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dollishmehrayan · 7 days ago

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# CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATING AND CHAOS ── .✦ ( decorating trees with batboys ‘separated’! ⋆౨ৎ

a/n: I literally feel so happy genuinely now, I guess my mental health is getting better && anyways i have 64 requests to get to… i truly need to speed run through these but some I can’t do sadly 😭 so sorryy ᥫ᭡, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The king of enthusiasm: As soon as you suggest decorating the tree together, he’s all in.

“We’re going for the most extra tree Gotham has ever seen!” He wants it tall enough to touch the ceiling and glittery enough to blind someone.

He’s the guy who insists on climbing to the very top to put on the star, even though he wobbles dangerously on the ladder.

Sings Christmas songs (terribly off-key he’s also like tone deaf and beat deaf it’s a curse to hear him sing something at karaoke) while you decorate, complete with dramatic twirls and spins around the tree.

Accidentally tangles himself in the lights at least twice. “I’m fine, I’m fine! I was just… testing the durability!”

Insists on taking a million photos of you with the finished tree, calling you his “Christmas angel.”

When it’s all done, he dims the lights, wraps an arm around you, and whispers, “This might be my favorite Christmas ever.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

He pretends to be indifferent. “Decorating a tree? Sounds boring.” But the second you start, he’s invested.

He’s surprisingly good at untangling lights and getting them perfectly spaced on the tree. “What? I’ve got steady hands.”

Jason leans into more minimalistic decor deep reds, dark greens, and gold accents but he lets you take the lead. “You want glittery ornaments? Fine. But I draw the line at tinsel.” (he’s like those sad beige moms but with like dark traditional Christmas colors…)

Complains about how prickly the tree is the entire time but still helps you string popcorn garlands because he knows it makes you happy.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

He’s excited about decorating but is terrible at it. Tim tries, but he’s way better at figuring out the tech side of things (like synchronized tree lights) than actually hanging ornaments.

Spends 20 minutes untangling lights and another 20 trying to figure out why one strand isn’t working. “It’s science! There’s a method to this madness.”

He’s the type to sneak a caffeine break halfway through while you keep decorating. “What? I need fuel to focus!”

Insists on hanging some nerdy ornaments—little Batman logos, Star Wars-themed ones, or even a tiny Robin figurine.

When you get frustrated with his lack of artistic flair, he pulls you close and says, “Hey, at least I’m good company, right?”

After it’s all done, he insists on dimming the lights and turning on the synchronized tree music. “Look at that. A masterpiece.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Initially acts like it’s beneath him. “Why would I waste time decorating a tree?” But he ends up being surprisingly good at it.

Damian has an eye for symmetry, so every ornament has to be perfectly spaced. “No, that one is too close to the red one. Move it.”

If you mention that decorating the tree is a nostalgic tradition for you, he softens immediately. “Fine. But this had better be worth it.”

He refuses to wear a Christmas sweater, but you catch him smiling when you put on a ridiculous reindeer headband.

Titus gets involved, carrying around ornaments and wagging his tail, which Damian pretends to be annoyed by but secretly loves.

When the tree is finished, he stands back with his arms crossed, pretending not to care. But when you beam at him, he quietly says, “It looks… nice. I suppose this wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

(He buys like 40 ft Christmas trees for the main ball in the manor and like that’s almost impossible to decorate without professionals)

The ultimate perfectionist. He has a very clear vision for the tree, but he tries to let you take the lead. “It’s your tradition. I’ll follow your lead… mostly.”

Insists on using the tallest tree that will fit in Wayne Manor and hires a team to bring it in.

He’s all about elegant, classic decorations white lights, glass ornaments, and a tasteful tree topper. But if you want colorful lights or quirky ornaments, he’ll indulge you.

Offers to lift you up to reach the highest branches instead of letting you use a ladder. “I don’t need you breaking your neck before the gala.”

Alfred brings hot cocoa and cookies halfway through, smiling at how relaxed Bruce looks around you.

When the tree is done, he turns to you and says, “It’s perfect. Just like this moment.” Then he pulls you into a rare, heartfelt kiss under the twinkling lights.

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flwrkid14 · 1 month ago

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Tim Drake’s Worst Nightmare: Ra’s al Ghul’s Matchmaking Skills

It started with a mission.

Tim hadn’t expected to be sent after a new ghost anomaly, much less one that was human-shaped and strangely familiar. But when he found himself face-to-face with Danny—a teenager who radiated Lazarus energy like it was his second skin—things got weird. Fast.

Cue the League of Assassins bursting onto the scene, followed by a dramatic entrance from none other than Ra’s al Ghul himself.

And that’s when Tim learned the big, world-shattering truth: Danny was Ra’s al Ghul’s son. Not adopted. Biological.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Tim stood, slack-jawed, watching Ra’s beam with the kind of pride usually reserved for conquering cities. Danny, standing awkwardly next to him, scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, so, uh… surprise?” Danny offered.

Ra’s spread his arms wide. “Timothy! This is a joyous day. My son, Daniel, has found you at last.”

Tim blinked. “Found me?”

Danny shuffled nervously. “Uh, yeah. You’re kind of… important to the family now.”

Tim’s brain short-circuited.

———

The Heir Situation

Because here’s the kicker: Ra’s had been trying to get Tim to join the League for years. He saw Tim as a potential heir. But now, with Danny in the picture, Ra’s had an even better idea.

“Through Daniel,” Ra’s explained, practically glowing, “I can finally bring you into the family as I always intended.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not marrying into the League of Assassins.”

Danny choked. “Wait, what?!”

Ra’s nodded sagely. “I see you are both shy about it. No matter! Destiny has a way of unfolding as it should.”

Tim and Danny exchanged horrified glances.

———

Danny and Tim’s Relationship

Despite the chaos, Danny and Tim clicked. Danny was chaotic but genuine, a refreshing contrast to the constant stress of Gotham. And Tim? Tim was the most grounded person Danny had ever met.

“You know, you don’t have to listen to Ra’s,” Tim pointed out after one particularly tense League encounter.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, but if I don’t humor him, he gets pouty.”

Tim snorted. “Ra’s al Ghul? Pouty?”

“You have no idea.”

———

The Batfamily’s Reaction

When Tim brought Danny back to Gotham, the batfam had questions.

Bruce: “He’s… Ra’s’ son?”

Tim: “Yep.”

Jason: “And you’re… what, his fiancé now?”

Tim: screaming internally

Danny: “I’M RIGHT HERE.”

Damian, eyes wide: “Uncle?”

Danny grinned. “Hey, kiddo.”

Damian, flustered: “I—no. This cannot be.”

———

Ra’s Is Thrilled

Back in Nanda Parbat, Ra’s couldn’t be happier. Every time Tim showed up, Ra’s looked like Christmas came early.

Ra’s: “Timothy, you and Daniel are a perfect match.”

Tim: “In what universe?”

Danny: “Technically, several.”

———

Danny Was Happy.

That was the problem.

Tim might hate making Ra’s happy, but… Danny was different.

Danny liked being part of the League. He liked the structure, the weird family dynamic. He liked the purpose. And he was thriving.

Tim couldn’t ruin that.

Tim didn’t want to make Ra’s happy—he’d rather swallow glass—but he did want to make Danny happy.

And if that meant putting up with Ra’s al Ghul’s matchmaking schemes, well…

Tim gritted his teeth and endured.

———

Tim’s Inner Monologue:

“Being with Danny isn’t the issue. The issue is that it makes Ra’s happy. And I refuse to let that man win.”

Danny: smirking “You’re fighting a losing battle.”

Tim: “Shut up.”

Danny: “Love you too.”

#tim drake #brain dead #dead tired #danny al ghul #ra's al ghul #tim simp era #ra's is too happy and that simply can not do #someone save tim (but not really)#danny is an al ghul and tim suffers for it but its okay because tim loves danny #ra's wants tim to either have or be his heir #he's not picky

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glow-worms-are-believers · 7 months ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Damian," Mother said warningly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Danyal," she started.

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

"I will go," she said.

"You cannot."

"Danyal-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danyal bowed his head deferential and did not answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#dc x dp #dp x dc #twins au #despite them being pitted against each other they love each other #Danny Fenton #danyal al ghul #Damian Wayne #damian al ghul #roxpox #roxpoxwrote #Every time I write about the Al Ghul family I feel like it always ends up giving shakespearian family tragedy/Hamlet vibes #These bitches be so dramatic

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months ago

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This may sound cliché but how would batboys react to their rlly shy gf trying to do the 1st move before them aka holding hand but cannot, hands trembling, red cheeks and biting lips from frustration?

Literally like a pouting chipmunk/hamster on the spot.

Dick

Would smile at how adorable you looked with flustered face, trying your hardest to incite holding his hand, only to back out when you felt as though you’d pass out from how warm you were making yourself.

He will coo at how precious you were being while cupping your face in his hands and asked ‘can I kiss your face senseless pretty cutie?’ And when you gave him a affirmative answer, dick was more then ready to start smothering your face in kisses a plenty, so much so that he could feel your cheeks warming up beneath his lips that he got addicted to how cute you were while respecting your boundaries.

He knows how much pressure you put yourself under when trying to hold his hand, so dick will take the burden off of your shoulders and hold your hand for you while wearing the biggest smile on his face.

Dick adored you but didn’t want you to push yourself out of your comfort zone when you were nowhere near ready yet, he appreciated that you were trying but he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable for doing this just for him and so he’ll gladly make the first move forever and always until you feel like you could easily do so without stressing yourself over it to the point where you just kinda shut down.

He doesn’t want you, his beloved shy sweetheart, to feel as though you were meant to make the first move when you were uncertain about how to hold his hand, dick will continue to do anything and everything he could even if it meant making himself look like an idiot, just so it meant that you can keep in your comfort zones just a little while longer. So let him hold your hand instead and relax, he’s got you.

Tim

Probably just as awkward as you were when trying to hold his hand, he wants to hold your hand too but tends to overthink how he could do so without coming across weird, too assertive or anything else that would shy you away from showing him affection.

Had sweaty palms and would accidentally swipe his hand away from yours when he feels you wanting to hold his hand, just to wipe his palms on his pants before offering it back to you with a soft smile.

You’re both trying to work through it and there have been countless times where ‘sorry’ had left your lips almost every second of every day when trying to hold his hand, only for Tim to wave it off and awkwardly grab your hand himself.

Or you’d both stand there like a pair of awkward goobers who was straining every muscle in their bodies just to hold pinkies. It’s hilarious as it was sad, but Tim is smart enough to know what you want and is more then willing to give it too you, and yet he also suffers from the same thing that riddled you and so there were times where you’re both just staring at each others hands with a want and need to hold.

So when you did finally hold hands, you’re not thrown into another situation of when was enough hand holding before you got sweaty palms and weird your partner out, so you both end up keeping up the hand holding and get sweaty palms regardless.

Damian

Grabs your hand while muttering under his breath with a flustered expression, ‘fucking commit and hold my hand.’

He wants you to hold his hand even if his resting bitch face says otherwise, so please give him what he so desperately wants and holds his hand, he wants your hand pressed against his.

He’s starved for any and all affection from you however he could but lacked the voice to speak upon his desires, which is very odd for him, considering how easily he could speak his mind but the moment you hold his face in his hands nothing else mattered to Damian.

He just wants your affection but lacks the courage to say so without it coming across as harsh or demanding towards your much more shy and sensitive nature.

So sometimes he’ll probably pout and hold out his hand in your direction and wait as long as he needs for you to get the hint and hold his damn hand, or even walks up to you and snatches your hand himself, all the while keeping a firm but protective grip on it at all times through the rest of the day.

