#and then Damian grabs a knife

[jotaroslooseeyebrowhair]

Dp x Dc prompt (I need to number these)

You know what? Fuck it. Danny is Superbat’s illegitimate cloned son. The Drs Fenton saw both Superman and Batman and figured they were both ghosts, and what better way to learn about ghost than a controlled environment? They tried to just clone one of each but none of the clones worked, until Jack accidentally put Superman’s DNA in the vessel containing Batman’s DNA, and there! A successful clone! The Drs wanted to see how a ghost would live in a human-raised environment so they named the little guy Danny and raised him as their own son.

Turns out, because of the ectoplasm in the air from the weapons and the thin vail between the infinite realms and the human plane, the kryptonian DNA laid dormant. Even though Danny got Clark’s bright blue eyes, his fluffy deep blue hair that looked black except in sunlight, (where Danny felt happier and stronger) Danny got Bruce’s face shape and height.

What really kickstarted the kryptonian powers? The lab accident. Danny got some of the basic minor ghost powers, but ALL of his kryptonian powers came into the light at the same time, so they were “probably just other ghost powers!” And brushed under the rug.

Now as for how they meet and figure out that Danny is the clone? That’s up to you, I like the idea of a vivisection, “you were never truly our son anyway” etc. Danny runs to Gotham/metropolis because something his real parents feels so familiar, the cities are calling out to him and he just needs somewhere to lay low and heal for a while, until he runs into one of his donors/siblings. Another way? Danny gets summoned as the ghost king for the JL for some problem, except he gets summoned as his “human” counterpart. The absolute similarity between Clark and Bruce makes them ask for a DNA sample (as well as whatever problem they need fixing) and after a long conversation of no, we are not an evil organization, they get the blood and while it is corrupted, it’s very obvious that this kid is the clone of Bruce and Clark. Shared custody anyone?

[nonotjustlamps]

i would do anything for a keeping up with the waynes animated show/webcomic. DC PLEASEEEE

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.

“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”

God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.

Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.

“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”

“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”

“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”

Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.

“What happened?!”

“My word, master Danny!”

“What is it?!”

“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”

Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.

“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”

“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.

“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.

“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”

The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.

“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”

“Danny.”

“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.

“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.

Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”

Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…

“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”

“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.

“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”

The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.

“Done.”

“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”

“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”

“Very well.”

“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.

——

“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”

“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.

“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”

“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”

Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.

“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”

“Tt.”

“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”

[nosyrobin]

Batboys when their unaffectionate best friend texts them “I love you” out of no where.

Tw: suicide mentions but not done. Reader is gender neutral.

Dick

As soon as he got that text, he either felt happy you started to be affectionate or he felt worried as you never really texted him that. He goes to text you “are you okay?”

And if you don’t answer he’s leaving work and going to your house. His anxiety is eating his stomach alive when he reached your house, he opens them with the spare keys you gave him.

You were just watching tv when you turned at him confused. “Dick?” Immediately dick hugs you, tightly. Now you’re concerned . “Dick?” You said again, worried. “I was worried…thought something happened to you.” He stays at your home until he gets called back to work.

Jason

Just try and do the same shit to him like dick. Don’t answer him? This man’s pulling up to your house immediately when you said “I love you.” Scared that maybe someone who knows him and wants to hurt Jason is after you.

He knows you, more than you know yourself. Literally he’s already at your window banging on it, cursing himself when you don’t open it he goes and bust the window open wide. He can pay for it, don’t worry.

As he stalks around the house holding his gun, he sees you standing in the kitchen holding a knife. This big ass fridge of a man just grabs the knife out of your hand. You scream shocked before seeing it was just Jason.

“What..were you doing?…” he asked firmly. You scoff and grabbed the knife, well tried to as you explained yourself. “I was gonna cut onions before you came in Jay..” you said pointing to the onions Jason had clearly hadn’t seen due to adrenaline.

“Oh. Well love ya too, ima go now. I’ll see you in the morning.” Jason says leaving, that was before he turned around. “Oh yeah and Uhm…your window is broken.” Jason leaves quickly as you gasp and go check your bedroom window. “JASONNNN!!” You yelled in anger.

Tim

It’s late at night, he on his computer doing a report when all he sees on his phone is an “I love you” text from the most unexpected friend ever, you. Immediately Tim is getting up, calling you as he gets dressed to go to your house.

He’s scared, “pick up, pick up, pick up.” You don’t answer. “Fuck!” Tim hangs up and calls again. He knows you had some thoughts of suicidal tendencies, but he’s been by you in your darkest days. So when you just text him that, he doesn’t realize he’s crying when he finally reaches your house.

He’s using a spare key he secretly copied off of your own home key, don’t ask. It’s for procedures like this if you are in danger.

Anyways he immediately screaming your name, if you don’t answer immediately as he screams your name. He’s gonna run up to your room.

But if you immediately yell back his name, he’s running towards your voice. You were in your room relaxing when you see a tired and scared Tim rush at you into a hug. Crying softly as he holds you tight.

“You’re okay right? Why didn’t you answer my calls?!” He says immediately. “My phone died when I texted you…” Tim immediately stopped crying just to give you a “wtf” face. “….are you serious.” Tim had forgotten that you had a terrible habit of having your phone dead at times.

“Yeah.” “..just for this night scare. I’m sleeping here.” Tim says, his body soon gave out easily. Making his heavy body fall on your smaller frame. “Tim! Tim! Get up dude..I’m sorry!? Damnnit!!!”

Damian

The moment that text got sent, it takes him 6 minutes to get to your house. Quietly like the damn ex assassin he is.

His expression and face are hardened holding a katana, bro’s lip in sunken in as he looks around your house. “I don’t know what games you are playing. But it’s not funny L/N.” He says as he then sits on your bed. Katana flat on his lap staring at you intensely. “What, I can’t say I love you to my best friend.” Damian’s glare hardened. “You can, I was just surprised when you texted me those 'words'. Seemed unlikely of you to say that so I had to come to make sure you were secured.”

You deadpanned at the tanned boy in-front of you. “Okay fine, I just wanted to say it incase you felt like you didn’—” “I know you love me, and I …love you too. Now that I know you are okay, I must go.” He says quickly. Looking away to hide his slight flustered face, he lifts up your window sill and jumps out the window. You walk over to see the boy is immediately gone.

[yannawayne]

not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

SYNOPSIS: You get kidnapped and Damian snaps. TAGS: Graphic Depictions Of Violence! Genderneutral! Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Kidnapping, Childhood Trauma, My Mother is the Worst Woman Alive and I'm her Favorite Son, Damian is Eighteen.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

YOUR PALMS WERE PRESSED tightly against your eyes, wrists raw and burning from the rope that had bound them just minutes ago. Sobs slipped from your lips, eyes bloodshot, and mouth parched dry.

The rotting smell of the warehouse was an assault on your senses—an acrid mix of trash, harsh chemicals, and the faint tang of gunfire that lingered in the air.

There was a hushing in your ear as you leaned against a cloaked figure—Batman. Bruce. 

His hand rubbed at your back, firm and steady, a grounding presence amid the chaos. His cape, dark and imposing, wrapped around you like a shield, blocking out the violence unfolding just in front of you.

Shadows danced erratically on the walls as Robin moved with lethal precision. Bodies fell unconscious, thudding heavily against the concrete floor. Blood splattered. Screams echoed. Each punch landed with a sickening crunch, bones breaking. Crates and debris were scattered haphazardly, wood and concrete slamming onto the floor. 

Damian couldn't see anything but red.

His vision was tunneled, focused solely on the next target, the next blow, the next scream. 

A swift roundhouse kick sent one assailant crashing into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under the impact. One punch connected with a jaw, the sickening crunch of bone breaking echoing through the air. Blood sprayed on his fist. Another one rushed toward him, brandishing a knife, but he disarmed the man with a swift twist of the wrist, jamming the blade into the attacker's palm. The man screamed, clutching his arm as red streaked his skin.

Damian's eyes flickered with a dark satisfaction as he watched the thug stumble backward, clutching at the wound.

One last man remained. One who had lunged at him from behind, grappling onto his back. Damian scowled and surged backward, driving both himself and his attacker into the wall with bone-crushing force. The man's grip loosened, a pained gasp escaping his lips as the air was knocked out of him.

"Fool," Damian spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

The thug whimpered, trying to scramble away, but Damian was relentless. He twisted sharply, dislodging the assailant and slamming an elbow into his ribs. The man crumpled against the wall, clutching his side, his eyes wide with fear and pain.

"You think you can touch those I care for and get away with it?" Damian growled. He didn't give the thug a moment to recover. He swung a powerful fist into the guy's face, the impact sending a spray of blood and teeth into the air. 

"F-Fuck you, man!" The man yanked a gun from his waistband, but before he could even line up a shot, Damian’s foot kicked out, sending the weapon flying through the air. The gun clattered against the concrete with a deafening clang. With a snarl, Damian lunged forward, grabbing the thug by the collar and slamming him into the ground.

"H-Hey! Mercy! Mercy! I'm a-already down!" the assailant wailed, his hands clawing at Robin's uniform in a desperate plea. "The Bat don’t kill! You—you ain't gonna kill me!"

Damian's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a low, menacing growl.

"I'm not Batman," he spat, the tone amplified and darkened by the modulator. "Every breath you take is a mercy I choose to grant. By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging for death."

