#another day another grey hair for bruce

[mud-muffin]

This is totally how it all happened 💗

[clockwayswrites]

Birb in a box Part 14

masterpost

By Thursday Danny was feeling much more human, or at least closer to human as he ever felt. Had tonight been anything more active than sitting in a seat and watching a ballet, Danny would have had to beg off. He figured this much he could manage. Besides, pushing it a little so not as to disappoint Cass on her big night was worth it. She was a sweet girl and Danny had the feeling that she could use more people celebrating her.

Not that Danny expected to actually see Cass that night beyond her time on the stage.

Still, Danny figured he should at least look the part of a ballet patron and dug the cobalt blue suit that he had gotten for Jazz’s wedding out of its bag in the back of his closet. He might as well be presentable, even if his hair never quite behaved. He kept it much shorter now, mostly so that it was out of the way, and hoped that tonight a shower and some hair gel would be enough. At least the little start shaped sapphire studs Tucker and Sam had gotten him for passing his dissertation looked good. (Bless his piercings never seeming to close fully up.)

A quick pat of his coat pockets to make sure he had everything and Danny was off. Gotham was thankfully quiet that night— or as quiet as Gotham ever was— and Danny even managed to catch an earlier connecting train. It left him enough time for a leisurely walk to the the opera house.

The lobby of the grand building was buzzing with excited patrons that Danny did his best to slip through. He really just wanted to find his seat. Which was apparently was upstairs and all the way down a hall that became narrower than expected as he continued. There was another ticket check, which Danny thought as odd until he realized as he passed by an open curtain that these were the theater’s box seats.

Which was odd.

Danny glanced down at his phone. Was he in the wrong place?

“Ah, Danny, I see you found us alright.”

Apparently not, because that was definitely Bruce Wayne’s voice. Yep, and that was Bruce Wayne himself, looking far too handsome in a deep grey suit. Danny really hoped he wasn’t blushing because damn did the man cut a dashing figure. A little part of Danny wanted to reach out and run his fingers across one of those impressively broad shoulders.

“I did,” Danny said, head ducked down slightly as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Though honestly, I didn’t expect this to be what you meant when you offered to get the ticket for me. I don’t mean to intrude on your family.”

Bruce chuckled and Danny felt he might melt a little. “Nonsense. It will be a relief to have another adult around.”

“Hey, some of us are adults!” Someone from in the booth said. A moment later Dick Grayson appeared with a large smile and wearing a suit that was the brightest magenta that Danny had ever seen.

“That remains to be seen,” Bruce said dryly, though his mouth was quirked in a smile.

His son ignored him.

“Hi, I’m Dick Grayson, Bruce’s oldest and totally an adult,” Dick said, offering his hand. “Bruce was practically a teen dad when he adopted me.”

“Please don’t spread rumors like that,” Bruce said with the long suffering sigh of a tired father.

“Luckily, I think it’s all pretty easy to fact check,” Danny said before he thought better of it and shook the offered hand. “Nice to meet you Dick, I’m Danny Fenton.”

“It’s good to meet you. I think Cass really liked meeting someone who could sign with her just out in the wild.”

“I just wish I wasn’t so rusty,” Danny said, feeling mildly embarrassed at the praise over his poor skills. “I’ll have to brush up on some things.”

“I’m sure that would mean a lot to her,” Bruce replied. “The family knows how to sign, of course, but sadly she isn’t so lucky mostly places. It’s nice for her to have others to talk to on days where her voice isn’t around.”

“I can only imagine. I wish that it was taught in schools. You’d think with all the advancement and proof of concept with baby sign language they would—” He cut himself off with a flustered little laugh. “Sorry, my sister is a behavioral psychiatrist with a two year old daughter. I get to hear a lot about things like baby sign language and color perception and the stages of personality growth.”

Luckily Bruce just laughed and motioned for Danny to enter the box. “A stage I’ve sadly missed with all my children. So your sister is another doctor Fenton in the family?”

“Fourth, actually. Both my parents are also Doctor Fentons. It’s five if you count my sister-in-law, but she kept her last name for publication reasons. I guess you looked me up if you know about my phd?” Danny wasn’t offended at that. If he had a daughter who befriended a random older man at work, he would sure as hell look them up too.

Bruce, however, smiled apologetically. “I asked Lucius about you. You’ve made quite an impression on him. He’s promised to have my head on a platter if I, or my horde of children, do anything to drive you away.”

Danny laughed at that and gratefully sunk into the seat that Bruce indicated. He was starting to feel the walk here now. “Knowing Lucius, he’d get it too. I think he always gets his way eventually, at least if my work-life balance has anything to say about it.”

“Not good at that?” Dick asked.

He sat down catty-corner to Danny. Danny turned carefully to look at him, ignoring the twinge in his back as best as he could. Danny would have shrugged if he thought he could have.

“Classic engineer with ADHD problems. I can lose track of time a little too easily.” Danny glanced to Bruce with a wry little smile. “Apparently WE is big on us not spending all our time at work.”

“Not really,” Bruce said with a little quirked smile. “You all work hard, but work shouldn’t be everything. It’s something that I’ve had to learn myself.”

“No kidding,” Dick said.

Bruce gave a little snort. “As if you aren’t as bad as I am.”

Dick just smiled serenely at his father before turning back to Danny. “No one for you to go home to then? No partner or pets?”

“Just too many plants,” Danny admitted. “One of my oldest friends is a botanist doing medical research and every time I see her I end up with another one. They’ve sort of taken over my apartment now that I’ve been in one place for a few years. Some of them are drama queens about getting watered, but I have a little system rigged up for the really thirsty ones. It helps if I need to be away for more than a day or two. And that is probably way more about my plants than you needed or wanted to know. Sorry.”

Bruce’s low rumble of a chuckle felt like it settled warmly in Danny’s chest. There was no way that he wasn’t blushing a least a bit now.

Why was Bruce affecting him so much? Yes, it had been a rather long time since Danny had been on a date much less more. Yes, Bruce was Gotham’s eternal most handsome bachelor, which wow does the city have that right. Yes, other than a handshake, Danny hadn’t touched another human since waking up in the still so weird cuddle pile of superheroes. Yes to all that, but really, Danny should not be blushing like a he was still in his twenties at a chuckle.

“It sounds to me like your friend picked the right person to give plants to. It’s obvious that you care for them,” Bruce said with a soft smile that Danny tried not to look at.

Danny glanced out over the edge of the balcony and down into the crowd. “Ah, well, I try. They’re living things, you know? They deserve the best chance I can reasonably give them.”

“A very nice way to look at it. I—”

“Shit,” Dick said suddenly, softly, and with conviction.

Danny twisted around quickly to look back at Dick, wincing as his back vehemently protested the motion.

“Sorry,” Dick said quickly. “It’s just that it seems the elevator is down so Babs won’t be able to make it up here.”

“It’s down?” Bruce asked with a confused frown.

“Apparently. I’m going to go sit down on the ground floor with her,” Dick said. He tucked his phone into his coat as he stood. “Sorry for bailing on you, Danny. It was nice to meet you.”

“No, go, spare yourself anymore plant talk,” Danny joked at his own expense.

“If any of the others aren’t too settled, I’ll send them up,” Dick said to his father. “But you know how they are.”

“All too well,” Bruce said dryly.

Dick squeezed Bruce’s shoulder and vanished back through the curtain.

---

AN: This part had me real caught up for some reason, but hopefully it's all good (enough) now!

[midnightorchids]

I feel like Jason and reader are the epitome of the “Person A thinking they are unlovable and Person B loving them like breathing.” trope. Honestly both ways.

You’re so right omg!! I thought about this idea all day yesterday and couldn’t help but write something! Thank you for the inspiration! It’s a little rushed, but I hope you enjoy.

For the longest time, it felt like Jason was drowning.

His mouth was below sea level and he was gasping for air, with every breath, there was a bead of water making its way to his lungs, suffocating him. His grief was suffocating him. Jason spent years trying to find himself again after the pit, but every attempt proved fruitless. He tried to love himself, his new body, his new life, but nothing worked.

He turned to his books and he'd let them lie to him. Tell him that after every storm there would be a rainbow, that things would get better. But it didn't feel that way for Jason. His life was a snow storm and there were no rainbows. Just big grey clouds and a sinking feeling.

His chest felt heavy on most days and every breath was a sigh. The sadness was gnawing on his insides and it hurt. He wasn't supposed to be here, he wasn't supposed to come back.

No one could love him, Bruce couldn't love him. His father, the man he looked up to, the man who was supposed to be his guardian.

Nothing could save him. There was no saving for Jason.

All this love in the world and yet, none of it was for him.

That was until the unthinkable happened.

It started out like another normal day in Gotham. The city's cold breeze bit Jason's nose and finger tips. He flicked his lighter with a small 'click' and brought it close to where his cigarette sat between his lips. He took a long drag of the stick and exhaled softly. He stared at the grey sky and then opened his copy of Little Women. He sat on a bench near his favourite bookstore and that's when he heard it. A voice so soft, he almost missed it.

"I love that book," the voice spoke again and this time he turned his full attention towards it.

There, on the opposite side of the bench sat a person, clutching a copy of Pride and Prejudice. His favourite.

He studied their face for a minute before letting out a sigh of relief. The person looked much like him, eye bags, bitten lips and messy hair. But unlike Jason, their eyes were warm and inviting. 

Intoxicating, he thought. He needed to know more.

“Yeah,” he said, “is it any good?” 

The stranger smiled gently and nodded, Jason couldn’t help but smile back. 

The brief conversation blossomed into something Jason would’ve never imagined.

You made loving Jason feel like it was easy. You made him feel safe. 

He grew up on the streets of Gotham, never really having a place to call home. But with you, he never felt that way. You were his home. When Jason was with you, it didn’t feel like his books were lying to him anymore, you brought him peace, a sense of solace.

If Jason was drowning, then you brought him back to shore.

You didn’t necessarily save Jason, but you made him believe in himself again. You never wanted to fix him, he didn’t need fixing in your eyes, you just showed him a different perspective. His dull, colourless life felt full and vibrant when you were around. 

But it wasn’t just you, who made Jason see himself and the world in a different, much softer way. He changed you too. 

All those nights where the ghosts of your past haunted your sleep were now replaced by much gentler thoughts. Your room no longer echoed with your harsh sobs. Jason made you believe in rainbows again and you started seeing the light at the end of tunnel.

He restored your faith in love. He didn’t fix you either, but he made you see yourself in another light. Loving you didn’t feel like a chore to him, he loved you with every fibre of his being and every cell in his body. Loving you was like a breath of fresh air that he didn’t know he needed so desperately.

It was simple really, he loved you and you loved him.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Sippin' on Sunshine

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Summary - You and Bruce get away from Gotham on his yacht.

Warnings - Established relationship, Mild sexual content, Age gap, Swearing, Intoxication, Fluff, Bruce's POV, a very brief mention of past unconsenual touching (not Bruce's doing!).