Jason

Would give signals to you that he wants you to hold his hand but didn’t want to push you into do so.

He wanted you to go at your own pace as while he wanted it just as bad, if not worse then you, he wanted you to learn that he wasn’t going to bat your hand away when you needed comfort from him.

He would coo at how cute you are being and kiss for your head and whisper ‘here let me show you.’ Before gently grabbing your hand, put it in his and intertwined your fingers as he soon grew addicted to the visual of your hand being swamped by his own, protected and safe as a hand could be. ‘It’s not so scary and I would never push your affection away, never you hear me chipmunk?’

You’d hum and Jason would kiss your forehead again as he drew you into his arms, allowing his scent to calm you down. Jason loved that you loved him enough to want to hold his hand, but didn’t want you to struggle in doing so if you weren’t ready to do so yet.

He didn’t want you to hurt yourself to give him affection just because that was expected of you. Much like Dick, he’d take the weight off of your shoulders and hold your hand instead, hold you close to his chest and greet you with soft kisses and affectionate words of comfort.

‘You did great peanut, I’m so proud of you.’ He’d whisper against your head as he squeezed your hand in his own, allowing you to feel all his callouses and fall more in love with this man who had the softest heart.

Bruce

Would just gently take your hand in his, squeeze it comfortingly and maybe press a kiss to the back of it, all while in silence as he multitasked.

Bruce wanted you to feel comfortable enough to incite the hand holding but was more than willing to meet you halfway if you became too shy or overwhelmed to do so yourself. He’s not use to affection himself but he was more than welcoming of your affection and would never turn it away unless he had a reason to, which was rare.

He doesn’t bring too much attention to your want to hold his hand, he didn’t wish to push you even more into the spotlight then you already have done to yourself mentally, he just continues on with his day while having your hand intertwined with his.

He made sure that Alfred didn’t say anything of it either just so he could hold your hand a little while longer, it calmed him and grounded him when he needed it most, you didn’t think much of your touch nor the effect it had, but Bruce thought about it on a daily basis to the point where he can not be clam nor rational without holding you somehow.

There were no words spoken between you two as the little squeezes of hands and softest of sighs passing lips were enough for him to know that his touch had just as much of a calming effect on you too. And so with a small smile on his face, Bruce squeezed your once more before pressing a kiss to it as he tugs you through the manor and back to bed.

‘Don’t pressure yourself, if you don’t feel comfortable then don’t force yourself into doing so. Allow me to uptake the things that you aren’t ready to do just yet.’ He would whisper to you before gently coddling you against his chest as you both feel asleep, making sure that his back was towards the door, always the protective lover.

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msfantasy-comics · 1 year ago

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The Little Three

Platonic!Damian Wayne x WonderGirl!Reader x Platonic!Jon Kent

Summary: A short story on “really want to see just a cute little platonic relationship with a reader who’s wonder woman’s daughter with damian wayne and jon kent. like a mini trinity goofing around while bruce, clark and diana are like “oh hell 😐”

A/n: Inspired by this post

Masterlist - Tip Jar

“Obviously Jon will be the best leader.” Y/n declares, finger outright pointing towards the half kryptonian. Damian’s snorts at such a blasphemous proclamation.

“That is ridiculous, I am obviously the best suited to be a leader. If you two went on a mission by yourselves you would not even develop a sound strategy. Jon would come up with a half-baked plan which will quickly crumble, while you would just go to the location and wreck havoc until you win.” Damian accuses, a signature bat frown now adorning his features.

Y/n just rolls her eyes with a groan. “It’s part of my strategy to overwhelm the enemy… it always works.” Which only grates on Damian’s nerves.

“You are only proving my point further. It is reckless and stupid. You cannot be successful by being a brute.” A high pitched gasp escapes, Y/n’s hands now slamming down onto the table.

“Shut up Damian! Just because you don’t like my battle strategy, doesn’t mean you’re better.” Smirking he crosses his arms over his chest, feet now kicked up on top of the hologram table.

“I am better than you, because I am smarter, stronger and better trained than you.” Jon slouches further back into his seat, nervousness creeping up his spin at the familiar dispute.

“Guys… let’s just calm down -“

“Oh shut up you annoying little rat! How about a game of capture the flag to prove who should be the teams leader. Whoever captures the flag wins!” Y/n asserts, fist outstretched waiting for Jon and Damian to fist bump in agreement.

“You are on Little Wonder.” Damian stretches his fist out, bumping the young wonders knuckles with his own. Y/n only clenches her jaw in irritation.

“Don’t call me that, Shorty!”

“Not all of us are born with Amazonian genetics freak!” Y/n and Damian are just about pressing noses, now playing an unspoken game of chicken.

Jon continues to stand behind them pinching the bridge of his nose. The soft ticks and beeps sounding off from the technology around them. The Justice watchtower now shifting and readjusting before settling back to a set position. “Guys… I’m not encouraging this I’m out.” Jon crosses his arms, launching himself backwards into the leather seat again, he turns his attention back to the holographic table, checking for his Dad’s location and only hoping that the pin is moving back towards the tower. Y/n and Damian only meet eyes with a knowing smirk.

“Jon’s the flag?” Y/n asks only getting a small nod from Damian.

“On your mark.” Damian says which only makes Jon’s eye bulge.

“Guys - stop! I said I didn’t want to be part of your games!” The two devils only smile as if not hearing his refusal.

“Get set.” Y/n says, the two now shifting their weight to the balls of their heels. Jon growls twisting and taking off in a quick dash.

“Go!” Damian and Y/n both shout taking off at inhuman speeds, eager to catch their human(?) flag.

Damian pulls out his bat gun, launching a wire and hook into the long wall in an attempt to quick zip line towards Jon only for Y/n to grab the wire and snap it with her bare hands.

“Leave me alone!” Jon shouts, the sonic sound of his shout vibrating the objects around him.

“You’re mine!” Y/n springs out, grabbing the corner of Jon’s jacket only for Jon to step away launching Y/n head first into the large computers and screens with a loud crack. The screens glass sprays across the floor, the Amazonian only jumps up and bounds towards Jon without a second to spare.

“Launch emergency Kryptonite!” Damian shouts into his suit mic now throwing lethal batarangs and recalling the projectiles. Jon only evading the objects by mere millimeters.

The projectiles where only continuously puncturing the steel walls and solid objects around. Sparks fly as Damian hits an electric reserve.

The red emergency lights now blaring a warning.

But the three pay no mind to the danger alarm, Y/n and Damian too absorbed in capturing their objective. Jon too distracted to not getting injured.

————

“Code Red, Watchtower is under attack.” An AI Voice announces into the earpieces of the Justice team. “Permission to counter attack the enemy by any means necessary?”

“The kids!” Superman exclaims, Batman redirecting the route of the Batship.

“Permission denied.” Batman grumbles into his mic. Worry now coating the features of Clark.

“What foe could be attacking the tower right now?” Diana voices, hoping that the answer will relieve some distress. Batman only grumbles a reply.

“Probably the kids.”

————-

Arriving to the tower the big three stand at the teleport entry, eyeing the mass damage that has occurred on the tower in the short moments they were gone. All of the screens are cracked and ruin, the holographic projector now laying on the floor in a broke heap. Sparks flying away from live wires.

“I caught him first!” Damian shouts, yanking Jon towards him.

“What are you stupid?! I caught him first!” Y/n shouts yanking Jon into her grasp. Jumping up she locks her legs around his torso, arms wrapping firmly around Jon’s neck in a lock. “You can claim him if you wretch my dead body off of him.”

“Fine.” Damian says coldly, taking a step back and launching himself onto the two making them tumble over with a loud thud. Yelps and grasps coming from the three now strewn a-crossed the floor. Jon now trapped between his two friends, thrashing limbs.

“What is going on here?” Diana yells making Y/n instantly release her grip and scrambling to get up only to slam into the floor as Damian’s grip is still wrapped around her ankle. The three slowly look up at their parents faces who are angry to say the least. “How could you let this happen.”

Y/n kicks her foot at Damian, before finally standing up, Y/n slouches under the angry gaze of her mother. “We couldn’t decide on a leader so we made it a competition of capture the flag… Jon’s the flag.” Diana’s eye twitched at the absurdity of your words. The watch tower was destroyed because their super kids decided to settle an argument with ‘Capture the Flag.’

“And added inflicted millions of dollars in damages in the process. You’re all in big trouble.” Clark reprimands, his usual friendly demeanour now replaced with stern anger.

“But Dad! I didn’t even want to be part of this stupid game!” Jon whines which only makes Y/n and Damian shoot Jon a silent deathly look.

“A good leader would’ve prevented a dispute in their team.” Clark reprimands Jon which only makes him bow his head in shame.

“You’re all clearly not ready for a serious role in the hero’s league if you plan of settling disputes with childish games and inflicting mass damage in the process - Clark, Diana and I will re-evaluate your readiness. Until then, the Little Three team is banned from missions.”

“What?! This is so unfair!” Y/n exclaims in exasperation. The hero’s team banned before they even got started. They hadn’t even picked a leader for crying out loud.

“What is unfair is that Jon, Damian and yourself have destroyed perfectly good resources all for a game.” Clark reprimands. “Jon your grounded, you will be staying home for the rest of the summer completing all farm chores including mine.” Jon groans at his punishment.

It was Bruce’s turn to supply Damian a punishment. “No vigilante work until you move stocks to cover the cost of your handiwork.” Damian stands stick straight, accepting his punishment without resistance.

“Yes father.”

Diana leans over, her brows knitting together in irritation. “Listen here missy!” Before Diana could utter another word, Y/n’s hands reach out to her mothers face, pressing her fingers into her mothers pinched brows, as if making Diana not frown would resolve her anger. Y/n begins to jut her lip out and stare up at her mother with big shining eyes.

“I’m sorry Mama, please don’t be mad.” Her soft and delicate voice pulling at Diana’s heartstrings.

“…it’s okay baby…” Diana folds instantly to her adorable daughter. “Just don’t do it again.” She coos giving her precious girl a big kiss on the cheek. Y/n only looks at her fellow mates with the cheekiest of grins.

The two boys stare in disbelief as Y/n escape parental punishment, especially as she is the instigator of the incident. Jon decides to take the plunge. “Dad-“

“Don’t even try it son.”

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torasplanet · 9 months ago

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being bruce wayne's controversially young gf is probably such a handful. with all the paparazzi, and new reporters and don't even get me started on that whole batman thing...you'll never forget the time you discovered the batcave in the middle of the night and neither will bruce. you were just sitting at the computers next to Barbara in your silky rope with a frown on your face just ready to yell at him for not telling you.

but that's not what we're here to talk about. we're here to talk about that little munchkin damian.

see at first, he didn't really like you. you were there before him but he still didn't like you very much in all honesty. the other batkids took a liking to you, some quicker than others (dickie) but they still liked you and told damian that you were cool and everything but damian found it disgusting how his father would date someone as young as you.

you were only in your twenties but considering bruce's age being early forties... he thought it was weird. damian was one of many who thought it was horrible until he didn't. you don't exactly know what made him switch but you weren't complaining well...sometimes you were because of his clinginess but you loved him too! damian was attached at your side the moment he started to like you and it was hard to get him away.

you always defended damian especially when he would go back and forth with bruce, which by the way he hated, but it didn't matter the topic because you'd still back him up. "father, school is a waste of time. training is far more important." "yeah! dami is too smart for that."

but don't get him wrong, he still found the age gap horrifying but it was more toward bruce than you now. as time went on, he stopped caring about it but he acted as though he did. damian is just a hater tbh.

anyways, back to him being the clingiest son ever! during galas, you are never seen without the middle schooler at your side either silent or talking to you about something he is passionate about. bruce thinks its cute and plus it makes the public not hate this relationship more but when damian actually needs to do things at the galas, it's pretty annoying for him...

