#damian overtime

[mellohd]

I have been given a great power by gaining acces to his model

I SPENT ALL DAY all day SLAVING WORKING LIKE A DOG TRYING TO GET THIS TO WORK AND I FINALLY finally DID

I’ve been scrounging through YouTube tutorials, game files, unity scenes like a starving Victorian child begging for food and the fruits of my labor have finally payed off. From the MOMENT I woke up to this very second I have done nothing but work on this vile video AND I FEEL NOTHING BUT JOY

IT TOOK ME SO LONG CAUSE I LITERALLY KNOW NOTHING ABOUT BLENDER OR RIPPING ASSETS

If you download this video and upload PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAG MEEEEE PLEASEE

[gosuckmydickgrayson]

❄️🌨️

[wellijustfinnihedoneofthebooks]

Team up comic with tim and damian where gradually they grow a begrudging respect for eachother and THEY MAKE TIM ACTUALLY PICK A SUPERHERO IDENTITY

[alienzout]

Still on to them.

[u6uuut6rfyjblog]

[justcallme27-blog]

random overtime dump artt,, and headcanon characters stufff

[rabbarot]

drawing wit @puddinglovers on aggie cuz our asses cant play CoF for goodness sake earlier in the day orz (planned to draw some CoF stuff but somehow ended up with overtime instead LMAOOO)

some shenanigans in the chat wit them LMAO

[remnants]

honestly i'd be more willing to write wfa off as some corny comic that i don't read if it wasn't for that one episode where they gave duke and damian "etiquette lessons". they love to say there's poc in the writer's room but they must of all been out to lunch or something because how did two of the very few characters of color being forcefully tied up and taught how to be civilized even make it off the idea board?

[celestialvexation-arch]

Bro what if the murder trio from overtime shared MC?

snsndns i can see that happening at some point, but don't expect either of them to be fair in regards to how long they spend time with MC x3

[kanrajpg]

Damian growing up to be pretty and Jon having to deal with the realization that holy shit, his best friend is pretty and "had he always been this pretty? Has his skin always looked that smooth? Have his eyes always been that big and green? Where his lashes always so long? Wait... Does this mean other people also find him pretty??“ Yes it does and it stresses him out

When Jon first told Kon he had feelings for Damian Kon's response was "Oh so you like them pretty and mean uh?"

When Jon first realize he had feelings for Damian the first thing he did was Google "Falling for your best friend reddit"

Damian fall for Jon slowly and overtime, he didn't realize it right away though just kind of thought he unlocked a new level of friendship, until one day he noticed how liked it when Jon held his hand and didn't want him to let go. He proceeded to have an internal crisis about it.

Jon: "Damian you've been playing that game for like 5 hours"

Damian: *playing project sekai* "You don't understand, I'm trying to pull a specific Asahina and I'm close I can feel it"

Damian has already spent at least $300 on a damned gotcha game. Jon is very unimpressed.

When it's first announced that Jon and Damian are dating Dick, Jason, and Tim decide to give Jon the shovel talk. However Jon has a hard time taking them seriously, he's known them since he was a kid it's more funny to him if anything. That being said though the one he actually is kind of intimidated by is Jason

Kon also tries to give Damian the shovel talk but Damian lowkey kind of scares him so he just decides that Jon is strong enough to take care of himself

One of Damian's favorite pieces of clothing is a hoodie he pretty much stole from Jon. It's far too big on him but he doesn't care, it smells like Jon and that's what matters

Damian never fully realized how much he actually liked physical affection until he started dating Jon. However he doesn't know how to ask for it so instead he just sits or stands really really close to Jon hoping that he gets the message

When they first got together they tried to keep it settled, try to keep it a secret, but they weren't subtle at all because to anyone with eyes it was obvious that something was up with the way that they would stand closer to each other more so than usual, the way that Jon would lean down to whisper something in Damian's ear to make him laugh, and the way that Damian would reach out and run a hand through Jon's hair and in a claim to quote unquote fix it and ask him if he's ever heard of a brush

Jon doesn't really remember when he started to have a crush on Damian. He assumes it was around the time puberty and hormones started to happen but what he does remember is that all of a sudden he would be out with friends or family and think stuff like "oh this would be a fun place to bring Damian to!" or he would see or hear something and be like "this reminds me of Damian!" and it just hit and he was just like "oh no..."

This post I already posted but I'm sharing it again! >...

The song magnetic by illit, the lyrics, a young Jon and Damian, enough said

[mellohd]

Josiah has a chat window open on his computer with the player. Translated under it so it’s easier to read!

Josiah: hey man I got the bsb store working on store wifi lol we can play largesmallearth hit me up ok

You: Dude. I’m sitting right here, why do you need to use the company email to talk about your weird bsb hacks. HR definitely reads these, you know that right?

Josiah: hey they got the new bigsmallearth they got person 3 why you hating, bet you like Pursuing Forces huh you a Pursuing Forces liker? lame

You: it came out with the console! Those games were expensive then so yeah! I played it when I was like 11, I’m not getting into this with you right now.

—-

Josiah is so me except I don’t work at an office and kill people: also me and my friend talk like this all the time dude akdjsjsj 😭

More memes I made for the discord 😈

[witherby]

hey 😏

just wondering if you have anymore mer reader in the works 😏

also! i hope that your doing well!!

and can i be 🌕 anon? :)

You can absolutely be 🌕 anon! And, I do! Here's the final installment of:

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader

Part 9

Masterlist is Here!

"I'll need everyone's attention before we continue into the next exhibit, please."

Damian's voice is clear but firm, no room for argument in his tone, and his tour group all quickly quiet down to watch him. He rewards them with his well-practiced Customer Service Smile, nodding once.

"Thank you," he says. "This final exhibit is the pride and joy of Gotham Aquarium: the Mer tank. I can already see hands raised, and I'll open the floor up to questions in a minute. We're going to cover the rules first."

He holds up one hand, raising a finger as he goes.

"Rule number one: absolutely no flash photography. Take as many pictures and videos you want, but you have to leave the flash off. Our mer's eyes are sensitive to highly-focused levels of light, and you could temporarily blind them. Rule number two: do not knock or beat on the glass. It is several inches thick and reinforced, but you can still startle and disturb the mer. Rule number three: please...please stop flipping off our mer. They've learned to mimic their handlers and some of the guests, and it took weeks to make them quit it. If I see a bird, notice a flash, or catch you banging on the glass, everyone will be asked to leave."

He drops his hand, looking at every guest expectantly.

"Got it? Everyone say yes, Damian."

"Yes, Damian," the crowd echoes back, a mixture of amusement from the adults and excitement from the children reaching his ears. He gives them another practiced smile and reaches for the door.

"Great. Then step right in. Fan out and look around as much as you want. You can ask any questions now."

"How long has Gotham Aquarium had the mer?" One adult immediately asks, examining the seaweed on the bottom of your tank.

"Almost two years," Damian replies. "The anniversary of their arrival is in a month. We've got a small party planned to celebrate."

"What's the mer's favorite color?" A child asks him, gently tugging on Damian's pant leg to get his attention. His smile becomes more genuine.

"Green," he replies. "They love green things. I see your hair clip is green. They'll probably stare at you when they come out."

The little girl gasps, eyes wide. "Really!?" She turns and runs to her dad. "Hey daddy! The mer likes green, and my hair clip is green! The mer will like me!"

More questions come that Damian answers with ease. He paces along the floor and casts his gaze upward, examining all the little ways your tank has been changing overtime.

Your rock collection has grown substantially since Damian started painting more for you. He gives you a new one every day, and you have them proudly scattered all along the floor to decorate your enclosure. You've also taken to moving your seaweed around; instead of one, big stretch of it to hide and sleep in, you've uprooted it and made it into a series of little hiding places. He can also see some weighted toys lying around that one visitor asks about, happy to explain how you use them for enrichment.

