to have photos, because Y/N is a model and photos are expected, but to have the actual clothes they wore. Clothes that Y/N knows the designers would kill for, dressed on mannequins that looked almost exactly like Y/N was another thing.

Y/N backed out of the room, turning the lights off and shutting the door silently. They stared at their own door, sweat beginning to break out on their forehead, and they went against their instincts and opened that door. 

A trophy room, Alfred had said. The walls are decorated in their photos, and the bed is still as immaculate as the day they left. Turning the lights on, Y/N couldn’t help but to smile as the time capsule in front of them. From their very first photoshoot, when Y/N was a gangly 15-year-old with still chubby cheeks, to the most recent photoshoot of a now 18 almost 19-year-old Y/N. Their confidence can be seen in their pose and gaze, something their younger self lacked. 

Y/N walked closer to the walls and looked at all the different photos. Some candid, some posed, some in the water, and there’s one where they are in Greece. Some had Y/N fully clothed with barely and inch of skin, and some were of Y/N with barely an inch of clothes. From makeup, to shoes, to perfume, to clothes, Y/N’s photo was pinned on the wall or framed. 

A photo caught their attention though. It wasn’t one from a website, or a magazine, but an actual photo. Y/N looked closer, and they recognized the set from when they were 16-years-old posing for an editorial magazine. 

However, the angle in which this photo was taken from, Y/N knows there were no cameras there. All the cameras were in front or on the side, not behind. Another photo caught their eyes, and it was the same thing. A photo from behind. 

Once they started looking for them, Y/N could begin to spot them all. Photos that they know no photographer took. There was one that had their blood chilling and fear rising in their chest. It was a photo, taken at night and through one of the windows in Y/N’s condo. Y/N had one wall in the living room that was basically all windows, letting in the morning sun and led out onto the gated terrace. It was high enough that they had no neighbors that could look through those windows. 

In the photo, Y/N was wearing their pajamas and their hair still looked wet. They were sitting on the counter of the island in their kitchen, eating raspberries and watching Youtube on their TV. It was such a close photo, close enough that the reflection can be seen in the glass. 

Y/N recognizes the blue and black, and when Y/N’s eyes drifted to another photo of them in their home, bile rose into their throats. The morning sun illuminated the warm neutral color palette in the living room, and Y/N was out on the terrace sitting at the patio table they had set up out there drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book. They had their shirt off, exposing ribs pulled tightly against skin and abs that remained toned even when Y/N wasn’t flexing. The shorts they had on exposing soft skin and pedicured feet, their slipped laid forgotten under the chair they were sitting in. 

They recognize that book. It was a book they read in the height of summer, meaning that this photo was taken half a year ago, when it was okay to sit outside in the warm summer mornings and let the skin begin to circulate. 

What chilled Y/N even more was that whoever took this photo was on their terrace with them. They were on Y/N’s terrace, and Y/N didn’t even know. The Wayne family has known Y/N’s address the entire time. They knew where Y/N was staying, they knew Y/N’s photoshoot schedules, and they knew Y/N better than Y/N thought they did. 

“I didn’t think you’d come in here.” Y/N’s head whipped around and there was Dick, or Nightwing, still in costume and smiling at them. 

“The hell is this?” Y/N held up the photo of them on the terrace, and Dick shrugged, “I’ll admit, those photos we took. But we didn’t take the other ones.” 

“What other ones?” “The ones of you at the photoshoots. I know you saw them, but we didn’t take those.” Y/N glared at Dick, and pushed themselves close to the wall as Dick walked in. Damian was right behind him. The oldest brother walked to the photo that originally caught Y/N’s attention, “You had a stalker, can you believe that? He took hundreds of photos of you, and all we did was make him stop.” 

Y/N’s lips pursed, “How do I know you’re not lying?” Dick unpinned the photo, and with Damian’s help, trapped Y/N against the wall next to the photo of them outside. He held up the photo, “Because, Y/N, as you can see we prefer more… candid photos then staged.” 

Y/N snapped, “There is nothing candid about that photo! That is an invasion of privacy! Trespassing! So is that one!” They pointed to one of them sitting on the counter. Damian grabbed their arm, and Y/N wanted nothing more than to shove the kid off. 

“And so is that one.” Dick pointed to one of Y/N wearing only a large shirt, a towel around their shoulders as they walked into their kitchen. 

“And that one.” 

“And that one.” 

“That one there.” 

“There’s that one too.” Y/N looked at all the photos, hidden next to the magazine photos, and they were all of them in their home. Horror morphed on Y/N’s face when there was one photo of Y/N in the bedroom, in the midst of taking their shirt off. 

Dick continued to smile, and Y/N could see Jason and Tim peeking in from the doorway. 

“You did a lot on your own, Y/N. You built a name for yourself, became a highly sought after model, it really is amazing.” Dick walked closer, “But you know what all of those photos have in common?” Y/N stared into blue eyes, terror swimming in those E/C eyes of theirs. 