"todd insisted that i play uno with him and the rest of the former robins and it was quite interesting. especially when todd jumped at grayson for cheating." damian ranted in your ear while standing at your side as you sipped at your wine glass carefully listening to him unaware of your boyfriend approaching.

damian noticed before you did and his silence made you confused "damian, you cannot stand next to her all night." bruce said with a sigh and his son only narrowed his eyes at him "why not? i don't find talking to these other wealthy families any sort of intriguing." damian argued while you only smiled brightly at the fact that he found you interesting!

"that doesn't matter, you still have duties."

"well ummi–[y/n]..." damian stuttered clearing his throat in embarrassment as the conversation seemed to go silent. bruce looked at you and you were close to dropping the wine glass because of how happy you seemed so he swiped it from your palm quickly. "...she doesn't seem to mind at all." the boy continued before looking up at you.

you barely registered him looking at you. you were just too happy about him referring to you as his mom!! even if it was just a slip-up. "oh yeah! i don't mind at all and you can call me whatever you want dami! i don't mind that either." you shrugged while rocking back and forth on your heels and damian seemed to be relieved with that but he quickly cleared his throat again and looked at his father with a careless expression.

"well, we'll be going now. grayson is better company than you anyway." damian said grabbing the glass from bruce's hand and grabbing yours with his other before beginning to walk away. you looked back at bruce and silently screamed to show your excitement. i guess he can let it slide this one time...because he was just as happy.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

#torasplanet.ᐟ #marls-drabbles.ᐟ #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batfam x reader #batmom #damian wayne x reader platonic #platonic #◛⑅·˚bruceee #◛⑅·˚batfam

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rad-batson · 2 years ago

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Damian Wayne Headcanons :) in which I give him actual character growth, suck it dc writers

this is extremely long, I am not sorry

He has literally no footsteps, you cannot hear him walk, even when he stomps around in one of those moods, it’s just barely a little *pat pat pat*

He doodles on everything. With everything. Some Gothamites have found intricate floral designs etched into the roof or random brick walls (most likely with a knife) after seeing Robin patrol.

He has like 20 weighted blankets, all different weights and sizes depending on his mood.

His favorite item in his room is a silver Nintendo DS. (He likes to use the little chat rooms, even if no one else is on the other end. He doodles and writes little messages. It’s like his diary.)

He loves all animals, and that includes the creepy ones. Especially the creepy ones.

Once, Tim started screaming bloody murder over a massive bug with a bajillion legs in his room. Damian now houses it in an enclosure in his bedroom. Her name is Mildred, Millie for short.

When he was in the LoA, he was forbidden from stimming in front of others. It took two years for anyone in the batfamily to ever witness him stimming.

His most common stimming behaviors are shaking out his hands, scratching his palms, and rubbing his hands across different surfaces. When he’s really stressed, he’ll snap his fingers.

He absolutely hates cameras. They’re loud and make him uncomfortable. One reporter almost got scratched when they got too close to him with the flash on. He only barely tolerates the security cameras in the manor. Barely.

He can and will be roped into any dare imaginable. Bruce repeatedly forbids him from taking dares from his siblings for months at a time.

He has a compartment in his utility belt dedicated to treats for any animal he sees on patrol.

When he’s tired, he’ll speak a mixture of Arabic, Mandarin, and English. Only Bruce can make sense of it, and occasionally Jason.

Bruce absolutely refuses to yell at Damian. Even if some of his other kids argue that he’s being too nice, he’ll only use his Batman voice and his Soft But Disappointed Dad Voice, but he will Never yell.

(He doesn’t tell them it’s because of what happened the first and only time he yelled at Damian. Bruce moved his hand a bit, and Damian flinched wildly. Bruce cried for hours over the implications of that.)

Damian only feels comfortable sitting if he can clearly see the main entrance. If not, he’ll sit with his back against a wall or he’ll stand.

He dutifully takes the responsibility of feeding and grooming every Wayne animal. They receive the most nutritious and filling meals on the market (all while receiving lots of head pats.)

He has very strong eyebrows just like his father. They tend to pull the same exasperated expressions too, highlighting their resemblance.

Talia taught Damian at a very young age how to write perfectly with both hands. He no longer remembers if he is naturally left or right-handed.

The one insult he cannot handle is “spoiled brat.” A few months after he arrived, someone in the family called him that as a joke, and he completely shut down emotionally. No anger, no sadness, no resentment. Literally just nothing. For days. No one knows why, but they will never let it happen again.

You know he’s Up to Something TM if he swings his legs back and forth while he sits.

He is obsessed with those cheap TV documentaries about famous plane crashes and shipwrecks. After finishing one, he’ll find the nearest family member and tell them all about it: how it happened, what human error caused it, and his fool-proof plan for if it ever happens again and he is nearby. Usually, it’s Alfred.

For the first few years at the manor, Damian’s favorite spot is the family graveyard. Everyone calls him dramatic. He just likes how it’s so quiet. (And he’s dramatic.)

When Jason waxes poetics about dying over dinner, Damian just groans and says, “So have I. You’re not special.” That’s how the family learns he was repeatedly revived in the Lazarus Pit due to the fatal nature of his training and abuse.

His first ever crush was on the cute male tech at Alfred the Cat’s vet. Damian was 12. Jason, who accompanied him, proceeded to give him both The Talk (“It’s okay to like boys”) and The Talk (“Your body is ✨changing✨”) on the drive home.

He will not text back unless it is absolutely necessary. He will leave people on read. He does not hate you. (…Probably.)

Titus is a registered therapy dog, trained in helping Damian through panic attacks and sensory overload. If you ever see Damian asleep on the floor, eyes cried out with Titus resting on top of him, you know why.

When he was 13, he tried to fake his own death after he failed a test at school and “dishonored the family name.” Bruce and Dick had to sit him down and explain that grades aren’t everything, and they still love him unconditionally.

He talks to animals like they’re human. He has a habit of venting his frustrations to Batcow in particular. And his fish while he feeds them.

His love language to others is a mixture of gifts and quality time, usually without words.

One day, Damian was snooping around the house and found that one of the electrical closets leads to a tiny space—barely two feet wide—in between the sheetrock and the foundation wall with nothing but a single hanging lightbulb. It took years before anyone else found it, but by then, Damian had painted an 8x10 ft mural on the wall and created a small bed of blankets and pillows for when he needs a quiet place to escape unwanted stimuli.

When he sleeps, his cheeks puff out like a little chipmunk. It’s adorable.

During the Winter Olympics one year, Damian falls in love with figure skating and decides he wants to try it out, but he never asks to take up lessons in fear that he will be horrible at it.

Duke figures this out and now takes him ice skating just enough to avoid suspicion. It’s become their bonding activity.

Once, Jason and Tim made him try a Sour Patch Kids-flavored energy drink. He immediately spit it out and said, “What the fuck?! That’s even worse than drinking from the Lazarus Pit.” And that’s how the family learns that Ra’s made Damian drink from the Lazarus Pit a few times.

One day, Steph told Damian about the wonders of concealed self defense products. Now, about 80% of the mundane items Damian owns is secretly a knife. He will purchase any item that is secretly a knife. Including several fake lipstick tubes.

He has rigorous self-control when it comes to sleep. Sure, his schedule is a bit fucked up for someone his age, but he is in bed and asleep exactly when he tells himself. (His siblings could never.)

His entire wardrobe is soft items he “found” stole from the laundry room. If it’s comfortable, it’s his now. (No one complains. In fact, having Damian steal your clothes is considered a privilege.)

He hates whenever Alfred tries to recreate dishes from his childhood. It’s just not the same. Alfred understands.

When he’s really stressed—like the “I am one stubbed toe away from a complete meltdown” stressed—he will finger paint. He likes the feeling of it on his skin.

Due to his time in the LoA, Damian has a habit of never telling anyone if he’s injured. Instead, he’ll pretend nothing’s wrong until he passes out or literally can’t move right and someone calls him out. He’s working on it, though.

There’s a massive system of fish tanks in his room complete with handmade decor and multiple venomous species. No one even realizes until Alfred mentions it during dinner.

He has hyper fixated at least once on every single artistic medium you can imagine. His top three are oil paintings, mosaics, and pottery, but he mostly sticks to drawing in his free time.

He has taste tested all of his pets’ treats at one point for “research purposes.”

Giving friends their own nickname is one of the most intimate things Damian does to express his relationship with someone.

Once, he was having an argument with a sibling, and they said, “Oh yeah? Well at least Bruce wanted me!” Damian didn’t leave his room for exactly six days. He even stapled blackout curtains to his windows and the vents. Bruce chewed the shit out of whoever said it and spent hours every day talking to Damian through the door to convince him that, yes, Bruce wants him and couldn’t ever think of a family without him. Damian didn’t come out, however, until he heard Bruce crying while begging him to eat. Damian slept in Bruce’s bed that night and the following week.

When he turns 15, he gets really obsessed with Måneskin.

He’s exactly the kind of Art Hoe that is completely loyal to his favorite brand of art supplies and wouldn’t touch other brands with a 10ft pole.

He has weirdly thin fingers. Like creepily thin, especially as he grows older. Someone commented on them once, and Damian proceeded to wear gloves nonstop for a week.

There are exactly four (4) people who are allowed to touch him without permission first. Dick, Jon, Bruce, and Talia in that order.

His eyes are actually naturally blue. The reason they are green is because of the Lazarus Pit. It’s always the Lazarus Pit. (They barely glow in the dark too, but you need to really pay attention to notice.)

He can wiggle his ears. The only people to ever witness it are Cass and Duke. They’ve been sworn to secrecy.

Whenever one of his many pets sleeps in his bed, he tries to stay as still as possible without touching them so they don’t get annoyed and leave, but they always worm their way into his arms.

As he grows, his family is surprised to learn that he isn’t building the same muscle as his dad. Instead, he’s lean like his mother due to an extremely fast metabolism. He eats a lot to maintain proper health. (His cheeks are still puffy when he sleeps, though. And when he smiles.)

Dick is his emergency contact for school, partially because Dick isn’t as busy, partially due to that time Bruce “died,” but mostly because Damian is terrified of disappointing Bruce if he ever gets in trouble. Thankfully, Dick is convincing Damian otherwise.

His favorite ever birthday gift comes from Tim. It’s a pottery studio he spent months building on their property in secret with several pottery wheels and a kiln.

His hands have always had a sort of surgical accuracy to them due to his stealth training, but it never came to the forefront of everyone’s mind until one particular mission when Tim got shot, and they needed to get the bullet out as quickly as possible. Despite being bigger than most of his family members by now, and Tim refusing to stay still the whole time, Damian was the only one capable of taking the bullet out. While riding in the Batmobile. Going 80 mph. Completely painlessly. Damian is immediately given the de facto role of Combat Medic.

Jon likes to send Good morning texts to Damian. At first, he didn’t know about the “only responds if it’s an emergency” thing, though, so he decided to stop after a few weeks of Damian never replying. Within an hour of not getting the usual text, Damian was at Jon’s house in full Robin gear to make sure he was okay.

He and Steph like to paint each other’s nails when one of them is stressed. After Damian comes out as pansexual, Steph paints little pride flags on his fingers.

He only plays Minecraft on creative mode. He likes building farms and wildlife preserves.

At 16, he gets asked out by a pretty girl in school that Damian had a crush on last year, but he thinks it’s a joke because he can’t fathom anyone liking him so he turns her down.

As he grows, his looks become more androgynous, again eerily resembling his mother, but his voice drops low enough that it doesn’t cause much misgendering.

Then he starts thinking of his gender a bit more and wonders if he’s also a They.