"When's the mer come out?" Another one asks, leaning against the glass. His eyes are practically glazed over from disinterest. "Is it sleeping or something? These tickets were like forty bucks and I'm just staring at rocks and water."

There's a loud thud against the glass behind him. The man yelps and whips around to find you with your hands pressed against the wall, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stare right at him.

"Oh, shit!"

Damian sighs, but he's smirking. You love startling unsuspecting guests; it's your second favorite activity. He watches the others flock to you once they realize what happened, and you perk up and examine them all with a much more pleasant smile.

"Daddy, I can't see," the girl from before complains. Her father gently hoists her up onto his shoulders, and you immediately take notice.

You push off from the glass and swim around the edge of the tunnel to examine her as closely as possible. You tap one claw on the glass, then gesture to your head, and the little girl gasps and beams.

"They see it!!! They see my hair clip daddy!!" She chirps. She tugs it off of her head and holds it up for you to see better. Your pupils widen and your tail swishes gently back and forth, deeply intrigued.

"Obviously, this is our mer," Damian speaks up, and he tells them your name. "Their breed is found in shallow, fresh water. They thrive in warmer temperatures, and they're very rarely alone. You can typically expect them to travel in pods of at least three, though more commonly up to six or seven."

"But Gotham Aquarium only has one mer?" A guest asks, while you make playful grabs for the clip to no avail. "Aren't they lonely, then?"

"There was a big adjustment period for them when we first acquired our mer," Damian nods, "but they have a dedicated team of caregivers that ensure they aren't lonely or bored. They've bonded with several of us very well. Even though they recognize that we don't live underwater, they still see us as pod-mates."

"How long did it take to bond with them?"

"Great question," Damian says. He watches you give up on snatching the clip and start swimming around the tunnel to examine the other visitors. "It took them about ten months after arriving to learn to trust me. We started off slow: I would use a remote-controlled robot to deliver their buckets of food and then dump it into the water. Then I would enter the room where the top of the tank is, and hand it to them with a long pole. Then I got rid of the pole and set the bucket on the lip of the tank, and stood back while they retrieved it. When they got used to me being around, we started working on small tricks."

Damian lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers to catch your attention. You lock eyes with him and give a knowing nod, swimming up until you're positioned directly above him. He waves his left hand clockwise, and you swim in slow, clockwise circles. He waves his right arm next, and you switch and start spinning counter-clockwise.

"This is all done humanely and voluntarily, of course," Damian explains while the guests watch on with rapt attention. "If there's a trick they don't want to perform, they simply won't do it. We don't force them into doing anything, including coming out during tours if that's not what they want. Some days they just aren't up to saying hello, and that's fine."

He drops one arm and uses the other to make a broad waving motion. You mimic the action. He points at one of your toys, gesturing for you to grab it and bring it over. You glance at the one he wants, then ignore him and decide to go back over to the little girl and admire her hair clip some more.

"As you can see, they like shiny objects, especially if they're green. They've got a small collection of aquatic-safe objects in their hideaway. All breeds of mer tend to have hoarding tendencies, and ours is no different."

Damian gives the group a few more facts about you and your general behaviors, answers some more questions, and then inevitably has to call it when the same guy complaining about ticket prices decides to photograph you with the flash on. You flinch and rub your eyes, then dart away out of sight.

"All right, everyone, please come this way," he calls, in that cordial but no-nonsense tone again, and holds open the door. "This concludes your tour of Gotham Aquarium. Please exit this way in an orderly fashion."

"Aww.."

"Nice job, jackass. We were supposed to be in here for at least twenty more minutes."

"I didn't think he was serious! I forgot to turn the flash off, so what!"

"That was kinda cool. Sucks we couldn't stay, though."

There's a tug on his pants again. Damian looks down at the little girl, who fidgets nervously.

"Um...is the mer gonna be okay? Are their eyes hurting a lot?" She asks. Damian knees down to her height and offers her another smile.

"They'll be fine," he promises. "I personally check on them every day. What's your name? I'll tell them you said hi."

"Um!" The girl blushes, eyes wide. "It's Rosie! Thank you mister!"

"You're welcome, Rosie. I hope you had fun today."

"So much fun!" She agrees, then turns to her dad and reaches up to take his hand, walking out of the tunnel. "Daddy, daddy! When I grow up I wanna take care of mers, too!"

"Okay, honey," her dad chuckles, "but you're gonna have to do your homework if that dream is gonna come true."

"Aw, man!....okay. I'll do my math sheets for the mers..."

Once the room is cleared, Damian closes and locks the doors. He hangs around just long enough to ensure no stragglers try to swing back around, then drops the Polite Tour Guide persona and heads for the staff elevators with a scowl. It's a matter of minutes before he's in the locker room, swapping out the Aquarium polo and khakis for his wetsuit and then trudging into your tank entrance.

"Rule one!" He complains to Jon, who is already sitting on the lip of the tank and filling a puzzle cube with treats for you. "No flash! It's the first rule, and someone breaks it almost every single day we're open! One day I'm going to hit my limit for these witless miscreants and start punching people."

"So, tours didn't go super well I take it," Jon says, not even sparing him a glance. He's heard different versions of this rant at least five times and doesn't react to it anymore, having quickly come to understand that Damian is just Like That. "You gonna go do the eye exam already or should I call my dad? Y'know, the actual vet?"

"He's never as thorough as I prefer. You know that. Also: shut up, who asked you?"

"You're a joy and a delight to work with, Wayne."

Damian ignores him and grabs a rebreather and situates it over his mouth, ties the bag of eye equipment around his waist, steps up onto the edge of the tank, then dives. The water swirls around him, an all-encompassing and welcoming pressure. He starts pedaling his arms and legs, headed for the direction you sped off at the end of the tour.

He finds you in the middle level of your tank, about a floor down, curled around an underwater tree limb and rubbing your eyes. You squint at him when you notice his presence and trill, the water vibrating slightly around you.

Damian quickly goes to work, pulling out one tool at a time to check on your eyes and how well you can see. You're perfectly fine, just annoyed, but he considers having his father enact a total ban on any cameras in the tunnel when tours come by. Just because you're fine now doesn't mean it'll stay that way every time.

He points upwards, to the surface, and you nod. You take his hand and pull him along, your powerful tail carrying him faster than he ever could on his own, and soon you're both above the water and treading it calmly.

"Welcome back!" Jon grins, waving your puzzle toy at you. "Refilled this for ya. Your record for getting all the treats out is six minutes. Think you can break that today?"

Your eyes narrow and you reach for it eagerly. You can smell the squid and shrimp tucked into each compartment, which are your favorites; absolutely you will be getting those out in six minutes or less.

Damian pulls himself up to the lip of the tank and both boys watch you poke, pull, and prod at the components of the puzzle box. It's not long before you're collecting your spoils and eating them triumphantly. Jon checks his timer and notes that you beat your previous record by over a minute and a half.

"Are you surprised?" Damian huffs. "They're brilliant. They could learn to do just about anything with enough time and practice."

You preen, chittering your agreement. That's why Damian is your favorite caretaker; he's never doubted you since getting to know you, not ever.

He did forget something, though. You toss the puzzle box back at Jon and make grabby hands, face expectant.

Damian immediately clears his throat and looks at Jon, cheeks turning the barest shade of pink. "I need you to go and fetch the shears. The vine growth on the middle level of the tank is beginning to obscure vision and easy travel."

"You didn't bring them with you?" Jon frowns. "Dude. They're all the way on the bottom floor in the maintenance closet. It's gonna take me like twenty minutes to get back here."

"Then you'd better make haste."

"Why can't you do it?"

Damian scowls at him. Jon throws his hands up and climbs to his feet.

"Fine! Haven't gotten my ten thousand steps yet anyway," he grumbles, heading for the door. "Don't play hide and seek without me! I've just gotten good at finding spots I can fit in!"