Word Count - 2.1k

The sun is shining brightly, making the brilliant blue of the sea glisten. The smell of salt fills Brue’s nose whilst a gentle breeze ruffles the open shirt he’s currently wearing and waves gently lap at the side of his yacht. He’s lounging on a sun lounger, a glass of whiskey, neat, in his hand. You’re just ahead of him, in a bikini of your favourite colour, dancing and singling along to the bubblegum pop that’s blaring from the speakers. All of it is almost enough for him to completely forget about how much older he is than you.

Almost. 

Until he is catching sight of his distorted reflection in his drink and he’s reminded of the grey in his hair and the wrinkles by the corners of his eyes. He stares at it for a moment before downing the rest of his drink in one and setting aside the now empty glass, on the table next to him. If someone he trusted was to ask him he doesn’t know if he would be able to lie for once. The constant implications from every article surrounding the two of you and your relationship, implying he’s a cradle robber (because they know what will happen if they say it directly), and that he’s in the middle of a midlife crisis have started getting to him way more than he ever thought they would.

None of them change the way that he feels about you. You are completely and utterly intoxicating to him. The way that you look at him and say his name. The way that you curl up against him at night and the love songs that you sing to him from the playlist you have curated specifically for him, while he drives you somewhere. How you comb your fingers through his hair and you pepper his face with soft kisses. Or the sound of your laughter, your giggles especially, when he tells a bad joke or teases you. 

All of it has him feeling a way that he has never felt before. It scares him and if he was a younger man it would make him run. In that way, he supposes, it’s a good thing he’s not a younger man.

You are none the wiser to his inner turmoil. You’re still dancing and signing along to the music which, of course, you’re great at. It’s the type of thing that, he supposse, is to be expected from a woman whose parents discovered she was talented early on in life and decided to exploit that for as long as possible. Until one day you finally turned around, told them to fuck off and started doing everything that you could to destroy the cute and friendly child star image you had attached to you. Which is another thing that the tabloids like to latch on to. Claiming that you’re using him to continue your rebellion and destruction of that image, dragging him down with you.

None of them bother you and he doesn’t believe a single word of them anyway. Besides, the several playboy photoshoots you have done, each one more risque than the last, have surely already done that damage you were looking for. Even if they hadn’t, and if you wanted him to help out, he’s always more than happy to do exactly that. You only need to ask him and he will help you put on a show that no one will be able to erase from their minds.

Your eyes finally meet his, your body turning to face him as you stop dancing. Your chest is heaving as you catch your breath. With his hand, he gestures for you to come over to him. Bruce wants to indulge in you, have you chase away the thoughts that are currently plaguing him. Your face immediately lights up and you eagerly make your way over to him.

He catches you as you almost fall as you make a move to straddle his body. Bruce makes a mental note to slow down your alcohol and to get some food inside of you, knowing all too well how yachts and intoxication don’t mix well with each other. 

Though it is a sign of how comfortable and safe you feel when you’re around him. He knows that you have been on plenty of yachts in the past, but were always surrounded by men who only wanted to discuss “important things” and were way too comfortable with touching you when you really didn’t want them to. 

It’s been a few days since you first told him that. It had come up shortly after he had presented the idea of getting away from Gotham for a little while on his yacht, that honestly never gets used anymore. You had been apprehensive about the idea until he had explained that, other than some staff, it was just going to be you and him. No one else. You had been excited about it after that. And if you hadn’t been? Well, he always had the private jet on stand by, ready to whisk you away and take you wherever you want at a moment’s notice.

Bruce still feels himself boiling over with rage over it when he thinks about it. When the two of you get home, he already has plans to to find these men and ruin their lives. Perhaps even put the fear of Batman into all of them. It doesn’t matter how long ago it was, he refuses to let them get away with any of it, but that will have to happen after you get home.

“Careful,” he chides softly, his hand coming to rest high up on your waist to support you.

“Sorry,” you mumble. Your hands come up to cup his face and you lean in to kiss him. You taste like the lemonade and melon liquor you have been drinking today. Sweet and delicious. 

He sighs softly as you part, a hand coming up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. ‘ I’ll never get tired of kissing her,’ he thinks fondly as he gazes into your eyes.

“Are you having fun?” he asks.

His question seems to take you by surprise as you pull away from him a little and frown. You weren’t expecting him to ask you that.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” You don’t give him a second to reply, however, the gears in your inebriated mind spinning and working hard, quickly coming to your own conclusion before he can think of what to say. “Are you asking because of what I told you?”

He nods. “Yeah. Just wanted to make sure that you’re doing okay.” 

Your frown disappears as your face softens and you look at him in a way that you never have before. He can’t name the emotion in your eyes, but it’s enough to make it feel like his heart has just skipped a beat, like he’s a damn teenager again. It doesn’t last long and you’re breaking the moment as you giggle. Something else occurring to your inebriated brain.

“Is that why your hands are so high up on my body?” You giggle again, finding the whole thing very amusing. One of your hands covers the one that’s resting on your waist and you move it down until he’s cupping your ass, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. “You know I don’t mind it when you touch me in less than gentlemanly ways.” 

He huffs a laugh and moves his hand off of your ass, bringing it to rest on your thigh instead. He can already see where your mind is headed, but he’s still focused on being a gentleman and not overstepping. Especially with the state that you’re currently in.

“I know, but I don’t want to overstep and make you uncomfortable, sweetheart,” he tells you.

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” you reply. You lean in and rub your nose against his. “I want you, Brucie.” 

He hums. “I think we should have some lunch first,” he suggests. As much as he loves taking you to his bed and drawing every sweet noise of you that he can, whenever he can, he wants to sober you up first. It’s no fun if you’re too drunk to properly enjoy yourself. Not to mention that he doesn't want to take advantage of your current state.

There’s no argument from you, your mind quickly switching away from thoughts of sex to thoughts of what the chef might be serving for lunch. He helps you up and, with a hand on your waist, he keeps you close to him as you both head inside.

Lunch certainly helped with sobering you up. It helps that the chef had made your favourite, per Bruce’s request. You are no longer as giggly as before and Bruce is no longer worried about you potentially falling overboard. Not that he was going to let you get anywhere close to the edge of the yacht to let that happen anyway, but it’s better not to tempt things.

Neither of you have any interest in returning outside to the lounge in the sun. For the time being at least. Instead you are more than content to stay inside, enjoying the air conditioning, while you’re laying on top of him. His fingers resting on the back of your neck, while he kisses you soft and slowly.

He love this. Being lazy and indulging in you. No rush to do anything and not having to worry about the next problem on his never ending list of problems. At least for the moment. 

To think that there was once a time where he had thought he would go crazy if he wasn’t working on his next project or case file. From the moment that he laid eyes on you at that charity event, you have changed a lot of things for him.

Bruce’s free hand trails down your body, mapping out all of your curves, before finally coming to rest on your ass; which he gives a squeeze. You gasp and give him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. Moaning into the kiss, your hand fists his shirt while you start to grind against him, making him twitch inside of his shorts. You definitely feel it because your grinding grows more insistent, making him grow hard.

“Fuck,” he groans against your mouth. He gives your ass another squeeze in retaliation, as well as a light slap that has you gasping again. Letting you know that two can play at that game. It does nothing to discourage you. If anything, you only grow bolder as you take hold of his hand and slip into your bikini, letting him feel just how aroused you are from him. He groans again. 

Bruce shouldn’t reward you. He really shouldn’t. It will just cause you to think that you can get away with this again, in the future. At the same time, he can’t help himself. He does so love to spoil you and you deserve to be spoiled. He presses his fingers up against your engorged clit, enjoying the stutter in your breathing. He plays with you for a moment, drawing soft, breathy noises from you, before finally pushing his fingers inside; loving the way your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘O’ shape. 

He has half a mind to finish you off right here, right now, but he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. It serves as a reminder that the two of you aren’t completely alone on the yacht. You whine when he pulls his hand out of your bikini.

“How about we move this to the cabin?” he suggests. 

“And if I want to stay and do it here instead?” You bring his slick covered fingers up to your lips and, one by one, start to suck them clean. The sight is almost enough to make him reconsider, but then he hears the clatter of plates and glasses.

“As much as I would love to–” he gestures with his head toward the open door– “I prefer being the only person knowing what you look like when you’re riding me.” 

You consider what he has said for a moment before nodding, deciding that he’s right. “Okay,” you agree with him. “And then we can have a copious amount of chocolate?” 

He laughs softly. Your sweet tooth is almost as bad as his own. Bruce sits up, getting you to wrap your legs around his hips before standing up. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck and he rubs his nose against yours. “How about both at the same time?”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hiya I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if we can get a Tim Drake x male reader

The reader is a bigger older guy, like not too older than Tim but reader does have a streak of gray hair due to the stress of taking care of Bruce's dumbass.

Reader is kinda sly and fox like.

Idk why but I can see Tim liking someone older than him

Tim Drake x older male reader

Headcanons

I feel like tumblr has been deleting requests from my inbox, I swear some go missing. This one didn’t though, so here you go.

It’s been a while huh? Who’d have thought getting ready to graduate would be so stressful.

Reader is about Dicks age, so around 26.

You didn’t meet through hero work or anything like that. You were actually the CEO of a larger company called Aces co. It had been in your family for many years, and your father and grandfather had worked with the Waynes.

So, when you took over at 18, you started working with Bruce Wayne, even though you thought him nothing much more than a himbo at the time. Later, when Tim took over, you’d work side by side with the younger man.

One way or another, you learn Bruces secret identity, and soon you end up mixed up in the vibrant and extremely stressful world that is heroes and vigilantes, you’ve lost count how many times you have had to cover for any of the batclan.

You almost burst into tears when you see the first grey hairs appear at your temples. Your father had gone grey much later in life, and here you were, 24 and greying, all because of the bats. Of course, it wasn’t all the bats, running a billion-dollar company was stressful too, but they sure didn’t help.

The media called you the fox prince, because of the sharp look in your eyes and how sly and underhanded you could be, insulting someone straight to their face and they would first realize days later. Or somehow tricking someone into revealing all their secrets to you.

None of the bats can ever seem to reach your level of mingling and information gathering, even Bruce who has been doing it longer than you’ve been alive.

You never become a hero, or a vigilante for that matter, but you do get involved every now and then if needed. You didn’t take over Aces co. for no reason at 18, you have always been a genius, but a sly and cruel one in the eyes of many.

Unlike Bruce, you don’t feel a soul deep duty to save the world and save as many people as possible. You simply do what you can, without putting yourself in too much danger. Which mainly resolves to you gathering too much information, and enough blackmail to have the entire congress of America and the EU buckling under for your whims.

You are an extremely cold and calculated businessman as well, to the point where underhanded companies like Lexcorps won’t work with you because they know you’ll rip them apart and leave them with nothing.

It was your cruel but very effective business methods that drew Tim to you, especially when it turned out you were a lot more friendly behind closed doors. He did get to hear you complain about him and his family a lot, and it gave him a good laugh to see Bruce open a bill for your hair treatments to get rid of your greys.

The alliance between Wayne enterprises and Aces Co. only grows stronger between you two, and you end up closer to Tim than you’ve been any other bat, even Dick, despite the fact that you two are the same age and have been around each other the longest.