He raised his fist, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. The thug’s eyes widened in terror, his pleas growing frantic as he braced for the blow. However, just as Damian’s fist was about to land, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hand with a vice-like grip. Before he could react, Batman—Bruce—had tackled him, pinning him firmly against his chest. 

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was firm, concern barely concealed. “That’s enough.”

Damian's struggle was fierce, his body thrashing under his father’s strength as he roared in fury.

“Let me go!” he screamed, his voice raw with anger. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to them!”

The anger engulfed Damian like a stormy ocean, dragging him beneath its violent waves. Visions of his mother’s face, his grandfather’s form, and accusing shadows surged from the depths, all condemning him. Damian’s cries erupted into a raw, guttural scream, gradually dissolving into ragged gasps as he battled the relentless tide.

Though Bruce had shaped him into a hero, a beacon of justice, and his family had offered him a fragile semblance of belonging, Damian was still his mother’s son.

The violence and anger roiling within him were like roots twisted deep within his soul. There was not a thing that could purge the primal rage and pain that had taken root before his first breath.

When he finally broke through the surface, baptized in blood and weighed down by sins that clung to him like chains, he sought you out with an urgent, almost desperate need.

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

Your hands were carefully peeled away from your eyes, and you met soft emerald eyes through a veil of tears. His hands moved to unlatch his cape, the soft fabric pooling around your form. His lips, speaking in his mother tongue, murmured a soothing litany of comfort, Arabic endearments flowing like silk. He pressed your head against his chest and you found refuge in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Bruce watched the scene with a pensive look. His son's body had dwarfed you, broad shoulders and strong muscles enveloping your form like a shield. His head was tucked into your hair, his hands raking all over your tense and sweaty skin.

Damian had momentarily shed the hardened exterior he so often wore—a soldier with a heart that, despite its armor, occasionally revealed cracks. This was a side of him that often surprised people.

Because Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

He was all sharp edges. Poisonous, scalding words that could sear through the thickest armor of patience. Rough, nearly violent in his touch, like a blade pressed against skin. There was no gentleness in his movements, no softness in his gestures, only the relentless precision of a trained killer.

From the earliest moments he could walk, his life was an unending series of tests, each more grueling than the last. Each cut and bruise was a lesson. Failure was met with harsh punishment, success with silent approval. Affection and praise were as rare as mercy. 

The League’s doctrine was ingrained in him: emotions were vulnerabilities, attachments were liabilities, and loyalty was owed only to the mission and the League. His purpose in the League of Assassins was clear—to be the perfect instrument of their will, a living embodiment of their principles. 

Emotion was his enemy, a weakness to be purged.  He was taught to suppress his feelings, to turn them off like a switch. Pain was an illusion, fear a phantom to be banished. He learned to compartmentalize his thoughts, locking away his humanity in the deepest recesses of his mind. 

By the time he reached ten, he was a finely honed instrument of death.

A living weapon in a world that knew no peace.

It had taken Bruce eight grueling years to begin undoing the damage. And even then, he had barely scratched the surface.

Then there was you.

The trembling, warm-faced student Damian had introduced during his senior year—his partner for a science project, he said. 

At first, the interactions were subtle—a fleeting glance here, a hesitant smile there. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore the way your presence began to soften the sharp edges of Damian's demeanor.

Bruce had seen you both fall for each other over the months. And he saw hope. 

You were the opposite of every lesson Damian has ever been taught.

To him, you were soft, in every sense. Soft movements, soft features, soft voice. Everything about you exuded comfort.

You made something he had always pushed down and shut away come to the surface.

You made him feel things—things he should not.

When you touched him with your soft hands, everything in him burned. The gentle brush of your fingers against his skin ignited a searing heat, a raw and unfamiliar longing that clawed violently at the walls he had worked so hard to maintain. Each touch chipped away at the concrete barriers of his training, breaking them down and leaving him exposed, aching for something he couldn’t quite name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

Mania. Drake had called it, a wild obsession of his that could consume and devour.

Damian's arms encircled you like a lifeline, holding you close as though he feared you might slip away. His lips brushed against your temple, warm and tender, while his biceps pressed firmly under your chest, anchoring you in his embrace. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and the lingering residue of fear. 

And yet, amidst these odors, there was an underlying, almost imperceptible hint of Damian’s cologne—Arabian oudh. It was rich and smoky, with notes of aged wood, a faint earthy sweetness, and subtle undertones of leather and spice.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the fabric of his suit brushing against your cheek.

A Crush. Todd had chalked it up to puppy love, something that would eventually fade with time.

He lifted you effortlessly from the floor, his strength evident in his smooth, controlled movements. The way he adjusted his hold with such care to ensure your comfort spoke louder than any words could.

Warmth enveloped you—Damian had always run hotter, like a human furnace. On sweltering days, his clinginess (no matter how much he denied it) had been a nuisance, his heat making you feel as if your skin might melt off. But now, that same warmth was a comforting embrace, a welcome shield.

Infatuation. Grayson had suggested, thinking it was just a fleeting, intense passion. But there was something deeper in the way he looked at you, something that felt permanent and unshakeable.

“I am here. I am here, beloved," he spoke to you lowly. "It's alright now."

Love. His father called it.

In an instant, everything seemed to collapse around you. Tears welled up and streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed into his chest, each shudder of your body sending waves of anguish through him. Damian’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of you. 

He has seen suffering—he has inflicted suffering. But this was different. Your pain was a torment he was helpless to alleviate. 

Face twisted in guilt, he pulled you tighter against him, as though he could hold the world’s pain at bay if he just held you close enough.

A hand tapped at his shoulder, and he flinched, turning to see his father.

“The Batmobile is just by the docks. We can—”

“They're in shock,” Damian scowled. the fire back in his eyes. “Do you honestly believe they're in any state to be moved at this moment?”

Bruce’s gaze was firm. “Damian, we don’t have time to—”

“They need to be stabilized first,” Damian cut in sharply, his tone brooking no argument. He turned abruptly, striding towards the exit. “If you want them to survive this, we need to take care of them properly, not rush them into a car. I shall be outside.”

Without waiting for a response, Damian moved swiftly, the clatter of his boots echoing as he stepped into the cool night air with you. Once the warehouse door closed behind him, he turned his full attention back to you, his hand gently brushing your tear-streaked face. 

He moved to press his forehead gently against yours, the warmth of his skin meeting yours in a tender connection. He could offer no verbal comfort anymore; words seemed woefully inadequate. Your cries gradually subsided as you drew comfort from his presence.

Love.

He lifted his hand to the side of his face, pressing a button. As his mask retracted, his eyes met yours. Damian knew that more than anything else, you loved his eyes.

Time and again, you found yourself drawn to them, unable to tear your gaze away. They were hypnotic—an exquisite blend of emerald green, green as vibrant as the leather cover of his sketchbook, flecked with gold and streaked with brown paint.

His eyes were windows to his soul, offering the only genuine glimpse into the depths of his emotions. In them, you could see his anger burning like a stormy sea, joy dancing like sunlight on rippling water, embarrassment flitting like a shadow, and pain etched as deep as his scars.

At times, his eyes grew gentle, revealing something much softer—something that made your heart swell and your knees feel weak. A love so pure and unexpected that it could melt the coldest of hearts.

Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

But in these soft, fragile moments he shared with you, where his heart beat in sync with yours, Damian found an unexpected calm. It was in these rare interludes, away from the brutality and darkness that defined his world, that he could truly be himself.

Here, he was not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

ao3: yenwayne

NOTE: I want to delve into the line I wrote: 'Damian is still his mother’s son.'

It's just to show his trauma, I despise Talia with all my guts.

Talia's control over Damian is a textbook example of manipulative conditioning at its most extreme. In psychological development, early experiences and parental influence are crucial in shaping one's self-concept. From his earliest days, Damian was deprived of a normal childhood. His personality, thoughts, and desires have all been sculpted by the League of Assassins from day one.

His anger, protectiveness, and sense of duty are manifestations of this—a child raised to be a killer, now struggling with the fragments of a humanity that was never fully allowed to blossom.

I'm not saying he hasn't changed!!! He has turned into so much more than the weapon they intended him to be. He is genuinely good. But the impact of such deep-seated trauma cannot be easily overlooked or resolved. It’s not something that can simply be swept under the rug or fixed overnight.

So, this was my attempt at capturing his character! I’m very open to constructive criticism since I’m new to the fandom. Please be kind and gentle with your feedback :)

[porcelian]

TRICKS, TREATS, & TOGETHER

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;

SYNOPSIS: going treat-or-treating with your boyfriend and his little brother ;

ANON ASKED: “ Idea: Jason and Reader take Damian trick-or-treating and get mistaken for as his parents. ”

WARNINGS: none ! ;

WORD COUNT: 0.7k ;

NOTES: i regret keeping up with the “” ..

── .✦ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.

THE EARTHY SMELL OF PUMPKINS WAFTS IN THE AIR. The manor is covered in decorations, inspired by the festive season of fall and the ‘spooky’ feeling of Halloween, as Dick puts it. Small ghost and orange-white candy cut-outs hang from the ceiling, spiderwebs and pumpkins littering the floor.

Speaking of pumpkins, Jason’s hand is covered in it. Mandatory ‘pumpkin carving’ session, Steph said. He tries to grip the makeshift knife to finish carving the angry triangle eye of the pumpkin, but his efforts fall short again.

He was hesitant to join in on the festivities, but after you were invited, you practically dragged him over to the manor.

“Seriously, Jason?” Tim deadpans, looking over Jason’s poorly carved pumpkin.