He likes to paint all over the soles of his shoes whenever he gets a new pair. No one will ever really see it, of course, and it eventually wears off the more he walks, but he knows it’s there.

It’s a nice day in the park. He’s doing homework on a picnic table while Titus and Ace run around, and he can’t stop thinking about his future.

Yesterday, there was a school assembly about choosing a career path. Alfred slid him an SAT prep book during breakfast. And his class was assigned one of those “Which career path is best for you?” quizzes.

He gets Veterinarian.

It takes a full five minutes as Damian stares at the results, thinking about the crazy, out-of-this-world idea of not being a vigilante or assassin his entire life, what it would be like if he just turned his back on the future which was so carefully laid out in front of him since birth, before it clicks into place.

Damian doesn’t want to be Batman.

He doesn’t want to lead the LoA either.

Two years later, Damian enrolls in Gotham University and majors in Wildlife Biology on the Pre-Vet track with a minor in Studio Arts. He gets a dorm room, works in the pottery studio, and volunteers at the local animal shelter.

He is content.

Does some of this stray from canon? Yes. However, I do not give a rat’s ass. Thank you, and goodnight.

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haveihitanerve · 2 months ago

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not a completed fic but... also not a fic i think i will ever complete so.. have this?

Alfred… had never grown fond of her. Not in the way Bruce and Duke and Damian and even Dick had. Not in the way Cass and Tim had.

Alfred had put Tim in the mask, draped the cape around his shoulders, begged him to take up the mantle and save Bruce. But he hadn’t done that for Steph. He had never liked Steph.

She hadn’t known to what extent, until she had forgotten to lock up her utility belt one night. She could’ve come back in the morning, but Bruce would’ve noticed, and she didn’t want to give him another reason why she wasn’t worthy as Robin. She was certain Tim had never forgotten to lock up his belt at the end of the day.

But Bruce had been in the cave when she had snuck down the stairs, and despite her skill, the skill he had now taught her, he always knew she was there. Maybe it was something he taught all his- the kids. All the robins. A way to hide from everyone but him.

So she had waited, crouched beside the door, her legs growing numb as she waited for him to finish and leave. That was when Alfred had come.

“Master Bruce. Your dinner is cold.”

“I’ll be there in a second Alf.” Bruce returned, fingers flying across the keys.

“She ate an hour ago.” Alfred threw out, emphasis on the she. Emphasis on not using her name. Stephanie’s fingers dug into her thighs. Bruce’s fingers stilled.

“Do you have something to say, Alfred?” He asked. Steph could hear the control in his voice, the measured tone he was using. The tone he used with her when she did something wrong and he wanted her to discover for herself what it was and how to do it better.

He was just like that, wanting her to learn on her own, to not rely on him, to not hear his reprimand but rather his pride when she figured it out. Alfred was quiet.

“She is not Tim.” Bruce said, his voice gentler.

“I know.” Alfred returned. “And that is the problem.” Steph bit her lip as her fingernails drew blood. Tears stained her eyes and she blinked them back.

“What would you have me do?” Bruce asked, and his voice was measured again, though Steph could hear him getting angry. “Kick her out? Return her to the street? Let her run around Gotham alone?”

“He is!” Alfred yelled back. Bruce’s control snapped and he stood, turning to his butler.

“Tim made his choice.” He hissed. “And as much as I want him back he is not coming back. That is not my fault, no more than it is hers.” He snarled. Steph almost gasped. Bruce was… defending her. She blinked the tears back again.

“Stephanie is not to blame for Tim leaving. I need a Robin.” Bruce said quietly, voice firm and hard. “And she stepped up. Not unlike Jason. Not unlike Tim. I cannot make you love her, I cannot make you like her. But you will give her the respect she is due.”

In all her work with Bruce, Stephanie did not think she had ever once heard him actually give Alfred an order. Alfred nodded stiffly, and turned, stalking back up the stairs.

Bruce slumped back into his chair. Steph hardly dared to breathe, but his eyes found her anyway. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. Bruce looked at her tiredly.

“For what?” His voice was soft. Quiet.

“For not being him. For not being good enough.”

“Oh Steph,” Bruce sighed, standing, and grabbed her utility belt, locking it up in her locker. “I never wanted you to be Tim.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her hair, before following his butler up the stairs.

Steph remained there, crouched in the corner, and finally let the tears fall.

#stephanie brown #bruce wayne #i just love the two of them so much #and i dont think- correct me if im wrong i dont know- that its ever addressed how alfred feels about her??#like he gave tim the cape and costume #and then steph replaces him??#so this was my take on it #it is a lil negative on alfred #and i apologize for that #i do think he'd never be outwardly rude to her #because shes a kid #but i do think he wouldnt approve either #idk #batfam #batman #batman and robin #i hope you liked

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dollishmehrayan · 10 days ago

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# BATBOYS WITH A TALL S/O ── .✦ ( batboys with a 5’11 ft s/o which is so funny because I’m 5’10-5’11 myself! )

a/n: this was requested by this anon (here) but omg this is so funny because me myself I am like what? 5’10-5’11 too which a lot of people are surprised when I say my height but no definitely it’s funny to see people go like “you’re almost 6 feet!?!?” But I’m like getting ready for a party I’m attending tomorrow so I gotta hurry and put this on like the waitlist too lol but yeah Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦ (5’9 FT ᥫ᭡)

Dick, being slightly shorter, can’t help but make lighthearted jokes about how you always make him look like a little brother in public.

"Do I need a step stool just to kiss you?" he teases when you’re standing next to each other, and he has to tilt his head back just a little.

He’s not bothered by the height difference he actually loves that you stand a little taller. To him, it just makes your hugs more comforting when you wrap your arms around him, and he loves how he has to look up at you when you’re together.

Sweet moments : He’ll sneak up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and plant a kiss on your cheek, his face all grins. “I love that I get to look up to you.”

In private moments, he’ll joke about needing a "boost" to reach for the cereal on the top shelf. You’ll just roll your eyes and help him. He’ll insist you do it because "he’s just too darn handsome to do it himself."

JASON TODD ── .✦ (6’2-6’0 FT ᥫ᭡)

Jason secretly loves how tall you are and genuinely finds it attractive so much, but he’ll never admit it out loud.

"You’re just standing too close to the ground, that’s all," he says with a smirk when you casually reach for something higher than him on the shelf.

There are moments when he’ll playfully try to look taller, standing up straight and making exaggerated height comparisons. “Yeah, I’m clearly taller,” he’ll say, but his cheeky grin gives him away.

Sweet moments: When he’s feeling soft, he’ll pull you close and rest his chin on your head, a little extra bit of warmth because you’re just the right height for it. "You're perfect," he’ll say, his voice low. "Even if you think you are taller than me."

Sometimes, when you hug, your heads are the same almost level and he finds it incredibly cute. And then there are those rare moments where he lets you win, and you catch him blushing when you casually point out that he’s the one that can just look you straight in the eye to you.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦ (5’7-5’8 FT)

Tim pretends to be cool with the height difference, but sometimes it’s impossible to ignore. Especially when you catch him in a rare, clumsy moment—like tripping over something while trying to reach the top shelf.

"You’re literally looking down on me right now," he’ll say with an exaggerated sigh, but there’s no real frustration. Just teasing.

When he gets excited, he’ll jump up and down like a small child, but when you laugh, he’ll act all nonchalant, saying, “I didn’t jump, you just shifted the ground beneath me.” “I’M NOT A GIANT TIM.“ “Okay, whatever you say….FEE FI FO-“

Sweet moments: When you’re together on a walk, he’ll sneakily slide his hand into yours, not caring about the height difference. He loves how natural it feels to be with you. And when he looks up at you, his eyes soften. "You're perfect," he says quietly, and his sincerity always melts your heart.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦ (5’7 FT ᥫ᭡)

Damian, with his slight height disadvantage, is the least amused about being shorter than you. If he’s being honest, he’s slightly grumpy about it. But don’t worry, it’s all playful.

“I do not need your assistance,” he’ll say when you reach something just out of his grasp, even if you offer to help. The second you’re not looking, he’ll jump for the item like a cat, (what can I say he learns from Alfred the CAT a lot) proving that he’s capable.

He’s always quick to make fun of you when you have to bend down to his level. "Must be nice to finally get a sense of power over me," he’ll say with a smirk.

Sweet Moments: Despite his pride, when he pulls you close, his head presses against your chest just slightly. He never mentions it, but he does love that you’re a little taller, as it makes him feel like he’s enveloped in a comforting, protective hug.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦ (6’2 ᥫ᭡ (I’m itching to write him as like 6’4..) )

Bruce doesn’t care about the height difference at all, but he will make fun of you occasionally in the most subtle, dry way.

“Are you sure you don’t need a ladder to kiss me?” he’ll joke, his usual stoic face not betraying the fact that he secretly finds it endearing.

He’ll never admit it, but he loves when you stand close to him and look up at him—there’s something intimate and comforting about it, like you trust him completely.

Sweet Moments:He’ll reach out for you when you’re standing in front of him, and instead of bending down, he’ll simply pull you closer. “I like that you’re almost my height. Makes me feel like I’m the one getting pulled in.”

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toulousewayne · 7 months ago

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🌿🍃Toxic Lover: Pt: III

Nightwing X male!reader with a former team who had become Poison Ivy like meta-human.

Summary:Your a former Titan teammate, you and Dick have unresolved feelings and you become infected with the same toxins and chemicals that turned Poison Ivy into a meta-human.

————————

A garden of flowers and trees spanning endlessly. The bright sun showered over the fields. Dick stood in the center feeling the warmth engulf him.

He felt like as a feather, like nothing else matter, except him.

“Dick?” He turned to see him standing on the other side of the field.

“Y/n!” He called and fled towards the young man. But no matter how close he got the man was farther and farther until everything became gloomy, and barren.

“Y/N!” He screams but everything slowly collapses and becomes black.

—

Dick shot up from his dream with sweat covering his body,his hair was matted to his face and he felt warm all over.

“Relax Grayson,” a familiar voice quipped. Dick slowly stopped hyperventilating and turned to see Damian sitting beside his bed in an armchair with Alfred the Cat napping in his lap.

“W-what…where is…”

“Not here.” A deeper voice finished. Bruce emerged from the shadows of Dick’s bedroom with an unreadable expression.

Dick took in the older man’s form, and slowly his worry was eased but his annoyance continued.

“Where did you send him?” His voice was slightly hoarse and a bit hostile but he didn’t seem to care at this very moment.

“Damian go get ready for patrol.” Reluctantly Damian left the room with a small sigh. Once he left the room Bruce returned his attention to his son.

“He’s in Arkham-“

“Have you fucking lost your mind!” He barked at Bruce with fury raging in his eyes. “You put him in the fucking same place you put Joker,Dent? He’s not a fucking monster.”

Bruce sighed and tried to raised a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder but it was immediately shoved away. “He was under mind altering pheromones,but he still killed people.”

Dick nearly popped a vessel as he nostrils flared. “You make it seem like he fucking did it on purpose.”

“Don’t allow your feelings to cloud your judgment Dick.”

“As many times as you let Selina walk away, your fucking hypocrisy is insane. He was a hero, he died because of our intel, and was brought back. He didn’t ask for any of this Bruce.” Dick flung the covers off his bed and tried to stand but stumbled but Bruce caught him and helped him back to bed.

“Dick, I didn’t do it to punish him or you. Beside the Watchtower Arkham is the only facility that can keep him safe at least for a few more days to make sure all of the treatments are successful.”

Dick didn’t look at Bruce. He stood up and look at his son. “He’ll be safe,and you cannot return to patrol until your strength is back. We lost you both there I don’t want to bury anyone else.” He walks to the door and exits.