It ends with you going out of your way to score the best deals for (Tim) Wayne Enterprises, and Tim finds ways to benefit (you) Aces Co. Its like flirting and foreplay at the same time between very powerful rich businessmen.

For some reason I can imagine most of the batfam is shocked when Tim and you started dating, whilst some of them aren’t surprised at all. Bruce is uncomfortable in the beginning that one of his former business partners is dating his son, until someone (most likely Jason) points out that you aren’t even 30 yet and took over your company the moment you turned 18.

Your relationship is kept a secret for the media, mainly to keep the drama and paparazzi away. You aren’t a very publicly affectionate person, and Tim doesn’t really like mingling with the media if he doesn’t have too, so it’s a win-win.

The two of you don’t go out of your way to be super secretive though, you just aren’t all lovey dovey all over each other. Some people may notice you getting a lot crueler and colder to those trying to cross Wayne Enterprises, and Tim striking down hard on anyone who tries Aces Co.

It’s assumed it’s just cuz you two are both young CEOs who are trying to strengthen the relationship between your companies. All your mutual friends and families knows its cuz you are both protective and a little possessive.

You are most likely the one in the relationship with the most experience since Tim has spent most of his time being a vigilante, so you’ll have to guide him in the beginning. He’s a great and enthusiastic learner though, so Tim probably ends up doing all kinds of research.

He lovingly calls you his old man, or jokingly calls you a cradle-snatcher, since you look older than you actually are cuz of your greys. It probably causes some drama online when your relationship finally gets out, until people are like “He’s literally only 26, he’s just greying early”.

Tim will comfort you when you end up with your face in your hands because of those comments, weeping for your once beautiful and not grey streaked hair. He loves it though, and always tells you.

You tell Tim he likes it cuz of his daddy issues, and he ends up being all “maybe so”. Doesn’t stop him from loving it though, or loving to see that foxlike glint appear in your eyes when you are about to strike on a deal.

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 4

Part 3

Aaaah, Tim had missed undercover work! There was just something thrilling about becoming a whole new person by making a few small tweaks here and there. He had combed his hair in a side-part, carefully applied make-up to make his skin look paler and his eyes bigger and put on a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Worn sneakers, baggy jeans, a loose plaid flannel shirt with a hoodie tied around his waist hid his lean, muscular frame. A slight slouch and his old high-school backpack completed the look. Goodbye Tim Drake-Wayne, Gotham socialite. Hello Adam Taylor, college freshman.

Jason took one look at him and practically fell over laughing.

“Oh my God, you look like a total dork! Would you like some braces to go with that?” he heckled, catching himself against the side of the car.

“I’ll have you know that this is the height of broke college student chic,” Tim sniffed in mock offence, “It’s called ‘blending in’ Jason. Maybe you should try it!” He walked past his snickering brother to get in the passenger’s seat of the beat-up Ford they used for travelling incognito.

“No thanks, I’ll leave the theatre performance to you,” Jason drawled, tossing the keys in one hand before getting behind the wheel. “I’ll just hang back and keep an eye out in case things go tits up.”

“I don’t even know why you insisted on coming along. I’m just going to question a civilian!”

Jason gave him a Look before starting the engine. “A civilian raised by mad scientists. The way our lives work, we’ll find her building Kryptonite powered robots in the janitor’s closet or something.”

“And the fact that she’s a cute red-head has nothing to do with it?” Tim teased.

“Nope!”

“Liar.”

The drive to Metropolis passed in a mix of mutual ribbing, arguing over radio stations and discussion of recent cases. They carefully avoided the elephant in the room - the reason for their current investigation. The sullen anger of their youngest brother, the quiet grief in Bruce’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching and the mounting tension within the family. Tim doubted that this excursion would be all that fruitful, but he needed to get out and do something for the sake of his own sanity. The last thing he wanted was to watch Bruce emotionally implode over what may or may not be another dead son.

Getting onto the university campus was no problem. Tim had a fake student ID on him just in case, but it looked like he needn’t have bothered. His hacking had revealed that Jasmine Fenton checked into the university library after her last class almost every day, so it was just a matter of biding his time. He sat at one of the carrel desks, idly flipping through the latest issue of Forbes. I wonder if Luthor’s new tech acquisition means he’s up to something? Hm…

“Heads up, target at your 10,” came Jason’s murmur through Tim’s earpiece. Tim turned another page then sat up and stretched, glancing around casually. He instantly recognized the red-head from his earlier research. Tall and light build, long hair held back by a head-band, wearing skinny jeans and a dark grey sweater. She made her way over to the row of desks, carrying a small stack of books and a pencil case. She walked past Tim, only sparing him a glance and eventually settled down at the table farthest from the entrance and away from the other students. Perfect.

Tim got up and returned his magazine to the periodicals section before meandering over to Jasmine’s desk. He put on his best impression of a nervous smile. Showtime.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

She only glanced up from her work briefly then went right back to taking notes. “No, knock yourself out,” she said in a bored tone.

Tim pulled out the chair next to hers and turned it slightly to face her. He sat down and cleared his throat.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I’m Adam. Adam Taylor,” he lied, offering his hand to her. She gave him a tight, polite smile and shook hands with him.

“Jazz Fenton,” Her tone was light, but her body language screamed ‘please go away’. Tim filed the nickname away for later, “Look, it’s really nice to meet you but I have this project I need to work on, so…”

Ah, she probably thinks I’m trying to hit on her, Tim thought.

“Oh, I understand completely! I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, I just… I was just wondering if you could tell me about… you know,” he whispered with affected hesitation, “...ghosts.”

The smile dropped from her face and her gaze sharpened. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry! It’s just… your parents run Fenton Works, right? The ecto-biologists?” Tim rushed out, “I just wanted to hear your opinion on their work…” he trailed off at the look of tightly controlled anger on her face. She turned and scanned the room around them.

“Alright. Where’s the camera?”

Tim was caught completely wrong footed. Was she onto them?

“Camera? What camera?” he hedged. She slammed her notebook shut and glared at him.

“I get it. Lets pretend to interview the girl with the crazy ghost hunter parents and have a good laugh at her on social media later. Very funny, har har,” Jazz stuffed her pen back in its case with sharp movements, “Well I have better things to do than make you TikTok famous, so if you’ll excuse me,” she gathered up her books and stood.

Tim winced. He really needed to salvage this situation and quickly. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“I’m not filming you, honest! I just read some of your parents’ papers and wanted a second opinion on their research! They, ah… they seem pretty biased,” he said apologetically.

Jazz narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Why are you researching ghosts, then?”

The best lies are built on truth.

“Because…” Tim took a deep breath, “I think my brother might be one,” he forced out, then swallowed hard and looked away.

“Oh,” the anger had drained from her voice, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Tim glanced at her as she sat back down. “Thanks,” he croaked and blinked away fake tears. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Adam, what makes you think your brother might have come back as a ghost?” Jazz asked gently.

Tim collected himself for a moment, thinking about how to score the most sympathy points.

“It’s hard to explain. My younger brother… he saw something strange and now my whole family is freaking out. Dad is putting on a brave face but I can tell this is eating him up inside but he refuses to talk about it. I just… I need to know if there’s a scientific explanation to all this. I need to make sense of this whole mess!” he looked up at her through his lashes with his best puppy-dog expression, “Please, can you help me?”

Tim could practically hear her heart melting.

“And the Oscar goes to… Timbird!” Jason teased over the comms.

“Alright. But not here,” Jazz said, standing up again, “This is gonna take some time. And diagrams.”

Oh goodie.

Part 5

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Bruce Wayne and some kind of fluff thing please?

Top-down in a convertible, sunshine, and a beautiful woman in a sundress next to him- it almost made him forget that he was older than you were.

Almost.

Until he looked in the mirror and saw the grey at his temples when he glanced behind him.

Still. It was... Intoxicating. He couldn't help it as you sang the love songs on your play list at him. It didn't matter that earlier in the week when you were dressed down and taking the kids shopping a reporter mistook you FOR A NEW KID.

It wasn't exactly a May-December romance but... still. The constant implication he was a cradle robber was getting to him. You had a career before he married you and you had to quit. You'd been a model and an actress. But- now you were a housewife. An unconventional one, sure but-

He pulled off on to an over look and turned the radio down so you could admire the view and the sunset for a moment, "Sweetheart," he started, taking your hand to kiss it, "Are you happy?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" you ask him, turning his hand over to kiss his palm.

He smiled a little and tilted your chin up smoothing wind blown hair out of your face before he took off your sun glasses, "Is that a press-facing answer or how you really feel?"

"Bruce," you laugh, "the only thing I want more of is laid. But we have a house full of kids and you have a whole double life to deal with- I'll just have to cope."

"My poor neglected wife," he purred, nipping your lip before he kissed you. "I'd like to remind you we don't have kids tonight."

"We didn't have kids last night and you were brooding-"

Bruce smiled ruefully, "I was too busy feeling old and sorry for myself," he admitted.

"Is that all?"

"All?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"I could have spent the night reminding you it didn't bother me when we got married-"

"It might someday," he pointed out.

"Bruce," you snort, "My grandma married someone old enough to be her dad and they were happily married until he died and had like 6 kids. No one thinks you're my dad. People are just really concerned about what goes on in our bedroom."

"6 kids?"

"Listen Brucie," you pout, "This was before birth control. You keep bringing them home. The most you're getting out of me is one and then I'm getting a mommy makeover."

"Two would-"

"You're out all night," you remind him, "and if you're not sleeping all day you're-"

"Okay," he said holding his hands up in surrender as he stole another kiss, grinning. "Point taken."

"But back to my only complaint. We don't have kids tonight at all and I want-"

"And I want a happy wife," he promised, "pulling out his phone to cancel the reservations. Room service and champagne in the jacuzzi it is."

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 ~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warning: Angsty?? Hurt with little/to no comfort maybe? Happy ending???? Not proofread

Damian always made promises to you and he fulfills them no matter the cost. He just wants to see you happy. He would make them when he had to go away for a few days, sometimes weeks, for a mission.

“Promises you’ll come back?” You would always ask.

He would always reply the same—his pinky stretched out towards you, a soft reassuring smile painting his lips “to you? No matter the cost beloved” a promise that was sealed with pinkies linked together and lips pressed softly against one another.

Have you ever loved someone so much that you plan your whole future together? With the other person going along and adding their own details to your make believe shared life?

That was you two, sharing those thoughts under the stars, holding each other in a comforting manner.

Surprisingly—Damian thought of the perfect wedding, a combination of both cultures, both big families together in one big room—dancing, laughing and chatting up a storm over the loud music that plays. The thought of having your first dance together as a married couple made him feel—ecstatic. Yeah, a perfect wedding for both of you.

What was a happy thought of him planning a beautiful day turned sour.

Because the day of the funeral was held about five days after his death, on the property that belonged to Bruce Wayne, right next to his grandparents. A private invent that was considered a nightmare.

Yet even when you're standing right in front of the grave, with his name engraved into it, you still think it’s just some horrible nightmare, one that you should have woken up to the moment you heard the news. That day it was cloudy, as if the universe had known when it had lost another soul, grieving with you in the process. That’s the only thing you could remember, everything else was much of a blur, the memorial, his burial—all of it until this very moment.