“It looks so miserable,” Duke says, stifling a giggle.

Jason playfully grins as he flicks pieces of pumpkin at them. “Good to know my struggle is entertaining for you guys.”

You chuckle, the sound a sweet melody to his ears.

You were with Alfred, baking his signature desserts that everyone knows and loves. The sweet smell catches the attention of everyone near the table; Steph already looks ready to pounce for the first bite with Cass right behind her.

You walk in with a plate full of cookies, little ghosts painted on them with frosting. The silly faces remind Jason of his family's failed attempts at carving them.

Tim stands up, waltzing near the plate. “I’ll take this one. Looks like it’s calling my name.”

"Excuse me? I literally saw it first." Steph’s cheeks puff up.

“You saw it, but I claimed it. There's a difference.”

Before either of them can grab a bite, you sneakily hand one to Damian.

He stares at the offering before taking it in his hand.

“C’mon, taste it. It’s a special recipe that Alfred and I came up with.” You smile.

Damian takes a bite, pouting before a small smile forms on his face. “It is acceptable.”

“Told ya.”

A chorus of groans comes from the rest of the family. Jason chuckles as he moves closer to stand beside you, wrapping an arm around your frame.

“Losing sucks, doesn’t it?”

“You lost too, Babybird,” Dick playfully rolls his eyes.

“That’s what you think.” You hand him the second cookie, which he bites into, looking all too satisfied.

“Halloween doesn’t seem all too bad,” Damian comments. “It is my first one, and I am satisfied with it.”

That catches your attention. “Your first Halloween? Have you ever gone trick-or-treating?”

“No, I have not.”

You turn to face Jason, an unspoken request hanging in the air. He looks at you, then at Damian, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Guess we’re going trick-or-treating, then.”

Damian looks at both of you, a faint hint of surprise in his eyes. “That seems rather childish.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you laugh, ruffling his hair gently. “It’s all part of the experience. Besides, you’ll be with us. It’ll be fun.”

Jason smirks, wiping his hands clean of pumpkin bits. “I’ll get my jacket.”

*****

The three of you stroll through the streets of Gotham, the night alive with the chatter and laughter of kids dashing between houses. Damian, dressed as a mini vigilante—because, of course, he refused to wear anything else—keeps a straight face, but there’s a lightness in his step that betrays his excitement. Jason walks beside you, his hand finding yours, and you can’t help but grin at the relaxed atmosphere.

As you make your way from house to house, collecting candy in the little pumpkin bucket Damian insisted on carrying, a couple of neighbors smile warmly at the three of you.

“Such a cute family!” one older woman comments, handing out candy to Damian. “Enjoy the night with your little one.”

Both you and Jason freeze for a moment before bursting out laughing, much to Damian’s annoyance.

A faint pink blush covers Jason's cheeks, one you notice as you intertwine your fingers with his—a silent promise. Someone just referred to you and him as parents, as a family. The thought brings him a solace he didn’t think he could feel.

“We are not—” Damian starts, but you quickly pat his head.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll get you more candy,” you tease, winking at Jason.

“Should’ve brought the Batmobile stroller,” Jason adds, grinning as Damian glares up at him.

“Both of you are insufferable,” Damian mutters, but there’s no hiding the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as the three of you continue your night.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[radiance1]

Damian: [brushing his teeth]

The shadow hanging over his shoulder: [Gets its teeth dangerously close to Damian's shoulder]

Damian: [Shoves a toothbrush into said shadow move and starts brush]

The shadow: [Pauses before starting to let out a contented purr]

Damian then spits out the foam and washes out his mouth, then makes the shadow do the same and then picks out pjs.

Damian: [Currently decided if he should go with the cat, dog, or knife imprinted one]

The shadow: [Starts getting dangerously close to Damian with, toxic green spirals it calls eyes]

Damian: [Throws the dog imprinted one behind him at the shadow and takes the cat imprinted one for himself and tells the shadow to put it on]

The shadow: [Stares at the clothes before hesitantly putting them on before letting out a noise of distress]

Damian: [Turning around to find the shadow somehow stuck in the pjs, lets out a sigh, then starts to help them fit]

Damian then moves over to the bed, he points to one side and tells the shadow to go there. The shadow listens, laying down as Damian also lays down, grabbing the sheets and covering them both.

It barely took a few seconds for the shadow to fall asleep, and Damian stared at it. Damian wasn't quite sure why the shadow of his dead twin was following him, nor why it was even able to and seemed to hide itself from anyone who isn't Damian.

Nobody besides him knew about it, and Damian decided that he liked it. This could have been his younger brother, if the other had survived, and they would have probably been told to fight to the death to decide an heir.

At the very least, that won't ever happen.

Even if his brother was slightly unusual.

===

Danny did not remember much of the before, he remembered people with blurred faces and features, blurred colors. He remembered a lot of colors, then red, then white, then pain.

He doesn't like pain, he believes.

Then he remembered going to sleep, and then he woke up. It was dark and slimy and cramped when he woke up, especially when he realized someone else was in their with him.

Then he fell asleep again, then woke up to that same dark and slimy place, then fell asleep again, all in some weird cycle. Then, moving, and pain.

It hurt, and he was sluggish when it eventually stopped. Then came pain again, and he was asleep.

Then he woke up, again.

He didn't know what was happening, wasn't really aware of too. But he woke up next to the other who was in that dark and slimy with him, and decided he wanted to stay with them.

He wasn't aware enough for most of the things that happened when Damian grew up, but he still stayed regardless, and hide from everyone else.

Danny loves his brother, and he thinks his brother loves him too. Even if he was slightly unusual.

[haveihitanerve]

The batkids taking shit from each other- the intimacy of knowing where the other persons weapons/gadgets/things are

The most commonly “pickpocketed” person is bruce, and he gets so used to it/they get so good at it that sometimes he forgets to take it back or replace it. 

Batman and Red Hood are staking out a new villains headquarters and jason is bored so he reaches over to bruces side and pulls out three lollipops, working through them one at a time. Bruce doesn't even flinch, even as jason's hand digs deep into his side to reach the last one. Then later he has to calm down this little girl, reaches for the pocket, and finds he has no more lollipops to comfort this child with. So he reaches over to Nightwing, who is currently in deep discussion with a police officer, and tugs some sweets out from his shoulder pocket and hands it to the kid. Accidentally, he also takes a replacement grappling hook wire with it, since dick is a mess and has all sorts of shut crammed in every pocket thats not supposed to be there, but he just shrugs and tucks it into his own replacement wire pocket. Then dicks line breaks a few days later and he reaches for his pocket- and its empty. So he does a double backflip off the building, lands on top of a swinging red robin, snatches some replacement wire from his boot pocket, recharges his gun and is gone within a few seconds. Tim continues on like nothing has happened. When he lands on the next roof, Spoiler is waiting for him, and he gives her a quick kiss, reaching to the back of her waist band to grab a small knife and throw it at the goon coming up the stairs. A few days later steph is hanging upside down with cass and reaches for her knife, only to come up empty handed, so she just grabs the one cass has strapped to her thigh and peels her orange with that instead. Cass shrugs, drops from the ceiling on bruces shoulders, pecks his cheek and takes one of his daggers from his chest pocket. Three days later damian yeets his katana at Riddler(it misses but the villain is traumatized) but now the young robin is out of a weapon, so he ducks under cass’s legs and takes the dagger, sending it flying into a nearby goons gut. Bruce is both horrified and proud of his children and instates a weekly meeting to double check that every has all of their things. A very startling amount of gadgets and knicknacks are passed from hand to hand at these meetings, returned to their rightful owner. Bruce, naturally, has the largest pile that he has to put away. The kids all snicker into their hands as he glowers, shoving the weapons and pepper spray and gum pieces(“why did you take them if you weren't even going to chew them!!!”) back into his suit as they all finish up an hour before him and just watch. 

[incorrectbatfam]

Which of the batkids have been in a child safety tether (as in, you are safe from the child) and why?

[at the amusement park]

Bruce: Now have fun, but remember that safety comes first. If I catch you doing anything unsafe, you're gonna have to wear this backpack with a rope so I can keep an eye on you. Understood?

8-year-old Dick: Yes sir!

Dick: *immediately starts climbing the Ferris wheel*

Bruce: Ten seconds, that's a new record.

———————

[before a gala]

12-year-old Jason: I'm not a pet. You can't put me on a leash.

Bruce: Like I said, it's only if you misbehave. All you have to do is smile for the cameras. If you feel uncomfortable, just tell me and we can go early.

Jason: Ugh, fine.

[later]

Alfred: Master Bruce, I saw Master Jason outside removing the hubcaps from a very expensive limo.

———————

14-year-old Tim: According to my research, you've used a child leash to keep Robin in line, and I just want you to know that you've got nothing to worry about when it comes to me.

[3 years later]

Bruce: Why are you covered in blood?

17-year-old Tim: I got a new spleen.

Bruce: Where exactly did you get it?

Tim: That's private medical information.

———————

Bruce: *talking to Commissioner Gordon*

16-year-old Steph: *tries to sneak to the ice cream truck*

Bruce: Nice try, young lady.

Bruce: *clips the leash on*

———————

Cass: *on the leash*

Barbara: What'd she do?

Bruce: She had coffee. This is a precaution.

———————

Damian, on the leash: This is humiliating!

Bruce: It's what happens when you try to sneak batarangs into a birthday party.

Damian: Can you at least loosen it? It is chafing.