“I’ll check on him.” And he left Dick sat on his bed confused, angry and frustrated.

———

Y/n awoke again in his cell. From what he gathered in and out of consciousness he was in isolation, at least not close to Ivy or the other super criminals. He felt tired and just overall lethargic. He reached for a cup next to his bed and barely grasped it.

He took three large gulps from his cup which emptied it immediately. Y/n flopped back down on the bed. His head was throbbing and all he wanted to do was shut it off.

Pushing himself up with his elbows he gathered enough strength to sit up and take in the cell. It was dark aside from the light that seemed to be switched off for him. He lightly touched the collar around his neck. It was slightly tight but otherwise wasn’t the worst thing he’s experienced, especially not in the last few days.

He swung his leg over the bed and sighed. He looked out towards the hallway. He thought about what he had did and how much damage he did with his new powers. He thought about the lives he took, and those that he changed because of his new lack of control. He slowly realized that once he was free, if he was freed he’d have to live with these new abilities.

He heard a tap on the glass of his cell and looked back up. A figure quickly moved and soon his cell door opened with a loud buzzing sound. Dick came into his view with a black hoodie.

“Are you okay?” He whispered gently caressing his cheek. His touch moved to the power damping collar and his face turned sour for brief moment.

“You’re not a monster.” He sighs, he smiles softly to him but Y/n doesn’t return the sentiment.

“I killed them Dick, I need I could have made you hurt then. You could have killed your family if they hadn’t stopped me.” Y/n begins to feel the word choke him as tears begin to fall down his cheeks. Dick wipes them away with his thumbs and looks at him.

“You didn’t because no matter what that isn’t me nor is it you. You were being mind controlled, you didn’t have any idea of what you were doing.”

“And that’s supposed to bring those men back, Dick they’re fucking dead! I was fucking Dead!” He stood up abruptly and began to sway. Dick placed his hands on his waist stabilizing him. He looked in his eyes and Dick could help but grin.

“And for that I still feel guilty about, I wish I could turn back time so that you never went through that. So I never lost you,but selfishly if that hadn’t of happened I would feel confident about this.” Y/n wasn’t sure about what Dick was talking about but in the next moment he felt Dick’s lips crash into his. Y/n was stunned for few seconds before kissing him back and warming his arms around his neck.

It felt like neither man wanted to give the other any chance to breathe. The two felt united as one being, as one soul. It felt like the two were on a different planet. Soon the they both realized they were still human and needed air to breathe.

Y/n broke the kiss first and the two rested their forehead together. “Wow.” Dick had a shit eating grin painted on his face as Y/n’s cheek turned more red.

“I guess that’s your way of telling me I was rambling.” Dick kissed the other man’s forehead before speaking, “Think of it has more of a I should have done that years ago.”

Y/n smile and the two hugged before an alarm began to blare. “We have to go.” Dick took Y/n by the wrist and the two rushed out of the cell. Sirens, and flashing lights engulfed the hallways with the sounds of gunfire,manic laughter and the aftershock of explosions.

Entering a main hallway the two saw the scene before them. Cells open inmates running loose, Joker’s spray paint feeling hallways and portraits.

“I’ve got to get you out of here.” Dick demeanor was serious. Even thought Y/n could defend himself especially with his new abilities it didn’t stop Dick from wanting to keep him away from this madness.

“And where do you think you’re going?” A inmate hissed as his stomped toward the couple with several others behind him.

Y/n felt uneasy, mostly from being under sedation for so long, yet he was at all sacred. Dick pushed him behind him and glared at the group. “Leave.” He ordered and the men laughed and whistle.

“Pretty boy trying to show off.” One called. The inmate that originally called to them stood in Dick’s face.

“We’ll see bout dat.” He went to grab Dick but the lights go out and Dick takes the opportunity to beat the living crap out of the goons. Y/n feels a hand take his and rush down the hallway.

It feels like forever of running down a dark hallway or turning down towards a stairwell to avoid a group of thugs or henchmen with stole weapons.

They bust through a door and outside the Asylum. Near the docks. “And are we to swim to the mainland.” Y/n huffs between breaths.

Dick takes his watches and starts talking to someone, Y/n wasn’t sure who considering Dick had a Bluetooth earbud but shortly the Batplane raced towards the island along with the Batboat in tow.

Batman and Robin descend from the Batplane with Batman giving a nod to Robin who rushes toward the Asylum.

The Batboat stops and opens to Batgirl who leaps out and walks toward the couple with Batman standing in front of them.

“I had my suspicions you’d be here.” Batman’s tone wasn’t easily detectable whether or not he was upset with Dick,though it didn’t seem he cared what his father thought.

“Why am I not surprised you’d put him something your arch nemesis breaks out of everyday, or the fact that this place is a revolving door for super criminals you created.” Batman doesn’t reply right away. He turns to Y/n. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you, I understand.” Batman takes something from his belt and presses a button. Instantly the collar unlocks and falls off of Y/n’s neck.

“We’re leaving.” Dick takes Y/n’s hand and leads him to the boat.

“Have Robin return my bike later.” Batman nods and Batgirl waves goodbye to the pair before entering the Asylum. Batman watches the Batboat race away before rushing towards the sounds of Joker’s laugh.

———-

Y/n tossed and turned in bed. He sat up and sighed. Dick was passed out beside him. The two returned the Batboat to the cave and took Dick’s car back to Bludheaven. They were to Dick’s apartment and crushed after the ate takeout.

Y/n untangle himself from Dick’s arm and watch out of the bedroom into the main living area of the apartment. He walked to the window in the kitchen and opened it. The sound of heavy rain filled the room and he listened to his and stuck out his hand allowing rain to fall onto his palm. He glanced down a Dick’s fire escape to a few pot plants on their last few days. They were brittle and dry.

Y/n waved his hand back and the plants regained their strength and color to a full bloom.

“That’s never gonna not be cool.” Dick stood in the doorway and walked to Y/n embracing him.

“I guess it’s my new normal.” He land his head on Dick’s chest listening to his heartbeat.

“You don’t have to go back out there y’know. You can retire and not risk your life.”

He pursued his lips and looked at the acrobat. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black,Babe?” Dick smiled at him. “I guess you��re right, just don’t wanna lose you again is all.”

Y/n kissed his lips. “Your stuck with me Boy Wonder.”

“Ah,so you’re like a weed.” That earned Dick a slap to the shoulder and Y/n walked off.

“Babe,I was kidding. Come back!” He chased after the man back to the bedroom.

——-

I hope you enjoyed this miniseries, I plan to write a few more for different characters. But I’m so pleased you how this one came out.

And if you have any suggestions or ideas my request are open!

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stormz369 · 2 months ago

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☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 18

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: use of mommy/mama as a pet name (non-sexual), vague talk about troubled childhoods, sort of a found-family thing?, brief encounter with a grocery store Karen wc: 2.7k Disclaimer: I am very white, everything I write about Damian's cultural background is coming from 1) internet research on Damian 1.5) pestering my comic reader friend about Damian/Talia/Ra's al Ghoul (but so far he's basically said that DC really does stand for Disregard Canon, so I can reasonably do whatever works for my narrative and it'll be canon friendly somewhere) and 2) internet research on Arabic cultural practices/foods/etc.

I always endeavor to write about others' cultures with respect or not at all, and to put in an appropriate amount of research to get details as right as possible. That being said, I am human, and don't always know what to look for to get the information I need. If you know that something I've included is culturally incorrect please do feel free to tell me (if you have the emotional bandwidth)! I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to me that I write about Damian's Arabic heritage correctly and with respect, and any rewriting/research guidance offered will always be greatly appreciated and credit given where due! If you wish to provide feedback anonymously, feel free to send them as asks, but please do include an emoji or something I can use to credit you for your emotional labor in the applicable chapters! And thank you in advance! This is where I got the info about ma'amoul cookies, if anyone is interested!

Chapter Selection

I woke sandwiched between the boys; Jason's arms were wrapped around my waist, and Damian's back was pressed into my chest. I smiled softly, gently stroking his hair. He groaned softly and flipped around, cuddling into me.

Jason shifted, stroking my side. “Mh … morning~”

“Morning~” I whispered, smiling softly.

He sat up, stretching a bit. “... He looks downright peaceful with you…”

“Like he feels safe?”

“… Yeah. … I'm glad you can give him that. … He's been through alot.”

I nodded, stroking his hair more. “I can tell. … I like letting him be a kid.”

Jason nodded, leaning over to kiss my temple. “I think he likes it too. … I'll make breakfast~”

I nodded, holding Damian close. He sighed softly, snuggling in more. Eventually, the smells of breakfast cooking wafted into the room, and Damian's eyes slowly fluttered open. The instant he realized how close we were he darted back, almost falling off the edge of the bed. After a moment he looked away awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“... Um … th- thank you, for … everything.”

I nodded, sitting up. “Of course. Anything you want to do today?”

He frowned a bit. “... Is Todd working tonight?”

“I think so. You wanna do something fun when he goes?”

“... If you don't mind?”

“I don't mind.” I smiled softly. He flushed a bit, smiling into his chest.

“Ok … Thanks.”

I nodded, stretching. “Jay's making breakfast.”

He nodded, getting up and grabbing his clothes. I checked my phone, frowning a bit when I saw that Bruce had texted.

Bruce: Is Damian alright? 9:05am Me: Yes, he's ok 10:45am Bruce: Jason said one of his teachers said something about him? He said you were very upset about it. 10:48am Me: Yes, the math teacher. It was inexcusable, and I made sure she knew it. Jason got him switched into a new math class, so it shouldn't be a problem anymore 10:49am Bruce: Very good. … Jason also mentioned that Damian seemed to think he had to let them talk about him like that? 10:53am Me: He thought calling them out qualified as misbehaving 10:55am Bruce: … I'll speak to him when he gets home. Obviously I don't want him to put up with that. 10:57am Me: … Maybe not so obviously. I think he was worried about disappointing you. He seemed more concerned with how dealing with it would affect you publicly than with how it was affecting him to hear it 11:00am Bruce: … I'll fix this. 11:02am

I sighed softly. Somehow I doubted Bruce could fix it just like that. I changed into some casual clothes and joined the boys in the kitchen. Jason slid a few pancakes onto a plate for me and kissed my cheek.

“Thanks, pumpkin~”

Damian snorted softly, smirking at Jason. “... ‘Pumpkin’?”

I smirked back, leaning forward; “careful, kiddo. I can think of plenty of fun nicknames for you too, my little jellybean~”

He grimaced. “Ugh..”

“No? You don't like that? How about cutie patootie? Angel pie? Honey-bunch?”

Damian groaned, shaking his head. “Nooo! Gross!”

Jason chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Ok, mama, he's had enough.”

Damian froze, frowning. His walls shot right back up, and his voice was sharp; “... She is not my mother.”

“And thank God for that.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Your mother's a real piece of work. Trade up while the trading's good.”

Damian frowned more, staring into his plate. “... Mother is a … complicated woman. But she's my mother.”

My heart ached at how carefully he said it. Complicated was the nicest thing he could think to say about her? “... I'm sure she loves you, kiddo.”

Damian's jaw clenched as he nodded. “Yes, she does.”

Jason frowned a bit. “... In her way.”

We spent the weekend in a domestic bubble; we cooked together, watched movies, played games, and after Jason went to work Damian and I played with his craft kits. Watching him relax into the little family unit we established for ourselves almost made me wonder if he really was starting to view me as a maternal figure. I didn't mind if he was, but I wasn't sure how much I should lean into it. As with most things with Damian, I decided it was best to let him set the pace.