You find yourself alone, everyone else gone—they don’t have the heart to pull you away after giving their condolence. The tears are no more, your cheeks stain with them . There’s a painful feeling in your heart as your eyes follow the curves of his name on the stone:

In loving memory of our lovely son, Damian Al Ghul Wayne.

it’s hurts to much and all you could do is stare at the dirt. The sigh you let out is shaky—you’re trembling in your spot.

As more time passed, the more the sky got darker and darker with Grey clouds—the sound of soft thunder striking down followed by the wisp of rain soon after. It’s not long for the rain to thicken. But you didn’t budge, you couldn’t—cause if you did you wouldn’t have the heart to come back, not wanted to bear the pain anymore. The rain leaked through your coat at some point, wetting your clothes underneath as it sticks to your body along with your hair, wet down and sticking to your neck, cheeks and forehead.

You could hear the sound of heavy footsteps behind you—then a warm heavy hand was placed on your shoulder. The rain seems to stop and when you look up and there’s an umbrella placed over your head, a hand holding the curved handle. Your eyes up the hand and arm of the person. There, Bruce stands beside you with tired red eyes and a sadden smile, ones that seemed forced.

“Let’s get you inside with the others” you wanted to say no, but the words wouldn’t leave your mouth as his arm finds itself behind your back as he leads you away from your loved ones grave. You take one last look at his grave, before it’s gone for good.

It only took one look for him to understand, nodding as you leave the older man’s side.

Alfred and Titus follow you closely. They stand by your side waiting for you to open his door, and once you do they wait until you enter it first.

Damian's bedroom has never been so…quiet.

Usually when you come over there’s normally the soft sound of his TV or his favorite music playing in the background. But there’s nothing. His room is no longer bright, the only thing keeping it dim was the light from outside. Beds undone, a couple of his clothes are scattered everywhere, and his desk is covered in his painting materials.

It's like time had stopped all together in his room. It’s funny because he was never the type to be a messy person, he probably didn’t have time before he was sent away.

Titus, that sweet big dog, rubs his nose up against your palm—whining as he does so. You make your way up against his nose and up his head—gently scratching it as Alfred jumps up into your arms. You catch him with ease. The big Great Dane leaves your side for a moment and you don’t think much of it. With the cat still in your arms, you’re scanning the quiet cold room.

Up until your eyes land on a spot in his room—the walls filled with nothing but pictures. A closer look and it’s pictures of you and him—with a handful of them also being him with his family or his pets. Tears threaten to spill once more—you try to hold them back.

But you're unsuccessful.

A few of them fall down the fat of your cheeks. Every picture holds a memory. Ones you and him held dear in your hearts. Something hits the back of your leg and you let out a small ‘ow’. Alfred jumps out your arms as you look down, eyes blurry as you blink the tears away. Titus stands below you right by your feet with a thick book in his mouth. The Great Dane nudges right up against the back of your thigh. Titus was such a smart dog, maybe smarter than other dogs around the world.

He does it one more time until you take the book out of his mouth sniffling away your tears as you do so, clearing them up with the somewhat wet sleeve of your coat, very faint teeth marks cover the back and front of it. He wants you to open it, that’s what you think and it’s probably right. You find yourself sitting on the ground, back up against the wall with your legs crossed over one another. The big dog lays beside you, head on the fat of your thigh while the cat finds its place on top of Damian’s bed.

You’re hesitant to open it and you don’t know why. Few minutes of silence and fighting with yourself about it—with a single sigh you open it. The first page is blank but the next one and the following aren’t. It was his sketchbook. One that he would try to hide from you because it would make him embarrassed if you had ever laid your eyes on it. His words not yours. Damian was amazing when he came to his artistic side no doubt about it.

Every page filled with sketches, every space taken up by them and Arabic language beautifully written on the corners of most pages. It wasn’t a surprise when you saw your reflection on paper. Actually, most of them were of you. Others might find it weird, but to you it was something that made your heart pound and your face feel warm. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want you to see it.

Flipping the page one last time, you find a small paper folded in half in the small crease of the book. You think it’s another drawing, so imagine your surprise when you unfold it and it's written later.

Addressed to you from Damian. You recognize his hand writing with every cursive on every line.

‘I’m never good with affection, I would like to apologize in advance despite being together for two years’ you find yourself smiling. Something you haven’t done in days ‘I’m not good with words either, so I hope you find this letter to be of use. Grayson told me I should do something for our third year anniversary—seeing as we both haven’t done anything special for the two previous years. With you being my first I, myself, am not very good at any of this and you know that. But I’ll try for you. Remember, not that long ago when we would talk about our future together under the bright stars? It’s a little ‘sappy’ as Todd would put it but I hope it becomes true in the near future. Grayson and Drake told me not to worry about it as much, because they are both ‘sure’—hinting at our future like they know something. And I think they do. Secretly I know Grayson is already planning a wedding. It was the first thing he did when I told him about you. He cried when he found out he was the first to know, but don’t tell him I told you. Words can’t describe how much you truly mean to me, they can’t describe how much I…..’

that’s where it ends. He never finished the letter. You wanted to yell at the letter, but doing so would make you look like you’ve lost your mind. Not that you have already. All you could was cry—trying your best to hold back loud sobs but they came out choked out instead. The letter is covered in droplets of your fallen tears as you crumble it under your grip, holding it close to your chest.

The book is long forgotten.

Maybe in a different life things could be better for the both of you.

Schools literally start’s TOMORROW 😭

Buts it’s my last year, graduate of 2024😋 (I’m a senior without a drivers license 😞)

[luvrodite]

would like to think that you would stick around [917]

established relationship, batfam cameo, family gathering, slight bruce + jason angst

you're curled up in the armchair by the fire, listening quietly to the conversation between barbara and dick. he has no doubt, from the shit-eating grins they both share, that they have begun to divulge the plethora of stories they have. your smile is sleepy and a little drunken, though he doesn't think you've had anything at all.

jason stands a few paces away, attention divided between you and the chess game between duke and bruce, the former determined to best his mentor. from the glint in duke's eye, he can tell a reprisal of the monopoly affair is in the works, and he moves away before he's hit in the head by one of bruce's marble pieces.

tim and steph lounge near you, legs thrown over each other. every few moments one of them will shift and grouse about the other's weight. this will spark another bout of bickering, followed by grumbles – though they won't ever actually move from the couch. one of them will show the other something on their phone, and the duo will dissolve into quiet giggles. and the cycle continues.

damian, having wandered in after retreating to his room, stands behind your armchair. he watches the kid listen intently to barbara recount the days when it had only been the three of them and bruce. there's a pang in his chest that he tries to tamp down. those days are long gone, and best not thought about. things have been...nice, tonight. he doesn't want to colour it grey with the grief of ghosts that should have remained buried.

he takes a seat at the foot of your chair, leaning back into the upholstery and letting your hand settle into his hair by way of hello. your fingers brush over the waves, and he's content to sit as your nails graze his scalp. he pays little attention to the conversation at hand, watching the flames in the grate as they burn. orange and yellow and read whip and coil in his eyes, spots of light bleeding into the edges of his vision when he looks away to catch the tail end of your sentence.

"...no way. our place is going to have two bathrooms."

"our place?" he asks, tipping his head back to meet your eyes. your face appears above him, lips pulling into a soft smile, as though embarrassed.

the both of you go between your respective apartments regularly nowadays. his things have made a home in your bedroom, and he can barely get in the bathroom without catching sight of one of your socks. jason wonders if you know he's been carrying around a copy of his key for a week now, trying to find the right time – trying to find the courage to ask you.

if he could, he'd tell you not to be embarrassed, but you're already continuing with a bashful shrug.

"grayson asked if you were going to live in the city forever," damian supplies helpfully, but he gets the distinct feeling the kid is judging his inattention.

"you've thought about what our place is going to look like?" he asks you, feeling his face grow hot as he hears his voice soften, a little shy and only a fraction of how lovesick he feels, heart racing in his chest. he catches the grin on dick's face and ignores it.

"a little," you admit.

dick opens his mouth, presumably to say something that will force jason to restrain himself from strangling him, but is cut off by a hail of marble clattering everywhere. a knight rolls by jason's feet, the black stone heavy in his hand as he picks it up. it glints in the firelight, and he looks to you, a pawn having fallen into your lap. you grin sheepishly.

the gathering continues on well into the late hours of the night, to no one's surprise. you begin to nod off a few minutes after the clock chimes one, and jason decides it's time to go. you sleepily bid everyone goodbye, kissing damian's head affectionately when he mumbles out a farewell and to jason's surprise, his snot nosed little brother only blushes a little, brown skin colouring when you ask him to send you a photo of the pets you hadn't got to meet.

jason's old room remains unlived in upstairs, and bruce mentions it but he looks to you, and thinks of the bed in the home he means to call yours and he declines.

"i'll call you tomorrow," he says instead, and if it surprises bruce, he doesn't let it show. the older man nods, and looks to where you're getting your coat.

"you seem happy."

he stares at the man for a moment, before tipping his head. it feels embarrassing, it feels like he's a kid again, telling him,

"i am."

"good." bruce offers little else, and the approval breaks his heart and stitches it up at the same time.

he leaves the manor with you in his passenger seat. your hands remain in your lap until he takes one of them, lips pressing to the back of your hand.

"what was that for?" you ask sleepily, and he shrugs. he's quiet for a moment, the lights on the road flickering over him as they pass.

"you think about our place," he says, and you let out a breath.

"i do. is that...okay?"

he looks over, heart on his sleeve.

"i want a stained glass window," he tells you, and you beam.

just. i had the thought of saying something in front of him that gives you away, that you're in it with him, that you're committed, and even though actions speak more than words and you've already been committed for a while, it's still giddy to know that you've spoken on it now.

[messers-moony]

Sunshine | D.G

Pairing: Dick Grayson X Fem!Reader

Summary: The caregiver becomes the care receiver.

Word Count: 2.0K

A/N: First time writing DC, hopefully this doesn’t suck.

If anyone took a look at him, they’d see nothing but a sun. The hot, blazing, and bright sun. There wasn’t a day that its light was blocked; despite the clouds coming to block the light, it still shined through, proving everyone wrong. It made her head tilt.

She was no master detective, but she wasn’t stupid either. He smiled with both sides of his mouth, never favoring one another. He held his head up high and shoulders perfectly rolled back. Even at meal times, he had perfect dining etiquette. She looked around the dinner table and saw the rest of his siblings eating comfortably.

Then it started getting foggier. His hair was frizzier than usual. His eyes were tinted red just the slightest bit. He was heavy on his feet. She sat in the cave with Tim. It was always cold and chilly in the cave: the dark grey walls and the occasional chirps of the bats above. The floor was smooth and freezing, but after sitting on it for several hours, she had gotten used to it.

Tim had files and papers scattered throughout the floor. They used the floor like a corkboard and started connecting cases. But she kept him in sight from the corner of her eye. Bruce had placed different types of acrobatic equipment in the cave for him, and he used it. She watched him continue to flip on the bars.

“Y/n?” A voice called, “Hello? Are you listening?”

She shook out of her daydream, “Yes, sorry.”