Bruce: Sure.

Bruce: *loosens it*

Damian: *grabs a cake knife, cuts the cord, and sprints away*

———————

Tim: Duke's lucky he doesn't have to deal with the child leash.

Duke: Child leash? Like the thing they use on preschoolers?

Damian: Mhm. Father would put us on it when we misbehaved.

Jason: You cut it in half the first time. You barely even had it on.

Duke: Is it that green one on the Batcave floor?

Steph: Green? The one I had was purple.

Dick: No it's not, it's blue.

Jason: Nope, pretty sure it was red.

Tim: Mine was a shade of orange.

Cass: Pink. Didn't have black.

Dick: Wait, guys, are you thinking what I'm thinking?

[later]

Bruce, on a long rainbow leash: I should've seen this coming.

[demonic0angel]

DC x DP Prompt: Family dinner with the Fenton Family and the Waynes. Chaos ensues.

If looks could kill, Danny would’ve been killed a thousand times over, with his body cremated and his ashes thrown into the farthest volcano with salt then being tossed along the dirt afterwards.

Dan had never looked so vicious as he glared daggers at Danny, who was his eyes closed and his hands in front of him, like a prayer. However, he was definitely praying for patience because he had a dinner knife in one hand that Cass was trying to take back from him to no avail.

Dani had her arms wrapped around Tim’s, a wide grin on her face as she noisily snacked on the roast potatoes and watched the battle between Dan and Danny. Tim was trying to hold back a smile, but he pulled the bowl of potatoes closer to her. Kon, who was sitting on the other side of her and was invited by Tim, was also wide eyed and grinning, an arm wrapped around the both of their chairs when he leaned back.

Jazz just looked at Alfred and Bruce with a shameful look on her face and beading tears of embarrassment in her eyes as she muttered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.

Jason was trying to soothe her and not-so-subtly motion Dick to step in and stop the fight while said man was staring at his boyfriend in horror, looking between both of the psychically fighting men with strange looks.

Damian had his head down, whispering to Stephanie and Duke who also had their heads ducked as they gossiped about the situation. Jon, who was sitting on Damian’s other side, was also leaning in and listening with a grin.

Bruce was just looking back and forth between Dan and Danny with wariness and confusion.

“… do you two know each other?”

“Know each other?” Danny said, looking up and finally opening his eyes. “Oh, we definitely know each other.”

Dan bristled at some invisible offense. Dick snapped back fo awareness and grabbed him, chuckling nervously as Dan growled.

Danny raised an eyebrow and sneered, continuing, “Yeah, I know him, alright.”

Dan suddenly grabbed a fork and threw it at Danny. It sank into the wall and pandemonium erupted as the Bats lunged backwards as Dan flew over the table to jump at Danny. However, Danny wasn’t going out without a fight because they immediately began punching and kicking with even some biting. Cass and Dick lunged forward to pull them apart while everyone else moved away.

Dani burst out laughing, but when Jazz burst into tears, that was when everything got even worse.

(I actually wanted to write something like this lmao.

If I continued this, it would be too long, but basically, Jazz has been on her last nerves for the entire day bc this is the first time she’s ever met her boyfriend’s family, and then SUDDENLY she finds out all of her siblings are dating people from the same family and then now her brothers are fighting bc none of them knew that they were dating a pair of siblings, and they thought they could finally get away from each other, and she’s both so embarrassed and so anxious that she started crying.

Immediately, it’s like a *record scratch*, the fighting stops and both Dan and Danny make up really, really fast to comfort their sister and then all of the Phantoms, including Dani bc she did nothing to stop the fight, help clean up the mess and the day actually gets better bc it becomes a bonding activity between the Fentons and the Bats. Jazz is still very embarrassed but it works out.)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Reader being Jason or Dick's girlfriend, who doesn't know about their double life, casually blurting out that she was never a fan of Batman and Robin or that she prefers Superman and the whole family is offended. 😭

I was tired and failed to realises that this came out a bit like a crack fic in the end but I’m sure you won’t mind…hopefully.

Jason: honestly has too much fun shit talking Bruce to you, especially when you didn’t know the man that you were shit talking as well as he did.

He just found it funny hearing you say with your full chest in front of his family that you prefer the Man of Steel over the Dark Knight.

It sends his entire family in disarray and chaos and Jason was thriving off of it immensely. He does not help the situation at all and would wholeheartedly make things worse for the sake of having something to talk about later.

Dick was borderline catatonic as Duke and Steph were trying to bring him back to reality.

Alfred excused himself from the room.

Damian was sharpening his dinner knife. Menacingly.

Meanwhile Tim was pulling up a long winded power point presentation about how statistically Batman was better than Superman. (In every possibly way, you’re just hating.)

That’s literally the title of his presentation.

‘Did he have this prepared in his free time or?’ You’d ask Jason who shrugs.

‘Let the boy have hobbies peanut, it’s not like he’s got anything better going for him right now.’ He replies, thinking that he should start coming to family dinners more if this was the end result.

Bruce might’ve looked the calmest out of everyone but internally he was cursing out Clark for stealing his future in law. He knew preferences exists and didn’t hold it against you, but currently he was in a disagreement with Clark over a recent mission and it had become a thing where the entire family didn’t dare speak or utter Clark/Superman’s name during this sensitive period.

Once Dick comes back to the land of the living, he’s practically hanging off of you screaming, ‘WHY?!’

Jason has to get involved and remove his brother off of you before he potentially scared you away from future family dinners, even though he himself barely attends any, but the moment you entered his life he wanted you to be more involved with the people in his life that cares about; whether he’d like to admit it or not.

‘They don’t hate me do they?’ You asked Jason by the end of the night, genuinely worried that his family might not like you after tonight.

Jason, noticing this, grabs your hands and grips them tightly in his and gives you a reassuring smile. ‘Babe I’m sure as shit they like you, I mean I’ve never seen them react like that before and if they didn’t like you, they would let you know immediately.’ He tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Besides, weren’t not a vocal bunch when it comes to our emotions. So seeing them get all up in arms over you preferring Superman and trying to persuade you into thinking otherwise was a highlight for me.’

‘Really you think so?’ You leant into him, still not fully convinced and needing his comfort more than anything.

‘Oh yeah. I’m for certain chipmunk. I think I even heard Bruce curse Clark under his breath once or twice.’ He tells you, pressing a kiss to your head as he holds you close.

‘But why? It’s not like they work with Batman, right?’ Your curious words caused Jason to stiffen and his breath to hitch as he tried to find the words before blurting out the first thing that came to his head. ‘No, they’re just…really devoted fans of Batman and Robin. So you could say that preferring Superman over them is a personal insult to them.’ He said, hoping you’d buy the lie, he genuinely didn’t want to subject you to the whole vigilantism so early on in your relationship.

Thankfully you did take the bait as you muttered into his shoulder, ‘okay, I hope they know I meant no offence but it.’ Jason let’s our a laugh, holding you closer to him as he closes his eyes to savour your bodily warmth against him. ‘I’m sure they do sweetheart, they’re the smartest people I know and they wouldn’t let something silly this affect our relationship.’ He said softly. ‘Now let’s go home and cuddle up in bed together yeah?’

‘That sounds like a great idea.’ You replied.

Dick: pouty baby.

What do you mean you don’t like Batman and Robin?! What did Superman have that he didn’t?!

For as far as Dick was concerned he has the fatter ass between him and Clark. He’s done the research.

He’s leaning all of his weight into you and says under his breath. ‘Why does my love betray me so.’ Meanwhile you’re looking at his confused as to why he’s acting as if you’ve just destroyed his lively hood with a single sentence.

Duke and Steph were patting Dick on the shoulder, sharing their sympathies with the revelation made at the dinner table.

Alfred left the room…again. First Jason’s partner, now Dick’s? What a coincidence.

Jason immeditly calls you his favourite and talks about how you and his partner -who also prefers Superman- would get along great while shit talks Batman simultaneously, almost as though he has a personal gripe with him or something.

Damian is sharpening his dinner knife…again but even more menacingly.

And Tim was back on the PowerPoint presentation where he goes into excruciating depths as to why Batman was statistically better the Superman.

The family is once again dissolved into chaos and Bruce was sat at the head of the table, calm, cool and collected but internally cursing Clark out once again for stealing another potential future in law.

(Clark has sneezed approximately twice at this rate and was taking every test to make sure he wasn’t coming down with anything serious)

After all was said and done and you were getting ready for bed, you asked the question that had been on your mind the entire night; ‘Your family doesn’t hate me, do they?’

Dick chuckled as he held you against his chest. ‘No, they love you enough to almost start a war over the fact that you like Superman over Batman and they’re not exactly the most in tune with their emotions. So seeing them react the way that they did? Only proves that they do like you cutie.’ He says as he gives you a peck on the lips.

You pouted. ‘But why does it feel like I just attached their lively hoods? It’s not like they know Batman or Robin personally or work with them in any capacity.’

Dick froze, he -much like Jason- didn’t want to subject you with the whole vigilante thing just yet, he didn’t want to scare you off so soon into the relationship in fear of scaring you away forever. ‘Devoted fans act like that whenever you tell them that you don’t like the same person as them.’ Dick replied, rubbing his hand up and down your back. ‘It’s an issue that should be regulated and or addressed at least.’

You hummed in agreement. ‘Well besides that, I like yours family, they all look like great people to know that have your back when you’re in a tough situation.’ You say as you kissed the side of his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, feeling sleepy.