“You aren’t even aware of your photo being taken.” The truth unsettled Y/N enough to try and squirm out of Damian’s grip and to get away from Dick. They didn’t need to be pointed out. Y/N is aware that in every photo taken without their permission, they were not once aware of it. Even when they looked like they would be only a few feet away, Y/N not once looked bothered. Y/N doesn’t even remember that feeling of being watched. 

Tim and Jason stepped in the room, making it seem crowded and even if Y/N got out of Damian’s grip, there was no way they were getting past all of them. 

Large hands gripped Y/N’s forearms, feeling like they would bruise the skin if Y/N struggled. 

“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?” 

________________________________________________________

Part 3 is coming soon....

[dairy-farmer]

Hmm Jason having some weird oedipal feelings where he wants to kill Bruce and make Tim his mommy...

!!!!!!!!!!!!! yesssssssss!!! i love the idea of jason sort of harboring maternalistic attachment for tim. before jason debuts as red hood, when he's still stalking bruce and staking out gotham and learning everything he can about the new robin. that's when jason finds out about how bruce and his new little robin are fucking.

little timmy drake is sleeping with bruce wayne and they think no one knows. it makes sense why they think it, they're good at covering their tracks and acting somewhat normal around each other when people are around. but jason has figured them out and its because he happened to stumble across them in some hidden little rooftop they thought was far enough away from patrol no one would notice. jason has seen bruce press some button in his gauntlet, likely for it to temporarily lock their location in one place before grappling to a distant rooftop and climbing in the top floor of a department store. when jason had first spotted them he'd thought it was some cache they were stopping in to resupply. only for him to grapple down and peek in the windows and be greeted by the sight of bruce bending his robin over a dusty wooden crate. the top level of the uptown department store was apparently meant for storage twenty years ago. it housed mannequins, crates where merchandise was shipped and heavy floor furniture to be shipped out to homes of customers. but then a fire had broken out one night. it hadn't spread but the damage to the top floor had been done and so the owners of the entire building had just decided to board up all doors and staircases leading to the top floor, allowing it to collect dust. however, they hadn't considered the rooftop access as being the one way two vigilantes looking to fuck could break in.

so unlike the others, jason is aware that bruce and tim's relationship isn't all 'wholesome' as the rest of the family would like to believe. and it could be such prime blackmail. it would be perfect as something to use against bruce while jason enacts his plan to ruin his life.

but...something stops him. and jason knows what it is.

jason has always had these weird....feelings about all those socialites, models, and women bruce would bring home. jason is...WEIRD about the women bruce sleeps with. that whole thing jason had with talia was evidence enough because she hadn't even been jason's type but he'd fucked her anyway, if only because bruce had had her first. and for awhile after he'd been resurrected jason had sort of had some weird emotions about her, an odd...clinginess because he'd been stuck on her lowering him into the pit, helping breath life into him again like the waters of the lazarus pit had been the water of her womb...

it's clear jason is a little fucked in the head about women. he's got mommy issues galore and a disturbing attachment to people bruce has fucked. at least he's not like dick who is still in denial about HIS psycho sexual issues despite the fact that dick only ever wants to hookup with girls that remind him of bruce.

so tim fucking bruce...even though that should have alarm bells ringing given tim's age because jason would never find it acceptable for any other creepy old man to shove their dick into teen pussy and given the fact that bruce sleeping with his kid is all kinds of fucked up...still...jason never says anything. he just buckles down when he gets an alert about the little tripwire he set up to alert him of bruce and tim going back to that little attic of theirs. at first jason's obsession stemmed from wanting to be closer to bruce by sharing a partner, wanting to deepen their connection by fucking the same hole. but...then something shifted.

as jason watched, the more he listened, the closer attention he paid to little timmy drake. something...something about him just held so much more potential. talia wasn't the kind of mother jason wanted. selina was too in her own head and got all kinds of uncomfortable about kids. jason's pool was limited but...tim. there was just something so right about him, so fitting. and the longer jason watched the more he wanted.

but bruce doesn't share. he isn't very willing to part with a tight little hole that takes his cock so good while gasping into his mouth.

but....god does jason want this. he wants warm hands carding through his hair and stroking his back while he fucks into a pink, puffy, sloppy little hole while praises get pressed to his cheek. it's what he deserves.

and if bruce is what is standing in the way of it...then maybe jason should amend his plans.

[hurtspideyparker]

What do you think about Marvel's move bringing back RDJ but now as Dr. Doom. I just wondered how this would affect Peter...

At first I was like OH MY GOD ROBERT DOWNEY JR. because I just adore! him! And of course I would love him back in Marvel, cuz I'm a sap and RDJ as Tony Stark revolutionized superhero cinema. Also "new mask same task" and striking the Tony Stark T pose? Legendary stuff.

Then I actually thought about the implications and the character, and I'm just not a fan. Bringing Downey back as anyone but Tony Stark is really weird, and doesn't make sense. Feels like an insane Tony Stark+Dr. Doom plot, which they made up just to get RDJ back cuz he's the money maker. Plus Dr. Doom deserves a new unique actor, especially a Romani one. I do love Dr. Doom as an MCU villain though, if he is cast properly. If they were gonna bring a Tony variant into the MCU make him a TONY variant, using Dr. Doom isn't it. Although under different circumstances I'd love to see more of RDJ as an antagonist, he's an incredible actor (his 1998 film US Marshalls started a fire in me for him to play more villains).

ANYWAYS - ignoring all the negative stuff, let's talk about Peter Parker!

I'd like to imagine a scene where Peter is fighting Doom - he's using his usual quips, being silly. He thinks it's just another day, another villain. Doom is incredibly strong and it's a tough fight, but Peter just manages the perfect hit to tear Doom's mask off.

Then he hesitates.

While scarred and cruel, the sight is still unmistakably familiar.

"Tony?"

Doom doesn't waver, he strikes Peter with deadly and immediate force in his moment of weakness.

Peter goes flying backwards, smashing through glass and brick.

He's hurt, badly, lying still on the floor beneath Doom. Bloody and torn Doom leaves him there, a pitiful and easily distracted kid. He doesn't know what he said, nor does he care. Von Doom just squashed a bug.

Left alone, Peter suffers from the ache in his body, the hit to his ego, and the biggest question - what did he see?

He questions whether he was drugged, or having a stress-induced hallucination. It doesn't make any sense for this to catch up to him in the middle of a battle. That's usually when he's most focused and level headed.

Sure, he used to see Mr. Stark. In billboard models with goatees, in the kind smile of a professor, in the corner of his eye when walking down the street. He never thought it was really him though, and it's been years since he's been struck so painfully with memories of his old mentor.

This, this is completely different. He stared right at Tony's face as clear as day.

Maybe Peter drags himself to the nearest hero. Still bloody and bruised, but he has to tell someone what he saw. Who is there? Who can he call? Hawkeye? Bruce Banner? Daredevil? They may not know Peter Parker, but he's still Spider-Man. He has a big name, and I'm curious who's taken notice.

Personally, I'd kill to finally get a Spider-Man and Fantastic Four team up in theatres. With the FF movie coming out and Doom being a big nemesis to the team I'm really hoping we get some Fantastic Four and Avengers interactions.

Anyways. Peter warns them, or does research on his own. He obsesses over this Doctor Doom.

Fast forward, maybe Doom and Peter work together against another evil, or Doom's own invention. Or maybe they're just near each other enough to get to know one another.

Doom and Stark do have some things in common, and I think that would strike a chord in Peter. Doom is an intellectual, a scientist, he's a self-absorbed perfectionist.

Doom commends Peter on his genius, his capabilities. Offers him a deal to join him and put his brain to good use. It would hit too close to home for Peter. A kid who wanted nothing more than to be like Tony Stark, to be strong and intelligent. To have his old mentor look at him and acknowledge his effort.

It messes with Peter's head and brings up his unresolved issues with Tony. It makes him sick.

Peter Parker got erased, and now it's like he's reliving his youth and trauma in some twisted and dark remake.

Maybe there's something bigger at play here. Maybe someone is haunting him, torturing him.

Laughing at him.

[birboon]

CIRCUS BOY

ACT 1 - Chapter 3

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Dick Grayson

WORD COUNT: ~5k

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: chapter 2

HOW HE'D GOTTEN  himself into this situation, Dick didn't know. 

One moment he was sitting back against the leather interior of Mercedes's newest sporting model, the next he was sitting in the vents of the new Wayne Tower and staring down through the metal grating at the lead-lined floor, still as a mouse and cursing his super-stupid friends for not shutting up. Every time his phone vibrated in his pocket he winced, knowing the rattling of the metal around him was just as loud and audible to those who weren't inside it. 

They hadn't cared about his epic escape from the clutches of an evil fashion corporation (well, no one except Connor but Superboy cared about everything) and now - although he was too scared to move to reach for the device to silence it - he was pretty sure Roy and Wally were having a battle of non-existent wits. When he got the time, Dick was going to make a new groupchat with only the girls of his team.

The 'men' were all idiots. He needed culture.

Looking at his watch and squinting through the half-light, Dick concluded that there was a half-hour before the grand opening of the new Washington office. The receptionist preparing the front desk for the event had told him that 'Mister Wayne' was in a board meeting with some foundation sponsors but Dick had gone there to surprise the tricky man and found nothing but angry, tired businessmen and women at their wit's end because Brucie Wayne had charmed his way from the room before it'd even started. 

So now Dick was stuck hiding in the ventilation systems of Bruce's office, waiting for the man to come and collect the real copies of the ledgers he'd left unsigned so he could jump down and throttle him for giving Alfred even more reasons to lecture them. Besides, it would be a nice surprise for the big guy! He loved when Dick visited him in the office; a not-so-rare occurrence whenever the teen was on break and bored.

And Dick Grayson got bored a lot.

Another buzz from his pocket and he gritted his teeth,  frustrated, risking a grab for the phone. Just as his nails slid across the glass screen, elbows slamming into the sides of the cramped crawlspace as he twisted round, he heard a click. Lightning quick - though Wally would beg to differ - Dick spun back around, eyes wide, to watch the door slide open with a twist of the handle. Soft hair brushed against the metallic ceiling, gathering static as he leaned forward to peer carefully through the narrow slits below:

A surprise rally from above. That's what he wanted to do - get the drop on Bruce, if only to hear the man congratulate his stealth. Dick grinned to himself; he'd never see it coming. Or hear it coming, for that matter. 

"Dick, come out and say hello to our guests," came the ever-familiar voice, dark and rich. Expensive footsteps echoed through the  sizeable room until a tall, handsome head of dark hair came to a stop next to the desk, directly below him. Dick blinked. 

"What?" He whispered and could almost hear the man roll his eyes. 

"Get out of the ceiling," Bruce replied sharply, looking over his shoulder to check for company. He cast the classic playboy grin towards whoever was approaching and waved meekly. "Shouldn't be a second. Feel free to, er, touch whatever you want. Except the walls - I don't want to pay someone to repaint them."

"I wasn't aware you were having visitors," Dick snapped, grunting as he shifted the loose grate off to one side. His fingers latched onto the side of the vent as he gently lowered himself down, swinging to a perfect stop in front of Bruce. The man sighed and folded his arms, watching with warm eyes as Dick slotted the vent cover back in place. "How'd you know I was up there?"

Bruce levelled him with a stare that said all Dick needed to know. A classic i'm-batman look that he was all too familiar with. Bruce held up a tiny, beeping device. A schematic of the building's ventral system glowed on the screen, a single portion highlighted in red:

"Aren't you supposed to be modelling right now?" Bruce supplied, pocketing the new WayneTech prototype. He dusted off Dick's shoulders, spinning the boy around the face their 'guests'. 

"Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting right now?" came the reply, more of a huff than a biting remark. Dick let Bruce maneuver him towards a group of people that instantly left him feeling more embarrassed than he had been in a long time.  He'd not felt this tortured by a social interaction since Barbara had invited him to that sleepover with all her girlfriends.

Needless to say, he was not feeling the aster.

The striking mustard-yellow blazers looked a stark sickly-green beneath the quality lighting of Bruce's office. Dick didn't realize the new Wayne Enterprise building was some sort of attraction  but then again... he was in and out of them all the time. And this wasn't Gotham. Bruce Wayne leaving his city to set up shop somewhere else was always a novelty.

And here he was, Wayne's ward and heir, standing barefoot with dust-bunnies on his expensive clothes and smudged make-up on his face. With no way to escape the awful situation, Bruce pinning him to the spot with a hand firmly on each shoulder, Dick swallowed his pride and raised a hand awkwardly towards the small group of teens.

"Uh, hi," he croaked out towards the stunned crowd. The silence was deafening. A familiar face turned a bright pink as his gaze raked over them. "I'm Dick."

"This is my ward, Richard Grayson," Bruce clarified. "I ran into this wonderful group on my way to Starbucks, Dick! Can you believe it?"

Some of the students snickered and Dick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He never liked the version of Bruce that he put on show for the world: "I can believe it."

"We're in town for a competition," a man - presumably the teacher - supplied. Dick raised a brow, scanning over the sea of yellow-clad faces. Peter no-surname looked a little nauseous, refusing to meet his eyes. 

They didn't seem the sport type. Far too... well, he didn't want to say nerdy because he knew a couple nerds and Wally West was one of the fastest people alive (and if that's not sporty then Dick didn't know what was). But this group wasn't going to be competing for college scholarships in football, that's for sure.

"Mathletes?" He guessed.

"No, we're- close enough. It's close enough," the teacher supplied. He was wearing a cardigan despite the heat outside and his mousy, thinning hair was beginning to stick to his forehead.

"Mister Harrington, we're not mathletes."

Mister Harrington suppressed a sigh, chest jumping with the action, pushing his glasses up his nose. He turned to one of the students, a girl with impressive curls draped over her rather pretty face. "We don't need to bother the Wayne's with specifics Michelle."

Dick couldn't find it in him to remind them that he technically wasn't a Wayne. He may be Bruce's foster kid, but he wasn't is son. Not biologically, anyway. He loved Bruce, he did, but he wasn't going to start calling him daddy. Michelle shrugged and popped her headphones back into her ears. If he strained, Dick could just make out the tinny sound of Black Sabbath blaring from her phone. 

"It's a decathlon," Liz added, ducking away from Dick.

"Wasn't the Olympics last year?" Bruce queried, smiling handsomely behind Dick's head. The boy pulled away from his guardian, trying and failing to dodge the hand that shot out to ruffle his hair as he did so.

"It's academic, Bruce. You know that," Dick muttered, folding his arms over his chest. He caught the eye of one of the students closest to him - a kind-faced boy whose eyes were wide as the sun as he stared at Dick. "Can I help you?"

"Oh my god, Peter - he just acknowledged my existence!" The boy whispered, a hand shooting out as if he needed to steady himself on his friend's shoulder. Peter didn't seem too impressed, stance awkward as he decided between crossing his arms in an imitation of Dick or letting them hang loose by his side. "Do you know what this means? I'm friends with a celebrity!"

"Friends?" Peter contained a laugh, eyes darting nervously towards Dick. "Ned, I don't think-"

"We're totally best friends now, Ned. Don't listen to him," Dick butted in with a sly wink towards the non-believer, watching Peter's jaw tense. He held out a graceful hand, encouraged by the other boy's forwardness and grinned as Ned shook it excitedly with both hands. Dick gathered he was something of a fan. "Do you have snapchat?"

"Yes! Yeah I do," Ned exclaimed, digging through his jeans for his beat-up iPhone. His smile was contagious. "Dick Grayson wants to add me on snap, wow."

Ned's bitmoji looked impressively like him, Dick noted. They'd even coordinated outfits, wearing the same shitty t-shirt. He was suddenly conscious of his own, glancing down at the cashmere shirt that lay airily against his chest, unbuttoned and elegantly fascist: "Sorry," he said suddenly, voice bordering on shame. Peter quirked an eyebrow towards him. "I've just come from a shoot... I'm not exactly dressed up for the occasion."

"Occasion?" Peter coughed out, tone what Babs would describe to be 'playing coy'. Dick just found it venomous.

"Meeting guests is an occasion."

"Right, because you care so much about first impressions."

Dick felt his mouth settle into a firm, begrudging line, as his lips pressed together. He willed himself not to frown as he watched Peter aberrantly look away. There was a stale tenseness in the air that Ned seemed unable to comprehend, because he kept sunnily speaking as though he didn't even notice the uncomfortable atmosphere:

"A shoot? Like a photoshoot?" Ned repeated excitedly, ignoring everything his friend had said. He was practically buzzing on the spot. "That is so cool."

Dick scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, turning the entirety of his attention towards the teen he hadn't met before. "It's pretty sick," he agreed. "So... a decathlon, huh? You guys must be pretty smart."

"Not really," Peter began. As if he hadn't earlier boasted to Dick how he'd won awards in science. His contradictory words were cut off by Ned quickly, almost as if it were a common, practiced occurrence. 

"Peter's super smart. Like, if he had a superpower, it would be intelligence. Definitely not something else, like super strength or reflexes or whatever."

"I don't have any sort of powers," Peter reassured, glaring towards his friend through the corner of his eyes. Dick hummed, not missing the silent communication. That was something to keep in mind, then. He watched as an unspoken promise swept between the two teens.

"Right. Me either," Dick announced diverting his attention from the boys towards their classmates. Brucie wasn't finding it all that difficult to rally the troops, it seemed. The students - as well as their teachers - were hanging onto his each and ever word as though he were some sort of prophet foretelling an arbitrary second-coming.

"- and so that's when I told her that the champagne wasn't Dom Perignon but actually Lois Roederer! You should've seen her face, she looked as though... Oh, Dick! Dick, come here - you know this story. Remember when St Cloud -"

"No one wants to know about Silver's alcoholism, Bruce," Dick sighed, turning into the man's addictive aura. "Why did you bring them here?"

"They're from a Technology school Dickie! What better experience for a bunch of nerdy students than a tour through WayneTech's science-y parts?"

Dick sighed. Upon bringing back the rag tag group of high schoolers there was no doubt in his mind that Bruce had forgotten to mention that the WayneTech branch wasn't actually supposed to be starting full operation until next week. He must've had a good reason for leading them here: Bruce had a good reason for just about everything. But Dick was either too close-minded or not observant enough to see what it was.

"Follow me then. You'll never get your tour if you keep pandering to his ridiculousness," Dick announced, spinning on his heels and catching Bruce's eye. The tall man gave him an almost indiscernible nod as he moved to bring up the rear of the herd.

Dick led the way from Bruce's extravagant office, through the winding, grandiose halls of the new Wayne building. He knew where he was going well enough after his little adventure across the grounds searching for the man who'd gone to Starbucks, and tried not to feel hurt when Peter dragged Ned towards the back end of the queue instead of upfront with Dick himself.

WayneTech was the biggest division of Wayne Enterprises - specialized in retrieving and researching alien technologies outside of the public's knowledge, and in security detailing inside of it. It was no surprise to Dick, then, that they had an entire five-floor spread dedicated to their laboratories in the new Wayne Tower. If the new D.C office had been up and running for longer than five days, no one would have been allowed access to the main labs. Mister Harrington and his class were lucky they'd caught Bruce in a 'good' mood, despite whatever ulterior motive he had planned.

"This is the first floor's entrance to the test center," Dick explained as he led the gaggle of wide-eyed students to a dead-end. The wall opposite was embellished with a large painting - a façade of Alfred's favourite piece called The Ghost of  a Flea. It was a William Blake special event, the original art hanging high and proud in Wayne Manor. 

Dick stepped aside as Bruce swam through the shoal of people, movement fluid and calming like a deceptive predator. With a calculated flick of his wrist the entire wall rippled and plunged inwards, falling away like puzzle pieces to reveal a ringing, metallic decontamination vault with heavy steel doors and hazard symbols plastered all over it. 

"I hope you all have insurance," Dick joked, reveling in the momentary look of fear in Mister Harrington's eyes and snickering with the rest of the students as he stepped inside. "Company policy states you're all going to have to take off your shoes and wear these -" he jutted a thumb towards the right wall, hydraulics hissing as it folded upwards to reveal racks of lab coats and white sterile plimsolls. " - Totally monochrome, I know, but it's regulation."

Dick shrugged on one of the embroidered WayneTech coats and donned a pair of protective goggles. Amongst the exchanging of shoes and frisking of all personal items - phones, keys and anything else that could prove to interfere with experiments in the lab weren't allowed past that point - Dick noticed Bruce loitering near a particular tray of belongings. 

Peter was busily untying the laces of his worn-out converse, Ned shuffling eagerly beside him. It didn't avoid Dick's notice that as one of the lead research scientists came to collect the high schoolers with a tired smile and the pair looked away, Bruce took the split-second to slip the tip of his finger beneath the solo of one of Peter's shoes. 

Dick narrowed his eyes at the singular red flash that emitted from the beacon, petering out of existence as it activated. He grabbed Bruce's arm as he attempted to follow the class through the laboratory, grip like iron as it closed around the man's straining wrist:

"A tracker Bruce? Really."

"It's precautionary," the man replied with a wave of his hand. Dick could see the muscles moving beneath his suit. "It's Stark's kid."

A wave of surprise swept through Dick's blood, ice cold and sharp. Schooling his features to what he hoped could pass as indifference in the eyes of Bruce Wayne, Dick raised an eyebrow, releasing the handful of bespoke material:

"I wasn't aware he had a son."

"Because he doesn't. The kid's an intern," said Bruce. Dick studied his mentor's face carefully, meeting his steely eyes as recognition dawned on him.

"You think he was there? At the Avenger's pity-party?" Dick asked, bewildered. He stumbled back from Bruce, raking a hand through his hair brashly. No Way. Peter somehow-not-a-model? Absolutely not.

"The Sokovia Accords are a serious problem, Dick."

"Please, you're just jealous you're stuck with the league," Dick snickered, bouncing after Bruce as the man shook his head and continued into the lab. "Face it, B, there's no way Supes is going to start a revolution. Maybe you could try and rile Hal up, but -"

"That's enough work talk, Dick," Bruce cut him off sternly. They lingered behind slightly before rejoining the others, Bruce's steady hand gripping his shoulder. Dick wasn't particularly interested in another lecture on xenobiology by one of Barbara's brain-crushes. Not that Doctor Lovell wasn't worthy of being listened to - it's just that Dick had heard it all before. He'd experienced it first hand, he didn't need to be told how Amazo's copy-catting worked. "Remember where you are."

"Yeah well, I still don't think you should bug a high schooler, Bruce."

"You're a high schooler," Bruce insinuated. Dick wrinkled his nose as he leaned into the man's space.

"Your point is? I wouldn't want to be tracked by you," he retorted. He absently felt around his collar and cuffs, checking for a similar device. "Or by anyone, for that matter. You've never planted one of those on me have you?"

"Planted what on you?"

Dick froze. The dynamic duo, Peter and Ned, were staring at them from across a workbench and were flanked by the Michelle girl. She didn't look half as interested as the two boys, absently glaring into the distance with her head in her hand. Peter just appeared to be bored... probably of Ned: the teen was practically swooning at every action the Wayne Heir took. Dick wasn't supposed to be caught off guard like this - why the three of them weren't watching the awesome display of Green Lantern's cosmic constructs was beyond him.

Bruce squeezed his shoulder and Dick stared up at him. The slight pressure told him to keep quiet; the Bat would do the work for him. "My ward's always trying to avoid using the phones made by my company - which gets kind of expensive when he keeps taking them places he's not supposed to." A subtle dig towards Dick for that time he took his phone on patrol. It hadn't ended much better than a dislocated shoulder and a furious Bruce. Dick felt his cheeks heat up at the man's decisive stare. "Silly as it is, I've resorted to slipping the blasted things into his pockets when he's not looking."

Dick nodded mutely, pushing his hands into his pockets. The cold glass screen of his WayneTech phone pressed at his finger tips. "And he always succeeds," Dick said through his teeth, parading the phone for all to see. It wasn't even on the market yet.

"I thought phones weren't allowed in here," Peter recalled and Dick rolled his eyes. 

"There are exceptions to every rule," Dick muttered. He looked up through his eyelashes towards Peter's frowning face. "It may be pure favoritism, but, well... I am his son."

This just deepened the other boy's expression, much like the laugh elicited from Ned made him slump further down the table. Bruce sighed: "You're not supposed to be in here barefoot either, Dick. What happened to your shoes?"

"I lost them in the studio. They were giving me blisters."

"Oh. Saint Laurens?" Bruce assumed, face twisting as his ward nodded. "Understandable."

"Couldn't you have just worn a pair of these?" Michelle interjected, flicking her leg to rest on top of the table. The stark-white trainers cut a bold contrast atop the onyx workbench. "We all had to."

"Obviously you all don't have any taste. No one who knows anything about fashion would willingly put them on their feet. Why would I?"

"Because it's protocol?" Peter suggested. He seemed almost offended. Dick couldn't see why he would be. It was a perfectly reasonable observation to say that he had no dress-sense - a no-brainer. The dude was wearing the type of t-shirt Wally  would wear, one of those with the dorky science puns. There was no way anyone who dressed Kid Flash on his days off had good taste.

"Not for a Wayne," Bruce replied coolly, steering the conversation to the left. He checked his watch, eyebrows knitting exaggeratedly as he frowned. "Well then, Dick. I've got to be off. Time really does fly, kiddos."

"You're leaving?" Ned asked somberly. Bruce flashed him his 'Person fo the Year' winning smile, laced with regret as he looked to Dick.

"I have business to attend to and an opening to attend," the man sounded sincere. Dick wondered if he'd been contacted by the league, because there was no way Bruce was actually going to go to the Tower's christening. Maybe Diana had buzzed in for a date. Or Selina. Or- "My CEO wishes to remind me that Wayne Enterprises doesn't run itself. Mister Harrington-"

"Call me Roger, Mister Wayne -"

"Alright, Richard. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut out time together short," Bruce said solemnly. "Doctor Lovell, if you could finish this up rather quickly and have Dickie show these lovely people out? Thank you, dear."

His embellished his words with a wink, face melting into one of irritation as he turned so only Dick could see him 'Clark' he mouthed, face grim-set as he swept away. Dick's stomach churned - it must be important, then. Unless Clark had offered to take Bruce on a date. Dick always had wondered about the two of them. He grinned, watching the hulking figure of Bruce Wayne abandon the theoretical ship through one of the emergency exits - one that lead to a stairwell onto the roof, Dick noted.

As Doctor Lovell wrapped up her explanation of whatever theoretical science she was explaining, shutting down the hologram display of the Justice League's last fight with Amazo, Peter finally turned to face him. The eye contact was awkward and Dick had to refrain from looking away as the other boy pushed himself from his seat. It was almost as if Bruce's presence had been a dampener on whatever he'd been meaning to say.

"Does he always just walk out like that?" he asked. Ned almost tripped over the legs of his stool in his effort to be the first to stand beside Dick.

"Mostly always," Dick countered, waiting for the disappointed students to swarm towards him in an orderly fashion. "Sometimes he lasts longer than five minutes though, if you can believe it."

"Can't say I can," Peter said, staring off in the direction Bruce had ventured. "How does he run a multimillion dollar company?"

Dick frowned, looking over his shoulder to follow Peter's gaze: "Multibillion dollar company. He does a lot for Wayne Enterprises - you can't begin to understand the work he puts into helping this business succeed."

Peter had prodded one of Dick's more tender issues with Bruce's public persona. He couldn't stand people thinking the man was an idiot. Bruce was- Bruce was amazing. The most capable man Dick had ever and would ever meet. With everything he did to protect and serve... all people like Peter saw was Brucie.

"I didn't mean to offend," Peter retreated quickly. His eyes were warm and Dick felt somehow lighter as he stared into them. "It's just, with people like Tony Stark in the business how does he manage to stay afloat?"

"You're awfully talkative all of a sudden," Dick snapped, not un-kindly. Peter reeled back ashamedly:

"I... I'm sorry?"

"Apology not accepted. Maybe if you stop scowling at me I'll rethink," Dick said. "Y'know, I thought we were getting on okay earlier, but I guess not. Ned seems cool though."

"Ned is cool," the man himself supplied from his position on the floor, pulling off the white abominations from his feet. 

"I just didn't clock who you were before I saw you in Wayne's office, that's all!" Peter replied, ignoring him. "And then I was like... oh god, he's rich and a model and famous - It's kind of a lot to take in, y'know?"

"A lot to take in?" 

"'Cause I said all that stuff to you and I never would have if I'd know, I swear!"

Dick felt his chest deflate. Of course. He wasn't just another teenager to Peter anymore: He was Richard Grayson. Heir to the Wayne fortune, with far too much status to even consider speaking to. Dick's intrepid eyes scaled the walls opposite, thumb running over the material of his sleeve. "It's okay. I get that."

"You do?" Dick didn't enjoy the relief he heard in Peter's voice. 

"Yup," he replied, voice strained, and he leant against the doorway to decontamination to watch the boy struggle to remove his lab gear. His eyes flickered to the beat-up trainers Peter began to pull from his tray, mouth dry as he watched the boy begin to undo the laces. "Uh, hey Peter -"

"Yeah?"

He had half a mind to let Bruce's schemes alone. What did he care if Bruce's tracker was stuck to the guy's shoe? But a guilty feeling rose uncomfortably up his throat, threatening to choke him, as he observed the tying of grimy shoelaces.  "Er, about your shoes -"

"What about them?" the boy replied, not bothering to look up. It was a good job he didn't, too, otherwise he might've seen how obvious Dick was being as he went about this whole thing. He didn't exactly have a plan: He was flying by the seat of his pants here.

"I need them."

"What?"

"Give me your shoes."

"What?"

"Look, you heard me," Dick hissed, and he was pretty sure any friendliness recovered between the two of them was destroyed at that exact moment. He could feel his onw cheeks beginning to flame. Forget earlier, when he'd crawled from the ceiling in front of everyone: This was embarrassing. But he couldn't just let Bruce track the poor guy. What if it were Dick being tracked? He'd never let it happened, of course - Bruce would (figuratively) murder him. But he couldn't shake the bad feeling away. Someone knowing his every move? Possibly the grossest thing ever. "Hand them over."

Peter stared at him as though he'd grown a second head and for a moment Dick wished he had. It would've been easier to explain. 

"Are you serious?" Peter said, letting out a nervous laugh. Mister Harrington was beggining to shoo the other students from the boxy room single file. 

"Why do you want his lame-ass shoes?" Someone asked. A taller boy, with dark hair and a confused look on his face. "You can have mine, they're way cooler."

"Let's go, Flash."

"But Sir-"

"Beat it."

In the boy's defense, Dick did think the kid's Nikes were cooler than Peter's worn converse. Although he wasn't sure he'd want to wear anything from someone named Flash. He'd never hear the end of it from Wally. 

"Peter, I'm not joking. I'm tired of being barefoot and you- you have socks on!"

"Look, Di- can I still call you Dick?" Peter asked uncertainly. The other teen nodded rapidly, fingers twitching. "Er, I'm not sure why you're asking for my shoes but I'm definitely not giving them to you."

"But I need them," Dick pleaded.

"Sorry, I guess? Bi I 'need them' too. I have to walk back to our hotel," Peter said, standing up straighter. He still hadn't successfully put on both trainers, the left being wedged poorly onto his foot with the laces draping dangerously on the floor. He peered over Dick's shoulder towards the rest of his class slowly walking away nervously. "Hey wait- Ned, wait for me?"

"Look, Peter I'm sorry but... you're really not leaving me with many options here, man. I really need those shoes."

"Can't you just buy a new pair like them?"

Dick rolled his eyes, pushing away from the wall. He could see the faint glow of Bruce's tracking device lodged into the material and inwardly cringed. He could envision what he was about to do and it was not going to look good on record: 'Dick Grayson, Wayne Heir, assaults Academic Decathlon student'. 

Had he no shame? Of course he did! Was the shame going to stop? Of course not.

"You're not understanding me here," Dick said slowly, voice a low treble. He tried to add in a bit of gravel, like Bruce did when he spoke as Batman. It only served to confuse Peter more greatly.

"Look, Mister Grayson, you're kinda starting to freak me out - can you let me pas-" Peter's frankly shitty attempt to de-escalate what he hadn't known to be an escalated situation didn't fill Dick with any comfort as he lunged for the boy.

His quick movement obviously took the boy by surprise because the shriek Peter let out as he was barreled to the floor was nothing less than fantastic. "What are you doing? Get off me!"

Dick had to hand it to the guy, Peter was strong. Much stronger than he looked. After only a few attempts he was able to shove Dick off of him and scramble to his feet but Dick's work was already done: he grinned up at Peter from where he was laying on the floor, waving those terrible converse in hand, and bounced up to his feet with triple the grace of Peter, daring the high schooler to do something. 

The teen's chest heaved rapidly with adrenalin and alarm, and he lurched forward to grab the objects from Dick's hand but with all the dignity of a gymnast Dick spun away and wheeled out of the room. His laughter echoed down the hallway as he sped away. Peter's eyes were wide as he watched him get away.

"What the hell?" Peter breathed out. He made eye contact with Ned, who was standing stock-still with his phone out. A terribly angled selfie was displayed on the screen:

"Do you think he'll send streaks?"

[Next chapter]

[jp-todd-rp]

closed starter for @cxpedcrusxder | Arkham Asylum AU

Jason stumbled on.

He had to.

For the freedom he tasted now, scared him as much as it drove him. He had tried to escape before - more than once - and Jason could still feel the pain that had resulted. Broken bones. A broken mind. Nothing, absolutely nothing, had been too much for the clown.

And with each step he took, the pain echoed through him.

They had reveled in his suffering, relished in his despair, his screams, his pleas. But Jason had held on. Convinced that his rescue would come.

Bruce would come.

But then, there had been the pictures. Replaced. Another Robin. A better Robin. Batman, the one he had once looked up to as a father, had replaced him without so much as a second thought. Cast aside like a broken toy, discarded in favor of a newer, shinier model. Jason would make him pay. He'd vowed it, amidst the pleas for rescue, it had shifted towards pleas for revenge.

And the clown had laughed.

He would make them all pay for what they had done to him. The Joker, Batman, Arkham Asylum itself - they would all feel his wrath. He'd burn the place to the ground if he had to!

But first, he needed to get off the island. And he needed a plan. Jason couldn't just charge in blindly, not when the odds were so heavily stacked against him. He would bide his time, wait for the perfect moment to strike. And when that moment came, he would unleash hell upon his enemies, tearing down everything they held dear until there was nothing left but ashes.

Jason stumbled blindly on, unaware that he had broken free from the tiled hallways and rooms and cells. He was in the open air. And he was cold. His knees buckled underneath him, the ground digging into his skin, and Jason gasped out in pain.

No! Get up!

Jason gritted his teeth, pushing himself up. Or trying to, at least, because the ground seemed to pull at him, swallowing him whole, as if eager to bury the monstrosity that had been created here.