“I think that scarecrow must be involved?”

“That can’t be, though, he’s in Arkham, and Commissioner Gordon said that these victims appeared to be sprayed with Jokers Venom.”

“Yes, but reading through the police reports and witness statements, it says they all heard intense screaming right before crazed laughter.”

Y/n ran a hand down her face, “Fuck, so are we looking for a mixture of Fear Toxin and Joker Venom?”

“It appears so.”

“Why can’t Gotham just be normal.” Tim chuckled at her distress, “I wish I-“

A thud in the distance cut her off. Suddenly she realized that Dick was no longer in her peripheral vision. Y/n looked up to see him struggling to stand up and using one of the bars as support to help him stand. Her heart was racing, and her eyes narrowed. His body was sweaty, and his hair was sticking to his forehead.

“You okay, Dick?”

He looked up hazily, “I’m fine, Tim. Just slipped, is all.”

“He never slips.” Y/n whispered.

“Maybe he’s just tired?” Tim shrugged.

Y/n couldn’t stop staring. His body was lethargic and moving slower than usual. She thought he would reach for the bars again, but he didn’t. Instead, he collapsed on the floor, sitting crisscrossed. It confused her. If he didn’t get it the first time, he would do it until he could do it seamlessly. She could remember his persistence and determination like it was yesterday they were sitting in Haly’s Circus. He begged her to teach him to walk the tightrope but never got it.

“Do you think if I got a sample of the gas, you could have it tested?”

“Possibly, but you’d have to be extremely careful.“

Tim hummed, “I’ll see what I can do. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She stood from her place on the floor and walked to the man lying on the cold floor, covered in sweat. As she approached, she could hear his breathing more clearly. He was panting heavily, and he hadn’t even done much. Y/n got next to him and realized his eyes were closed. She knelt beside his ribs and could feel the heat radiating off his body. Her hand went gently to his left cheek.

“Dick,” He didn’t move, “Dick, are you okay?”

His body was unresponsive, “Love, come on, wake up.”

She felt frantic, and her hand gently slapped his cheek, “Grayson, come on. I know you’re in there. You need to wake up.”

Y/n could hear a faint gurgling noise, and her body kicked into motion, “Tim! Tim! Get me a garbage can, quick!”

Her hands went under his arms and helped him sit upright. She felt the plastic can move to her left and placed his head over it. Her right hand was on his sweat-soaked back, rubbing up and down. His body gasped awake and threw up into the garbage can. Tim sat by her side, concerned and confused. Dick was gasping for air. His left hand was searching for something to grasp.

It quickly found her other hand and squeezed tightly, “It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re doing great.”

Dick sat over the trash can, heaving. His breaths came quick, and his heart palpitating rapidly. He couldn’t hear anything. It was all ringing, and his vision seemed blurry. He recognized the hand in his and the hand on his back. It was the same hands that held him at night, the ones who kept him safe, the ones that kept him steady. He felt something cold on his face. His mouth was being wiped with a washcloth, and his cheeks.

It had all felt so real. It didn’t make sense. He was fine this past week. Except for maybe hearing things that weren’t there or seeing shadows of people no longer living. He remembered sitting in bed while she was at the desk in their shared bedroom. Light music traveled through the room, and he heard it. It was the music that played at the circus. He had asked her if she was playing it, and Y/n shook her head. He didn’t see her turning back to her desk and biting her lip.

They came in spurts. Sometimes it took place over a day or a week, at the worst times, over a month. But nothing would ever make sense until after it occurred. He’d hear the circus music, see shadows of his parents, hear their laughter, see the bright lights. Those bright lights always shined just like the sunlight. He could always feel their radiated warmth, and he shined in it. He thrived in their white led bulbs.

Slowly he was coming back to earth. There were no big bright lights here. It was dark, and the bat computer radiated a blue light throughout the cave. The floor was cold beneath him, and his body shivered. Something soft was placed over his body, and he relished in the warmth. The hands were still on his body. He was thankful. It was keeping him on earth.

Y/n looked into his eyes to see him slowly returning to his senses. Tim was pacing beside them, antsy as always. She watched Dick slowly push the garbage can away from his face. She smiled, “Welcome back to the land of the living, my love.”

Dick gave her a faint smile before looking at his anxious younger brother, “Tim if you don’t stop pacing, I might throw up again.”

“I’m worried!” He exclaimed; Dick furrowed his eyebrows, “I’ve never seen you like that! You’ve never fallen from the bars, ever.”

His body was still coming down from his high, and he swayed. Y/n pulled his body closer to hers, and Dick’s head rested on her chest. His hand was still holding hers tightly. The scent of her perfume easing the process back to the world. He felt terrible for getting sweat all over her clean clothes. She had just done laundry, and Dick felt like a burden. He tried to lift his head, but she didn’t give. He was slightly relieved.

“I’m alright, Tim,” Dick rasped, “No big deal. It happens sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Tim stopped, “What do you mean? Is this a frequent thing? Is this a symptom of something?”

Y/n could hear Tim mumbling under his breath about symptoms of certain conditions because if there was anything Tim knew, it was facts. She smiled at his concern. Dick was still trying to lift his head to get his sweaty hair away from her shirt. Eventually, she let him move his head to her shoulder. The tips of his black hair tickled her neck.

“Tim,” Dicks cheeks were rosy, and his lips were curled in a small smile, “Sit.”

Tim grumbled and sat in front of them. Dick reached his clammy hand out, and Tim took it in his without a second thought. Tim’s hands were always cold and dry, and Dick smiled more at the familiarity, “You know what PTSD is, right?”

“Mhm,” Tim hummed, “It’s a post-traumatic stress disorder. Most of us in this house have it. We wouldn’t have been adopted without some form of it.”

Dick chuckled, “That’s all it is, Tim.”

He didn’t look amused, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve never been like this before, so it just randomly happens one day?” Tim rambled, “I mean, you’ve never even stumbled before, not anywhere. We’ve been to Haly’s Circus since everything happened multiple times.”

“Do you know why we do that?”

“Because you and Y/n grew up there, and you want us to see where you grew up?”

Y/n kissed Dicks temple, “You are right. But we also go so Dick can work through his memories of the Circus.”

“I’m not scared of the circus by any means.” Dick clarified, “I get flashbacks of being on that trapeze, of hearing my mother screaming for me and watching my father try to break her fall.”

Tim squeezes Dick’s hand tighter, “I didn’t know. How could we have not noticed.”

“Tim, it isn’t your fault,”

“No, no.” Tim’s hand was ripped from Dick’s grasp, “I should’ve noticed. I should’ve known. I was there that night and every night afterward.”

Dick stood up unsteadily. Y/n jumped up to help support him, and he walked to Tim. His arms went around the younger boy tightly. He had no choice but to place his head under Dick’s chin and hold him tightly. Tim pulled away, “I guess I never realized that the person holding us all together could also have flaws.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you guys to see it.” Dick said, “I hide it so you guys don’t see that side of me. I’m the golden boy remember? The sunshine of the Wayne household. I got a reputation to uphold.”

Tim latched back onto Dick, holding him tighter than ever, “Don’t ever risk your mental health for reputation.”

Dick snorts, “Okay, Mr ‘I haven’t slept in four days, and I need to get this report done, or Bruce might disown me.’”

Y/n chuckled, and Tim pulled back to glare, “That’s my job, not yours.”

“I love you, baby bird.”

“I love you too.”

It didn’t take long for Dick’s accident to travel throughout the house. Y/n had tried to keep it under wraps for Dick’s sake, but Tim didn’t have it. Dick just shrugged his shoulders. They ended up in the living room of the manor, where boxes of candy were opened and left everywhere. Popcorn was thrown across the room, and Y/n swore she could hear Alfred sighing somewhere.

She and Dick were situated on a two-person couch. His head was on her lap, and his legs were hanging off the armrest. Jason and Tim sat on the other two-person couch. While Steph, Cass, Damian, and Duke sat on the much longer couch between them. A movie was playing on the television, but no one was watching. They were all laughing and talking.

Y/n’s hands ran through Dick’s black hair, and his eyes opened. She saw the sky in them, the beautiful crystal clear sky. They shined with kindness and love. The love for her, for his family, for his life. They shined with hope for his city, for his future wife, and for the people in Gotham and Blüdhaven. His smile was blinding, and he couldn’t have been happier than in her arms with his family of birds and bats.

“So, is this what it feels like to be taken care of?”

“Yes, lovebird,” She smiled softly, “It is.”

[palmrrclaymore]

Alright alright alright I don't know why but the bros gave me a harder time with the designs but here they are

Floyd is the one to leave the tunnel with Poppy in his arms, he's also the one to break the bad news to all the trolls questioning where King Peppy is. When the brothers questioned him where Branch was he broke the news and they were crushed. John Dory and Floyd went grey that day as they mourned their baby brother. It's not that Clay and Bruce didn't also feel terrible it just hit the other two harder.

John Dory would go on to become the new leader of the village, he chilled out significantly with his bossiness but instead became pretty overprotective. The bros took in Poppy and were the best big brothers they could be to honor Branch, they also all wear his shade of blue in one way or another.

Poppy is aware of her father and sister but as far as she and the brothers knew they were both dead, Poppy was about nine when they first told her, she was sad but was still happy she was able to have them. For a part of her life when the boys were still figuring things out she started to become a tom boy, the brothers tried their best from then on to get her to be a great princess and queen as they didn't want to be bad influences on her.

Bruce without a doubt does her hair and picks out her outfits, Clay teaches her how to keep things organized and how to dance, John Dory teaches her how to survive and rule the kingdom but also how to stand up for herself, Floyd was reluctant for a while to really be close to Poppy as he felt like he was replacing Branch. He would eventually teach Poppy to sing and scrapbook.

Both Branch and Poppy wanted to see the rest of the world outside of their villages, knowing very well what their siblings would think, so they snuck out. When they met the two couldn't believe the existence of the other, while talking they came to the conclusion they were the sibling of the others, and would set a plan to get their siblings together and reveal the truth.

[kkeidawrites]

A Gemstone’s Worth

Welcome to Day 29 of Blacktober!

The next day arrives and Bruce Wayne is driving through downtown Gotham City as he makes his way to the irate woman he had met the night before.

Her secretary has claimed that she was currently in her office at the parlor today and this was a great opportunity for him to give her some information about what his brokers had done behind closed doors.

As he arrived at L/n Styles, Bruce could see that the area where the store was located was just a ways off of where the shopping district is located and would hope that it was getting just as much revenue as the other stores.

The storefront was painted with white and grey accents and neon aesthetics, a cozy greeting for those who entered. It had a window that displayed three mannequins, styled with both street fashion and jewelry, along with the prices.

Entering the store, Bruce adjusts the Manila folder tucked under his right arm and looks around the store, rows of clothes were neatly lined up on racks, each color coded and style wise on each metal frame.

“Hello, welcome to L/n Styles!” He looks to his left and sees a young girl come up to him. Her style was streetwear with a touch of goth and her hair was long and bright blue.

“Can I help you with anything? Looking for anything special?” She asked professionally.

“Just the owner. I was told that she would be here today.” Bruce says and the young girl hums in thought.