You chitter and chirp, amused, then focus on Damian again once the doors go your enclosure snap shut.

Damian faces you, the pink in his cheeks worsening. He fiddles with the bag tied to his waist and avoids your gaze.

"I, ah..." He starts, working his jaw in thought. "The girl whose clip you liked. She says hello. Her name is Rosie."

You blink, waiting patiently for him to get to the point.

"I was asked about how you've adjusted to life here without pod-mates. I told them you have a pod in us. That you're not alone here despite being the only one of your kind in Gotham Aquarium." Damian swishes his feet slowly in the water, following the same rhythm as your tail. You drift a little closer.

"And you've adjusted very well, Princess," he continues, voice turning soft. "I can't thank you enough for giving me a second chance to care for you. I want you to know that it means everything to me."

Damian meets your gaze again, and there it is. There's that pair of gorgeous, emerald eyes you adore. You drift even closer, resting your palms on the backs of his calves, and smile up at him. He smiles right back.

"You noticed I don't have another rock for you," he says. You nod. "It's because I didn't bring you a rock this time."

You frown, huffing. Damian chuckles.

"You know I kept the scales you gave me," he admits, recapturing your attention. Your eyes widen, heart starting to pound in your chest. Was he about to give them back? You didn't want them back. "They're beautiful, Princess. I keep them in a jar in my bedroom, and I look at them all the time. They make me happy every time I see them. I wanted to give you something like that in return."

Your heart pounds faster. It sounds like he's about to do what you've wanted from him for what feels like forever. Your grip on his calves tightens, wide eyes searching his own.

"I don't ever want you to doubt how much I care about you again," Damian says, pulling your gift out of the pouch on his waist.

It's a beautiful, emerald pendant on a gold chain, the jewel the same shade as his eyes. You're immediately captivated, reaching up with a trembling hand to cradle the necklace to your chest and admire it more closely. The gentle, rippling water of your tank reflects against the surface and makes the shine of it seem to undulate all around you. It's the most wonderful gift you've ever gotten.

"I hope... I hope that you'll accept this token of courtship," Damian finishes quietly.

You look up at him with tears in your eyes and trill loudly enough to make his ears ring. You tug frantically at his legs and he obediently slips back into the water, letting you wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight, tight, tight. He squeezes you right back, resting his chin on top of your head.

"I love you," he mumbles into your hair. You warble it back as best as you can, nuzzling into him, then lean up and gently press your lips against his. He presses right back, shivering but not from the chill of the water.

Jon finds the two of you like that when he returns with the shears twenty minutes later. He just sighs and rolls his eyes.

"First of all, finally. The will-they-won't-they drama was killing me. Second of all, you could have just said you wanted a moment alone, dude. It took me forever to find these! Do the vines even need trimmed down?"

Damian just smiles and hides his face in your shoulder. They don't.

[acid-ixx]

Hi! I had a question about batfam x neglected! reader. Will it have a happy ending? Love your work! <3

— masterlist !

hello anon !! now, as much as i love happy endings, and as far as my plans go since ive mostly written out outlines for simply the newer chapters but not much for endings, i would say that it most definitely wouldn't be a happy ending/s in terms of being kidnapped back into the manor (before your boyfriend whisks you away), or (even if i love him a lot) getting together with conner—

all because you've long since given up on your family, so trying to love a newer version of them that coddles you all the time, never having any moment of privacy, being given physical affection that you never quite know how to reciprocate or receive; you're bound to be overwhelmed. sure, you've got what child-you always wanted, always desired, but it's so hard finding an inkling of an answer as to why now did they decide to just love you?

is it because you've matured, or do they only like a version of you that used to chase after them, and now they miss that integral part of your life? is it out of sheer guilt of their neglect— or have they always loved you from the start, just never knowing that they did?

either way, breakdowns are a common factor of your life if you were ever kidnapped. you'll always be held, even if you push them away. always peppered with kisses, or hands that linger on your cheeks and the expanse of your back throughout the shivers of fear that someday they might just snap at you for always fighting back. you're not forced to play the fantasy that everything is normal, that your past traumas were never existent—

bruce ensures you get proper therapy sessions alone (though cameras are always plastered in whichever room you may be) and with the family, you can take your time, that is only one freedom they allow you to have; but he always wishes that you'll soon find joy in the way they care for you; no matter how many years it would take, no matter if you fight back with your nails digging deep into their skin or a hidden weapon ready to drag out a fight you know you'd never win.

and it doesn't help the fact that you feared all of them as much as you loved them back in the past, at the knowledge that they're vigilantes, of their powers and abilities that could easily snap necks or break bones. even if you learn to adjust, their strength will always stay a primordial fear of yours— especially if it were jason's finger that slowly tighten overtime without his knowledge whenever he finds himself cuddling you in the soft, bruce's arms that stay dormant on your back, acting as both your support and cage every time he leads you to another, or damian who could turn anything he holds into a weapon used against anyone who threatens his time with his older sibling, even duke's metahuman ability warrants more panic attacks than fascination on your part, no matter how gentle and approachable he portrays himself to be in front of you.

you know it in yourself that you'll truly never get used to whatever love they throw your way, no matter how little of it was given in the past, or how overwhelming overflowing it is in the near future. it's just who you are, a child of bruce who doesn't truly comprehend their feelings.

and if you ever do adjust, if even possible, who's to say it will get rid of the overbearing sense of doom that unsheathes itself stubbornly upon your beating chest, whispering in every crevice of your mind the possibility that their affections are all a farce; that they'll soon lose interest in you the moment you reciprocate.

as for conner, your ending with him might be considered a happy one, if it means you're completely and perfectly willing to live an isolated life with the man of your dreams. i mean, you've already been neglected and left alone all by yourself for more than a decade— is conner leaving you for just a few minutes or, at most, an hour, speeding through different places to restock your pantry in a home in the middle of nowhere going to affect you that much?

well, the answer is... yes.

once you complied that, yes, you're perfectly fine relying on your man for your wants and needs, your desire for physical affection and even your bodily desires— it quite frankly means you've agreed to become one with him, your life will be full of memories of just you and conner, all alone with nowhere to escape, no place to hide; exposing all the deepest parts of yourself for a man who've you met in a bar.

at first, it would all go well. he's always loving you, nothing about that will change; always basking you in gifts, lavishing your home into various decorations he knows you'd love, holding you whenever you're down or need a shoulder to cry on; that's the reason why you even wanted to be with him in the first place. but what will change is your independence, and the foundations that you built based upon boundaries, will crumble.

there will be no secrets to be kept, no emotions hidden. you can journal, still, and be left alone to your whims but you know that conner will always read your entries, or worship your art right after. eating breakfast, bathing, picking and wearing clothes; all your routine life will be done with him. everything about your relationship focuses purely on codependency, on feelings so viscerally raw and pure to the point you both destroy each other in indulging your wants.

your relationship with conner will soon turn into your addiction on him for every single decision, every moment spent together; every year, months, hours, minute, seconds of your days all dictated into the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with.

even arguments, either small or huge, will always lead to you finding comfort in the arms of the person you fought against. you've nothing but him, he's nothing without you. even fights will dissolve just as quickly because you're too scared that he'll leave you, and conner hates it when you look at him with the same look you display whenever you think of your family.

at least for conner, though, you'd be living a life of raw, undulating pleasure. he'll indulge in you, of course he'd do for his lovely little (soon-to-be) spouse, but you gotta remember that "you're safer with me. okay, baby?" that translates that contact with any other human is rarer than finding specks of gold in a river, and anyone outside of your home life is an immediate threat to conner, who shields your exposure to the public, who kisses and wipes away your tears whenever you'd break down after a fight, who'll always be right behind you when you least expect it.

just like how it's always should've been.

i'm back to answering asks, so feel free to send in some conspiracy theories or whatever guys. it's been quite some time that i did and i miss doing so, so expect more of these especially for my main series and occasionally for loving family, unpalatable desire 😭

anyways, the simple answer for this one is: choose your poison. i'm not implying that these two are the only endings. i have so many paths i want to take and i haven't even introduced an integral character yet to the plot. conner is one of them, but there's another and anyone can guess who it is; but i'm sure barely anyone would get it right unless i drop a hint hehe.