The next Friday night, Damian came over again. Jason sighed, rolling his eyes affectionately when he saw Damian at the kitchen table. “Do you have my girl playing mommy again?”

Damian blushed bright red, glaring at him. I raised an eyebrow, staring at Jason. “I told him he could come over, Jason.”

I set a plate of cookies on the table and a glass of milk. “You just finish your homework, kiddo. And don't burn yourself on the cookies, they're still hot.”

Damian nodded, taking one. Jason leaned over to grab one as well, but before he could I gently smacked his hand and grabbed his shirt, leading him into my room. “Not yet.”

He frowned, following along. “What? What'd I do?”

I shut the door, turning to face him. “Jay, my love, when you say things like that you make it harder for him to relax. You said yourself, he's been through alot; if he wants a taste of the nuclear family life, I'm happy to baby him all he wants. If he wants to come over every weekend I'll make cookies and ‘play mommy’, as you put it. And I don't want you making him feel weird about it. Ok?”

He shifted a bit, looking down at his feet. “Right, … sorry baby. It was just a joke…”

“I know, but he's still getting used to the idea that this is ok. Sometimes I think he expects to be punished for asking for things. I had to convince him to tell me what kinds of cookies he likes best. And he looked so surprised when I said we'd go to the store tomorrow for the ingredients I don't have. Like he thought it was a hypothetical question.”

Jason sighed, nodding. “He probably did…”

I nodded, gently cupping his cheek. “Just be gentle with him, ok? … Remember, if I'm playing mommy for him, I'm also playing house-wife for you~”

He blushed a bit and chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That sounds nice~ … you gonna wear a cute little apron and serve breakfast in bed?”

“Only if I manage to get up before you. Sometimes I think you don't sleep at all.” I chuckled, kissing him softly. He kissed back gently and smiled softly, nodding.

“Mh~ ok, mama, I'll play nice~”

I chuckled softly, kissing him again. “Good boy~”

The flash of red across his face made me giggle, and I led him back out of the bedroom. “Now you may have a cookie. And I'm making stir-fry for dinner.”

Damian looked up at me as I passed; “is it…”

I nodded; “vegetarian. And I think I finally figured out how to get that nice crispy layer on the tofu too!”

His lips curled up ever so slightly, he nodded once, and returned to his homework. Jason sat next to him, taking a cookie, and looked over his shoulder at his homework. “... New math teacher treating you ok?”

“It’s only been a week, but … Yeah, he seems like a nice guy so far. And word of the ‘crazy art show lady' has spread throughout the faculty.” I smirked a bit at that. I could be ‘crazy art show lady' if it made them think twice about disrespecting him.

Jason nodded. “Good.”

When I brought out dinner, Damian practically inhaled his first few bites. I blinked a bit, chuckling softly. “Don't choke, kiddo.”

He nodded, slowing down a bit. Periodically, I'd catch him staring at his backpack. “... You need something outta there?”

He flushed, shaking his head. “No, just … Jon is waiting for me to finish dinner.”

“Oh, I don't have a ‘no phones at the table' rule, kiddo. You can text your friend.”

He blinked repeatedly. “... I can?”

“Yeah, I don't mind. It would be pretty hypocritical if I did; I never go anywhere without my phone.”

Damian smiled a little and got his phone, texting Jon quickly. His guarded expression slowly melted away, and I had to remind myself not to stare before he caught me.

“... Do you want to invite him over some time?”

Damian looked up, frowning a bit. “Invite Jon over … here?”

“Yeah, you two could have a sleepover in the living room.”

“... Could we go to the arcade at the mall?”

“Sure! As long as his parents are ok with it. And give them my phone number in case they want to talk to me first, or need to check in.”

Damian grinned, nodding, and texted Jon quickly. “... Next weekend?”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Damian stared disdainfully at the wall of flour, scouring it for the kind needed for his cookies. Eventually, he grabbed a small bag, bringing it back to me.

“That's the one?”

He nodded slowly, frowning. “... I'm not used to looking for it in English, but this should be right.”

I nodded, gesturing for him to put it in the cart. “Ok, is that gonna be enough?” He nodded, releasing it. “What’s next?”

“Ghee.” He grabbed the corner of the cart and led me down the aisle, finding what he needed. He tsked softly at the container, but tossed it into the cart as well before leading the way to the spices. He selected several extracts, rose water, and a few spices I was low on.

“Alright, what else?”

“Dates, figs, pistachios, and walnuts.”

We scanned the aisles, eventually finding what we needed, and headed for the check-out counter. The way Damian watched the cashier and me had me wondering if he had ever been to an American grocery store before. I bagged the groceries, chatting with the cashier a bit.

The lady behind us in line glowered at Damian. He frowned, eyeing her for a moment, before continuing to watch the check out process. She huffed, rolling her eyes; “aren't you going to help, young man?”

I frowned, turning toward her. “Hey, leave him alone.”

I held a hand out for him, gesturing for him to come close. He frowned, taking a couple steps toward me.

She frowned more, looking more and more like she bit into a lemon. “I'm just saying, good boys don't just stare while others do the work.”

“No one asked you, lady. Back off.” I let my hand hover over his shoulder for a moment, not touching him but clearly indicating that he was under my protection. He glanced at my hand before looking up at me. “Should I do something?”

“No, kiddo, you're fine. We're just about done, and I would ask if I wanted help.”

He smirked slightly, watching me put my wallet away and grab the bags. He pulled the cart to the cart return and we headed out, strolling back to our bus stop. After a moment, he reached over and took the bag from one of my hands.

I smiled softly, letting him have it. “Don't let people like her bother you, ok? They're just grumpy that my generation doesn't expect kids to read our minds.”

He frowned a bit, staring at the sidewalk in front of him. “... That was common, in older generations?”

“Mh, yeah, I think so. My grandparents always had something to say about how my parents ‘coddled’ us. And my parents sure have a lot to say about how new parents are ‘babying’ their kids with the newest theories and parenting practices.” I chuckled; “as if there's something wrong with babying a literal baby?”

“... Back home, I was expected to behave just like the rest of the household. No matter my age.”

I nodded slowly. “Different cultures approach parenting differently, I suppose.”

“... I think in my case it's more of … my mother's approach to parenting.”

“Ah…”

He stared at a spot in front of him, frowning deeply; “... She loves me, she just … she had a … complicated life. … She did the best she could for me.”

I nodded. “... Parents are people. And people are flawed. Loving them doesn't mean we have to pretend they haven't hurt us, or that we have to forgive them for the bad parts of our childhood. … It's very mature of you to keep her experiences in mind like that. But you're also allowed to be upset.”

“... Upset?”

“It sounds like a classic example of ‘I had it bad, but my parents had it worse'. But you're still entitled to your feelings about your childhood. The good and the bad. … Children are supposed to be protected and cared for, but some kids … just don't get to have that. You're allowed to mourn the childhood you should have had. And you're allowed to seek out those experiences now.”

“... Like the craft kits?”

“Exactly. I bet it’s freeing, being able to just play, right?”

He nodded slowly. “... It is. … It's nice, not worrying about what people will think, or do. … You … you don't make a big thing about it.”

“Because it doesn't have to be a big thing if you don't want it to be. You get to decide what matters in this, and who's involved.”

He nodded slowly. “... Mother would be furious, if she knew Todd has been joking the way he has.”

“Joking?”

“... About you playing mommy.”

“Ah. I can make him stop if it makes you uncomfortable… But I also don't mind it if you don't.”

“... I will think on it.”

When the bus arrived we hopped on, finding a seat. Damian stared out the window, clutching his bag. At our stop I had to gently tug on the bag handles to pull him out of his thoughts, and we headed up to my apartment.

“Ok, remind me what the cookies we're making are called?”

“Ma’amoul. Mother made them for holidays…”

I smiled softly and nodded. “Well, I hope they'll live up to your memories then.”

We worked together to make the cookies, Damian staying practically underfoot to make sure they came out just right. The molding and filling process took quite a while, but we plowed through, slowly working out a rhythm. He hovered, watching them in the oven, until they were finally ready.

I carefully transferred them to a cooling rack and he immediately took one, breaking it in half. He looked it over, sniffing it a bit, and finally took a bite, chewing slowly. I watched, biting the inside of my lower lip a bit. “... What do you think, kiddo?”

He stared at the half of a cookie in his hand, his expression unreadable. Finally, he mumbled; “... Well, they're very ugly. … But they taste like home.”

I smiled softly, holding my arms behind my back to stop myself from pulling him into a hug. “I'm glad. And I'm sure the next batch will be prettier. Practice makes perfect, right?”

“The next batch?” He looked up at me curiously.

“Of course. You said they're your favorites.”

He flushed a bit and stared at the cookie in his hands again, nodding. “Yes, they are.”

“Then I'm gonna get good at this so you can have them more often.”

After a moment, he reached over to grip my elbow, gently squeezing before dropping his hand again. It was over as quick as it began, but I felt his warmth linger on my arm. I smiled softly, holding an arm out for him. He considered for a second before leaning in, letting me give him a quick shoulder squeeze.

“I'm glad you're happy with them, sweetheart. Why don't you go sit, and I'll bring you a plate and a glass of milk? And when the rest are cool we'll put them in a tupperware for you to take home.”

He nodded, nibbling on the rest of his cookie while I made up a plate for him. We sat on the couch, letting some dumb action movie fill the silence while we enjoyed the fruits of our labor.

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc #jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #damian wayne #multichapter fic #no y/n #Can I Get Your Number?

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biscuitsandwires · 3 months ago

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In which Danny wakes up in a weird place.... again. (pt. 4)

(pt 1 here) | (pt 2 here) | (pt 3 here)

The first thing Danny really clocked about this Damian guy, was the fact that he was very serious.

He watched as Danny came down to the ground, seemingly unsurprised that Danny was flying at all, and strode up to stand in front of him before crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sure you have several questions." Damian said, no beating around the bush with this guy.

"I mean, I woke up in a random mansion with a nice butler dude giving me breakfast and I don't remember how or why I'm here like, at all. So yeah, "several" isn't really cutting it."

Call him a smartass, but he was having a weird day, he'd earned it.

"Well, I will answer them as best as I can, Fenton. But you need to understand first and foremost that you cannot go home for a while."

That was... maybe the wrong thing to say to a halfa that could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Damian seemed to realize that though, somehow, and gave him a smirk.

"Sure, you can leave whenever you like. But you'll die if you do."

That was more ominous than it had any right to be, really, but Danny was ready to listen. "Alright, lay it on me."

Damian nodded, staring at him for a brief moment before turning around and marching away. "Come with me, it'll be easier to explain with visuals."

Danny snorted, but followed along, trying to keep up with Damian's brisk pace but eventually just floating after a while to keep up. Once they'd gotten to the massive set of computers in the room, the screens bigger than a theater showing, Damian sat in the chair and started typing.

Danny watched him, but after a moment, glanced up at the closest screen. What he saw made his hands clench at their sides, his heart stopping in his chest. It couldn't be...

"This is where I found you. You were lucky I made it there before any more damage was done."

It was the school gymnasium at Gotham Central, where his own school often sent their school trip students. It was blown to pieces, rubble everywhere, what looked distressingly like blood in a few places but he hoped, god he hoped it was just oil or something.

There were no signs of bodies, or anyone hurt, but that didn't mean anything. Not when there was this much damage. Hell, even anyone nearby would have gotten hurt from that.

"It was a direct attack. They did not care who they hurt, as long as they got to you."

Danny blinked, taking in the pure destruction of the place, but felt pure confusion washing over him.

He didn't remember going on a trip to Gotham. Didn't remember much past... What was the last thing he remembered?

The longer he stood there, trying to think about it, the more his head started to hurt.