“Ms. L/n doesn’t allow anyone in her office unless it’s an appointment. Did you have an appointment set up with her?” She asks tilting her head.

Her name tag read: Luda and Bruce digs in his pocket to take out his business card, handing it to her.

“I would appreciate it if you would give this to her, Miss Luda. It’s imperative that I speak with her.” Bruce insists and Luda shrugs before leaving to head to the back of the store.

Bruce takes this time to look around the store, taking note of the intricate details and makings of the store. It really fit a young people and teenager audience unfortunately Bruce wasn’t too understanding of fashion.

“Mr. Bruce Wayne?” Luda calls and he looks up to see the young girl waving him over to her.

Walking over to her, Luda parts the curtains that leads to the back of the store and motions Bruce to enter.

“Ms. L/n is down this hallway to the right, you can’t miss it.” She instructs.

“Thank you.” He says and Luda hums in response leaving him with a swish of the curtains adjusting back in place once she’s gone.

Bruce follows her instructions and is now standing in front of a tall white arched closed doorframe. Knocking, he waits for the command to come inside.

“Come in, Mr. Wayne.” He heard the tired voice of Y/n speak through the door.

He twists the silver knob and pushes the door open to reveal a quaint office that fit the aesthetic of the storefront.

Writing on a piece of paper, Y/n was busy making sure that all the money that she spent this month was balancing with the amount in her ledger.

“You can have a seat. I’ll be right with you.” She tells him.

Bruce does so and checks out the decor on her desk especially the photo that sat on the left of her pencil cup. In the photo was a picture of two women, twins hugging one another with bright smiles on their faces and a man with both his hands on top of their heads.

“So,” Y/n begins and sets down her pen, looking up at him with her hands folded in front of her.

“You have information on what is going on with your company and mine?” She gets straight to the point.

Bruce pulls out the folder and sets it on the desk, opening it to show a stack of paper clipped forms inside. He hands the stack over to Y/n who looks over the paperwork, flipping to the next page to read over each one.

“The first two pages are apart of a contract that one of the brokers investing in my company has signed. It would seem that they had added a clause involving your store and has been taking 40% of the shares since the start of this year.” Bruce explains.

“And you just so happened to just find out about this?” Y/n questions as she flips through the rest of the paperwork, seeing that they were obsolete to what she needed to know.

Bruce waits patiently as the woman continued to read the documents in hand. He then jumps back in his chair as the stacks of paper is thrown into his face, falling into his lap.

“What-“

“I think you’re full of shit, Mr. Wayne,”Y/n folds her hands on her desk again and gives him a blank look.

“You’re not going to just say that and think everything will be all good after what’s happened to my family business. I lost money, lots of money because you didn’t read the fine print, my business is at a point where I could lose it. So, I would suggest you and I swap our lawyer’s information because I am officially going to take you to court.” Y/n declares and Bruce’s eyes widen.

“Wait, Miss. L/n that is not necessary, I’m sure we can come to a conclusion-“

“Either hand me the information or I’ll call security to escort you out of my store. There should not be any more contact between you and me unless legal counsel is present.” Y/n slides over a pen and notepad then waits and Bruce sighs as he pulls out his phone and wrote down his lawyer’s phone number.

Y/n writes down her lawyer’s information and slides it over to him. Getting up, Y/n walks to her door and opens it, motioning for him to leave her office.

“Have a lovely day, Mr. Wayne.” Y/n says, not a once of sincerity in her tone. Bruce leaves and nods politely to her in passing.

Once Bruce is back in his car, the sigh that leaves him is long and full of aggravation. His phone rings in the cup holder and he picks it up, seeing that it was Alfred calling.

Answering it, Bruce puts it on speaker as he starts up his car.

“How did it go with Miss. L/n, sir?”

“Alfred, I need to have one of my suits ready for the next couple of weeks.” Bruce rubs his temples in annoyance.

“What for sir?”

“I’m officially being sued.” Is all he says and Alfred sighs through the phone.

“Well, I suppose this would happen sooner or later. Didn’t expect it to be so soon.” Alfred says.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Sir, there is an emergency beacon going off.” Alfred alerts

“Where?”

“I’m sending the coordinates to you now.” Bruce puts his car in drive to head into the city.

“Send the Batmobile to the coordinates I sent you, I’ll drop off my car and keep going from there.”

“Right away sir.” Alfred says and hangs up.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The security alarm blared from inside the jewelry store while the one who was sitting on a velvet Victorian chaise was busy looking at the necklaces of geodes and gems.

Black Sparrow puts back the less valuable items in the display case and takes the ones she wants over to the counter. The store owner was cowering behind the register and the woman couldn’t care less about the fear he felt.

“Look, why don’t you be a nice little man and wrap these up for me? Make sure you wrap it up nice, they’re presents for someone special.” She smiles and the owner trembles as he takes the handful of geodes in his hands.

“But, these aren’t worth a lot, why take them?” The man questions.

“I have more important things to answer than that. Still don’t know why you even set the alarm off for, all I did was walk in.” Sparrow shrugs.

“Well, you were wearing that getup and I thought that you were like that Catwoman, thieving about through Gotham.” He stutters. Sparrow hums.

“Oh yes, she is actually very cool, beautiful as well but, she doesn’t necessarily steal, just takes and puts it back. Also I’m not stealing this stuff, I’m buying it from you.” She says.

The manager didn’t know what to say but, diligently grabs the small boxes filled with cushions and places each necklace into them.

Once all twenty boxes were packed and wrapped, Sparrow pulls out a wad of cash and hands over the right amount of money to the man. He carefully takes the money and pushes the three bags across the counter to her.

“Thank you sir, have a great day.” Sparrow offers a smile and walks out of the store. Her bags rustled against her hips as she walked down the street to look over her new purchases.

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure they will like these necklaces.” Sparrow mutters and walks over to a nearby building, climbing up the fire escape ladder.

Once she was at the top of the building, Sparrow runs and jumps over to the next building over and onto the next.

Batman just so happens to see her figure jumping from roof to roof and gets out of the Batmobile.

Sparrow saw the dark knight and put it in the back of her head, she didn’t have time for him right now and thought it best to lose him.

Jumping through a window of an abandoned building, Sparrow made her way down the steps it held and climbs out another window leading to the building she was heading to.

The Gotham Orphanage sat in its wake in the lower banks of the city of Gotham and Sparrow made her way up the stairs to walk through the double doors.

Children were busy playing around the building, some taking turns on the playground that was in the middle of the house and Sparrow puts a hand on her hip.

“Hey, where’s my hello?” She announces and almost all of the children come rushing up to her in excitement.

“Sparrow is back!” One boy yells.

“Welcome back, Sparrow!” A girl exclaims.

Sparrow brings the majority of them into a big hug, and then hugs the rest individually that wasn’t able to get the loving she had plenty to give.

“Hey everyone, look what I got you.” She pulls out the boxes and hands each one to the children. They all gasped and awed at the presents then look up at her.

“Well go on, open them!” She encouraged them and they all scamper into the living area to open their gifts. The necklaces they held up in their hands gleamed in the light and some even placed them around their necks.

“Now, you don’t have to wear them as a necklace if you don’t want to,” Sparrow says and gently takes one of the children’s necklace from them. She shows them how the chain can be shortened and the geode charm was put on, now fancied into a bracelet.

“It can also be a chain to hang on your jeans as well, so it’s very versatile.” Sparrow hands the bracelet back to the girl she demonstrated and she happily put the now bracelet on her wrist.

“Thank you!” They all chimed and run off to go and play.

The head director of the orphanage comes up to Sparrow with a tired smile. She was a middle aged woman with dark grey hair and green eyes.

“Giving them more jewelry again, Sparrow?” She asks and Sparrow shrugs.

“I even got you something Miss. Janis.” Sparrow hands over a small bracelet to the woman who takes it in her right hand.

“Thank you. But you know you need to stop spoiling these children.”

“I’ve always told the kids that they can do what they like with their jewels so it’s no harm in giving them more.” She says. Miss Janis nods but then frowns sadly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, it would seem that the kids are handing over their jewelry to me for me to pawn it. The bills are beginning to pile up and I unfortunately don’t have any other options in order to pay for the house to stay running.”

“What? I thought the city was taking care of the expenses?” Sparrow asked, shocked.

“Just the food and clothing but not the property itself. I’m afraid we have another year left before we have to move out.” She said.

“I’ll get the money for you-“

“Sparrow, I don’t want you to worry about that, I’ll figure something out with the other directors. You just keep coming to see these children, they really love you.” She said and came close to hug her. Sparrow squeezed her close and sighed.

“Well get through this my dear, don’t you worry.”

“All I do is worry.” Sparrow pulls away.

&$$$$&&&$$$&&&$$$&&$$$$&&&$$&

This was suppose to be out yesterday but, my tumblr is acting up. Enjoy, make sure to like, reblog, and comment!

[draco-after-dark]

How do you think feral’s brozone (and co) would react to finding out about the support group?

Ooooooh this is an interesting one.

I also still need to do designs for Feral's brothers but not much changes just a few small things.

I'm going to take this in the direction of something me and a few other JD's group creators talked about before. It's basically a Brozone day where all the JD support group JD's and their brothers all meet up.

This also makes things easier because Feral can't tell his brothers about the group. For obvious reasons.

I guess it really depends on the timeframe. If were talking right after the third movie then they would all be pretty sad. They don't know where their JD is (except for Floyd but oof) and now here they are watching all these different JD's hanging out with their younger brothers. At least for the ones on good terms with each other.

They would definitely get approach by Eldest at one point or another. That man is wholesome and sweet to not check in on the group of brothers tucked in the corner with no JD insight or even near them.

Que sad convo where they explain they don't know where their JD is and that he's most likely dead. Eldest feels incredible bad and would defiantly make them hangout with his brothers for the rest of the event.

For Feral the event would be so over whelming he would tuck into a corner after running through the crowd trying to see if him brother might be here but would quickly start to panic and then run off. Hitman would probably find him hiding under a table cloth. Hitman would defiantly get some chips from grey and give Feral some snacks. Checking in on him periodically during the event.

Now if where talking a few moths after the third movie things would be a lot different. Feral would be so excited for him brothers to meet his fellow JD's. Upon entering the event he would pin point his favorite JD's very quick. Dragging all his brothers over to Eldest and Hitman. I can Feral grabbing the arms of which ever two brothers are closest to him and pulling them up into the air and shaking them around like a kid going "LOOK! LOOK! I FOUND THEM! WE FOUND EACH OTHER!"

I don't know if Eldest and Feral's brothers would recognize each other but i can see Eldest crying at the wholesome dynamic between them all. Feral's brothers all giving him head scratches like the animal his is. Feral trotting around with Floyd on his back as he gives then a tour of the house. Bruce and Feral starting a wrestling match in the living room. Snake would definingly be cheering on the sidelines or even join it dragging his brothers into the mix. So it just turns into one big play fight. Feral's Clay and Branch simple off to the side shaking their heads.

I can see Feral's Branch getting along with Grey easily and Grey giving Feral's Branch the info on the chip bag tactic. Branch may or may start keeping chips bags in his vest at all time incase a certain purple and green haired troll ever appears. Grey and Branch fist bump.