‘They really are.’ Dick replied softly. ‘They really are.’

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Mote in your brother's eye (dp x dc)

Danyal Al Ghul was born part of a set. Twins were a blessing he’d heard people say, but Mother’s face said otherwise. And Danyal had started seeing why when he turned four. When their instructors started praising one over the other, favouring, comparing one against the other.

It hadn’t stopped there. As they grew, it seemed everyone had decided one twin was superior to the other and though Danyal knew it wasn’t true, and he knew it wasn’t fair, it seemed nobody cared. Damian and him tried, they really did, but there was nothing to do about it and the Twins turned into the Heir and the Spare.

And when one night, Mother’s spymaster came to report that Ra’s was looking for the spare, Danyal knew it was over. Mother was a flurry of controlled movement, and his own mind was whirling at breakneck speeds, but Damian was calm. And that broke Danyal’s heart.

"Put this on," Mother said, handing them identical robes. Danyal and Damian were always given different sets of clothes, to make them easily distinguishable. It seemed Mother was banking on their identical features for additional protection. 

Danyal put it on, and Damian followed, albeit more slowly. 

"Grandfather is only looking for one of us,". his twin said calmly.

"Damian," Mother said warningly.

"Mother, there is no choice, we hav-"

"I will not hear of it," she interrupted Damian ferociously. "Now, follow me."

Dayal looked to his twin’s hard features and pale face and his eyes began to burn. It wasn’t fair.

They followed after their mother’s, silent footsteps in the high hallways.

"We will not make it out," Damian said quietly to himself, "not like this."

Danyal took a deep, steadying breath, painfully aware his twin was right. 

"Damian," he started and his twin turned to him to raise an imperious eyebrow. "Damian, I’m sorry."

His twin scoffed and turned away, hurrying towards their mother who was opening up a corner of the wall, which she had told them held a passageway leading to the outside of the compound.

"Quick," Mother said and gestured towards the hole in the wall. 

Damian went in first, looking like he wanted to grumble but was too well-trained to do so.

Once he had disappeared into the darkness, Mother looked over at Danyal. But he did not move.

"Danyal," she started.

"Mother," he said and stared back and he saw the understanding in her eyes. Her eyes flashed.

"I will go," she said.

"You cannot."

"Danyal-"

"There is no time to argue," he said. "Grandfather is not a patient man."

She held his gaze for a second longer, before her shoulder lowered. She reached for Danyal’s nape and brought him in close to kiss his forehead.

"Be quick, dearest," she said as she stroked his hair. "Make me proud."

"I will," Danyal promised. He gave her a fragile smile. "Tell Damian I love him.’

"I will," she swore and then she was gone.

As Danyal walked towards his Grandfather’s quarters, there were people stepping out of his way in the halls. The boy ignored the stares as he fixed his eyes into the distance, his chin up and proud. 

He arrived in front of his Grandfather’s intricately ornamented doors much sooner than he would’ve hoped and was let in immediately.

Grandfather was standing, his back to the door, standing in front of a desk.

"I had begun to believe you would not show, child" Grandfather said.

Danyal bowed his head deferential and did not answer.

"You are not a coward at the very least," the man said as he turned back, his piercing stare settling on Danyal. The latter had to stifle the urge to flinch.

Grandfather then turned back towards the table to grab a dagger off the desk and at this, Danyal stepped back, his own hand going to his knife.

The man smirked, seemingly amused. "Do you believe I will kill you?"

His hand still over his knife, Danyal shrugged carefully. "I do not know what to believe."

Grandfather let out a chuckle and then he moved and Danyal reacted, his hand going for his knife and in the same movement towards Grandfather’s neck when he was stopped dead by his grandfather’s dagger in his gut.

A pained grunt escaped him and he struggled to stay to his feet, but he was already unbalanced from the attack and he crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain as the dagger buried itself deeper.

"What a waste," Grandfather’s voice cut through the haze of pain. "You were a disappointment to the end, Damian."

"Get him out of my sight," was the last Danyal heard of it before he was lost to oblivion.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Second Chances

Summary: It’s not common knowledge that you have a superpower: regeneration. You didn’t think that would be a problem... Jason and Damian think otherwise.

Relationships: Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader, Damian Wayne & Jason Todd & Reader (platonic because they’re brothers duh)

DAMIAN WAYNE IS MY SON I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (I just watched the Supersons movie he makes me smile so hard)

Word Count: 4.8k

Content warning for temporary character death. Reader’s vigilante name is Ghoul, BTW.

Jason is in the shower when he hears someone break into his apartment.

He groans, makes sure all the shampoo is rinsed out of his hair, then grabs the knife mounted to his curtain rod. It’s not the first time someone has attacked him in the shower, and it probably won’t be the last. Still, Jason wishes they would at least give him time to grab a towel. It’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for them.

This time, they actually do. Maybe they’re going to be polite enough to wait for him to finish cleaning all of Gotham’s sludge off his body. Jason would appreciate the sentiment more if the upcoming fight wouldn’t immediately dirty his body again with their blood.

He doesn’t turn off the shower when he steps out, dries his feet on the bath mat. He’s reaching for his towel when he hears one of the intruders say something.

He recognizes that voice.

Jason sticks his head out of the bathroom and glowers. “What are you doing here, brat?”

Damian Wayne, one of Bruce Wayne’s many children and the current Robin, scowls right back. “Why is your shower still running, Todd? Do you not care for conservation efforts? There are people in Michigan who would—”

“Okay, Dami,” interrupts another voice.

Jason’s whole body flushes. He makes sure every part of him except his face is hidden behind the door when a second person comes into view.

Your vigilante costume is zipped halfway, the top pulled down and sleeves tied around your waist, exposing the compression shirt with kevlar-like weave you wore beneath it. A large bandage is wrapped around your upper arm, growing redder by the second.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jason says. Does he sound too excited? Does he not sound excited enough?

You just smile. “Hey, Jace. Sorry, we came by for first aid supplies. We’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.”

“No, don’t rush on my account,” Jason says. Does he sound too desperate? “Just give me a—”

He ducks back into the bathroom to turn off the shower after making sure he’s clean and one hundred percent soap-free. Not expecting company, he’d only brought a pair of boxers and military-style shorts in with him. Rushing, hoping you don’t leave before he gets out (Damian can leave, though) he pulls both on and slams the door open.

It hits the wall so hard it rebounds back into Jason’s hand. You jump at the sound, nearly poking Damian with the needle in your hand.

“Watch it, idiot!” Damian snaps. To Jason, he says, “You just dented your wall. Moron.”

“Don’t talk to them like that,” Jason says sternly. God, he knows why the brat is so prickly, but he still got on Jason’s last nerves. He checks the wall, hoping the brat exaggerated, but nope. Another dent to match the nicks, scrapes, and bullet holes that already littered his apartment.

He is never getting back his security deposit.

You’re about to stitch up a cut on Damian’s arm when Jason clucks his tongue. “That doesn’t look good.” The bandage around your arm is sodden with blood.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say dismissively. “Ready, Dami?”

Interestingly enough, the brat doesn’t tell you off for giving him a nickname. It seems to be a privilege reserved exclusively for you and Dick; every time Jason tries, he’s vehemently told off.

Then again, his nicknames are usually derogatory. That might contribute to it a little bit.

Damian sets his jaw and you stitch him up quickly, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” every time his fingers twitch—the only indication of pain he’ll show. Jason eyes the bandage around your arm with worry, but the blood stain doesn’t grow any more in the interim.

As soon as you tie off the thread, Damian hops to his feet and scurries for the bathroom. You start to get up, brow pinched with worry, but Jason says, “Let me look at your arm.”

Your eyes take a while to slide from the shut bathroom door to Jason’s face, but then you say, “Yeah, okay,” and sink back into your chair.

To distract you as he unpeels the sticky bandage from your arm, Jason asks, “So you’re on babysitting duty now, huh?”

“Oh, no, Damian and I patrol together every Friday night.” You use finger quotes with the other hand and say, “B think it ‘promotes more accountability’ when someone gets injured during patrol if they have a partner.”

Jason frowns at the sight of the cut. It’s obviously from a knife, and not pretty, exactly, but also not big enough to let out as much blood as soaked through the bandage. “Who did this to you?”

“Just a typical goon. It’s really not a big deal.” Your eyes follow Jason’s gaze. “I guess it bled a lot, huh? Like a head wound. You know, disproportionate.” You tug your sleeve over the wound.

“Y/N is not as weak as the rest of you,” Damian sneers, having vacated the bathroom on silent feet. You jump, and so does Jason, even though he has Batman-honed instincts.

There’s just something intoxicating about your presence. You’re… distracting.

It was manageable back before Jason was Robin and you were one of his classmates. You were obsessed with Batman and crimefighting, and Jason was a bookworm, so your friendship shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Then, ironically, Bruce Wayne adopted him and Jason became the crimefighter. He never told you about his identity to protect Bruce’s, but you figured it out when he died.

Then he came back to Gotham, hellbent on revenge, and burned every bridge he’d ever built. Including the one with you.

Jason still could barely believe you give him the time of day after all the awful things he’d said and done. But you’re just as obsessed with redemption and forgiveness as Bruce, and he will never take that for granted.

His fascination with you was manageable before Jason died, but it’s downright consuming now.

Jason can’t believe how you’d grown up to be so… so flat-out amazing. Graceful, and maybe not as skilled at hand-to-hand as the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes, but you adapt with a long-range fighting style. You’re strong, and self-assured, and really, seriously gorgeous.