"Don't injure yourself, Fenton. I'll explain everything, but you have to trust me." Damian said, simple and to the point, but with authority.

Danny stared back at him, trying to think past the fog that was building, and nodded. "Alright. I'll trust you."

For now, at least. It wouldn't be the first time somebody tried to pull a fast one and he'd gotten hurt.

He wasn't going to let it happen again.

Damian turned back to the computer, typing up more things on more screens, and Danny could only stand there, bracing himself for the ride.

#bis writes #danny phantom #dc x dp #damian wayne #hey look at that i wrote more #maybe more tomorrow too

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thevoidstaredback · 3 months ago

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Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Danyal Fenton, Jan. 8th, 2014

I sincerely apologize for the lack of contact. Much has happened; too much to put into a single letter, though I’m sure you saw some of it on the news. It has been two years since your last letter. I wanted to respond earlier, but I was too much of a coward. I spent hours staring at your letters, but I couldn’t bring myself to open them, let alone respond. That is no excuse, however, and I apologize.

As I’ve already mentioned I’m sure you know, Father went missing shortly after my last letter to you. The public was told that he was kidnapped and that we would pay ransom. He returned about a year ago, as I’m also certain you heard, and we assured the public that the Private Investigators we hired had found and retrieved him and that the captors had been imprisoned. That is our cover story. I would like to tell you the truth of the matter in person, but it cannot wait for that day to come.

Father was lost in time. He has still not told us how or what happened when he was gone, other than that he lost his memory. Everytime he regained it, he would leave a clue for us before he forgot again and was taken to another time. He said he had help, but he didn’t say from whom.

Timothy was the one to follow the clues and rescue him, though I’m not sure how. Everyone thought Father was dead, but we refrained from announcing it until Timothy returned from his search.

No one knows that Batman was missing. Richard took up the cowl and I was given the title of Robin. (The colors are garish, but the others wore them, so I must as well.) Richard was quite good at stepping into Father’s place, well enough to fool Superman and the rest of the Justice League, but it was hard on him. The stress was too much for him at the time, though he is now back as Nightwing in Bludhaven.

As morbid as the thought may be, the entire year was good for distancing our civilian and vigilante lives. No one thinks Father is Batman because Batman was active while Father was missing. Nightwing was undercover while Richard was in Gotham, returning before Richard left to go back to his city. Timothy was sighted in Pakistan with no appearance from Red Robin until after Timothy had “left”.

On the topic of Timothy, he is on Grandfather’s radar. He confided that, in the process of looking for Father, he enlisted the help of the Council of Spiders. Grandfather trained him, offering up the position of Demons Heir to him. In his escape, Timothy blew up eight bases around the world, though I don’t know how he managed.

On the topic; I have renounced my position of Demons Heir. Father and our siblings have taught me many things since I first arrived, things which made me rethink what we grew up knowing. I’m sure you went through the same thing. Mother has tried fruitlessly to take me back with her, but I have gone back to Father every time. I wanted to go back to you, but I am not willing to put you at risk like that. However, the Shadows have separated into factions, one side with Grandfather and the other with Mother. Nanda Parbat now stands as Grandfather’s primary base of operations.

The WAR - We Are Robin - Movement that swept over Gotham in Father’s absence was headed by our new foster brother Duke Thomas. He now goes by the name Signal. I was the one to recruit him and give him the bat he now wears.

Having gone back to re-read your letters, and read for the first time your last three letters, I have noticed that you refer to Father’s chosen as my siblings alone. Do you not want them to be your siblings as well? I do not blame or criticize; I am simply curious and would like some clarity. والآن حان دوري لأطلب عفوك. لن أدع الاتصالات البعيدة المدى تفلت من يدي مرة أخرى.

Damian Wayne

***

After two years of radio silence, Danny finally got a letter from his brother. He was glad, don’t get him wrong! But he found himself not nearly as excited as he would’ve been last year. After two years of constantly waiting and checking and not being able to do anything, Danny was so burnt out that when the letter finally did come, he didn’t immediately rush to open and read it. He did, of course, open and read it, but he also waited to write up a response. Like Damian, he now had a lot on his plate, except he actually barely had any time to himself anymore.

Between ghost fights, playing keep-away with his parents and the GIW, teaching his friends how to handle themselves in a fight, saving the world, and trying desperately to get through the media block to reach the Justice League, Danny was pulled so thin that he was surprised he hadn’t ripped apart from the stress of it all! That’s not to even mention his own training in the Infinite Realms!

Yes, he had his team, but they could only do so much. And it didn’t help that Vlad the Frootloop who is secretly a vampire keeps getting in his way and causing shit! He did get a dog now, though! Cujo is the best dog.

That’s all to say that he’s beyond tired.

“Whoever came up with the saying “Sleep when you’re dead” is a fucking liar!” he exclaimed, flopping face-first onto Sam’s bed.

She snorted. “Don’t be dramatic, Danny.”

“No, no, he’s got a point,” Tucker said, “Danny’s been getting less sleep since he died!”

Danny groaned again. Sam rolled him over so that he could breathe as he detransformed. “Any luck with getting through the Media Block?”

It was Tucker’s turn to groan. He leaned back so far that he fell onto the floor, but he didn’t care. “No! I don’t know how they’re doing it, but outside news can come in, but nothing’s able to go out.”

That particular issue has gotten a lot of people up in arms. Just after the Ghost Portal was opened, the US Government sent a privately funded branch - the Ghost Investigation Ward, GIW for short and Guys In White for shits and giggles - to contain it. Instead of containing or shutting down the portal, they decided to put the entire down on a soft lock-in, meaning that anything can come in but almost nothing can go out.

The G.I.W. is a branch of the Bureau of Normalcy. Bureau of Normalcy is an organization dedicated to the weaponization or eradication of entities they deem to be odd. Basically government funded war crimes. So no different than what the government normally does, just with a different name. The G.I.W. are the offshoot that specializes in dealing with ghosts.

Getting rid of the G.I.W. is basically number two on the priority list. Once they’re gone, the Media Block will go with them, so will most of the property damage and about a third of Danny’s stress. Sabotaging his parents’ tech so that it’s safer for all parties comes in at a very close second, with making sure the living and dead don’t destroy each other.

“On a slightly different topic,” Sam said, “How have the protections on the Portal been coming along?”

Another project Danny’s been working on in what little spare time he has. Since getting his powers, he’s joined Sam in reading up on different kinds of magic, going so far as to start looking into the greater occult community. That’s when he came up with the idea of putting protection runes around and on the Ghost Portal. Unfortunately, the runes have to be both a specific type and insanely supercharged in order to work on or near the portal. He hasn’t managed to find the right runes and nothing has been helpful. Another reason to reach out to the Justice League, actually.

Originally, he’d wanted to ask the Justice League for advice and maybe for help from any actual magic users they know. He was perfectly fine, brushing off what he’d been born learning and using those skills, but he was born to kill, not save, so advice from actual heroes would’ve been nice. Unfortunately, the G.I.W. says that he can’t have nice things, so he doesn’t.

Leaving the town was an option that everyone had, but no one was willing to uproot their entire lives because the government got a little bit pissy and don’t know how to listen to their people.

“Not good,” he told her, “The runes keep blowing up in my face.”

“Have you asked any of the ghosts?” Tucker hadn’t bothered to get off of the floor, but he was still working at getting through the Media Block.

Danny shook his head. “None of them are helpful. They won’t listen to me unless we’re fighting and, I don’t know if you know this, but asking about magic runes isn’t really the thing I’m thinking about while trying to save people.”

Sam rubbed her forehead, her eyes closed. “Alright, I’ll look through my grandma’s books again to see if we can find something.” She sighed. “This would be so much easier if we could actually contact someone.”

“I’m working on it!” Tucker snapped, “These guys have something that keeps changing the code on me and it’s near impossible to work through! The second I put even a crack in their firewalls, it fills itself up! How the hell am I supposed to get around a living firewall?”

“Sorry, Tuck,” Sam said, “I know you’ve been working your ass off on that.”

He laughed humorlessly, “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

The three delved into silence, working on their own projects. Tucker was doing his best against the Media Block, Sam was looking everywhere for protection runes strong enough to work on the Portal, and Danny was adding entries to his Catalogue Des Fantômes.

He was on page nineteen of the notebook, the last entry having been Youngblood. There was only one entry that wasn’t actually a ghost, though, but Danny always skilled over that page when he could. Freakshow, theRingmaster of Circus Gothica scared the ever loving shit out of Danny. He hated not being in control of himself. He hated the memory lapses when he was under someone else's influence. He hated that he hurt his friends.

The page he was working on was for the blob ghosts. They were low-threats and adorable. They also made wonderful informants, being able to fly far and fast and listen and relay without being caught. The only problem was that he was pretty sure only other ghosts could see and understand the little blobs.

“It’s been really quiet recently, don’t you think?” Tucker said after about an hour of quietly doing their own thing.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“It’s just been…quiet,” he explained, “Not a lot has been happening. Like, at first, there were attacks every day, but it’s Sunday and Youngblood was the only ghost to attack.”

Danny sat up, coming to the same realization as Tucker. “Oh, no,” he said, catching the other twos’ attention.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You spoke it into existence.”

“Huh?”

“You said it’s been quiet; Now something’s gonna-!” He was cut off by a rumble that shook the mansion. Swearing, Danny transformed into Phantom and flew out of the window. He didn’t get very far before noticing what was wrong. Sam and Tucker both joined him at the window.

“Holy shit.” Sam muttered.

Tucker nodded. “What the hell?”

The sky, previously a clear blue, was now swirls of toxic green and black. Everything was dimmer, despite the amount of lights in the town. The clouds were all gone, replaced with nothing that was so glaringly obvious that the trio found themselves feeling agoraphobic. The biggest change, though, was that they were now on an island. Where there had been fields stretching on forever just a few minutes ago, there was now a drop into a fading green to black void. Also, everything was tinted purple.

Phantom was quick to regain himself. He flew back to his house because this wasn’t right. Why was Amity Park in the Infinite Realms? How was Amity Park in the Infinite Realms? Both questions he needed answers to yesterday.

As he passed, he saw people freaking out, running around like chickens with their heads cut off to find someone who might have an answer.

Red Huntress was out and about, so he flew to her as fast as he could. “Get everyone to calm down!” he shouted over the noise of everyone screaming below them.

She glared at him. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.

Now, he and Red have never quite gotten along. Sure, they’ve worked together, but him knowing her and her not knowing him was really the only thing stopping them from getting along perfectly. At least she’d stopped trying to turn him into the G.I.W.

“I don’t know,” he answered, “But I’m gonna find out. As soon as I do, I’ll tell you!” She nodded and was off to work damage control.

It took another few minutes before Phantom was at his house. Using both invisibility and intangibility, he flew down into the lab, vacant of any occupants, and went straight to the Portal. The Portal that was now an empty shell of bad memories. There was no power running through it.

“What..?” He turned on a dime, Plasmius now directly behind him. “What did you do?”

The older ghost clicked his tongue and shook his head. “What makes you think I did this? You have such a low opinion of me?”

“Yes.”

“Shame.”

“Am I wrong?” The silence spoke for itself. “What the hell did you do, Vlad.”

“Now, now, Daniel, no need to be so hostile.”

“Really? ‘Cause we’re no longer on Earth, dipshit.”

“Language, Daniel.”

“My name is ‘Danyal’, asshole.”

“That’s what I said,” he smirked, “Daniel.”

He stopped himself from starting a physical altercation and took a deep breath. “Just tell me what happened so that I can go clean up after you again.”

“I did not cause-”

“Just shut the fuck up and tell me what happened!”

“Well, that’s quite the contradiction or requests-”

Danny threw his hands in the air and left Plasmius in the lab. He didn’t have time for Vlad’s pathetic attempt at mind games! He had shit to figure out and people to help calm down.

“Walking away in the middle of a conversation?” Plasmius caught up easily, “How rude. Where did you learn your manners?”

“Maybe if you’d actually be helpful for once in your goddamn existence, then I’d be more inclined to stay and chat for a moment. As it stands, though, you’re doing a shit job of being mayor. Your people are freaking the fuck out and you’re here antagonizing me. Now, if you really wanna have a conversation, you can tell me what you did.”

Plasmius was quiet for a moment. Then, he admitted, “The King.”

Phantom blinked. “That what?”

“The King.”

“You don’t mean the King-King, right? The one that all the blob ghosts weaned me about? The one I’m sure you were also warned about? That King?” He asked, “Because I can hear the capitalization in your voice, Plasmius, and if you woke up the one guy that could actually destroy the world, then I’m gonna beat your ass and feed your head to a duck.”

The older man had the audacity to look sheepish. “I took his ring. He didn’t like that, so he woke up.”

Phantom groaned, dragging his hands down his face. Taking an unnecessary and deep breath, he said, “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna go down there and explain exactly what the hell you did. I don’t care if you blame yourself as Vlad or if you blame yourself as Plausmius, but they need to know. You also need to do your damn job and calm them the fuck down. I am going to figure out how to fix this because you will only get in my way.” He flew away.

Gods, Danny doesn’t get paid nearly enough for this.

For the first time since he’d died, Danny was scared for his life. He was all alone, stepping up to fight the King of Ghosts; A powerful deity who rules over the Realms of the dead and the living and everything in-between. He’s got the power to pull an entire city into the Realm Between. He could probably destroy the Living Realms if he so chose to!

And Danny was challenging him to a fight. With no back up. And no hope for medical because he didn’t tell anyone he was going to be fighting the King. If he makes it out of this no more dead than he already was, he’s going to sleep for a week. Everyone else can just stop bothering him.

He stepped up to the steps of Pariah’s Keep. The building was huge, red, glowing, and beyond imposing. It looked like every horrible aspect of every castle was shoved into one and painted to look like it was coated in the blood of the Living.

He’s never been nervous for a fight before.

Danny steeled himself, shoving his fear into the deepest recesses of his mind, and started up the stairs. He could feel eyes on him, but he didn’t know where they were from. He ignored them, letting his transformation wash over him as he walked. All the ghosts knew who he was anyway, so he didn’t feel the need to hide his transformation from them.

He stepped into the great hall, a black and red throne standing proudly on a raised dais at the end of the room. The reflective obsidian floor looked like a void of nothing, the light from the torches on the walls seemed to be absorbed into the void.

Pariah Dark, King of Ghosts, stood tall at the bottom of the dais. His skin was white, his hair and eyes toxic green, his armor black and gray, his cape black and red. The belt and sash he wore both had skulls on them, and he had a longsword on his hip that had a matching skill pommel.

“You are foolish to come here alone.” The King looked down his nose at him. His voice boomed through the room, but he didn’t raise it.

Phantom had adjusted his own outfit, making it look more like what the older assassins wore in Nanda Parbat. He had several knives hidden around his person, his katana on his left hip, a rapier on his right hip, and a tanto on his back.

“I am more concerned for the safety of my home than the safety of myself. Bringing anyone with me would’ve put them at risk.”

The King sneered. “You are foolish, child. Connections such as those will only drag you down. Cut them, and you will only grow stronger.”

“Y’know, my Grandfather used to tell me something similar when I was a child.”

“Your Grandfather was a wise man.”

“High praise coming from you, you’re majesty. You wouldn’t happen to know who he is, do you?”

“You smell of the Pits; Lifeblood of the Between Realm that has found its way into the Living Realms. You do not have the anger to have been submerged, but you have been around them.” The King stated, “Tell me, where were you born, K̴͔̑͘u̸̙͌̋͠m̴̬̯̤̄͗̊̚m̷̹̜̟̣̈ḯ̴͚͕̙̗̥̀t̸͚̠̭̣͎̒̄u̷̺̹̫̅͑ṡ̷̞͆l̶̝̈́̌̅a̶̹̪̎̇̈̈̓p̸͎̬͖̺͊̾̽͜š̶̞̤̞͐͗͝?”

Despite knowing that that was not a language he had learned, he knew what was said. “L̵̤̞͎̓ử̷͈͉̫̆͊͠m̵̡͓̣͂͋e̵̩̹̼̠̬͆͑ ̴͈̦͒͒ő̸͓̀̂͘r̵̞̰̠̟̓̓ǧ̵̛͈̜̪͋,” he answered, “V̴̯͓̀a̸̼̩̐̉r̷̪͂j̸̛͕̼̈́͌u̶͔̐͌d̴͓͍̀̍͝e̵̤̐ ̵͉̖̅̃ͅǫ̸̹̩̅͌r̸̢̙̕͜ġ̷̦͝, The living call it Nanda Parbat.”

“A̶̧̞̯̓ḷ̶̡͕̰̫̏a̴̛̤̲͔̅̄́͝s̸̝̔͑t̴̫̏̉͋i̶̢̼͈̪̎̂́̕ ̷̼͉̐͌͊̑̾m̶̯̹͔̺͂̀͜ḁ̷͍̟͇̞̈̀̒͆͝͠g̵͈͚̹̽ĭ̶̪̰̿̒,” King Pariah repeated, “I am familiar with that place. You say you were born there?”

“Correct.”

“Do you fight to protect, or do you fight to rule?”

“I fight to protect.”

“Alright, T̶̨͇͋͌͆͌́ä̸͇̰͓̿h̷̥̓͌͋̈̔̓t̴̗̻͚͈͚̺̓́̔e̴̢̯̱̓̄̎̾̆ḑ̷̬̔ḛ̷̱̭̙̪͑̃͌̓͐ ̵̭̯͔̈̈̇̓̕̕l̶̜̞̺̜̦̋̿̄͒͊a̶̢̼͈͆p̶͓̟̱̣̉š̶̹͋̄̕͝,” he drew his sword, Danny did the same. “I will display your banner amongst your kin.” The fight began.

Phantom and Pariah crossed blades in the middle of the room. The King had both hands on the hilt of his, pushing his weight into where the metal clashed. Phantom was wielding his katana, his left hand open and prepared to either go for a dagger or join his right hand on the katana. After a few moments of struggle, the two pushed away, evenly matched for strength.

Again, Pariah made the first move, lunging at Phantom with a burst of flight to speed him up. They crossed blades, but didn’t hold as the large ghost spun around to strike at Phantom from behind. Phantom met his blade with the dagger that fell from his sleeve into his hand. The nerve damage transferred between forms, making the grip on the dagger slip. He slid Pariah’s blade away to cover the fault, though he was nicked in the arm. He didn’t feel it.

As he slid the sword, Phantom’s katana reached to hit Pariah. The blade grazed off the armor, ringing with the force. Phantom was forced to dodge away to save the blade. He was quick to stash it, bushing the dagger back up his sleeve and pulling the rapier from its place on his hip.

Pariah feinted around Phantom’s jab, getting close stabbing at his thigh. He managed a graze before having to pull back in a dodge. Phantom’s rapier caught Pariah's cape, tearing through it and pulling it off of his shoulders. Growling, he pulled the rest of the fabric off, discarding it quickly.

The two stood apart from each other. The floor remained spotless and the torches undisturbed. The two halves of the cape laid at the feet of the two.

“You duel well,” The King commended.

Phantom nodded in thanks. “I do not have nearly your experience, however I was born with a weapon in my hand.”

Again, they met blades in the middle, green sparks flying off at the initial contact. Phantom was quick to slip another dagger into his hand, pushing his enemy’s blade up so he could get in close. As soon as he did, he shoved the dagger into the gap between the ghost’s chest plate and twisted.

Pariah cried out and threw Phandom away from him, the younger ghost hitting the wall before landing on the floor in a crouch. He pulled the dagger from his gut, the thing only inhibiting his movement. Like Phantom, he did not heal.

Switching his weapon again, Phantom lunged forward first with matching daggers in his hands. Pariah kept both blades away with his own, nimbly moving away when he could afford to and kicking when he could not. Finally, he knocked both dagger’s from Phantom’s hands and stabbed through the ghost child’s left hand.

The phantom pain from nerves that no longer worked caused Phantom to scream. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the blade with his other hand, cutting it, and wrapped his legs around Pariah’s arm. The older ghost grunted, lifting his sword and Phantom together. He raised him above his head before slamming him back down into the floor. Again, Phantom screamed, but he began to pull the longsword from The King’s hand.

Raising his arm and slamming Phantom back into the ground over and over again, Pariah didn’t notice his grip on his blade was loosening until Phantom had pulled it from him entirely. In a show of strength, the sword was thrown to the other side of the throne room. It stabbed into the wall, the edge chipping and rolling in several different places.

“You brat!” The King roared. Phantom let go of his arm, flipping away and landing in a crouch near the wall. Pariah gave chase, throwing punches when he got close. Soon, the battle was taken to the air, both parties flying.

Pariah Dark fought like a brawler, all heavy hits and weighted punches. He liked to stay firmly in place when he hit, being too big to outrun his opponent.

Phantom, on the other hand, fought like a snake, relying on speed and flexibility. He used the daggers hidden on his person to wear his opponent down. He was always on the move, depending heavily on outlasting whoever he was fighting.

The King grabbed the ghost child by his neck, squeezing hard enough that Phantom heard a creak, pain radiating from where his bones would be. “You have lost.”

Phantom smirked, “Not quite,” he said. He kicked up, knocking Pariah in the chin, and punched his elbow, flying out of range when the grip on his neck loosened. He gasped for air on habit, green blood leaking from his mouth.

Pariah stood at his full height. “Why do you fight, Ț̷̿̇̾͘a̴̘̪̘̥͖͈͆s̵͙̎̃̍̋͊͜á̴̟̲̰̲̃̓̎͘͠k̵̡̰̖̝̳̑̄a̸̹̹̮͊͆͛̆̈́̕a̶̙̝̭͔̘̪̿̓̃̍̊̾͜͝l̸̨̞͎̫̮̅u̸͓̒́́͆͋̇͠ ̶̛̺̰̦͔̞͖̯͇͑͆̔͝l̶̨̛̖̝̫̭̱̿̃̊̿̉͘̕å̴̢̯͍p̶̡̢̬̩̣̃̏̓̾͋̈̔s̷̱͎̄̅ͅ?”

“To protect,” Phantom glared, “T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒.”

The King laughed, the sound wet as green blood fell from his mouth and cuts, his chestplate being stained by the stuff. “You will End if you keep that foolish mindset.”

Phantom smirked. “Maybe,”

Pariah’s eyes closed, his entire being losing its glow. Slowly, he disappeared, leaving behind a small ball of fire. Over the orb was his crown, the green fire fading from the black metal. A small black ring joined them on the floor.

He waited for several minutes, staring at the small orb, the ring, and the crown. Then, he fell to his knees with a smile. “I…I did it.” His smile grew to a grin. “I did it!”

Translation 1 - French: Ghost Catalog

Translation 2 - Estonian & Zalgo: Ghost Child

Translation 3 - Estonian & Zalgo: Valley of Snow … Valley of Shadows

Translation 4 - Estonian & Zalgo: Naked Mountain

Translation 6 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Stars

Translation 7 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of Balance

Translation 8 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King

Part 8 Part 10

#Tales of Conquest. Warnings of Fools #Letters Between Brothers #part 9 #word count: 4.3k #my writing #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfic #dc x dp #ghouls and gang writing event 2024 #dpxdcbang2024 #g&g24

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