Also i see Feral grabbing Hitman abruptly when his mid conversation with some and picking him up only to place him down it front of his brothers and Hitman being the awkward man his is just stands stands well Feral starts wildly gesturing around. His brothers don't really know what his saying but clearly Feral really like this JD so after they get past the initial awkwardness they start talking. Also they all lose their minds over tiny Ronda. Clay most of all to where he starts going the shaking hands thing.

So yeah his brothers would be thrilled to know that even though their technically other versions of himself that Feral has a few nice and awesome people in his life.

It also explains where that chewed up prosthetic arm came from that they found in the bunker. Among a few other items.

So yeah they are very happy for Feral and it was nice for them to hear JD's voice again even if it's not their JD's.

Also they loose their minds over some of the stories Eldest and Grey tell them about Feral. Most notable is the chip bag and arm incidents.

They get mentioned so "Hey guys bet your weren't expecting this. L."

Eldest JD belongs to @matmiraculous

Hitman JD belongs to @lemony-and-zesty

Snake JD belongs to @gingisauce

Grey JD belongs to @ijjstlostthegame

[xxnomadsxx]

You know Mileena’s fatality from MK1 where she stabs her opponents head with two sais and twist them until the head can get pulled off?? (You should really see it to get a better idea)

Picture Nomad!Branch going hunting with a group of ferals trolls and for SOME reason BroZone decided to tag along with him?? (They don’t know how else to spend time with Bitty B, they’re desperate at this point 😭) They promise to be quite to not disturb them, and what do you know a critter does appear!! The group does it thing and manage to hold the critter down and the brothers think that Thing is going to be the one to put it down (honestly, they would have), so image to their absolute horror when Branch is the one to run at the snarling creature with two knives, stab both of them to its head, BREAKING and TWISTING its neck, to finally decapitating the creature and have its head rolling on the ground. The ferals and Branch all celebrate the kill since yay!!! food for the rest of the village for another week, meanwhile the brothers are losing their shit at their brother killing a critter so violently and IS HE LICKING THE BLOOD OFF HIS FINGERS (At least two brothers definitely fainted)????

Needless to say, BroZone needed a moment to process this and did NOT eat the meat during dinner that day trying to hold back tears at the loss of the mental image of baby Branch 😭😭. Meanwhile Branch and Thing are already talking about heading out again tomorrow (Cue to ANOTHER break down of BroZone trying to convince Branch not to go).

(I LOVE your Nomads AU!!!)

THANKS FOR THE LOVE!!!!!! I love this idea sooooo much AHHHH!!!❤️❤️❤️ if u have more pls do tell 😁😁

I’ve said before Branch only comes out on hunts for emergency (or trying to step out of his comfort zone) but since this takes place after they have been found, I like to think he has a easier time leaving the grey village once he knows the Bergens are cool now!

The story would be Branch and Thing wanting to bond (and get more food) by going on a hunt with some of the hunting squads, Brozone would overhear this plan (not putting in too much thought on what the hell a hunt was) and begged to go so they could spend more time together as a “family” (they are so desperate to spend time with Branch, they have no idea how to bond with him without it being something they did with him as a kid) Branch (reluctantly) agrees some cheering happens, the brothers get some gear and their on their way.

They honestly thought they were just gathering berries or playing a game and you know no not hunting HUGE DANGEROUS WILD ANIMALS!!!! The hunt trip overall consists of Bruce and Floyd being bad at being sneaky (Clay and John are like stealth masters) Thing keeps trying to piss Brozone off by being super close with Branch and doing “family stuff” (or what he thinks family stuff is) basically just rubbing their Brotherhood in the other bros faces(they are seething with jealousy) The brothers are also trying to “protect” Branch by shielding him or getting ready to “fight” when they hear a noise (their not the best at “protecting” Branch well besides John of course)

Soon when the hunt looks like a failed trip a GIANT CRITTER comes out!!! The hunting sqaud does its thing and gets the critter tied down as they wait for the killing blow. The brothers at this point circled around Branch to “defend” him from the beast and the bros are just waiting for Thing to handle-…why is Thing just standing there?!?Why aren’t they running at the opportunity to kill?!? why are they starring at Brozone with a knowing look and smug smile?!??

Yelling that’s what the brothers heard before Branch jumped over them and took two daggers out of his hair. He proceeded to stab them into the beasts head, as he quickly twisted them BREAKING the creature’s head off as it rolls limply on the ground… The cheers of the hunters were tuned out by the horror that is currently overwhelming Brozone they just saw their sweet baby brother (who would cry over stepping on a fly) who has just killed a critter 20x his size, he was so sweet and innocent what happe- OH MY TROLL IS HE LICKING THE BLOOD OFF HIS FINGERS, WHAT THE FU-(so Floyd and spruce fainted, John and Clay were standing due to years of being desensitized to this kind of thing, Clay is trying not to puke as John is slacked jawed at the site of Branch )

When they got back they just had these horrified looks on their face but no one payed to much attention to them, except for Branch fretting over them asking if they were ok (the brothers would find it adorable that Branch cared so much if they weren’t currently losing their minds at the moment) When they sit for dinner they are trying their best not to breakdown as the meat of the creature Branch killed was sitting right in front of them taunting them as the horrible revelation of Branch not being their Bitty B anymore is finally sinking in. Next to them Branch and Thing are chatting about going out again tomorrow for ✨funzies✨!! Cue Brozone immediately panicking and begging Branch not to go as they are currently having a complete meltdown while holding Branch trying to keep him their with them (Branch panickingly agreed so they would calm down, he was so scared ) Thing was not amused that they just ruined bonding time 😐

[toulousewayne]

Batfamily Shenanigans:Head-canons Pt: 3

Even though has vigilantes they Batfam drive several different vehicles, most of them don’t have a license or got it late. Steph,Cass,Duke, and Damian don’t have licenses. Dick,Tim, and Barbara have licensed, Jason has a fake license due to the fact he and Bruce were supposed to declare him not dead but both have forgotten and he just gets Barbara to update it if it expires.

Speaking of cars I feel like those that can drive have favorite or one specific vehicle that use.

Bruce drives an all grey Lamborghini or a red Porsche.

Dick has a older Porsche in green.

Barbara had a yellow buggy when she was younger but now she has a black SUV.

Tim usually takes one of Bruce’s Mercedes.

Jason has two motorcycles and a older impala he fixed up in his spare time.

Damian likes to paint his sisters nails, he finds it calming. Stephanie is his favorite, Cass only likes her nails painted sometimes not all the time and Babs picks at her nails when she’s stressed. Stephanie let’s him pick the color and the just sit in his room while he paints.

Bruce has a large collection of alcohol but he himself doesn’t drink.

Alfred has a notebook with a contact for each family member in case they won’t listen to him or needs help. Bruce has Clark, Dick has Wally, Jason has Roy, Tim has Conner, Damian has Jon, and Barbara has Dinah. If plan A fails he’ll call plan B for any of them. Diana.

Tim has Hypoglycemia.

Dick has the most tattoos. It’s only five and their all small.

Bruce can’t stand the smell of gasoline it reminds him of when he lost Jason.

Alfred will order pizza once a month. One to give him a break and two because no eats the same pizza so he has order everyone their own whole pizza. It goes as followed.

Bruce doesn’t really like pizza that much but he eat what kind Alfred orders him, Dick is a Hawaii pizza Guy pineapple and all, Jason likes Buffalo chicken pizza, Tim likes pepperoni, Damian of course gets vegetarian, Duke what pepperoni and nothing else, Stephanie like plain cheese, Cass likes Pepperoni and and black olives, Barbara likes Supreme,and Alfred doesn’t like pizza he likes the cheesy garlic bread or flatbread pizza.

Personally I think of Jason has either half Latino and Italian or Puerto Rican, Tim has Korean American.

In that same vein, I see the Batfamily in this height range: Jason is 6’2-6’3, Bruce is 6’2,Alfred is 6’1, Duke is 6’0, Dick is 5’11, Barbara is 5’10, Stephanie and Cassandra are 5’9,Tim is 5’8, Damian is 5’5.

Also, we all know Tim is Bi,Selina is Bi and Kate is a lesbian. I see the other Bats as different sexual orientation as well. Dick is Pan, Jason is Asexual, Stephanie is Pan, Cass and Damian are both Aromatic, Duke is straight, and Barbara is Bicurious but is comfortable to enough to appreciate beautiful women. Bruce is Bi and just doesn’t know it yet.

Cass is very good a tending to different hairstyles and textures. She braids Babs,Steph and Dick’s hair. She’s also helps Damian and Bruce with their hair due to over styling it putting to much product in their hair. She also cuts Dick’s hair when it gets to long and greasy.

Duke is very good baking and his sweets are high on everyone’s lists like Alfred.

Stephanie definitely is the Big Sister Damian always needed. She pranks him, teases him about his crushes, but she also leaves her apartment window unlocked for Damian to enter at anytime of the night when he feels overwhelmed and doesn’t want to go to Bludhaven. She takes him to his favorite art supply store in Gotham Heights, and even gifts him stuff for his next project.

Tim is definitely the lost child of Dick and Barbara. Even though the two aren’t together and have different relationships(another head cannon), Tim is pretty much their child of divorce. They both have check his location to make sure he’s not trying to burn down LexCorp, or if he hasn’t left is room for three days straight Tim might find it strange that all tech disabled except for his phone but it’s reprogrammed to only call Barbara and only then will she fix it devices. Dick will just randomly enter Tim’s office at Wayne Enterprises and will mess with his stuff while Tim’s on a zoom meeting. And once he’s done he will ask Tim what’s their plans for lunch.

Selina and Talia both will make random trips to Wayne Manor to check on their children. Selina has threatened Bruce’s life numerous times for shouting at Dick or Duke. Bruce has woken up in the middle of the night to a dagger drawn to his throat he knows it’s Talia and all she says is, “Don’t make me have to have this talk again beloved, I’d hate for poor Alfred to have to clean up your room.”

Tim and Damian both hate mint chocolate chip ice cream. Cass finds it enjoyable and will help eat their portions if she needs to.

Duke taught Damian how to play Spades, and in return Damian taught him to paint so he could paint his girlfriend a gift for their anniversary.

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

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

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

short but crucial moments between the fam <3

part thirty-two

❝ REUNIONS ❞

TUESDAY — AUGUST 18 — 1:07PM

THE FIRST THING BENTLEY HEARD WAS THE BEEPING OF A HEART MONITOR. 

He took a deep breath. He was laying on something comfortable now, and his shoulder — the one that had been shot — felt like it had been tampered with. His right arm was close to his body and he couldn’t move it all that much. Something really warm was pressed up against the whole left side of his body, too.

His brain was still kind of hazy, but a different kind of hazy than before — less of a I’m-about-to-die haze, and more of a painkiller-high haze.

Still, all the painkillers could do was dull the endless aching that originated in his shoulder and reverberated through his bones. He wasn’t sure what had happened — did people stitch up bullet holes? — but it was still pretty painful. 