Jason realizes his hand is still on your arm, touching the soft skin, and he yanks it away as if burnt. He doesn’t understand how you remain so scar-free despite years of crimefighting, and he’s abruptly self-conscious about the marks that litter his torso, arms, and legs. Your eyes roam over them, lingering on his chest and stomach

He’s most self-conscious about the jagged ‘J’ carved into his cheek, and Jason tries to cover it with his hand without drawing attention. That doesn’t work—he looks like a weirdo waving his hands around—so he tilts his cheek away so you don’t have to see it anymore.

You clear your throat and look away, as if embarrassed for some reason.

Damian’s gaze pingpongs between the two of you before he rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Are you two finished?”

You push away from the table and make a grabby hand. Damian rolls his eyes again, but he sidles closer, and you check his stitched cut. Your thumb rubs over the raised line of stitches like you’re trying to wipe his pain away.

Jason realizes he’s staring at the bottom lip you’re jutting out in sympathy. He flushes again.

After everything he did, he can’t expect anything more than friendship from you. If that’s what you’re willing to give, he’ll never push for more.

“I am fine, Y/N,” Damian said, pushing your hand away, albeit gently. A hint of whine entered his voice and Jason blinked. It wasn’t often that he heard Damian sound like an actual kid. “Can we resume patrol now?”

“Wait,” Jason hears someone say, and it’s—him, he’s the one saying it. “Are you hungry? I have a casserole in the oven.”

Damian snorts. “My apologies. I did not know you had adopted the personality of a middle-aged white wom—”

You cover Damian’s mouth with your hand and say, “That sounds great, Jay. Thanks.”

Jason’s greedy. He’ll take whatever scraps he can get from you.

The three of you eat, the conversation pleasant whenever Damian isn’t threatening Jason because Jason taunted him. You laugh as they bicker, used to the antics of Gotham’s vigilantes by now.

Once everyone is done, it’s just about time for the Red Hood to start his patrol, so with a little cajoling from you, Damian agrees to let Jason tag along until your patrol ends. Jason suits up, and you lead the charge out of his apartment window, followed by Damian. Jason is last out, stopping briefly to make sure the window latches before stepping off the fire escape.

The sensation of his stomach rising is familiar from so many years of grappling through the city, but no less exhilarating. He follows your and Robin’s flipping shapes as the two of you tear through the city. The bright primary color accents on Robin’s suit and the pale gray color of your own shouldn’t blend in so well with Gotham’s shadows, but you and Damian manage pretty well. It turns into kind of a game of tag, and whenever he gets close enough, you grin and twist away, muffling laughter behind one hand.

He could definitely catch you, but he thinks you’re enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse just as much as he, if not more.

Jason’s just thinking to himself that there’s not much crime tonight when the Batsignal lights up the sky.

“Way to ruin the mood,” he grumbles. The game is over. The three of you grapple toward the giant light without any more flipping or laughter.

Jim Gordon obviously isn’t expecting them when they land. After all, it’s common knowledge that Ghoul is a Bat-affiliate, but Red Hood’s alliance with the Batclan is still relatively new. Shaky.

And a lot of people still think the Red Hood hates Ghoul. Admittedly, the way Jason tried to kill you when he returned hadn’t helped the rumors.

It made sense at the time. He’d also tried to kill Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, so it’s not like it was entirely personal. You don’t hold a grudge.

“Where’s Batman?” is his first question.

You shrug. “Running late.”

Jason’s not sure if that’s true. With you and Robin patrolling Newtown and Otisburg, Spoiler and Red Robin handling everything from the Coventry to the Upper East Side, and Black Bat and Batwing watching over everything else but the Tricorner, the city is in pretty good hands for the night.

And yes, Jason’s knowledge about patrol schedules is from his days as a crime lord, but it still comes in handy as a reformed vigilante.

“Why did you summon us here, Commissioner?” Robin asks.

“Bane escaped Arkham earlier tonight,” says the Commissioner. “We have reason to believe he’s hiding out in Amusement Mile. The Joker’s not out, for one, and we have a… witness… that claims to have seen Bane in the park.”

“Where is this witness?” Robin demands.

“In our holding cell, sobering up,” Gordon says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, great,” Jason says. “So it might have been Bane, or it might have been one of those giant stuffed bears at every amusement park.”

You elbow him in the side and promise Gordon, “We’ll check it out, Commish. Let you know when he’s handled again!”

You and Robin balance on the edge of the roof. Jason asks in a low tone, “Batman’s not coming tonight, is he?” He would have already been here.

You and Robin share a guilty look.

Jason sighs. Bane is a tough opponent, possibly their strongest rogue. It’ll take a lot of force to bring him down… force he’s not sure you and Robin can muster. You’re good vigilantes, don’t get him wrong, but Robin is a prepubescent boy and has the height and muscle mass to show for it. You’re strong and graceful and should be fine as long as you keep your distance, but Jason’s the only one that comes close to Bane in terms of muscle mass.

It’ll be up to him to keep the two of you safe.

“I think I parked my bike somewhere around here,” you say. “It’ll get us there faster than grappling.”

Jason thinks something is stuck in his throat. He croaks, “You have a motorcycle?”

You nod. He can’t see your face beneath the mask, but he’s pretty sure you’re smiling. “Got it just a couple weeks ago, but I needed Earl to paint it over.”

“It is parked in that alley.” Robin points.

“Okay,” Jason says. “You two drive to my apartment. I’ll follow above, then we’ll head to Amusement Mile.”

“Aye-aye,” you joke. “Come on, bud.”

You and Robin swing away, the younger boy loudly complaining about the myriad nicknames you think up for him. Jason swings away to get a headstart. A minute later, the sound of a bike engine revving hits Jason’s ears, and it isn’t long after that he looks down to see you and Robin on a pale bike painted in the same colors as your suit.

You look up and wave.

Jason almost misses his next swing. He swallows and has to look away. Seeing you on a motorcycle…

As soon as he puts the key in his bike’s ignition, you speed away, tires squealing against the asphalt. Jason grins and twists the throttle. He shoots onto the street and hunches low to decrease wind resistance, pushing the bike hard to catch up to you.

You wear no helmet, but you’d forced Robin to wear one. He sits behind you on the bike, arms locked around your waist. At the sight of Jason, he makes a rude gesture, but Jason just huffs out a laugh. The brat likes to aggravate him on purpose, but it’s hard to feel annoyed when he drives next to you, racing side-by-side.

It doesn’t take long to reach Amusement Mile. You and Jason shift gears, rolling to a stop.

“You and Robin go high,” Jason instructs. “I’ll go low.”

“Roger.” You kick the stand for your bike, then you and Robin shoot your grapples for the nearest roof.

In seconds, the two of you are out of sight.

Jason swallows. He hates this strip of clown-themed land. The Joker isn’t in it currently, but it still reminds him of that madman.

Come on. He shakes himself. Jason can’t afford to get distracted. Bane is dangerous.

Jason makes no effort to muffle the sounds of his footsteps as he strolls through the park. A plastic bag drifts along the path with a gust of wind, and a couple bowling pins on the ground roll. But apart from that, the park is empty and quiet.

Too quiet.

Jason turns just in time to avoid a crushing blow to his head.

He hits the ground rolling and comes up with guns blazing. Bullets deflect off Bane’s armor, and he doesn’t seem to feel the ones that burrow into his skin.

“You will not stop me, Red Hood,” says the mechanized voice. “No one will stop me in my pursuit to break Batman, even though he sent you in his place.”

“He didn’t send me,” says Jason.

Help comes from above. A steel bola—one of your weapons of choice—whips through the air and wraps around Bane’s throat. He chokes and reaches up to untangle it. At the same time, a Batarang slices through the air and cuts straight through one of the hoses pumping super-steroid into his body.

He groans. Drops to one knee.

Jason spares a glance to the rooftops, but he only sees Robin.

That moment of distraction costs him. Bane surges back to his feet and tackles him. Jason hits the ground, the back of his head colliding against the pavement so hard his vision blacks out for a moment.

He blinks away the darkness in time to see a punishing fist aimed right for his head. There’s not enough time to dodge. Jason can only brace for an impact… that never comes.

The hook of a grapple is embedded into Bane’s wrist. Its line is taught. On the roof of a decrepit popcorn stand, Robin yanks back with all his might.

Jason knees Bane in the crotch, then elbows him in the face.

Bane grunts and yanks his arm forward, pulling Robin right to the ground in a flutter of cape, but Jason slips out from beneath him and rolls to his feet. Bane may be strong, and his hits may hurt, but that’s only if they connect. And Bane isn’t very fast.

The engine of a bike roars, and your voice shouts, “Hood, out of the way!”

Jason obeys without thinking. It’s a good thing he doesn’t hesitate, because he barely dodges your motorcycle before you ram it full-speed into Bane.

Not even the giant can resist a motorcycle going full-throttle. He topples back, and you keep driving, treating his body like a ramp.

Jason laughs despite himself. “I can see tire tracks on your face, ugly!” He and Robin throw knives at the same time. Robin’s slices off another steroid line. Jason’s lodges in Bane’s shoulder. It should have severed his deltoid, leaving his arms useless, but the man doesn’t react to the pain at all.

Getting run over pisses Bane off. You turn in a sharp circle on the bike and rev your engine, obviously ready to try the same trick twice.