— back to the topic, which one would any of you pick? loved by too many, or loved too much by one 'til it destroys you? or do you choose the secret option and move to a country and change your entire identity and hope to god that nobody else would fall in love with you? i think the last option is most realistic but conner kent is also tempting so...

[alienzout]

Funny meme

Horror game goes brrrr

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 5: The Departure (Warning: this chapter will contain violence. Read at your own risk.)

It’s been around two months since you accepted the Megamycete into your body and for the first time since you were dragged to Gotham, you’re actually happy. With its vast archives, you’re bursting with knowledge spanning over the course of four-hundred years, ranging from the academic to the arts and it’s thanks to that knowledge that your grades have skyrocketed in the past few weeks; where once you struggled with something, now you know better than even the teachers, even correcting them when they make a mistake and outpacing the best students in your class. Sure, by this time, it’s a little too late to get to the top of your class, but you really don’t care about your ranking; all that matters is being able to complete your homework, class assignments, and tests in record time, giving you time to work on more important things, like your game.

Included in the Megamycete’s records are the knowledge and memories of many computer programmers, some of them working for Bruce in his tech division; you also have many artists and musicians swimming in your head, many of them talented in making art on computers, so with your newfound knowledge, you’ve made tremendous strides in making your game. A year ago, you thought you would have to find a way to crowdfund the game in order to pay artists, musicians, and programmers and it would take a few years to make it ready for players, but now, you’re sure you can have this game ready by yourself within the year.

Not only has your intellectual attributes increased, but so have your physical abilities; the Megamycete’s records also include many athletes, both professional and student, and you know how to play every sport that’s ever been played in Gotham, but you haven’t shown any improvement in gym class. You never had any interest in sports before and you sure as hell don’t know. Plus, if you suddenly start showing everyone in the school that you’ve all of a sudden become smarter and stronger out of nowhere, you might attract enough attention that not even the Waynes can ignore.

And that won’t end well for anyone.

Speaking of them, you know they heard about what happened at the My Alibi bar and are working overtime to find the culprit, the only thing they know for certain is that it was the work of someone new. It actually brought a smile to your face when you learned about it, that for all their detective skills, they have no idea that the person they’re hunting for is under their own roof. While Damian is the only one to have ever told you to your face, you know they all think you’re stupid; that because you chose to deal with your fucked up life in a semi-healthy way and not dress up in some stupid little costume and fistfight psychopaths, that must mean there’s something wrong with you in the head.

Fuck all of them. You don’t need them and tomorrow night, you’ll be driving back to Goodsprings.

When you turned eighteen, you inherited all of your Momma’s assets, namely her life insurance policy, bank accounts, and royalties from all her books, all of which was worth a little over two-million; at first, you were going to save that money for when you moved back to Goodsprings in case you had to fix up your old home and pay the bills, but after almost dying due to relying on bus stops and bumming rides off of Alfred was unfair to the man, you decided to take some of the money and invest it in a car. The Megamycete had absorbed many modern car experts, so you were able to pick out a brand new car that was worth the hit to your wallet.

Plus, you had a way of earning a pretty penny and stick it to Bruce at the same time: sell his proprietary technology to Lex Corp. Many of Bruce’s employees are buried in Gotham’s cemeteries, some of them working on the latest technological breakthrough at the time of their deaths and you knew Bruce’s biggest business rival would kill to see what Bruce’s scientists are cooking up in their lab.

You reached out to the man using your computer knowledge to send him an email that couldn’t be traced back to you, stating you had the specs for several of Wayne Enterprises’ latest large scale projects and asked him if he was interested in buying them for a couple million in cash. Knowing he’d never consider the deal without some proof, you included bits and pieces of what you were offering, just enough to show you were legit, but not enough to be useful without the rest of it.

Sure enough, he took the hit and now, here you are, meeting with the most powerful man in Metropolis in his office, which overlooks the entire city. Of course, you’re smart enough to not show him your face, so you took the form of some Joe Schmo that died years ago.

“I don’t believe it,” the man exclaims as he sifts through the papers you drew the designs on. “Medicine, experimental aircraft specs, software designs! Over a million spent in corporate espionage and nothing to show for it. Then you come along, offering more than enough to recoup those losses and then some.” He looks back at you, an ominous twinkle in his eye that makes you shiver. “Any chance I can rely on your services in the future?”

“Perhaps,” you say in your disguised voice. “If I get my hands on more WE secrets, I’ll keep you in mind. Now, about my money?”

“Of course,” he purrs. He snaps at his assistant, who places the briefcase she was holding on his desk and opens it, revealing more money than you’ve ever seen in your entire life. “Twenty million in unmarked bills. I trust that’s more than enough?”

“Yes,” you say, trying to hide your shock from earning enough money to last you the rest of your life in just a few seconds. “I believe it is.”

(We see no signs of sabotage or subterfuge,) the Megamycete says. (It would appear Luthor intends to keep his word. For once.)

“Mercy will see you out,” Lex says as you take the briefcase. He then holds out a business card. “And this is my personal number and email. If you have more secrets you’re looking to sell, call me day or night.”

“Thank you,” you say as you pocket the card.

And with that, you follow the assistant out of Lex’s office and down to the lobby.

(You must be happy to have amassed such a fortune,) the Megamycete states as you walk out the front door. (And exacting revenge on Bruce Wayne makes this moment all the better.)

“You’re damn right,” you respond with a chuckle.

(Perhaps you could use some of that money to enjoy yourself? Since our joining, you have been hard at work with your education or your project. Taking some time to have fun will do you a world of good.)

Its words resonate with you. Sure, you’ve been busy with catching up on school and the gaps in your game, but you’ve done some fun things the last few weeks, right?

(No, we are afraid you have not.)

“Damn,” you mutter. “Guess I should change that.” You glance down at the briefcase in your hand. “Well, we have twenty mil of Lex’s money in here. How about have a night out in Gotham?”

(We agree wholeheartedly,” it exclaims, its voice full of joy and anticipation. (We look forward to seeing what you have planned.)

You chuckle as you change your form to your hardened mold armor and wings and take flight into Metropolis’ night sky. Fortunately for you, it’s a quiet night in the massive city, so Superman isn’t flying around, so you don’t have to worry about bumping into the Man of Steel.

“I gotta say, this city looks a helluva lot better than Gotham,” you remark as you soar above the skyscrapers. “Gotham looks like a giant tomb while Metropolis looks like the future.”

(Yes, we have noticed that no matter the era, the architecture of Gotham refuses to change. The city seems to be doomed to remain locked in a by-gone age. We look forward to seeing the world beyond.)

“You’ll love Goodsprings. Sure, it’s the size of a stamp compared to a behemoth like Gotham, but you can actually sit on your porch at night and not have to worry about gunshots or escaped lunatics. People actually have conversations with one another instead of telling you to fuck off.”

In a less than thirty minutes, you arrive back at Gotham and land on the roof of Wayne Manor and quietly sneak in. Joker’s still on the loose, no doubt waiting for the perfect moment to unveil his latest sick and twisted plan, so everyone’s out and Alfred’s stuck in the Batcave, keeping an eye on camera feeds.

You take out a few bills from the briefcase before hiding it under your mattress and heading out to the back where you keep your car parked. While Bruce has multiple cars, every single one of them is a high-end luxury car that costs way more than yours, so you didn’t want to take the risk of Bruce or the others finding it and doing something to it, so you keep your car behind a large barn that’s used to hold all the groundskeeping equipment.