When he pulled his eyes open, he was blinded by the white lights of the cave’s medbay, and a shooting pain shot through his skull. He made a small whine of discomfort and squeezed them shut. Why were the lights so bright?

A hand landed gently on his forehead, and he almost started crying right then. Because it wasn’t Nico or Asten or Davis or just anyone touching him, it was the real deal, he was actually home, actually alive, and Bruce was actually touching him. He thought.

He peeled his eyes open again just to make sure, and the back of his eyes began to burn at the sight of Bruce, sitting in a chair not a foot from the bed in the batcave’s medbay, his grey-blue irises trained on Bentley’s face.

“Hey there, chum,”

Bentley looked away, (don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.) and instead, focused on himself. He was wearing his own hand-me-down Wonder Woman pajamas now (he’d never loved them so much.) His right arm was in a blue sling, and there was an IV going into his left hand. Really, his entire body was aching in some way or another, but instead of dwelling on all of that, he looked over to the warm thing that was pressed into his left side. 

It ended up being a very worn-down looking Dick Grayson that was curled up on the edge of the hospital bed, sleeping soundly, with an IV of his own in his arm. His black hair was tousled and messy, hanging down over his eyes, and he looked paler than usual. One arm was folded beneath his head while the other was extended toward Bentley, resting on his left shoulder.

He was home.

He worked up the courage to look back at Bruce, but when he plastered on a reassuring smile, Bentley promptly peered into the rest of the cave. The Batcomputer was empty, and Bentley couldn’t see anyone else.

Bruce kept brushing his hand over his hair. “How are you feeling?”

Bentley thought about shrugging, but that would be stupid. He also thought about trying sign, but he didn’t have both hands. He definitely wasn’t going to talk, lest he burst into tears, so instead, he lifted his left hand ever so subtly and finger-spelled: bad.

Bruce took in a breath through his nose, a sort of hazy film covering his eyes as he continued to brush Bentley’s hair back soothingly. “I’m so proud of you, Bentley. You made it home.”

Bentley really had to stare at the ceiling, good and hard that time. Bruce was proud of him? Proud of him for running away, for chasing a supervillain, for breaking into someone’s cabin, for getting himself kidnapped? How was he ever supposed to work up the nerve to tell him all of that? Sure, he hadescaped, he had made it home, but not on his own, only after his idiotic decisions had gotten him there in the first place. There was nothing for Bruce to be proud of. 

You worthless waste of oxygen, John Whittaker’s voice came and left him blinking back a sting in his eyes. Why couldn’t he do anything right? Every time he tried to do something helpful or good it always ended up backfiring, getting him hurt, getting him kidnapped, getting him laid in a hospital bed with Wayne’s at his side. Why couldn’t he do anything right? This time he hadn’t even attempted it alone — he had friends at his side, and still, it was disastrous.

Bentley Whittaker, you are a walking disaster.

Why did the insult hurt worse now than it had then? His father always called him worthless, useless, a disaster. Did it hurt worse now because the Wayne’s went out of their way to tell him he wasn’t, but he still really, really was? And he knew he was? All the evidence was laid out neatly before him: Bentley Whittaker was a disaster. 

And still, they loved him.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Bentley looked around the medbay to keep his eyes occupied, at the other hospital beds that were to either side of his. Much to his surprise, he was currently the only one in the medbay, if he didn’t count Dick. Alfred (who he hadn’t seen before.) was running tests on the other end of the room, and the beds that were once inhabited by Tim, Jason, and Damian were empty.

Slowly, he lifted his hand and finger-spelled: Damian?

Bruce smiled fondly. “He woke up… about twelve hours ago. Jason, too. They’re upstairs now.”

Bentley sighed softly, then spelled: Tim?

“He still isn’t feeling well, but he’s doing much better. He’s upstairs as well,” Bruce explained softly.

Bentley glanced over at Dick, his eyes traveling across the IV in his hand. Dick? He signed.

“He’s okay, just a little worn,” Bruce explained, making sure to keep that reassuring smile plastered on. “You were gone for twenty-six hours, and Nightwing was out searching for twenty-three of them. You’ve been in the cave for about thirteen.”

And that made Bentley feel even worse than he already did. He knew that’s not what Bruce intended by telling him that, but it’s what happened, anyway. So Bentley looked back at the too-bright ceiling with a small exhale.

Bruce moved his chair closer with a small squeak. “Should you ever want to talk about what happened, we’ll listen. But for now, we’re just relieved you’re home.”

Bentley said nothing, but like a bell that was coming to save him, Dick began to stir. It wasn’t but five seconds before his bright ocean blue eyes flitted open, focusing on the rest of the room, then Bruce, then Bentley. He inhaled sharply, his blue eyes very suddenly and quickly brimming with tears, before he hugged Bentley as gently as he could and his his face away in his hair.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, Bentley found himself saying again. There was suddenly a hand in front of his face that finger-spelled: I love you.

So Dick still wasn’t talking, then. Bentley had forgotten about that part. He didn’t mind, though — staring at various parts of the batcave was good enough for him. Communicating thoroughly wasn’t really on his radar at that point anyhow.

For a while (a long while) Dick just cried. Which was fine. Bentley just let him. It felt like he was being eaten alive by guilt, anyways, so the least he could do was let Dick cry it out with him.

Dick’s pain was his fault, his mind kept saying. Everyone’s pain was his fault. Bentley’s. His father was the one who ran the experimenting facility. His father was testing the Synchronizers on other people so he could eventually do it to him. If he’d have just gone through with his father’s plan last year, Keene and his metahumans wouldn’t have a vendetta against Batman. The Secret Keeper wouldn’t be attacking them. If he’d have just done what he was told for once in his life, people wouldn’t be dead, his family wouldn’t be hurt, and Gotham would be fine.

Everything was always his fault. Why couldn’t he do anything right?

He forced himself to keep it together and stared at the ceiling some more. There had to be a way for him to fix this. To destroy the whole empire his father had built, for his family. There had to be a way to do it without involving Asten and Nico, so they wouldn’t get in trouble. There had to be a way to do it alone. Himself, so he’d stop hurting people. Didn’t there?

You’ve gotten yourself into this hole, claw yourself out, John Whittaker’s voice came.

He could do that. He could. After all, John Whittaker didn’t give up. He stillhadn’t. And John Whittaker’s blood was running through Bentley Whittaker’s veins.

He could fix it all.

But for now, fixing it looked like giving Dick a shoulder to cry on. And he could do that.

So he did.

—

The second time he woke up, someone was talking.

“I about decided I didn't like it so much, though, when I spotted that red Corvair trailing me. I was almost two blocks from home then, so I started walking a little faster. I had never been jumped, but I had seen Johnny after four Socs got hold of him, and it wasn't pretty. Johnny was scared of his own shadow after that. Johnny was sixteen then,”

Bentley pulled his heavy eyes open, glancing around the medbay. Dick was no longer at his side, and there was only one person in his vision — the one reading his favorite book to him.

When Bentley fully comprehended that Bruce’s seat had been taken by a certain Wayne with white-streaked hair, he pushed himself up.

“Jason?”

It was the first word he’d forced out since he’d made it to the doorstep of Wayne Manor, all raspy and weird sounding. Jason looked up at him, his bluish eyes dull with something Bentley couldn’t place. He was wearing a hoodie that Bentley was pretty sure he’d seen Dick wear before, and he had the hardcover The Outsiders in one hand.

CRACK!

Dad!

CRACK!

CRACK!

The sounds of a crowbar hitting flesh plagued his mind, and all of his keeping it together seemed to be futile. He hadn’t let himself cry thus far, not when Dick was crying, not when Bruce was talking to him, not ever. But now, when Jason was looking at him with his little white streak that was hanging down near his forehead, reading to him with his Crime Alley drawl, healthy and here and alive, Bentley didn’t have enough willpower to stifle the burn behind his eyes.

“Hey, kid. What’s going on?” Jason asked gently, lowering the book until it rested on the edge of the bed. Bentley brought his left arm up to cover his eyes, but it wasn’t much use. He let out a few small, pitiful sounding sobs anyways.

“Do you want me to go get Dick?” Jason continued, somewhat anxiously as he glanced around the cave. “I’ll go get Dick.”

“No!” Bentley croaked, uncovering his face and scrubbing at his teary eyes. “Don’t go.”

Jason didn’t move, but he didn’t exactly seem comfortable, either. Man, Bentley was just screwing stuff up left and right, wasn’t he?

“I just… Can I… have a hug?”

He really didn’t know what to expect from Jason — he’d always been particular about touching Bentley, abuse survivor to abuse survivor, so maybe the question was totally  out of bounds. Maybe Bentley should’ve thought about it first. (He wasn’t very good at that anymore.)

Jason steeled for a moment, blinking just a couple times, and Bentley looked away, trying (and failing) to stop crying. Jason was next to him and Jason was alive. He wasn’t  Robin, he wasn’t dead in a warehouse. He was alive.

After a moment, Jason replied: “Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

Bentley moved to the edge of the hospital bed sort of awkwardly. The whole thing was kind of awkward, actually, since Bentley was on the bed and Jason was in a chair, but they ended up making it work. Bentley rested his head on Jason’s shoulder and looped his (one) arm around his neck. He could feel his pulse under his fingers — he was alive.

Bentley sniffled deeply, tightening his hold ever-so-slightly. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” He whispered as a few more tears rolled freely down his face.

Jason tensed for a brief moment, and not a word fell from his lips. Had he ever been told that before?

A moment later, the tenseness left, and Jason let out an exhale.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” He replied, his voice thick with something Bentley couldn’t place. 

So was he. He was glad he was alive and Jason was alive and Tim was alive and Dick was alive and Damian was alive and everybody was alive… except maybe Davis.

That sent a pang of sadness ringing through him, and he balled up the back of Jason’s hoodie in his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut when a new wave of tears shook his body for a completely different reason. “I’m really scared.”

Jason adjusted his arms around him. “No one’s going to touch you here,” He replied, exhaling. “I promise.”

For some reason, it sounded more like a threat than a promise. But not a threat toward Bentley.

The child hid his face away  in the hoodie. “I love you.”

There was another moment where Jason tensed, and Bentley was afraid he’d said the wrong thing. Maybe he did. Why would he say that? He held onto Jason in fear he might let go of him.

But he didn’t. 

“Bruce said you read to me,” Jason said, and Bentley felt his hand move ever so slightly on his back. “I could hear you sometimes.”

Bentley sniffed. “I messed up a lot.”

“I was stuck. In the same memory over and over. I would’ve lost my mind if I couldn’t hear you,” He explained softly. “So, thank you. And I… I love you, too, kid.”

Oh, great, now Bentley was really crying. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but he could probably guess what memory Jason had been stuck in — the same one that Bentley had seen in the Synchronizer. And, by extension, it was all his fault. 

How was he supposed to fix a problem so big? Every time he’d tried it just seemed to multiply. Maybe he wasn’t hitting the right places.

If you’re killing a man, you shoot for the heart. If you’re killing a snake, you chop its head off. He didn’t need to go for the Secret Keeper or Dr. Keene or any other branch of the operation — he needed to aim for the most vital part, the source of it all.

Bentley needed to go see his father.

But right now, he settled for hugging Jason.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

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