But Jason sees the tension in Bane’s legs, and he’s shouting for you to stop after you start.

You don’t listen. You just drive.

Bane sidesteps your bike at the last possible second, and his arm shoots out. His hand is large enough to wrap around your entire throat, and it yanks you off your bike, which skids away with a screech of tire and metal. You choke, scrabbling at the iron fingers around your throat.

Jason has his gun out in a second, but Bane holds your body in front of his. So Jason shoots his foot. It doesn't have an effect.

“Ghoul!” Robin shouts. He unsheathes his katana.

“I tire of this,” Bane says through his modulator.

He snaps your neck.

“NO!”

It’s like the world slows down. Jason can only watch as Bane carelessly drops your lifeless body.

He sees Robin lunge with his sword. He sees Bane casually backhand him so hard he drops his katana. Robin flies backward, hits the popcorn stand, and slumps to the ground, motionless.

Bane steps on you—your body—and something in your spine cracks. Something in Jason’s chest cracks, too, and he sees green.

The Pit surges.

After it recedes, Robin’s katana is lodged firmly in a moaning Bane’s side. Every one of his steroid pumps is severed, and his mask is cracked. He’s weak enough without his Venom that three Bat-restraints and a set of handcuffs can hold him.

Huh. Jason’s surprised he didn’t kill him.

His knuckles are bleeding; they’re slick inside his gloves. When he flexes his fingers, pain screams up his nerves, through his arm all the way to his heart. At least two are broken, and another knuckle might be dislocated. His jaw hurts, his brain is pounding—concussion, probably—and his knee feels swollen. But he can put pressure on it, at least, and he limps to a stirring Robin.

“Hey,” Jason says. His voice is rough. He doesn’t remember yelling. He tries to crouch, but can’t with the stiff knee, so he just kind of collapses in front of the kid. “Robin. Status report.”

The kid looks at him, wobbling even though he’s sitting down. One hand goes up to touch the back of his head, and the tips of his gloves gleam with dark blood when he pulls it back. “Possible concussion,” he says with a wavering voice. “Ribs—”

Robin gasps and stumbles to his feet.

“Don’t—”

Jason tries to grab him, but Robin wobbles out of his reach. He walks hunched over in a zigzag, limping to your—

Jason grunts and stands back up. “Hey, hey, Robin.” He gets between the kid and you. “Don’t. Don’t—don’t look.”

“Do not stop me, Todd,” hisses the kid, and wow, he must be seriously out of it to use Jason’s civilian name. “Let me see them.”

“You don’t want to,” Jason says grimly. He’s seen snapped necks before, and they’re… Well, they’re as unnatural-looking as they sound.

He hears a rushing in his ears. A wave of grief is cresting, ready to sweep him away, but Jason has to keep it together for Robin. He barely hears his own voice when he says, “Ghoul’s gone.” He can’t say the ‘D’ word. Not when he feels like puking.

“Unhand me, you blackguard,” Robin hissed. “You do not understand. They might be—”

“They’re not.”

“Todd!” the kid says, voice rising into a shrill.

Something clicks behind them.

Jason whirls around to make sure Bane hasn’t broken out of his restraints.

He hasn’t.

So what made the noise?

He and Robin are looking right at the body when some invisible force takes your head and—and wrenches it.

Robin lets out a low cry.

Jason feels frozen. He doesn’t stop the kid when he stumbles forward and collapses next to the body. His shoulders shake, head bowed with grief.

Jason is still watching when he sees your chest rise and fall with a breath.

“Oh, what the fuck,” he whispers, stumbling back. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the—”

Your head raises, and you reach to your neck with a wince.

Robin freezes.

“Ow,” you grumble, pushing up to your elbows. “That sucked.”

“What the fuck?” Jason exclaims.

“What is going on?” Robin demands.

You look between the two vigilantes. “Sorry to freak you out, guys.” Which is a completely underwhelming thing to say when you just died and then unsnapped your own neck.

Robin makes a low, wounded sound, then throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck and squeezing hard. You hug him back just as tight, murmuring low things that Jason tries not to hear. It’s a personal moment, and he feels like an intruder, but he can’t move. His feet are planted to the ground.

Seconds ago, you’d been dead. No doubt about it. Bane had snapped your neck and you had crumbled like paper.

Now you’re breathing and alive.

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t make any sense.

Robin comes to the same conclusion, because he pulls away and pinches your arm. “How is this possible?”

“Bud, do you remember when… you remember when Pyg got me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I don’t,” says Jason. Professor Pyg kidnapped you? What the fuck? When did that happen?

You look up at him, still holding Robin close. “We weren’t exactly on speaking terms when it happened, Hood.”

Oh.

“But Father ran his tests and said his experimentation just gave you advanced healing,” says Robin.

“Which is technically true—”

“Resurrection is quite different from healing!” the kid says.

“Wait, you knew they had powers?” Jason asks Robin.

The kid sneers at him. “Of course. I was the one that found Ghoul, and I patrol with them at least once a week. It would take an unobservant fool to miss their obvious healing abilities."

Jason bristles with indignation.

Robin's head turns on a swivel to glare at you. "It was less obvious that you have nothing to fear from physical injuries. Informing me of this fact would have greatly reduced the chances of experiencing emotional distress at the sight of your dead, mangled body."

"I know," you say, cupping his chin in your hand. "I'm really, really sorry, Dami."

"Do not address me as such," he says, "we are in costume." Robin huffs and scrambles out of your lap, brushing debris off his suit. Then he wobbles and nearly falls over, and you lunge to catch him.

"Woah, bud, you okay?"

"He's concussed," Jason says.

"Too concussed to ride on the back of my bike?"

"Of course not," says Robin. Then he leans over and pukes.

"Oh, Batman's gonna kill me," you mutter.

It's a much tamer drive to the Batcave, in case Robin rolls off the bike accidentally. He doesn't, but you do have to stop a couple of times so he can lean over the side and retch.

When all is said and done and you're back at the Cave and Alfred and Bruce are fussing over Damian, you and Jason hang back a bit. He can't stop sneaking glances at you. Your Ghoul mask is off, and there's a little dried blood around your nostrils, and your hair is a little sweaty, but you're the most beautiful thing Jason's ever seen.

You're alive. He can hardly believe it.

You suddenly sigh and mutter, "I guess you're mad at me, too?"

"What?" Jason startles.

"For not telling you about my abilities."

"Y/N—"

"I just didn't want you guys to think of me differently. Duke has his powers, yeah, but he was born with them. I got mine from Pyg. I didn't want everyone to start treating me like a victim."

All things considered, you're remarkably well-adjusted for someone that survived Professor Pyg's experimentation. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Y/N," says Jason. "Your powers don't change that. They make me feel a little better about you patrolling at night, anyway. They're basically like... a second chance."

You snort. "I think I'm on my fifth chance by this point."

Jason shakes his head. "How did you keep your powers a secret, again?"

"Well, the first time, Pyg shut off my heart, but that didn't shut down my body. When I actually noticed that I couldn't die, though, was that time one of Cobblepot's goons stabbed me in the neck and I woke up in the middle of a shootout. Now that wasn't fun." You grimace. "A bullet caught me in the head and I died as soon as I sat up. The Bats were too preoccupied to notice me, luckily. Then there was that time with the poison dart that I kept a secret, and now this time." You smirk, cross your arms, and bump Jason's hip with your own. "I'm beating you in the resurrection department, aren't I?"

Jason huffs, pretending to be offended, and your eyes widen. "Oh, my God. That was in such poor taste. I'm so sorry."

"No," he says, trying to hide the twist of his lips. If it was anyone else saying it, Jason would probably kill them. "No, it's okay. I'm just glad you're all right. It would have been awful if you'd died and I never took the chance to..."

"Chance to what?" You look up at him through your eyelashes.

Jason's breath catches in his throat. He's never done this before, dammit, but seeing you die today made him remember just how limited their time is as vigilantes.

Well, maybe not yours, but he walks a thin line.

"Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you," Jason says slowly, feeling sweat prickle on his hairline, "want to... Um. Get coffee? With me. As in, like—"

"A date?"

"Only if you want to."

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Hell yeah I want to!"

Damian, Bruce, and Alfred look over at your raised voice. Their disapproving smiles are all eerily similar.

"Sorry," you whisper. You look back at Jason and say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I've been waiting ages for you to ask."

Yes. You said yes. Adrenaline rushes through Jason's veins, and he only barely resists the urge to pump his fist in the air like a moron. He's brave enough to tease, "Well, why didn't you ask me?"

Your face flushes and you look away.

It's at that moment that Damian calls, "Y/N. Stop twittering with Todd and come here. Your presence is required."

"Seriously," Jason said under his breath, "the way he talks like a Victorian child doesn't bother you at all?"

You're smiling. "I think he's adorable." You walk backwards to the brat, making a phone gesture with your hand and mouthing to Jason, Call me.

He definitely will.

"Master Jason," comes Alfred's disapproving voice when he turns back to his bike. "Don't think I didn't notice that you have your own injuries to tend to."

Of course, that sets off Bruce's worry alert even more.

Jason groans. He won't be able to sneak out for coffee with you for an entire week after this whole debacle.

DC Taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever tag list

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

Let me know if there's anything you guys want to see with Jason in the future. My requests are open!

[razzledazzle0]

Keeping up with the Waynes

image if the batfam had a show like 'keeping up with the kardashians??

---

Cameraman: Ok Mr.Wayne the cameras will be on everyone at all times

Bruce annoyed that Dick agreed to this: alright.