As you drive off the property, you tell your phone to dial Alfred, who answers it halfway through the first ring.

“Master Y/N, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Alfred, everything’s fine. I was just letting you know that I’m going out for a bit. Thought some time outside the house would do me some good.”

“While I agree that you need to get more, perhaps tonight isn’t the best time,” he says hesitantly. “I mean, the Joker is still out there, no doubt planning another heinous act.”

You’re touched by the man’s concern for you. Really, you are. But, with the Megamycete, you have nothing to fear.

“Don’t worry, Alfred, I’ll be fine.,” you reassure him. “I promise I won’t be gone too long. I’ll just be in Amusement Mile for an hour or two.”

“Still, I wish you weren’t going by yourself. Perhaps I can get one of your siblings—“

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m going out to have fun before I graduate, not be miserable. If I wanted to be tortured, I’d throw myself in Arkham’s Intensive Care Building.”

“I know why you feel that way, Master Y/N, but maybe you can give them another chance? You’ll be graduating tomorrow night and leaving after the ceremony. I just don’t want you leaving us under such bad circumstances.”

You know the man’s been trying to get the Waynes to notice you, but they’re all busy with their own lives in addition to being vigilantes at night, either fighting crime in Gotham, Blüdhaven, or elsewhere around the world. And when they’re all home, they’re spending time together, having fun that was never meant to include you. You learned that after countless times coming downstairs and seeing them, eating delicious food, laughing, watching movies, and enjoying themselves without you. After a while, you stopped going downstairs when you heard noises coming from the living room.

You don’t belong here, either in the Wayne Family or in Gotham. You never did. You know it, they know it, and deep down, Alfred knows it, whether he wants to admit it or not. You’re a Gould, not a Wayne and there’s nothing that’s going to change that.

“Alfred, I think the ship for us being a ‘happy, loving family’ sailed long time ago. They’ve made it clear that there’s no room for me in their world and I sure as hell don’t want them in mine. All I want to do is go home.”

“I understand,” he says after a brief moment of silence. “I hope you have fun, Master Y/N. And please, if you get into trouble, call me straight away.”

“I will, Alfred. I’ll talk to you later.” And with that, you hang up.

You let out a sigh when the line goes dead. You hated saying things like that to the poor man, but it’s how you feel about the Waynes. Ever since you moved in, all you heard about Bruce is that he’s a caring man and a loving father, but that care and love only appears to be for those he deems worthy of it. For someone like you, a bastard born from a careless one-night stand, he has nothing but neglect and indifference.

And the same goes for the others. They’re all a dysfunctional hodgepodge that are saturated with so much trauma and paranoia that it’s a miracle that they haven’t killed each other yet. You’re sure if they were locked up in Arkham and studied, they could fill an entire library’s worth of psychological textbooks.

(You should not concern yourself with them. They have made it clear that they are not worthy of your love or forgiveness. After so many years of suffering, you are so close to breaking free from your prison. By this time tomorrow, you will be back where you belong.)

“Yeah, back home. Finally.”

After thirty grueling minutes of dealing with Gotham’s traffic, you finally reach your destination: Bat Burger. As much as you hate any mention of Batman, Gotham’s cashed in on the “Bat Craze” and inserts him into anything they can. At least the food’s good; almost good enough to make you ignore the cartoonish Batfamily designs on all the walls. Emphasis on the almost.

“Welcome to Bat Burger,” the teenage cashier, dressed in a uniform designed around Batman, says in a monotone voice as you approach the counter. A brief look in his eyes tells you he’d rather be anywhere else right now. “How can I bring justice to your hunger today?”

“Can I get a Batburger with ketchup, large fries, and a large Bat Cola?”

“Do you want to Jokerize those fries,” he asks as he types in your order.

“No thanks.” You hand him a hundred dollar bill. “I don’t need the change. Keep it as a tip.”

“Oh,” he exclaims, the dead look in his eye gone, replaced by shock. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you respond, happy to see such a transformation in the teen.

“Thank you,” he stutters as he hands you your cup for your drink. “Your food’ll be out in a minute. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You nod as you take the cup to the drink station.

(That was quite charitable of you,) the Megamycete remarks as you fill up your cup. (Such an action is rare in this city.)

“He looked like he needed it. I know what it’s like to be that miserable. Plus, it’s not like we’re hurting for money. If I ever run low, I still have plenty of Bruce’s secrets I can sell to Lex for a couple million.”

(Indeed. It would appear he had many of his employees working on secret projects that were not meant to be released. Perhaps such things were only meant for his nightly activities?)

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” you say as you sit down. “Kinda surprised no one’s figured it out. Batman’s toys look expensive and there’s not that many people in Gotham that could foot a bill that big other than Bruce Wayne.”

Not long after that, your order was called and you collected your fast food goodness. You practically moan as you take your first bite.

(This is quite appealing,) it says as you take another bite. (Savoring the food in real time is far batter than savoring it from the memories of the deceased.)

“I’ve wanted to come here for a while,” you say as you take a few fries. “Always saw the garbage cans full of Batburger bags when they came back from patrol. They never offered to take me and I never asked.”

(Their loss, we assure you. We can think of no better meal companion.)

“Shucks,” you chuckle. “You’re making me blush.”

After your meal, you decided to go to the arcade a few blocks away from the restaurant, eager to show the Megamycete all your favorite games. Also, with it behind you, you might be able to earn more tickets and win some of the bigger prizes. Your stride’s broken when you hear screaming, gunfire, and people running from the Gotham Arcade.

“What’s going on,” you ask a man as he tries to run past you.

“It’s Joker,” he exclaims, his eyes full of fear. “He’s shooting up the place!”

He runs away as you duck into an alley and call upon the mold to form the armor you’ve been using a lot lately. As you walk towards the arcade, you look through the roots and see the Bats scattered across the city, handling other crises; meaning they wouldn’t be here anytime soon.

“Guess it’s up to us to save the day.”

(The Clown has added many into our archives, all of whom spent their last moments of life terrified and in pain. We think it is time he knows fear.)

You walk into the arcade and are greeted by with over a dozen bodies, all of them riddled with bullet holes.

“My god,” you say, stepping over two teen boys who look like brothers. “There wasn’t a point to this. This is an arcade, not a bank. He just did this because he could.”

You follow the sound of gunfire until you see the Joker, dressed in his signature purple suit, shooting at a bunch of arcade cabinets.

“This is so much fun,” he exclaims as he rips a bunch of tickets from the machines. “Don’t you agree, Harley?”

“Sure do, Mistah J,” his partner, clad in her usual red and black spandex and jester hat, answers as she slams her giant mallet down on a poor Whack-A-Mole machine. She bends down and rips out a bunch of tickets from the smoking husk and holds it up to Joker like some offering to an ancient god. “Look, Puddin’, I won so many tickets!”

It’s then the two lunatics notice your presence.

“Well, well, well,” Joker says as he pockets his ill-gotten tickets. “Not the costumed freak I was expecting.” He holds his hands up to his head. “You’re missing the ears and everything.”

The two laugh and you roll your eyes under your mask.

“Looks like Ol’ Batsy has a new brat in his nest,” she jokes. “So, who’re you?”

“Oh, Harley, his name doesn’t matter.” He pulls out his gun and points it at you. “He’ll just be another corpse.”

He fires the gun and this time, the bullet actually penetrates your armor and pierces your lower torso. You wince at the feeling of a bullet in your gut.

(It would appear the clown uses a higher caliber than the common scum of Gotham,) the Megamycete explains as it heals your body, stitching the wound closed and hardening your armor to repel the stronger bullets. (Funny how he possesses such toys after being in Arkham for so long.)

“Oh, you’re a tough one, aren’t you,” he says, seeing that you’re not going down. “Normally, his little birdies go down from just a little love tap. Are you sure you belong to Batman?”

