#and someone points out that's Bruce Wayne

[prlssprfctn]

Jason, being a semi-canonic common hallucination in the family after his death, could lead to the stupidest AU ever.

Imagine everyone seeing him — Bruce, half of the time, Dick non-stop, Tim more often than not, and eventually even Alfred starts seeing little boy's silhouette in the corner of his eye, but he never admits it, because someone needs to stay sane in this family.

It is a lot like real-life cases when cult families start to see collective hallucination, and it somehow syncronises in their minds, so they hear and see the same things, you know?

So, yeah, everyone sees Jaybin around.

Everyone but Damian. Damian is a normal one. He also knows his Akhi is alive and well, so whatever. And it takes him some time to figure out that his family is bat-shit insane, but when he does, he decides to use it on his advantage.

Damian, calling Jason: Akhi, you should visit me. It is getting awfully boring here.

Jason, frowning: You know I can't. They think I am dead, and I can't risk my plan, especially now, when Red Hood is gaining-

Damian: We will pretend you are a hallucination.

Jason: ...What?

Damian: So, there is a plan...

So, a few days after this call, Jason arrives at the Wayne Manor. He still thinks his brother's plan sucks, but gaslighting is one of his many talents, so surely, they will figure something out. He can lie his way through this meeting.

Expect, he doesn't even need to lie. His family is actually insane.

Bruce, bumping in Jason:

Jason, staring back: Uh-

Bruce: Wow. You look so grown-up. And we look so alike. Nice one, brain.

Jason: ?..

Tim, leaving his room: Hi, B, hi- Oh, damn. Hi, Jaybin. Nice leather jacket.

Bruce: Right? I guess his ghost just grows up with us now.

Jason: ????

Alfred, nodding along, out of nowhere: Master Dick will hate it. He looks taller now.

All of them: (peacefully leave the room)

Jason: What. The. Fuck.

Jason waits for the moment of clarity to happen as he chats with Damian in the kitchen, but... nothing changes. They really, really think he is a hallucination. So... he starts hanging out around more. Both because Damian is getting angsty, and because it is kinda... amusing.

Tim, stuck on the same case for a few nights, non-stop: Oh, it is really just me and you in this, Jason.

Jason, playing Mario Cart on the table by his side: Maybe take a nap, dude.

Tim: No, I need to figure out this case with-

Jason, rolling his eyes: Red Hood had already dealt with it. Go to sleep.

Tim: ...You are such a good self-care kind of hallucination.

Jason: ...

Damian: Your bets, when will they realise that you are a real person?

Jason: At this point, I am not sure that they will, even if I start screaming that I am real.

Damian: Fair. I bet a year would do.

Jason: ...A year and a half.

Dick visits the Manor. He cooes at Jason, muttering something about "of course, he would have grown up in a punk," and Jason almost breaks his role to hit him on the head.

Jason, arms folded on his chest: You know, you need serious help, dad.

Bruce, blinking at him slowly: Probably. You know what else I need?

Jason: Sleep? Retirement? To stop adopting strays? The list is endless, man.

Bruce: ...Coffee. I need more coffee.

Jason, groaning: What the fuck!!!

Alfred figures out that Jason is real, eventually. Solely because he catches him sneaking a few extra cookies, and hallucinations are not supposed to eat. He plays along with him and Damian until the very end, anyway.

(Damian ends up winning the bet because Jason loses it once and pushes Bruce down the stairs, when he starts reciting some precautionary tale about him. Everyone is flabbergasted.)

[pinkhoodi]

boyz in luv !

✎ᝰ — dc boys as romance tropes

��⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, wally west, kaldur’ahm x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff & jason is slight ooc cause I didn’t feel like writing moody child jason sawry

♡⃕ — a/n: woooo mia writes once again. yall peepin my consistency ?

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ second chance ! — bruce is a man who excels in many things and one can say he has lived different lives, depending on who you’re asking. one thing he wished to excel in is romance, he has tried time and time again to be the perfect lover for someone yet that energy was never reciprocated back, unless for a hookup. not only that, his heart was never much into it when it came to all his previous lovers and he could never understand why. was something wrong with him? however, when it came to you, he felt that he gave his all, he felt himself pour more into you than he usually would with others. thus, the two of you ending things led to bruce feeling so much heartache to the point where he couldn’t handle it any longer. he needed to find a solution, a medication, something, anything to ease this pain in his chest. to think, the bruce wayne, aka batman, could feel emotional pain, who would’ve thought?

that pain led to longing, aching times of writing you letters, stopping by your job to see how you’re doing, looking through photographic memories, begging at your front door at one random night to ask what can he do to be back with you? he can no longer live a life without you and he genuinely doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ you fell first, he fell harder — to grayson, you were of quite importance. you two grew up in the same neighborhood until his parents was killed, you two attended the same school, and you two were always at each other’s side. if people were to find dick, they could find you next to him or somewhere near him. as years pass, and your friendship becomes deeper, dick finds himself growing feelings. as a young man, he couldn’t shake off these feelings that sprouted when you were around him. actually, neither of you could.

feelings always arose inside both of you when you two were in contact with one another, whether it be on the phone or him taking you out to a nice dinner. when you spoke, he could find himself dazed as he laid his eyes all over your beautiful features. when you lay your hand anywhere on him, as simple as the touch would be, the hairs on his body stick up, and finds himself getting hot as the touch lays on there.

the same would happen with you except the effects of his touch or his presence wouldn’t be as down bad as dick is with you. the potential crush that grew inside the both of you had made the simplest conversation become a rousing feeling to your beating hearts. except dick feels like his heart is close to exploding when he’s near you.

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ childhood friends to frenemies to lovers — jason was sweet, jason was loving, jason was determined to be the brave boy just like his father. he was everything you dreamed and wanted from in a boy, since grade school you dreamed of jason todd being your dream boy. maybe it’s the crush, maybe it’s the crazy promise to each other that you’ll live together by the age of thirty if neither of you gets married. you don’t know what it is but it gave you the idea that you and jason will be stuck like glue till death do you part. a great idea for two grade schoolers but not for someone like you who was startled by jason’s behavior after being “missing” all these years.

either way, he was not the jason you’ve known and grown up with. this jason was coldhearted, brute, and didn’t have much care to be in your life, unlike younger jason. he came off with a cold shoulder and you came to the point that your friendship has gone away from his memories, you didn’t matter to him as much he mattered to you. at least, that’s what he wanted you to think.

throughout you dealing with and not wanting to accept this new jason, he was fighting with himself on whether he should make the best of your burned-out friendship to keep you from all danger or be selfish and keep your love with him, no matter the consequence you may both have to face. protect y/n and live with long-term yearning or protect your own heart and live in bliss with y/n? choose wisely jason, choose wisely.

꒰ WALLY WEST ꒱

Ꮺ unrequited love — the young man with so much to love but sometimes oh so clueless. he was intelligent and knew how to act in certain situations, making him quick-minded. however, he hasn't caught on when it came to catching hints of you flirting with him. which is strange for a man who likes to flirt with almost every woman in sight. then again, it’s the same for you when he tries to flirt with you and you just think of it as casual flirting. you don’t think anything of it since wally is a flirt, you usually just play on till you can’t anymore.

even when people assumed that you and wally have something going on, you would laugh it off and deny it. even if it does sting a bit to fake it and say that you and wally are friends, while you internally want something more. it’s not better on wally’s side either; his usual cheery and chill attitude dampers just slightly when he hears you say that the two of you are friends.

the situation of unrecognized unrequited love has both of you two’s hearts aching for one another. You don’t how long you can last by being “just friends” with wally and wally doesn’t know how long he’ll last by pretending that this crush isn’t eating him alive. as for now, friends till one confesses.

꒰ KALDUR’AHM ꒱

Ꮺ everyone sees it but them — oh kaldur, the handsome blonde man with facial features that’ll make the angels sing and a personality that could make anyone want to marry him. he’s extremely kind, soft-hearted, caring, has great leadership skills, and has everything that just screams he needs to be in your life. well, he is, as your friend, a close friend.

you two grew up together training in the young justice league and became close after one mission that almost cost you your life. he was there, by your side taking care of you and keeping watch until you completely healed. ever since then, you two has been stuck to the hip, unintentionally, and neither of you seems to mind. even when your teammates make lil comments, “look at the lovely couple” “aww when’s the wedding?” “there goes couple of the year”. you usually roll your eyes at the comments and go about your day with kaldur.

however, maybe the comments meant something; seeing as the way kaldur’s smile grows when you’re explaining something, your laughter that brings a sort of bliss to your ears. it also doesn’t help that konnor and wally notices the way kaldur lets his hand linger on yours until they’re intertwined, or the way your cheeks are so prominent when kaldur is around, and the loving expression that is present. your cheeks rise, a smile displayed, and your eyes tie it all into your facial expression potentially screaming, “I’m in love.”

but of course, the signals that everyone around notices, you two seem oblivious to notice. even when they try to point it out to either of you, you just use the excuse, “so, we’re friends. do friends not do that?” friends…right right, of course, friends!

♡⃕ technically, i had something similar for these hcs from the song “another life” by sza. but they didn’t come out how i wanted so we’re just gonna stick with these !

♡⃕ okay but the way I’ve been actually feeding yall likeeee 🤭

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: isaiah 41:13

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟧 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[witherby]

What would happen if Mouse got sick? Like super, probably at deaths door kind of sick? ok maybe that last part was exaggerating it a bit...But like almost 39 degrees fever, coughing to the point of gagging and vomiting, runny nose, fatigue, no appetite for anything, etc. Based off my own experiences when I get sick. I wanna know what they would do and who would panic the most. Who would lose the little sleep they already have even more. Who would think that the babeh is at deaths door. And who would be the most relieved when Mouse is better a few days later with the help of a paediatric approved medication

-🍨

I like this prompt a lot so I'm gonna do it. Hope u reaaaally like angst tho.

The Littlest Wayne: Sick Bed, part 1

Masterlist is Here!

⚠️ Spoiler/content warning: Young sick child, fever, depiction of seizure ⚠️

It starts with a cough.

"Hey, careful," Jason says, patting your back. The water you'd been sipping sprays across the table as you choke. Tim reaches over to right the glass and Alfred goes and collects a rag to mop up the mess. "You okay?"

"Mhmm," you mutter, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "Sorry...I can clean it, grandpa Alfie."

"It's quite alright, Flittermouse." Alfred gently runs a hand through your hair. "Oh, my, you're quite warm. Why don't you head up to your room and I'll have someone bring a tray to you with soup and crackers?"

"Okay." You push your chair away from the table and duck underneath it, allowing the shadow of the furniture to swallow you up. Bruce watches the dark blob you've become slide out of the dining room and towards the stairs with less energy than usual.

"I'll take it, Alfred," Dick says before anyone else can volunteer, rising from his seat. He sets his leftovers in front of Jason as he passes, helping the butler prepare a tray for you. "Do we have any Tylenol for little kids? If not, I can just crush up a half-pill for them."

"Child-friendly medications will be found in the young master's en-suite bathroom cabinet," Alfred says. "It will just be a few minutes for the soup, Master Dick. I'd recommend you head upstairs and measure out a small dose for your sibling before it's ready."

"Kay, sure," he nods, excusing himself.

Dick hops up the stairs two at a time and enters the family wing of the manor, trailing his hand along the walls and door frames until he finds yours. He knocks lightly and rapidly, a silly little sequence to let you know which brother it is, then opens the door to let himself in.

Your bedroom is almost pitch black. Since the development of your powers, your space has changed to reflect your needs overtime, which means the overhead lightbulbs have been removed and the sheer, pastel blinds over your window have been replaced with thick blackout curtains. For your family who require some form of illumination to see, you have several night lights you pick and choose from; you currently have a round projector plugged in that casts aurora borealis across the ceiling (a gift from Tim) and you've activated the touch sensors installed in the floor that briefly light up everywhere Dick walks, leaving his footprints behind for several seconds until they fade away.

The furniture you originally had, designed in warm, woody colors with bright accents, have also been replaced with black hardware and dark materials. Your bed frame is a dip-dyed wood with silver accents, your mattress and sheets are black, and your dressers, nightstand, and closet have all been painted to match.

At first glance, the large bedroom looks like every goth kid's biggest dream, but the light from the hallway spills briefly into your space when Dick walks inside, showing the bright, colorful books sitting on your black bookshelves, the even more colorful clothes in your wardrobe, your vast collection of toys, and a litany of pictures and photos on all the walls. There is a vibrant, beautiful life in the darkness, which encapsulates you perfectly in his opinion.

"Hi, Flitty," he greets, moving slowly as his eyes adjust to the light. "Alfred's working on your soup, so big bro Dicky's here to do medicine time. Holler at me so I don't accidentally step on you in here."

"Okay," you say from his left. Dick turns and squints, spotting a lump on your bed. He smiles.

"There you are. Lemme see if there's any of the gummies in your med cabinet. Those ones don't taste all gross."

He steps into your bathroom and turns the fairy lights on, bathing the area in a soft glow, and rifles through your cabinet for a minute. Then he makes his way to your bed, sitting on the edge of it with some chewables and a glass of water.

"C'mere," he says, and you comply, shuffling across the bed to give him a quick hug. "Alright. Can you show me you're a big kid and take this for me? Then you'll get a nice bowl of soup and maybe some juice."

You comply without fuss. Dick hears more than he sees you take the medication in the low light, and you go back to hugging him when you're done. Dick wraps his arms around you and lies down, propping you mostly on his chest.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah. Just sleepy," you reply. "And my throat hurts kinda, from when I spit my water."

"Aw, I'm sorry. You only need to stay awake long enough to take a couple bites and then you can rest as long as you want."

"Okay...stay?"

Dick hums, running his fingers gently through your hair. He was supposed to go back to Blüdhaven this afternoon, but...

"Yeah, Flitty. I'll stay."

--

It turns into a fever.

"I'm sorry to turn you away when you've already come by, Delilah," Bruce says, meeting your private tutor in the vestibule. "Mouse came down with something yesterday, and I don't think they'll be up for lessons for the next few days. I forgot to tell you."

"Oh, that's absolutely no problem, mister Wayne," the tutor smiles, shaking her head. "I wish them a speedy recovery! Let me know if there's anything you need."

"I will, thank you. Take care!"

Bruce closes the door after seeing her out, the Charming Socialite mask slipping off his face as he heads for the stairs. He meets Alfred at the top with a nod, stepping past him and walking up to your bedroom door.

He gently knocks three times against the glossy wood, calling your name. "Can I come in?"

After a moment, he watches it click open, and you squint up at him in the doorway.

"Hi, daddy," you croak, voice dry and harsh from the progression of your flu. Bruce tuts and scoops your clammy body into his arms, carrying you back to your bed.

"Honey, you didn't have to come greet me," he says, "manners get thrown out the window when you're sick, remember? Let's get you tucked in."

You don't fuss or complain, which makes the worry flare up in Bruce's mind. He pushes it back, refusing to catastrophize a cold. All of his children get sick, it's not unheard of. A little fever is fine, and so is your lack of excitable energy. It's normal and expected.

"How do you feel?" He asks, pulling the blankets up to your chest. You squirm a bit, kicking them down.

"Hot," you say, "sleepy."

Bruce compromises by tucking the blanket around your tummy instead. You don't push it down any further. He pulls out a thermometer from his pocket and scans your forehead.

"Yeah, you are running a bit hot," he admits. An even one hundred degrees. Should be easy enough to control with careful attention. "Alfred says you refused breakfast this morning. Do you want to try eating something small for lunch? More soup?"

You shake your head. "Not hungry."

"I know you're not hungry, pumpkin," Bruce says, gently squeezing your hand. "But you don't wanna starve, either. Then you'll shrink up like a raisin! How am I supposed to snuggle a raisin?"

You smile a bit and give a wheezy huff of laughter. Bruce smiles back.

"So, will you try? You can have anything you want. I just need to see you take a few bites of something."

"Okay, daddy. Want...um... I want more soup please."

"You can have more soup," Bruce promises, running a hand through your sweatslick hair. He reminds himself to run you a bath in a couple hours. Maybe after a nap. "Do you want anything else?"

"Mmmyeah. Bedtime story?"

"Yeah," he says. "Any story you want, after we get some soup in you."

You smile again. It eases the knot of dread in Bruce's chest.

--

It gets worse.

Three days into it, your fever spikes in the middle of the night. You completely refuse any sort of food or drink all day, despite the angry growling of your stomach, and the family unanimously decides to bring you to the hospital in the morning to get looked at. Dinner without you is full of worry and tense glances toward the family wing, and it seems like not a lot of sleep is going to be had before they find out the total extent of your illness.

When tossing and turning in bed for a few hours doesn't lead him anywhere, Damian decides to give in to the nagging in the back of his head and pop in your room to check on you. He rushes to your bed when he sees you seizing and gasping for breath. Your temperature's shot up to a hundred and six and you don't react when he tries to shake you awake.

Fearful and, for once, feeling every bit the child he still is, he clutches your body to his chest and screams.

"BABAA!!"

The door slams open in seconds, though to him it feels like an eternity. Hal and Jason are coaxing Damian to let go of you and Bruce climbs on the bed to roll you onto your side, carefully wiping the foam and drool away from your mouth while he checks your vitals. Tim is in the hallway calling 9-1-1 and texting Dick to let him know what's happening.

"Dami, you gotta move," Jason says, placing his hands overtop his brother's. Damian's grip on your arm is so tight it's bruising. "Let go, they're okay. Let go."

"I'm tracking their pulse, you dumb bastard!" Damian snaps. "Release me!"

"You're hurting them, Dames," Hal says in his ear, wrapping his arms around Damian's waist. "Bruce has them, now. You have to let go and get out of the way for the paramedics."

Green eyes snap to your arm. He seems to finally take stock of what he's doing and eases off, letting Hal pick him up and pass him off to Jason, who carries him into the hallway.

"Stay out here," Jason says. "It's our job to keep out of the way for now."

"Who's going to let the paramedics in?" Damian asks, trying to pry himself out of Jason's grip. As much as he tries to crane his neck, Jason's standing too far away from your door to let him see how you're doing, and his iron grip is unyielding.

"Alfred's by the gate controls, he'll let them inside."

Tim gets off the phone with the emergency dispatcher and glances at your door with a frown. Every hitching gasp and choke you make can be heard from the hall, along with Bruce and Hal's barely-concealed, panicked murmuring, and he crosses his arms tightly and shuffles over to Jason now that his task is done.

"Can we wait downstairs?" He mutters. Jason keeps one arm wrapped around Damian and slings the other around Tim's shoulders, guiding them to the staircase.

"I want to stay!" Damian insists, pulling against Jason, who ends up needing to sling the little assassin over his shoulder to get him to move. "Todd!!"

"Robin," Jason snaps in his best Batman impersonation. It's a damn good one, because Damian quiets immediately, stiffening in his arms and ceasing his struggling without further protest. Tim freezes beside him, but Jason just pats his back and keeps guiding him down the stairs.

The trio is quiet as they file into the main living room. Jason and Tim sit on the couch and Damian gets propped up in his brother's lap. Try as he might, he can't wiggle out of Jason's arms.

"This is asinine," he hisses. "I should be up there."

"Doin' what?" Jason asks. "Bruce and Hal are both in there with Mousey. Alfred's about to guide the EMTs inside. Tim called 911 and then told Dick the situation. You were the one that first found 'em and got help."

Jason gives Damian a squeeze, propping his chin on top of his head.

"You saved their life, Damian. Ya don't need to do more than that right now. Let the grown-ups take the reins for a while."

"But I —"

"You've done more than enough," Jason insists, not unkindly. His tone has been uncharacteristically soft the whole time, Damian realizes belatedly. "I'm sure they'll thank you when they come out the other side of this."

Damian didn't do it for your thanks. He did it because he loves you. Despite you quickly approaching the age where Bruce might offer you the Robin mantle soon, which has filled him with more anxiety and anger than he's had in a long time, he loves you dearly and doesn't want anything to befall you.

In spite of everything, he's your big brother and he loves you just as much as he can't stand you.

"They will be fine," he mutters firmly. "There's no alternative."

"Right," Tim speaks up. He sounds like he needs the reassurance just as much as Damian. "M is gonna be okay."

The three of them turn their heads when several pairs of footsteps enter the vestibule. Four paramedics rush in with a stretcher and duffel bags of medical equipment. Alfred orders them in the direction of your bedroom with simple, firm instructions, and they head off.

The butler then turns, spotting them out of his periphery, and he clears his throat and adjusts the belt around his robe. He's still in his sleepwear, having rushed out of bed to help prep for the emergency like everyone else.

"I've had my fair share of exciting nights," he comments, "but I must say, they never become more enjoyable. Why don't you all join me in the kitchen and I'll prepare some drinks? Hot chocolate should suffice on a chilly evening."

"Sounds fantastic," Jason says, hopping to his feet. He lifts Damian up with him, denying him the chance to refuse, and with a glance and jerk of his chin, coaxes Tim to get up and follow after.

"Put me down," Damian says, reaching up to tug on Jason's night shirt. "I won't run back upstairs. I swear."

"Yeah? You double-swear? Don't make me chase you, kid, I really do not have the patience."

"On Father's life," he insists.

Jason sets him on the floor. Damian follows them into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island, cupping his hands around a warm mug of hot cocoa when Alfred hands it to him a couple minutes later. He watches the wisps of steam curl up into the air and dissipate, unable to stop thinking about your writhing body in bed. Your eyes had rolled back and your limbs had locked up, jerking uncontrollably. And the noises you were making...

The mug gives a foreboding creak under his grip. Alfred gently places his hand on Damian's back and gives it several soft pats.

"Do not fret, master Damian," he says, "our little Flittermouse is very resilient. An illness turning poorly won't keep them down for long."

"I know," he says. Alfred nods, and with a final brush against his shoulder, tends to Tim next to ensure he's also doing okay. When Damian looks at Jason, he sees him calmly drinking from his mug without so much as a furrow in his brow. But there's an almost imperceptible ricketing noise that means he's bouncing his leg nervously. It makes his stomach twist almost painfully, to know he's just as scared as everybody else.

Damian takes a deep breath. He sips his coco. He thinks of the froth pouring out of your mouth when Bruce rolled you into the recovery position. He puts the mug down.

He knows you'll be okay. You have to, because he just can't live with the alternative.

[astraeus-tree]

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

Sometimes Things Aren't As Plain As They Seem

Pairing: Damian X F!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing. Swear on my life.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I was right.”

“You were right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He finishes up quickly and lets you go home.

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

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

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

Unspoken words lingered between you two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some explanation -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

LIKE WHAT??

Weird black neglected!reader

The readers fears

The reader is honestly terrified of looking like Bruce; he is your biological father, but nothing scares you more than getting older and having some random reporter say you have Bruce's nose. You'd probably fall apart at the thought, like shellshock—scared it may not even be in facial features, just how you carry yourself. The confident, cocky stride is only found in Bruce Wayne, and somehow, you seem to have it. When asking Alfred to help tie your tie for a gala, and when he finished, he stepped back and chuckled, hiding his mouth behind his knuckles.

"Oh, young master, you're starting to look just like your father when he was younger."

This fact leaves you in shambles, and you decide not to wear a tie that night, fearing someone might say something. You'd rather look like your mother than him; your biggest fear is that you might lose all your mother's features as you get older, looking more and more like Bruce. At one point, your friends told you that you have Bruce Wayne's smirk, and you didn't smile for a week. You used to deny looking anything like your father—the tall stature? Hey, Jason's taller! The long nose? It's not that long! The cocky attitude? You're just confident, no biggie!

You remember when you were younger, way before going to Wayne Manor, you had asked your mother what your father looked like? It made her giggle.

"You little noisy wart! You wanna see what Daddy looks like? Fine, I'll show ya. Come here." She went to her bedroom, pulled out an old worn photo album, and sat back down on the couch. She picked you up and sat you on her lap. She flipped through the pages in the album. You saw pictures of you as a baby, photos of your momma in college. They looked really old, but then again, you were really young. Then she stopped on the page smack dab in the middle.

"There he is, your daddy," It was an old picture of your mom and Bruce. Your mom looked young, slimmer, and less wrinkled, and beside her was... the infamous Bruce Wayne: piercing blue eyes, killer jawline, and a genuinely soft smile. It made you frown; you didn't look anything like him. Your skin was darker, your hair wasn't straight but curly, and your eyes weren't blue. There were more photos of him and your mother; she looked so much happier, or maybe it was your imagination.

"Are you sure? I don't think I look anything like him," you huffed in disappointment, just for your mother to smile and pull you closer.

"I don't think so; you have his cute little nose." She tapped your nose, making you cover it with a pout.

"And his strong chin," she tickled under your chin, which made you giggle.

"His lovely ears," she tickled behind your ears and neck.

"And those pretty, chubby cheeks!" She pinched your cheeks, and you fell into a fit of laughter, just before she hugged you and nuzzled your cheek with her rounded nose.

"Darling, you are just as handsome, if not more beautiful, than your father."

"I want to look like you more!" you shouted, making your mother giggle.

But those soft and sweet memories faded to black, and the more you thought about it and stared at a picture of your "father," the more you hated it. You didn't want to look like him; you didn't want to resemble a deadbeat lunatic who frightened people in the dead of night. You didn't want to have his voice or his brains; you didn't want to be compared to him at all. You were your own person with your own dreams and ambitions, your own thoughts and ideas. You aren't a Wayne, never were, never will be; you’re an [Last Name] for life. Even if you changed your surname after being in Bruce's custody, you still weren't a Wayne; you're not perfect; you're not an acrobat. You're not strong and buff; you're not that great with gadgets. You didn't drop out of high school to fight crime, and you weren't smart enough to do that. You weren't trained by killer assassins or raised to fight. Your dad wasn't a supervillain, and you sure as hell weren't some metahuman who could shoot lights from his hands. You were just a little weirdo who liked video games, anime, and comics, who would stay up late controlling your Sims, who spent their free time making stupid mods for fun, who had crude humor and was kind of an asshole. That was who you were; you were your mother's child. You had your mother's face, her smile, her laugh, and her soft brown eyes.

"[Name], you have such fabulous fashion! Where did you get it from?" a reporter said, pointing a camera and a mic right at your face; it almost gave you whiplash.

"Thank you, ma'am. I got it from my momma," you said with a small smile as you pushed the camera out of your face.

You'll never look like Bruce, no matter who said so. Sometimes, it irks your soul down to the core when you hear Damian now call you "Sister," "Brother," or "His older sibling." First off, you all were half-siblings, and second, you never considered that little gonk as your little brother. Maybe when you were younger, you thought so, but you're not that delusional anymore, and you barely see Bruce as a father. You're willing to have a whole argument about it, but it.

"We have Wayne blood running through our veins, [Name]," the little hellspawn would say every time you tried to blow him off.

"The only blood running through my veins is my mother's," you snarled. You are nothing like them or like him.

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, brief mentions of violence, hospitals, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 8: happy home

🔹🔹🔹

You're officially going ‘home’ today, the doctors have decided that you're well enough to get the boot. It's a little strange to think about, as much as you hate this place it's also the only point of this world you actually know. You have no other base here, no aliases, no hidden safehouse, no Natalia, just you and some strangers. There's been a tension in your shoulders all day, thankfully no one's commented on it yet.

“Are you ready mx Wayne? I've prepared one of the more subtle cars today.” The older man comments respectfully, he's tall, thin, almost haggardly so. yet he carries himself like a military general. Mr pennyworth is an odd one for sure, he eyes the clothes he brought you critically, like he's nitpicking the minute details of you while speaking in respectful deference. It's almost amusing.

“One of the - do you think we'll be attacked or something.” Your tone is flat, yet your words are meant in jest. Though you are curious just how much your husband wastes on cars if there's a selection to pick from.

“If the paparazzi got a sniff of you, then yeah. Might as well count as an attack.” The tall kid mutters as he grabs your bag off the bed, you should probably start calling him Jason instead of the tall one, but eh.

You briefly eye the bag, the only things of ‘yours’ in it is your phone, your medication, and the syringe you managed to keep all this time. You'd tucked that under a layer when you were changing out of the stupid hospital clothes in the bathroom.

“…why would they care about someone leaving a hospital? Isn't Bruce the famous one of the two of us?” The thought annoys and baffles you, most of your experience with press was them accusing you of various assassinations and demanding you be locked away so you're not exactly too keen to run into issue here.

“Mx Wayne, you are a minor celebrity, whether you remember it or not. Being ‘just the spouse’ doesn't mean you're completely hidden in Bruce's shadow.” Mr pennyworth says firmly, his posture straightening slightly, his chin tilting up, he's trying to be firm, He clearly wants to get the message through you.

“…alright, point taken. Shall we?” You start towards the door to your room, both relieved and pissed to leave this place.

“Ahem, are you forgetting doctor's orders?” The tall one- Jason grabs the handles of your wheelchair in the corner, in that moment you want to grab it and throw it off the rooftop.

🔹🔹🔹

You slide the sunglasses a little higher up your nose as you approach the doors, Jason pushing your chair and holding your bag on his arm while Alfred walks in front of you both towards the back exit. Your thoughts drifting towards the next steps, planning your next move…. But why? what exactly are you doing? Playing pretend out of habit, no real mission here. No loyalty or fealty to uphold. No goal in mind. It's a strange train in thought to hit you right as your bathing wheeled out the door by your supposed kid.

You nearly swing an elbow when something is suddenly shoved in your face, a microphone hitting your chin while Jason curses loudly behind you and body blocks the reporter, the duo had been hiding in the bushes like a couple of wild animals.

“Mx Wayne! A word! A word please!” The dark haired woman persists, flailing around Jason while shouting at you, waving her microphone like she's wielding a weapon. “Any comment on your hospital stay? What did you think of your attackers trial? Are the rumors true that you're splitting from Mr Wayne due to your injuries?”

“No comment, don't you people have anyone else to harass?” Jason barks at them, now it's clear to you why he insisted on coming today, he's practically a shield with his stature.

The cameraman tries to slip past Jason, practically kicking at him as he tries to get a close-up of your face. Alfred all but shoves past him as he quickly takes over Jason's job of pushing your chair, grumbling quietly so only you can hear him.

“dear Lord above, no manners these days…”

You're tense, even that small interaction has you feeling put off and unsettled, you're secretive by nature, feeling at odds with yourself already, and now someone's trying to plaster your face on a channel or magazine? Treating you like the press treats Stark? It feels like your skin is crawling, a deeply unsettled feeling nestles in your stomach as you're quickly helped into a car.

🔹🔹🔹

You stare up at the mansion with a neutral expression as you drive up to it, well as the butler drives. Him and Jason have been discussing your physical therapy schedule for a few minutes now while you quietly stare up the long driveway, something about attending every week and needing shots every few days, you really should pay more attention. Gather Intel while you can, yet you're more focused on your newfound freedom.

…Though with the way this place is built, you're still not so free. The manor could pass for a sanitarium, large gates surround the property and you think you can see evidence of security cameras on key points, you agreed to come to this place for appearance sake, but now you kinda wish you'd demanded your own apartment instead. Something private where you wouldn't be locked in a house full of strangers calling you their parent.

“…do you recall anything about this place? Anything…reminding you of anything or…” the butler questions you when he notices your focus elsewhere, Jason glances from the passenger seat back at you with what you can only call a hopeful look in his eyes.

You shake your head slowly, watching as you wheel closer to your next lock-in. “No…nothing at all…tell me a little about it?” Your response is automatic, tone shifting to curiosity and meekness as you meet their stares, though inside you feel hollow as the car parks.

🔹🔹🔹

“-and this is one of your favorite rooms, the library.” Alfred gestures broadly as he opens the double doors, just like with every other room he's shown you.

“Alright…”

You step inside with Jason grabbing your arm like you'll fall on your face, and take it in, the room could pass as part of a public library. It smells musty and old, aging paper and real leather furniture apparent, you walk towards a random shelf and slowly trail your fingers across the spines as you read the titles, Austen, Dickens, Hemingway, Woolf, brontë, the Wayne's are big collectors of the classics it seems.

You glance over your shoulder, catching Jason settling on an armchair with a book in hand, Alfred stands at the door and just…watches you. The old fellow is quite observant you've noticed.

“Something wrong, Mr pennyworth?” your voice is gentle, watching him as closely as he watches you. He shifts just slightly, expression not changing even as Jason looks up from his book to watch.

“Not at all, master Wayne. Are you feeling up for more of the tour? There's still the sitting rooms and the sleeping areas, oh, and the cellars. Silly me.” He's equally gentle, yet you get the feeling this is suddenly a game of some sort. Something telling you to keep a lid on around him.

You fully turn to face him, hand dropping back at your side. “I'm surprisingly tired, to be frank. As little as I've done today…” you don't need to put on an act for that, you're actually exhausted, have been since the paparazzi incident as you left the hospital.

It's silent for a beat, Jason looks between the two of you with a confused furrow on his brow. You and the butler staring at each other like this is a game of cat and mouse. Finally the butler speaks.

“Yes that would happen, being hospitalized for as long as you were can have…. Strange effects on one. Come along if you're able.” He turns on his heel and leaves without waiting to see if you'll follow.

Your brow furrows just a second as you walk after him, was he implying something?

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: we're finally out of the hospital! It only took *checks notes* eight chapters. Lol the interactions are gonna be a lot more interesting now hopefully 😉

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Master & Servant

You either had become too comfortable in your position or you’d gotten too used to scolding the kids; either way, Bruce suddenly found himself at the end of your lectures. As the boss, he should have nipped it in the bud, but, truthfully, he liked it. He enjoyed the way you reigned him in when he got a bit too silly or arrogant—Even Alfred had come to appreciate his behavior a bit more afterward (especially when your reprimands pertained to Alfred doing work a man his age shouldn’t have been doing).

The kids had gone to school, and Bruce, after a night of festive activities, decided it would be best to stay home. He was in the middle of signing some documents when you knocked on the door to his study before entering with a cool expression on your face. Bruce didn’t bother to look up as you crossed the room to his desk, thinking you were there to cure a bit of your boredom. When a lacy pair of red panties slid in front of his paperwork he had to look up at you. 

“What’re you doing?” He said, pushing his chair away from his desk. Were you coming onto him?

You were quick to reach across and pull him back close to you. “Not so fast there, hon’. We have to talk.”

“I’m starting to think we do if this is how you seduce me,” Bruce said as he threw the underwear back toward you. 

You sighed before saying, “These—” You waved around the little piece of fabric. “—Were from your date last night.”

Bruce only managed out an, “Oh.”

“Oh. Would you like to know where I found them?” You spat out. No, he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t about to start answering rhetorical questions. “In the kids' playroom.” 

“Shit,” Bruce seethed out. He had been to a gala earlier in the evening, and, to keep the reporters at bay, decided to bring a pretty lady home. The sex was to relieve some stress, and, usually, he would be careful about where he had his intimate relations. But, he was so pent up that he must have been a bit reckless. That wasn’t like him at all, and he would ensure that it never happened again.

“Don’t leave things like this in there again, please,” You gritted out, tone stern and curt. “It’s incredibly irresponsible. Especially around young children, Mr. Wayne!”

“I know, you don’t need to tell me.” Bruce felt a lightness in his chest, almost fluttering. 

You threw the underwear in his lap. “Apparently I do! Imagine if Duke or Damian found that?”

Bruce was mortified at the thought, but mumbled, “We could always say it was yours.”

If looks could kill Bruce would be dead. You were not in the slightest bit amused and told him as much. You mentioned that the underwear wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg of the issue at hand. 

“You can fuck wherever you want, Bruce, but don’t do it around my kids. They don’t need to get caught up in your fucked up sex life!”

He knew it would be a bad time to point out that they were actually his kids. Overall, he agreed and promised you to never do it again. That seemed to pacify you, more so when he apologized for suggesting that they could pass off the panties as yours. 

 You expressed in a more calming tone, “I know you love the kids, but they’re already having a hard time coping with the rumors about you in the media. Don’t make it any worse by bringing it off the pages into their safe spaces.”

This is what Bruce liked about your reprimands, they brought reality back to him when lost it. You seemed done giving him a rightfully deserved scolding and began to take your leave. 

He called out to you, though, beckoning you back. When you approached, Bruce rounded his desk to get a bit closer to you. “Thank you for…being blunt with me.”

“Someone needs to,” You were quick to say. “Though, I’m starting to wonder who's the boss.”

Bruce smiled and chuckled, agreeing that the line had been blurred in moments like these. Looking down at the underwear in his hands, he finally got the courage to ask, “How’d you know they were my dates?” 

You smirked and laughed a little as you began to leave. “I don’t wear cheap panties. Do you need a lesson on that, too?”

[erinwantstowrite]

JAZZ DESERVES MORE TIME IN THE SPOTLIGHT 10000%

jazz fenton has to be the best older sibling figures in fiction I think.

they could have easily gone the route of jazz not liking danny, or picking on him, etc etc. but it's like very central to her character that she really does care about her little brother. like to a point that it almost hurts her sometimes. I think her trauma with their parents should be explored way more often, and I think it also gives a very good excuse for Danny to be in Gotham in the first place?

from what little I have tried to read of Danny phantom and Batman crossovers they have him be like colleged aged sometimes? which is cool and those aren't bad, but I do want to see an au where Danny and Jazz move to Gotham together and he's like about to leave highschool or about to be a senior. (though this is honestly because I prefer not to have a romance when I read and I do see quite a few that ship Danny with characters like Tim or Jason. whereas I look at their dynamic and I'm like jazz and Danny would fit into this family so well) I do think the older sibling who hates their parents and believes them to be a danger to their child would take custody of said kid and move to a different place as soon as they could. I think jazz would be that older sibling who figured it out and makes it work...

that being said I haven't seen Danny phantom in a really long time and I only recently rewatched like the first season ish. I do recall there being something about him being tied to Amity Park but I can't remember if that's canon or if that was a fanon thing. I just think it would be an interesting concept of having jazz go to school in Gotham and have a job on the side to try and put Danny through school too, and like Gotham has really cheap rent so it's like the best place she could find. I think jazz would have decorated Danny's room and been very excited to have her own apartment, I bet she goes to all of his school stuff, I bet she makes it a point to make sure Sam and Tucker still get to come see him all the time, etc etc. and i think it would be pretty cool if someone explored Jazz as a character more often. cause i can imagine she starts expending and exhausting herself trying to keep up with everything basically as a single parent and i can only imagine the relief she'd feel when the Waynes step in. maybe they figure out Danny's identity because he continued being a vigilante or something of that nature? and they offer jazz to take care of her school expenses and stuff like that even if they don't want to live with the Waynes or whatever. a scene where Bruce really connects with Jazz and tells her she's been doing great this whole time and she should be proud of herself, but he has the resources to help both her and Danny so they don't have to worry about rent or food ever again. and Jazz just kind of breaks down because she's been independent for a long time and she hasn't experienced an adult in her life taking notice of that and wanting to help her

and obviously this would extend to Danny in many ways, because he's also there, but this post isn't about him it's about my girl Jazz. mostly just a ramble cause i woke up sick

[roipecheur]

While the reverse robins trope does not usually Compel™ me (sorry), I was thinking today about keeping the rest the same but reversing Tim and Steph. To be clear, I think this would be 10x worse for Steph and probably at least slightly worse for Tim.

(Warning: this does get a little Bruce critical. I do like Bruce as a character, but part of me liking him is putting him under a magnifying glass and examining his Bastard tendencies.)

So. If Bruce met Steph/Spoiler first. She'd be about 12/13, same age as Tim. Bruce is mourning Jason, out of his mind with grief, and then he meets this bright, fierce kid who reminds him a little of Jason but quips and laughs in the face of death like he hasn't seen since Dick. Since Steph is doing this to fight Cluemaster (her dad) and doesn't want him to figure out who she is, she's pretending to be a boy. This unintentionally goes a long way in getting Bruce to accept her.

Because Bruce was really fucking sexist in the '90s and '00s. I don't know if this was a deliberate character choice or the sexism of the writers/DC at the time or a mixture of both since Bruce of course would've had a bunch of different writers during that time. You only have to look at the difference in how he extended endless compassion and second chances to Jean-Paul Valley and Bane, two men who attacked him and broke his big no-killing taboo, and how he treated Helena and Steph--like loose canon liabilities despite how they were generally doing the vigilante thing and not getting dead. And, to a lesser extent, how Bruce treated Babs especially during War Games, and how he treated Cass.

In Cass, Bruce really wanted a kindred spirit. He wanted someone who lived and breathed the mission like he did, for Batgirl to be who she was in the way Batman is who Bruce is. Bruce Wayne is the mask, and one it seems at times (Fugitive arc) that he'd happily discard. I've only read a few issues of Cass' Batgirl run, mostly while following Tim's appearances, but I've gathered that Bruce gets into a snit whenever she goes off script and does her own thing. It threatens him.

Back to little 12-13 year old Spoiler, who Bruce at this point thinks is a boy. They team up and defeat Cluemaster, and during the fight, Arthur unmasks Steph and realizes he was about to kill his own daughter, which is what allows Bruce to get the drop on him and send him away. Bruce's assumptions have been rocked a bit, but Steph's dad is now in prison (again) and for plot and convenience reasons, let's say Steph's mom is having drug problems and is about to lose custody to the system. Bruce has always solved his emotional problems by taking in wayward children, so he scoops Steph up.

Alfred, Dick, Babs, Clark, and little Tim Drake watching through his camera lens: "What the fuck."

This prompts Tim to track Dick down, which he was about to do anyway, except instead of "hey I think Batman is going to get himself killed" it's "hey I think Batman is gonna get another kid killed because he's got a new Robin already" and Dick, who is hearing about this for the first time, goes home to yell at Bruce. Meanwhile, Steph and Tim have intense rivalry/tension at first sight. Tim's Robin material and a Real Boy, and Steph accuses him of wanting to be Robin in her place. Tim claims he doesn't want to be Robin (but deep down, he kinda does, and he also thinks he could do a better job).

Also. Bruce is extremely hard on Steph because he subconsciously or semi-consciously needs her to make up for the fact that she's 1) not Dick and 2) the Robin after Jason. Part of it is justified because he doesn't want another kid to die on him, and part of it is Bruce forcing her to choose between normal middle school activities and friends and being Robin. He isolates her in a way he didn't with Dick or Jason in the name of protecting her--definitely doesn't let her go off with the Titans or meet the Justice League or anything like that. Steph, desperate for approval and someone willing to spend the time on her, tries to live up to his expectations while chafing under them.

Fun bonus: Bruce makes Steph hide her blonde hair under a short, black wig on patrol in a call-back to making Jason in the pre-Crisis timeline dye his red hair black. He says it's to help protect her identity (and pretending to be a boy was Steph's idea first), but it almost seems like it lets Bruce forget she isn't a boy when they're out as Batman and Robin.

Bruce also keeps letting Tim hang around. He says it's because Tim knows their secrets and has some useful computer skills, so it's better to keep him where he can see him. Privately, he also thinks Tim pushes Steph to become better and work harder. Steph resents Tim heavily because she sees him as a threat--someone to replace her as Robin if she steps out of line--and their relationship improves once Tim starts working more closely with Babs instead. While Babs wasn't willing to take on Steph's training in her Spoiler days in the pre-Flashpoint timeline, Tim's already good with computers. He can provide support on that front and fill in for her in a way that Steph couldn't, so he finds a niche with Oracle.

When Cass shows up, Bruce pits her and Steph against each other and sets Cass up as an 'example' for Steph. It pisses Steph off because she was here first, and maybe she can't fight like Cass and never will, but she can do stuff like talk to people they need information from and pretend to be a Normal Teenager to blend in when the situation calls for it. Despite that, she tries to be friends with Cass...and it works a little too well for Bruce's liking. Steph does something like take Cass on a girls' night to a skating rink and a movie where they wear dresses and do their hair and nails and makeup, and Bruce is furious because they disappeared and weren't answering comms. He benches only Steph for that, which is shitty to Steph and infantilizing to Cass.

Steph could still get pregnant at 15-16--without meaning to, Bruce set her up very well for that. Living with Bruce and being Robin for a few years in those conditions would make Steph want someone to see her as a girl, as the person she was and wanted to be, and not as how well she could fit the mission. Essentially, an easy target for an older guy who told her all the right things. Bruce is angry with her when he finds out....and tells her that she has to choose between Robin and the baby. Steph chooses to carry the pregnancy to term. This happens to correspond with her mom getting better and wanting custody back, so Steph goes back to her mom's house, and Bruce more or less lets her. (Alfred side-eyes him, but we all know that's all the enabler-in-chief will do.)

It's very easy after that for Tim to step into Robin. Bruce was preparing him for this possibility all along. At this point, Tim just started dating Steph--as in the comics, right before Steph found out she was pregnant--and he wants to at least talk to her about it first. But the call comes in an emergency situation, and Tim goes out in the suit, and Steph finds out via rumors or the news. She's upset with Tim, but he shows up later to apologize, and Steph's starting to realize she should be more angry with Bruce.

Steph carries the pregnancy to term, gives her baby up for adoption, and dusts off her old Spoiler suit because she doesn't think she'll get Robin back and isn't sure she wants it. She fills in for Tim when he's at Brentwood and when his dad finds out he's Robin and makes him quit, but it's never the same, and the mantle is never really hers again. As in the comics...Bruce uses Steph when Tim's not around, and he uses her to try and get Tim back.

I don't like the whole War Games arc and I fuckin hate how it treated Steph, so. Since I'm sitting here spinning yarns, rather than Steph stealing Bruce's plans and starting a citywide gang war in a misguided attempt to impress him, she steals information on everyone who trained Bruce in her quest to Find a Mentor Who Gives a Damn. It's the last straw after Bruce fires her--again--for saving his life. Steph skips town, has adventures and misadventures on her training world tour, and eventually comes back to Gotham and becomes Batgirl after Cass gives it up.

As I said. It's Worse.

[littlefankingdom]

I want Bruce to appear in My Adventures with Superman, but just once and just as Bruce Wayne. No Batman (even tho Batman does exist as Jimmy made a video about him), not a single hint, not a single line mentioning him, the dark knight does not appear or help. Nope, just Bruce Wayne being philanthropist playboy Bruce Wayne. And that's it.

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[dukeofthomas]

why does every reconciliation fic go like this

[batcavescolony]

Personally if I wanted someone dead in Gotham, I'd kill them and then KEEP THEIR BODY! It's Gotham people get revived all the time. Take their body, make sure they're 100% dead, personally cremate them, then take their ashes and make something inconspicuous.

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Yeah, people like to think that (adult) Jason’s snarky, cutting, and unapologetic post crisis characterization and the (mostly) “watered down”, docile personality he’s had from N52/rebirth onwards are irreconcilable, and that the shift was just an editorial decision with the intent of marketing him as a “likeable” hero.

While that last part might be true, have they considered that textually it makes perfect sense that being consistently in contact with an abuser just does that to a person. Wears them down until they feel like nothing but a husk, without any discernible direction or opinions of their own. If it isn’t completely burnt out yet, they (consciously or unconsciously) suppress that part of themselves that thinks independently either for self-preservation or to keep the peace. Considering anyone, even “mentally strong” people could fall victim to mental abuse, it’s actually pretty realistic imo.

[bruciemilf]

Haunted by gladiator! Bruce and consort Clark/Talia thoughts

[rougerave]

"Bruce Wayne can't cook to save his life." That's a load of bullshit. Listen Bruce can cook, he just doesn't have the time for it, and the fact that he hardly passes as functional human being.

You can't tell me that in all his traveling he hasn't picked up something. If he can remember miniature details for a case that was three years ago, he can remember recipes.

Listen other than Alfred, Martha Wayne was the only person who knew how to cook. Martha wasn't going to let her son become like his father it that department. She and Alfred taught Bruce everything from the correct utensils to how to properly spice meat, "BBQ spice is not for chicken Master Bruce, have some class."

That was one thing Alfred and Bruce still kept doing after his parents died, and because of this he becomes an amazing cook.

When he meant Taila, trust and believe that she went Gordon Ramsey on his ass when she taught him how to cook the meals of her homeland (that's when he fell in love with her. I refuse to believe anything else on this matter), and obviously as he traveled he gained more knowledge on different dishes. Most from his masters and some from random old ladies that he came across.

The problem comes when he desides to take over the company and become the cities regular furry problem. He just doesn't have time and this leads to his kids never finding out. They grow up knowing that Alfred cooks. They also don't know that on rare occasion that Bruce is free he would sneek into their apartments and make food that can be frozen and reheated, because just like him, his kids can hardly pass as functional.

And that's how Jason found him, one random Tuesday. There his father was, floating around in a black AC/DC t-shirt, gray slacks, sparkly pink crocs(Dick), Jason's apron (because Jason is the only kid that knows how to cook) and the Rolling Stones playing form a speaker that was definitely Tim's. Bruce only glances at him before speaking, "Go change, wash your hands, then come cut the carrots." then goes to drain the pasta, and because Jason is to stunned to speak he goes without a word.

Jason doesn't bring it up, so Bruce won't bring it up.

One thing he does do every night is make Damian, Duke, Tim and Steph's school lunch. He strongly objects to the idea of his babies eating Gotham Academy/University powder egg shit. No sir.

That's how the family found out. That was funny.

"I once saw you put salt and vinegar Lay's in bread."

"Not my finest moment."

They tell Dick. He laughs in their face until he sees his dad in his kitchen cutting onions without flinching or wiping his eyes.

"You have no soul."

"Yes I don't. Wash your hand and cut that baby marrow."

"But I don't like baby marrow." he complained as he washed his hands.

"I have no soul, right?"

Dick sticks out his tongue, he get whacked by a wooden spoon.