---

Jason: Damian I need my book back.

Damian who is bluntly holding Jason's 'pride and justice' book in his hand: I don't have it.

Jason: its right there in your hand!

Damian moving so the book is behind him: what? no it isint

Jason:..

Jason later doing a solo shot: Damian likes to gaslight me.

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

Dick and Jason fighting:

Dick: what do you want me to apologize?!

Jason getting pissed off: That's exactly what I want you to do!

Dick smirking: over my rich hot dead body!

Tim and Damian are shouting: fight fight!

Tim: 20 bucks Jason wins

Damian smirking: $50 that they both get too tired and just pass out

Tim: Deal.

the camera pans to Jason death rolling dick on the floor:

they had to cut the cameras..

------

Dick just trying to be dramatic: and then he broke up with ME!

Tim:..that's rough

-------

Tim: today I'm going to show you how to make my favorite drink. First, you get a cup of coffee. Then you grab a red bull and you pour it into the cup.

Bruce: Tim, I'm officially banning you from using the coffee machine

Tim who lets go of his cup, stares into the camera like the office: I'm a bout to beat this bitch up.

Tim ends up going feral mode which leads to Bruce just grabbing him and carrying him to bed

-------

Duke: As you can see here, we have Jason vs. Steph who will win the theater rap battle!

-------

The camera pans to Cassandra dancing before Damian pops up infornt of the camera.

Damian: wanna see something cool :D

Cameraman: uh..sure-

Bruce: Damian wayne! what did I say about stabbing people? he grabbed Damian by the scruff of the neck, shows that he was hiding a knife behind his back.

Cameraman: ....

---

Babs: Im the only sane one

Cameraman: I can see that

[nosyrobin]

“That idiot is my brother!”

DAMIAN AL GHUL-WAYNE X TWIN!M!READER

Summary: no body calls Damian Wayne’s brother an idiot except for him.

“Idiot, don’t get that. It flares up your skin.” You smile at your twin brother who had taken off something from your tray that caused your allergies. “Thank you brother!” Damian only nodded before he ushered you to move along with him in the lunch line.

A guy from behind Damian snickered before cutting in-front of him to get to you. Making Damian growl under his breath as the guy was very popular with messing with others. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to get your attention. Which worked as you gently removed his arm around your shoulder with a weary look. “Yes?”

“Hey idiot, I thought you knew it was taco Tuesday since it’s your favorite. Look like you need to drop some weight.” The student laugh as you as you sighed dejectedly. Looking down at the lunch you got, yeah sure despite being the twin of Damian Wayne. You did have a few pounds on you. The laughter around him grew as you sniffled. Meanwhile Damian felt blood rush to his cheeks and his blood boil at seeing your dejected state.

“I don’t think i appreciate you calling my brother an idiot.” Damian says with a growl as he steps in front of you.

“Woah man…it was just a joke..” the guy said backing away as Damian narrowed his eyes. No one dared to mess with Damian himself as there was a lot of rumors about him going around. “A joke that was disguise in a sheep’s clothing.” Damian then grabbed a plastic knife from your lunch tray, your eyes widen along with the guy who was picking on you.

“Perhaps my joke would be your head on a platter!” Damian then rushed at the guy with blind rage and protectiveness. The cafeteria went up in an uproar at how students were fighting. The guy was fighting for his life as Damian was smiling a cruel smile. He certainly knows how to damage someone with anything. Not wanting him to get in trouble, you tried your hardest to pull him off the guy before he could stab the guy’s eye out with a plastic knife. It took two counselors and yourself to pull them off. The guy was pretty scratched up as his eyes were red from Damien trying to claw his eyes out with the plastic knife and his hands. 

Time passed as you sat in the principal’s office with your twin brother. Holding his hand as he held the same scowl he always wore. Except the scowl was more deeper as his hand squeezed yours tightly as if you would disappear from the earth.

“You didn’t have to do that Damian….” You said softly. Damian scoffed at what you said, it rubbed him the wrong way. “But I wanted to..” he said back to you quickly. Turning his head to face you clearly. “If anyone disrespects you, they disrespect me. I shall not have you degraded in any matters from anyone. You are my brother and my half.” He says with a serious expression. You smile with a twinkle in your eyes, immediately hugging the side of your twin brother as he huffs and puff his cheeks out.

“You’re my idiot of a brother.”

[serendipitous-girl]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: your family wants to protect you but its impossible with the life you all lead

⊱✿⊰ warnings: kidnapping, minor torture, it will be angsty, almost dying, spitting on your face, the joker deserves his own warning tbh

⊱✿⊰ notes: this is for skye because she wanted some angsty batfam stuff and here we are. I am just shitting on the page and hoping words form at this point. I hope you enjoy and feel free to send me requests. Also this is a platonic fic sorry if you were hoping for romance action

⊱✿⊰ tags: @kozumesphone @fizzywashere87 @fashionablysouly @witherwallflower @goldierey

@finleyforevermore @baecakie @gergthecat @mqstermindswift @anyas-shitposting69 (comment on this or send me an ask if you want to be added to my DC taglist)

"Well, well, well. Looks like baby bird got caged." The clown sneered, leaning close to your face. You scrunched your nose and tried to scoot away despite the ropes scratching your wrists raw.

The Joker's finger runs along your cheek, a horrific grin on his face as he stared at you. You tried to keep a brave face, you tried to act like the domino mask over your eyes was really a shield. You tried to act like your dad, Batman.

Maybe it was your fault you got kidnapped. He said you weren't ready to go out and patrol with your family, but you went away. You stole one of Damian's mask and put on the most costume adjacent clothes you owned.

"Where should I start, little one?" Joker asked, breaking your train of thoughts. Placing blame would be set for another time. Not now, its not time yet. "Should I give you a smile that matches mine? Should I turn you into a firey decoration before dear ol' daddy bat gets here?"

You winced, trying to prevent the ice filling your veins and the fear weighing your stomach down. The Joker grabbed a knife from his table that had numerous weapons littered on top. Carefully the cold metal of the blade brushed against your skin, not harsh enough to cut just yet. He wanted to scare you first.

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

"I am going to kill that son of a bitch." Jason growled as soon as he heard the news. Bruce gathered the family in the batcave, and explained the Joker had kidnapped the youngest of the family- you.

"Jason, I understand your frustration but we can't act with haste. I won't let her face the same fate you did. I won't make the same mistake twice." Bruce replied, already dressed as Batman. He was doing his best to stay professional despite his fear being ever present.

"I don't want to wait too long either." Dick added, crossing his arms over his chest. Everybody was tense, wanting their sister to be safe once again.

"I'll find where that stupid clown is keeping [Name]." Tim said, standing up and rushing towards the computer before anybody could even reply. Barbara silently followed, knowing she would be the most help to Tim.

Bruce looked at all of his family and nodded, "We'll find her and get her back."

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

Your throat was hoarse and tears had dried on your face. There was no point to fighting it anymore, you only hoped he would kill you soon.

"Aw but doesn't the bird look good with her wings marked?" The Joker chuckled, slicing yet another line into your arm. The cuts were deep, sure to scar, and they were deliberate. You could only guess what he was spelling on your arms.

With the amount of blood flowing down your arms like a red river, it was to no surprise you were fading in and out of consciousness. That would be nice, at least you wouldn't be awake while he tortured you.

You almost settled into the pain, eyes fluttering close to let yourself rest, when you heard a crash. Glass was broken and there was yelling everywhere.

The Joker grabbed your face with his hand and forced you to look forward, where you saw your family (the only thing disguising their horrified looks were their masks)

"Looks like they showed up in time for you, baby bird." He grinned, spitting on your cheek. You were too tired, too fragile to even bother being disgusted. It was better than the cutting.

"Let her go and I'll think about not crushing your head into the wall." Red Hood barked out, already aiming his gun at The Joker. You tried to pay more attention but you were fading slowly,, ready to force your body to rest.

The Joker dropped your body like it was nothing, your face smashing into the concrete. It hurt, pain forming in your forehead but it was a distraction from the blood oozing out of you.

Despite your best efforts, you finally blacked out. The last thing you saw was your family lunging at the Joker, rage thick in the air.

Light flooded your eyes, fresh air blasting your lungs. You were laying down on something soft and warm, contrasting against the mildly scratchy fabric on your skin. You blinked your eyes a few times, forcing them to focus despite the dull ache pounding in your head.

"You're awake." Damian said, apparently sitting beside you. It took a little while but you realized you were in the personal hospital at the manor. He had a few scratches and bruises but nothing as horrific as the scars on your skin (and in your brain.)

"Wha-what..happened?" You croaked, throat feeling like sandpaper. Like magic, Dick appeared with a glass of water you gratefully took. The liquid in your throat was almost heavenly in the way it made you feel infinitely better.

"The Joker kidnapped you and we rescued you." Your father explained calmly, not bothering to add details. Which was probably good for you, the devil's in details.

"I'm glad your back, sis." Jason said, making you suddenly aware of his presence in the back of the room. Your entire family seemed to be in here, ready to see your betterment. Despite he general aversion to touch, Jason wrapped you into a hug.

Of course, everybody else joined in (forcefully or not) for a big group hug. You laughed, despite the hollow of your heart, watching as Tim was pushed into the hug by Dick.. It was ridiculous having a group hug after a traumatic event...how family sitcom could you get?

But somehow, it felt good to be in the arm's of your family. It felt like home.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.