Now that pisses you off. Bruce may have had a hand in bringing you into the world, but you’re not his. You’re so pissed, in fact, that you raise your right arm and call upon a long tendril that pierces the center of the clown’s chest and pull him towards you.

“Mistah J,” Harley shouts in fear as you bring Joker to your face. She’s obviously paralyzed by fear because she stands there, doing nothing but watching the scene unfold before her.

His pasty white chin is covered in blood as it pours from his mouth and his eyes are wide as saucers.

“Now ain’t that a surprise,” he says with a chuckle, causing him to cough up blood.

“Get this through your sick and twisted head, clown,” you hiss. “I’m not Batman’s anything. There’s no words in any language that can express how much I hate him.”

You twist the tendril and take pleasure in watching him wince in pain.

(He fears you more than the Bat right now. Good. You are far superior than that worm and his collection of misfits. You always were.)

You feel yourself grin at that. You are better than them, aren’t you?

“And as much as I hate to admit it, Jason was right on how to deal with you. When you have a tumor, you don’t dress up in some stupid costume and beat it until it stops being a tumor.” You lift him far above, his head almost touching the ceiling. He flails around, but your tendril holds him in place. “You take a knife and cut it out.”

And with that, your tendril sprouts dozens of smaller ones that burst through his body, rendering it full of holes that it looks like a blood soaked piece of Swiss cheese. Said tendrils twist around until what was once the Joker is reduced to chunks of meat.

“Mister J,” Harley shouts, her voice full of agony, as his remains fall to the floor, landing with a wet splat. She looks at the pile of flesh, tears streaming from her eyes before turning to you, her gaze full of hate. “You bastard!”

She charges at you, her mallet raised and ready to strike, but you wrap her in your tendril, stopping her advance and making her drop her weapon. She struggles and as she does, she lets out loud sobs; ones were intimately familiar with. You let out similar ones when you lost your Momma and over the years you’ve spent in Wayne Manor.

“You killed my Puddin’,” she weeps. “When Bats hears about this, he’ll hunt you down like a damn animal! And when you’re thrown in Arkham, I’ll be waiting for ya!”

(She has a point. Batman and his flock are already looking for you and when they learn you have killed the clown, they will make finding you their top priority; they will marshal every resource at their disposal to finding your identity. Even if she cannot provide them with your identity, she presents a risk to our secrecy.)

You ponder on this as you watch Harley struggle against her bindings, her sobs now filling the arcade. You know the Megamycete is right; she’s a loose end you can’t afford, especially when you’re so close to going home. Plus, you know with Joker gone, Harley has no one to control her and with how racked with grief over the loss of her “love,” she’s a huge risk to everyone on Gotham.

You decide the risks are too great and command a smaller tendril to emerge from the one holding Harley, have it wrap itself around her neck, and quickly snap it, the noise it makes ringing in your ears like a gunshot. You release her from your grip and she tumbles to the floor, lifeless.

(It had to be done,) it assures you. (She represented a threat not just to you, but to the rest of the city. There is no telling how many people would have been hurt the next time she broke free from the asylum’s confines. Plus, the influence of the clown would have stayed with her, even after his death. She would most likely never have returned to what she once was. The rest of her life would have been spent mourning over the clown, inflicting pain onto the innocent, and escaping from and being returned to the asylum. You showed her mercy.)

You hear the words and in some way, they make sense, but right now, you don’t feel like you showed mercy. You’ve heard of the Tragedy of Doctor Harleen Quinzel, everyone in Gotham has at one point or another; the story of a poor psychiatrist new to Arkham who had been prayed upon by a manipulative mass murderer, turning her into his demented partner in crime and cutting a bloody swath across Gotham every time they escaped, leaving behind many orphans, widows, and corpses in their wake. She had spent years listening to other people’s problems and for once, wanted someone to listen to her, to make her feel like she was important.

In many ways, you can relate. Maybe in another life, you two could’ve been friends, wallowing together in your shared misery.

Just then, you learn from the roots that the Bats have been informed of the Joker’s appearance and are now on their way here to capture hm, unaware that you’d already beaten them to the punch.

“Let’s go,” you say, moving quickly. “We’re done here.”

In no time flat, you’re back to your car and out of the area before the Bats showed up.

“Sorry, buddy, but it looks like we may have to take a rain check on that night out.)

(We understand. And you should not feel guilty because of your actions. It is thanks to you that not only many will be able to sleep peacefully in their beds, but many beyond this mortal realm will finally know peace. While many threats to Gotham remain, its largest one has finally been put down.)

“Yeah, I guess.”

(It is also worth noting that we have only been joined for a short time, you have accomplished much more than Batman has the last two decades.)

That actually makes you feel a little better. Yeah, Bruce has been doing this for years and Gotham’s still a hellhole. In the span of a singe night, you make it visibly more safer. And to top it all off, he’ll be racking his brain trying to find out who the hell killed him and he’ll have no idea it was you, his forgotten firstborn son.

“That does make me feel a little better. Thanks.”

“Ok, when you find out who did this, can you please tell me so I can end them a thank you card before you lock em up,” Jason says as they watch what remains of the Joker being collected into a large evidence bag by GCPD while Harley’s body is placed on a gurney and covered by a sheet before being wheeled out.

“You know, I hate to say it,” Jim says as he dismisses a detective. “But I think this is going to make the city way safer. Hell, the mayor may want to offer whoever did this a key to the city.”

“It doesn’t matter if all crime in Gotham stops because of this,” Bruce responds. “It was done the wrong way and when I find out who did this, I’ll deliver them to Arkham myself. I’ll take Joker’s remains back to the Batcave, see if I can find any clues on the identity of his killer. I’ll give them back to you along with my findings.”

“Thanks,” the police commissioner responds as he takes the bag from a forensic investigator and hands it to him.

“Come on, B,” Jason whines as they leave the arcade. “Joker was a piece of shit and it was only gonna end with his death. Whoever this person is, do they really deserve to rot in Arkham over someone like him?”

“Whoever this person is, they took the law into their hands.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Jason mutters, but Bruce doesn’t acknowledge the remark.

“And this person clearly has powers. If they go off the deep end, there’s no telling what will happen. We need to find them before something happens and someone gets hurt.”

Finding this person just became their top priority.

This is it, the night you’ve been waiting for: graduation. It’s funny, when you first woke up this morning, you could feel every second of the day tick as you waited for the graduation ceremony. The only thing that made the time go by fast was you thinking about the conversation you overheard in the kitchen this morning.

Bruce and Tim talking about spending the day at their computers, analyzing every camera feed in Amusement Mile to look for whoever killed Joker. You had to bite your tongue to keep you from laughing. Here you are, the person they’re chomping at the bit to catch, and they have no idea you’re in the other room. You should be happy that they finally want something to do with you, but you know it’s only because you sent Joker to hell, something Bruce should’ve done years ago.

And when you heard that Tim was skipping the graduation ceremony to aid in patrolling? You immediately did a cartwheel down the hall. Not only will you finally be free from Gotham, but you won’t have to share the spotlight with Tim and risk catching their attention, though they probably would’ve had no idea who you were. Alfred tried to get Tim to reconsider getting Bruce to attend, but when those two are obsessing over something, it’s impossible to tear them away from it. The butler tried to tell Bruce that he had another son graduating, but the man left before the sentence could be complete, stating he had work to do.

At this point, it doesn’t even phase you. You know they’ve practically forgotten your existence and you couldn’t care less. You have everything you need to go back home and start your new life, you don’t need them for anything.

“Master Y/N, are you sure you don’t want me to call master Bruce and have him attend your graduation,” the butler fusses over your cap and gown for the umpteenth time. “As you father, he should be here to see one of the most important moments in your life.”

“It’s fine, Alfred, I don’t need him here. Frankly, with the way he’s acted over the years, I’m glad he’s not here. Same with Tim.”

The butler looks at you and you grimace at your remark. Ever since becoming the Megamycete’s host, you’ve noticed changes in your behavior. Where once you use to keep comments like that to yourself, you know say them in front of Alfred, unafraid for his reaction. Or how you use to always speak in a barely audible whisper for fear of being overheard by the Waynes, now you talk to Alfred at a volume that could easily attract unwanted attention. And you’re certain he’s noticed your change, too. God knows that man is aware of everything that goes on in his house.

(It is because you no longer have that fear. Before, you were a timid little thing, afraid of being seen by a predator lying in wait. Now? You are the hunter. They can’t hurt you anymore.)

Alfred opens his mouth to day something, but one of the teachers calls for all seniors to make their way to the field, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. He heads to the stands while you follow your fellow seniors to the field where you’re herded in alphabetical order. Once the teacher was satisfied with the order, she typed on her phone and the graduation music started playing from the speakers at the top of the stands.

As you follow in line, you look up to see Alfred in the front row, holding his phone up, no doubt intending to take several pictures and record just as many videos. You smile at the man, thankful to have him here on this important night. It’s then you think about your Momma and how she’d be cheering for you so hard, everyone could hear her. You feel something slide down your face and realize you’re crying. This is an important day in your life and you’re missing an important person in your life.

(She would be so proud of you. If your memories are anything indication of her character, she would give anything to be here right now. While the butler can never replace her, he is an acceptable stand-in.)

“Yeah,” you whisper as you take your seat near the front of the stage set up in the middle of the field. “He is. And I’m gonna miss him like hell.”

While you’re overjoyed to leave Gotham in your rear view and never step foot in it ever again, you’ll really miss Alfred. The man has been your rock since day one, celebrating your birthday which also happens to be the day of your Momma’s death. He held you while you cried and was your only company in the lonely halls of Wayne Manor.

Maybe you can hire him as your butler? Your smaller house would no doubt be much easier to clean than that behemoth of a mansion. Plus, Alfred is way more than people like the Waynes deserve.

After an eternity, the valedictorian finishes his speech and takes his place at up front, which is when the headmaster walks up to the podium and begins to call the students to come up and receive their diplomas. With each name called, you feel chest begin to tighten. This is the first time in years that so many eyes will be on you. What if you fall flat on your face while walking? Or try to shake the headmaster’s hand with your left instead of your right? Or—

(Relax,) the Megamycete says, bringing you out of your thoughts. (All will be fine. When your name is called, you will rise, walk with a level of pride none of your peers could ever hope to match, accept your diploma with such grace the headmaster will b in total awe, and walk back to your seat with the same pride as before. You are better than any of these children and you will make them know it.)

Hearing those words instantly makes you relax, your the knot that had been building up in your chest untangling, allowing you to breathe again.

“Thanks,” you say, taking a much needed deep breath. “Glad to know you think so highly of me.”

(We speak only the truth. We have seen the lives and memories of countless people over the past four centuries and not a single one holds a candle to you. You possess much potential and now that we are joined, we know you will unleash that potential and the entire world will be in awe of it.)

Wow. You actually have no idea how to respond to that.

(Pay attention, now. You will be called soon.)

It’s then you realize the headmaster is now on the Fs, almost to the Gs.

There’s three people ahead of you.

Then two.

Then one.

Then…

“Y/N Gould.”

This is it, your biggest moment in Gotham Academy. You stand up and walk with the grace the Megamycete said you would, accept your diploma from the headmaster with your left hand and shake with your right, and walk back to your seat. As you do, you see Alfred, a smile stretched across his face and cheering your name as he continues to hold his phone, probably recording a video just before your name was called.

(Excellent, Y/N,) the Megamycete praises as you sit back down. (We offer our most sincere congratulations on your triumph.)

You stare down at the piece of paper down in your hands and you while the evidence is right there in black and white, it still doesn’t feel real. You’re actually in awe of the fancy kind of paper Gotham Academy uses to print its diplomas, with its Coleen gilded edges, bold ink, beautiful calligraphy, and soft feel.

Hell, Alfred may fight you to keep it so he can frame it and mount it somewhere in Wayne Manor.

After that, the rest of the ceremony seems to speed up, the last of the names being called, the headmaster deeming all of you graduates of Gotham Academy, and the graduating class being told to gather behind the chairs for the moment every senior looks forward to: the Cap Throw. You follow your fellow graduates with bated breath, eager to throw your cap and complete your graduation experience.

“On three,” the valedictorian yells from the center of the crowd. “One! Two! Three!”

You eagerly toss your cap with everyone else, your cheers and laughs joining everyone else’s. You watch with joy as the caps soar above you all and begin to float back down to the field, your eyes tracking your cap, which you had decorated with paintings (the Megamycete allowing you to make them flawlessly) of the team you beat Cynthia from Pokémon Platinum with: Infernape, Luxray, Staraptor, Floatzel, Lucario, and Garchomp (you had no idea so many used the same team before you discovered the internet).

You collect you cap while so many try to find theirs and had towards the exit to meet Alfred.

“Congratulations, my boy,” he greets you, his wide smile still adorning his face, before bringing you into a tight hug.

“Than you, Alfred,” you respond, returning the hug.

When you separate, he flags down a passing man. “Pardon me, sir, would you be so kind as to take a picture of the two of us?”

“Sure,” the man says, taking his phone and aiming at you and taking the picture.

“Thank you, good sir,” the butler says as he takes his phone back.

He types on his phone and not even a second later, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket beneath your gown, indicating he sent you the picture.

“I’m so proud of you, Master Y/N. You’ve certainly earned this.”

“Thank you, Alfred. And not just for this, but for everything.”

You two leave the field and he follows you to the gym so you can return your gown and once you do, you two make your way to your car, which is when you realize this is the part of the evening where you two say your goodbyes and you leave for Goodsprings while he returns to Wayne Manor. And the sweet moment you’ve been waiting years for now turns bittersweet. You’ve looked forward to this moment ever since you started high school and while you’re ecstatic to finally leave this godforsaken city, you hate that you have to leave Alfred behind.

“Master Y/N,” he says, breaking the tense silence. “I know you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, but do you have to leave right now? Maybe your return to Nevada can wait until morning? You really shouldn’t be driving so late.”

“We can put it off for as long as we want, still won’t change the outcome.”

“I know,” the poor man sighs. “But still, it’s over forty hours from here to Goodsprings.”

“I’ll be fine, Alfred. Really. I’ll be super careful. I’ll stop at a motel a few hours from here, take regular breaks, stop at restaurants to eat, and I’ll be there before you know it and in one piece.”

“I just wish I could convince you to stay. I’ll miss you, terribly. The manor won’t be the same without you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Alfred.”

You two pull each other into another hug.

“Promise me that you’ll call me if you run into any trouble, be it on the road or in Nevada.”

“I will.”

“And that you’ll try to visit whenever you can. I’ll arrange for Master Bruce’s jet to come and get you, you just say the word.”

“I’ll try.”

You’re lying. You’re lying and both of you know it. But, neither of you bring it up.

“And promise me you’ll take care of yourself. I didn’t raise you for over ten years just for you to end up in the hospital just because you didn’t feed yourself.”

“I will,” you laugh. You know he’s joking, he taught you everything he knows about cooking, cleaning, and housekeeping. That, combined with the Megamycete’s records, you have everything you need to keep your house together.

“I just wish your father and siblings were here.” You just did manage to fight off the flinch at the mention of those assholes. “This is an important moment of your life and they should be here to celebrate it with you.”

“I know you do, Alfred,” you respond, thankful that you’re still hugging so he can’t see the face you’re making at the thought of them being here, insulting you and making you feel like graduating somehow made you feel like a failure.

Finally, you two pull apart and with one last goodbye and promise to be careful, you get into your car, the backseat covered by boxes that couldn’t be placed in the trunk. When you woke up this morning, you packed your computer, video games, books, and other things that you refused to leave behind at Wayne Manor, your Momma’s pen sitting in your pocket as you refused to part with it. Sure, there were some things were left behind and while Alfred told you repeatedly he could arrange for them to be delivered to your house, you told him that anything you left behind wasn’t important and could be thrown away.

You didn’t leave much behind, some stuff like a few books you hadn’t read in years, a bunch of notebook paper with stupid ideas for video games that you had years and threw away when you realized no one in their right mind would play them, and an old journal you kept when you first move to Gotham. You archived every major event leading up to Damian’s arrival in those pages, which is when you finally filled it up. You briefly thought about keeping it, but decided against it. You had your stay at Wayne Manor burned into your memory and weren’t eager to have been more reminders around you. Plus, you’re about to start your new life, so there’s no need to carry it around. Maybe you can start keeping a new journal?

You start up your car, put it into reverse, and when you backed up enough, put it into drive and wave at Alfred as you leave the parking lot and follow your GPS to Goodsprings. That’s when your phone finally connects to your radio and starts playing music, Hollow from FFVII Remake, playing at just the right volume.

“Wow,” you chuckle as the music begins. “Talk about great timing.”

(We agree. This song is about heading into the unknown with hope; perfect for the start of your new life. It is as if fate itself is smiling down upon you.)

“Seems like it. You with me, buddy?”

(Every step of the way. Until the very end.)

And with that, you pick up speed as you get onto the interstate.

Alfred watches you drive off and only when you’re out of sight does he finally shed a tear. To see Master Y/N leave is one of the most difficult moments of his life.

He understands, of course. Not only did you leave much behind after the tragic and unexpected loss of your mother, but Master Wayne and the children had given you zero reasons to stay. In fact, they’d given you a million reasons to leave.

But he can’t let you go. Not his favorite member of the family.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but out of everyone in the Wayne Family, he cared for you the most. You were raised by a wonderful, loving woman who knew how to properly raise a child and didn’t skulk about at night, battling with criminals night after night. You had a normal life and knew what life was like outside of being a vigilante, bringing a much needed balance to the manor.

You were a delight to raise, always saying please and thank you, offering to help around the manor, and carrying on pleasant conversations that were the highlight of his day. And if the family would take the time to get to know you, they’d come to the same conclusion he did many years ago.

However, as brilliant as everyone in the family is, they can also be equally foolish. Too wrapped up in their civilian and vigilante lives to see the gift they had been given, but spurred for years. And now, you’re gone.

But not for long. You belong here, with your family, and by God he’ll make sure you know it, your father knows it, and your siblings know it. One way or another, he’ll bring your father to his senses, and when that day comes, he’ll make him go to you and beg for your forgiveness, even if he has to get on his hands and knees. And after that, your father will bring you back home, where you’ll be lavished in the love they should’ve shown you from the beginning.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you back home, where you belong. He doesn’t care what he has to do or how long it takes, he’ll make sure you come back to the place where you belong. And when you, you’ll be showered with so much love that you’ll never want to leave ever again.

A/N: I got lucky this week. I was going to have 4 tests this week (2 regular tests and 2 midterms), but a professor I have for two classes got sick and cancelled, pushing the tests for next Monday and Tuesday. With only one midterm left and a study guide basically matching the test, I had plenty of free time to make this chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it!

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @meechibee @bellethesleepypotato @exactlynumberonekryptonite @marsmabe @ellaprime7

[yoitsjay]

😈😈😈

The way I got the grinch smile reading all your kinky! reader stuff-

Tuysrsyriseiysurddtdq35qseyud

My ahh HOWLING at the moon from all the good food you serve, chef!

Back to request the batboys (+Damian) wearing lingerie with a dom! reader.

Idk why, but seeing guys in pretty lingerie, it just- It does something to my psyche, my neurons are activated when I see that good stuff-

Also, congrats on 200 followers! Wish you more!

👏👏👏

~😈 anon

OK no more kinky stuff after this cuz I'm gunna get all kinked out- Kebdkdndj

Your lucky fuckers.

It's my favorite color

Summary: your all horny bastards and I hate you /j

Warnings: short and sweet, batboys in lingerie of your favorite color

A/n: IM ALL KINKED OUT 😭 i need angst in my holes

Bruce Wayne:

Seeing him in bed, in lingerie, that was your favourite color- it almost killed you.

You stared at Bruce, wide eyed, mouth agape as you took in his appearance, kneeling on the bed.

Then your nose started bleeding, and he started panicking.

seeing him run in this tight, lacy lingerie.

you passed out.

yeah he'd try it again another night.

Dick Grayson:

You were frantically shedding clothes off of each other, his leg wedged between your thighs as he pinned you to the wall and kissed you feverishly… you slid your hands up his shirt, and your eyebrows furrowed as you felt something lacy up on his chest.

You then slipped your hands down, past the band of his sweatpants and you moved to cup his ass, and again felt the same fabric.

You pulled your head back, pushing against his chest before you roughly tugged down his pants and gasped.

“Lingerie? Really Grayson? You thought that was gonna make me feel better after the shit you pulled on patrol yesterday-”

“I bought you a matching set-”

You pause, staring up at the tall man as you both stand awkwardly In front of each other in the hallway, panting, sweating…

“Get your ass in the bedroom Grayson. And grab my rope.”

Jason Todd:

Jason always seemed to be surprising you. From being alive again, to being a moany little bitch when pegged, to this.

Him in Lingerie, which just so happened to be your favorite color.

“Uhm- i iust- i know this is weird but-” he spoke up as you stared, watching as you silently walked over before tugging on the Lingerie bottoms, and the leather straps around his thick, muscly thighs.

You slowly moved to straddle his lap, then kissed him, softly, holding him close before you pulled back and rested your head against his.

“I want you to set up the camera and rail me Todd, wearing what you're wearing.”

Tim Drake:

It had been late, you and Tim were still at Wayne Enterprises, clocking in those overtime hours.

with some coffee in your hands, you made your way towards Tim’s office. You noticed that the blinds were closed, which you found odd, since he liked to keep them open for the most part.

You approached the door, and adjusted the cups in your hands before knocking on the door. “Timmy? You alright?” You called out to him.

“Yeah baby I'm good! Come in.” He called out to you, and so you did. Opening up the door and stepping inside, keeping your eyes on the coffee as you shut the door behind you, before glancing up at Tim, smiling, then glancing away, only to double back when your eyes clocked what he was wearing.

The coffee slipped from your Hands and clattered to the floor, spilling everywhere.

“UGH! Look what you made me do! If you're gonna dress up like a slut, then you can clean up the problem you made.” You hissed, and gestured To the floor. “On your knees and clean. After that I'll show you what I do to boys who look good in lace.”

Damian Wayne:

This is so unlike him.

Wearing female underwear, let alone your favorite color.

But you had been doing quite a lot together lately, and he accidentally stumbled upon one of your magazines, Which happened to show off men in lingerie.

You had one of the pictures circled

That was the set he bought.

Now he waited in your apartment (he may or may not have a key), and waited impatiently for you to walk in…

And on cue, you did.

“Dami?” you called out, already knowing damn well he was in your apartment. You had that tingly feeling every time he was around you.

Then you spotted him in the living room and you screamed.

From shock, and- yeah no, just shock.

Your boyfriend was wearing lingerie from a catalog and the set was so specific you knew he had read your magazine.

“I told you not to snoop through my things Dami! I mean holy shit- your smoking, this looks really good on you and you definitely deserve a BJ, but privacy!” You squeaked out, dropping your things and making your way over to him.

“It's not even my birthday yet-” you muttered.

Tag list:

All: @only-my-unexistent-fiances @francesfarhadi

Batfam:

BW smut: @ilaiise

DG smut: @ilaiise

JT smut: @ilaiise

TD smut: @ilaiise

DW smut: