#fa: batfam

[iyohme]

and i know that you mean so well;

but i am not a vessel for your good intent!

("Tongues and Teeth," - The Crane Wives)

my serotonin got jetpack bursted into the stratosphere with this blurb by OP. Your brain is so juicy and moist and wrinkly OP. Godspeed. I'm not even into DC but the whole "Burnt out and neglected, and now a bunch of people driven by guilt guilt guilt want me back so they can feel less guilty?" just made the racoon in me rub its hands menacingly hoho

Just imagine not even living your best life; just a shadow in the lives of the illustrious Waynes, a ghost in a castle, visible only to the loyal servant and the occasional curious paparazzi who shrugs and looks away--after all, there was no mention of you in any occasion: must be the kid of in-house staff. How nice of Brucie Wayne to allow even the children of in-house staff the opportunity to study at such a high-end college! (The reporters chortle and snicker at your barely-passing marks, sighing at such a wasted opportunity. Oh well. And then they move on to the tabloid topic of the week, after the strutting socialites and the rich and the arrested Rogues.)

You gather things.

You gather pieces of a cracked dream, a single plastic teacup you had brought into the cavernous mansion the day you held Alfred's old, gnarled hand. Ears ringing and slippers still stained with your parent's blood as they were gunned down before your very eyes. You gather your things, what made you before you were "Wayne," so to say. Your mother's old cigarette box, smuggled from the crime scene, your one memento of the woman who you could not forget but never forgive.

A juxtaposition of love and hate, forever crucified. The image of the Virgin Mary inside the tin box seems to be a mockery of faith, across from her image lying cheap cigarettes.

You gather test papers, all barely passing and with more reds than blacks, and grind them up into strips with the shredder you had brought; just one time the black card Wayne had given you, and it left the bitterest, sourest aftertaste in your mouth. They burn so cozily on the school Bunsen burners, especially when sprayed with alcohol, immediately immolating like timelapse sparkler videos. You gather your name before the Incident, you cherish it, and you repeat the syllables in the dead of night, spilling past your mouth. Even if it was the name of a child-abusing monster, it was still yours, and it was still of use.

And use it, you would.

While they go and be a family, you work to begin yours.

You gather funds: it's easy to take on odd jobs when people do not suspect you. You tuck away that black card at the bottom of your study table drawers, forgotten there like scribbled-out pages of an essay, an unfinished drawing, and leftover candy wrappers. It's a bit-by-bit work, but you know the Waynes wouldn't even see it happening. Your brothers and sisters (an absurdly alien concept, as they don't even acknowledge you exist ninety-five percent of the time) are prodigies paraded around at every event. You are the unseen ghost flitting through their shadows.

Graduation comes and goes. It's laughably easy to falsify having lost your social security number and other documents--Gotham is that much of a shithole, you suppose. The man in the cowl notwithstanding. His efforts are admirable, but weak. Recidivism is common in this place, as if there were some sort of pull that incited the people in Gotham to cruelty, to madness.

It's absurdly Lovecraftian, in its own way.

You are not even living your best life, and yet you are free. Alfred knows; he always knows. If you are The Ghost, then the aged butler is a man one step between the doors of death, and he sees you every time you move. Your room is empty, and he raises an eyebrow at your satchel: all your items already stored elsewhere or given away.

("I suppose this was a long time coming, Little Master."

Tap tap tap. Footsteps on marble floors, setting sun.

You shrug. "Eh. The Waynes gave me a roof and education. It's all good."

You grunt. "Well, people change. Like you know, how kids being gifted stop being gifted when they grow older." You say, instead of 'Well, if a child doesn't get any praise or attention if they do good and probably even less if they were bad, why even bother?')

A pause. "Your academics were not so lackluster when you were younger."

You promise to try and stay in touch. (You crossed your fingers behind your back.) You leave, sunset on your face.

The nap you had in a dingy hotel with far too many odd stains and not enough locks you could put on was the soundest you've ever slept in years.

Freedom smells like summer air and the last rays of sun, followed by the cold blue hour.

It takes three months for an out-of-state college to accept you. It's far from Gotham. It has a dormitory. Excellent. While you were indeed a mediocre academic student, you had banked everything on band scholarships.

Who knew more than a hundred clarinet players had unclaimed scholarships yearly? Packing up your small life in bags, you take a train upwards to another state.

(Meanwhile, in Gotham, there is an odd sense of unease as Bruce Wayne stops by an inconspicuous door. It's relatively clean, as expected of his manor, but the worn out brass on the handle suggests that someone had lived there before. He opens the door. Steps in. A bed, a dresser, a study table. Bare bones.

The unease intensifies. But who?)

Someone had lived in here, yes.

[delicatedarknight]

Bruce: what makes you good for my son?

Kon: what is there that I lack? I'm perfect for your son

Jason: I would say he lacks common sense

Dick[sighing]: describe why you love Tim?

Kon: he is a huge coffee addict, the Robin costume looks ugly but I guess those are the things that make him look hella attractive not to mention he has a great as-

Bruce, Damian, Jason & Dick [ready with their weapons on Kon's neck]: be careful how you finish that sentence

Kon[flying out of the window]: HE GOT A GREAT ASS

[An hour later]

Metropolis reporter: today's breaking news Batman and the Robins are chasing after Superboy while throwing profanities. Oh wait we see Red Hood let's ask him about the situation

Reporter: Red Hood what brings you all to the metropolis today?

Red Hood: oh it's just a family outing to promote tourism to Gotham not like we are trying to make Superboy disappear from the face of the earth and bury him somewhere. Now now where did our Superboy kid run off to now?

Reporter:

[In Kent house hold]

Kon: Dad...you know I love you soo much right?

Clark[sighing]: what did you do this time?

Kon: Dad you gotta protect me they are coming for me

Clark: they who?

Kon: the bat fa-

[Window breaking and batfam entering]

Kon[already using Clark as human shield]: they are here dad

Bruce: Clark stay out of this

Clark[confused]: what did he do for the whole bat family to chase after him

Damian: ask him yourself

Clark: so what did you do?

Kon[shyly grinning]: I complimented Tim's ass..

Clark: I mean I see where you are coming from..I mean Bruce also has a great ass..but that's not the point now.

Dick: guess it's time to end the whole Superman bloodline

Jason: deviation in the plan now it's both dad-son duo

Clark: Can I say something before I die?

Bruce[with kryptonite]: you may speak

Clark: Bruce I always wanted to tell you something, you look really beautiful, and last Thursday, you looked amazing in those black undies.

[Collective batfam screaming and fighting] 

[pookiebeary]

Go Little Spider

Spiderperson! Reader in Gotham

Gn!Reader x Batfam(?)

Heavily inspired by "Peter the Pizza Guy" and "Dark Matter" on AO3

ATSV spider-reader

Taglist: @rl800

Back | Part 2

A pained groan and rustling from the dumpster caught the attention of some passersby but such was the norm in Gotham. No one came forward to help, merely glancing a second longer before going on with their lives.

You tried not to gag at the smell of rotting food surrounding you and instead focused your attention on trying to climb out of the pile of trash bags. It didn't help that your suit was soaked with whatever filthy water was in the bag of molding McDonald's.

Gross.

The putrid smell violates your nostrils and you try not to breathe as much as you need to, which is impossible when every little action you make causes you to suck in a breath because it hurts like hell. Each breath you take makes your chest hurt, like something was squeezing your lungs and stabbing it with a needle repeatedly. With shaky hands, you slowly climb up and out the dumpster, landing with a small thud on the concrete ground.

You let out a small oomph as your back hits the ground.

You're frozen on the ground as a wave of pain floods your body with it mostly concentrated on your left shoulder blade and ribs. The only positive thing about the situation is that nothing seems to be broken and the only thing there is the pain and horrible pounding headache like you've just drunk a bottle of vodka.

As you lay immobilized on the floor, you feel your vision blur as tears pool in your eyes. You quickly blinked and rolled your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling down. You weren't sure why you were crying; you've been through worse than this. In all honesty, this was but a scratch compared to the injuries you've had on your line of work.

Still, you find some tears pooling on your eyes as you look up to stare at the dark and gritty alleyway you find yourself in. It reminded you of the first time you met Peter dressed as Spiderman; He had confronted the man who cornered you after you left school and dealt with him properly. And after the man passed out from the one sided fight, Peter webbed him up for the police to take him away before checked on you. You were grateful for his help and that was your first meeting with the amazing Spider-Man....

Lips pressed into a thin line as you recall the memory, you look at the hazy night sky as police sirens echo in the background. Smoke and the putrid smell of rot clung to your nose, causing you to scrunch up in disgust but also sobering you from further dwelling on the nostalgic memories.

Your hand clenches around your spider mask, with fingers tracing the webbing details on it before you start sitting up, there's no point in dwelling in the past.

You have to move on. Ignoring the cascade of pain as you move your body, you manage to drag yourself to lay on the dumpster after much effort. Okay, swinging on your web is definitely out of the question. Your eyes fall onto the occasionally glitching screen of the interdimensional watch settled on your wrist. It looks broken, but the painful feeling of your atoms slowly disintegrating wasn't there so at least it's still doing its primary function- stabilizing your atoms to settle in this dimension.

You tap on the screen of the watch, inspecting the other hardware to see if you could salvage it; Parts of the monitor were cracked but other than that nothing seemed to be too broken to repair.

Okay, you can probably try and fix it once you get your hands on some tools and replace some of the wiring. You can do this, you think. Probably. Maybe? You weren't confident given your first attempt at reverse engineering the watch ended up with you being flung to an unknown dimension, but that wasn't so bad. Honestly you were expecting it to fail and disintegrate you instead when you jumped to the ominous portal. (You've calculated the probability and it definitely wasn't in your favor.)

Frowning as you fiddle around with the internal hardware of the watch, you feel sweat rolling down your temples as you let out a frustrated groan when you try and salvage some of the more broken parts.

Welp.

There goes your only chance of knowing what dimension you're stranded in, for now at least. You take a long look at the buzzing streetlight across the street, the gritty and dark unwelcoming atmosphere didn't seem like any version of New York you've encountered. Added with the fact that your spidey senses have been thrumming softly in warning did not help with the horrible first impression this dimension gave you.

Letting out a sigh as you look down to check on your sorry state of a spidersuit, you start walking towards the streets despite a lack of destination in mind. You don't know where to go but any place is better than a dumpster in a shady alley. Plus, you didn't forget that now you had the spider society hot on your trails. Hopefully, they are being misled by the fake trail of breadcrumbs you left behind after messing around with the watch.

With your heart in your mouth, you trudge along the pavement like every step was a pain and arduous task.

***

You'd think that an injured guy wearing a ragged up spandex costume with the theme of a spider would elicit some sort of question but you were proven wrong when the few people that walked past you didn't bat an eye. Though to be fair, they looked drunk or high as hell- which should’ve been the biggest warning sign that you're stranded in the bad side of the city.

Well, that realization came very late to you and it didn't do much to ease the low thrum your spider senses gave you. It buzzed off uncomfortable at the back of your head the further you walked into the city. The wind blew coldly against your face and you felt exposed without your mask. You hesitantly placed your sweaty spider mask back to your face and gagged from the horrible smell. Unfortunately, even after all those years of wearing it, you've never gotten used to the smell of your sweat-soaked mask after a long day’s work.

After making sure the mask was firmly secured, you look around the growing darkness. The street lamps ahead were broken or flickering like it was running on sheer will. Your spidey senses were buzzing wildly at the thought of continuing the walk.

Yea, there's no way you're walking down a dark alley alone in the middle of the night. That's just asking for trouble.

You turn around, walking towards one of the buildings, wondering which building you should climb and travel through the roofs. You didn't notice this before when you were too focused on trying not to agitate your injuries during the walk but god damn the buildings have seen better days.

Some were crumbling and had dozens of bullet-sized holes, most were covered in graffiti and broken wood planks and metal pipes with suspicious goo oozing out, it seemed like a chemistry experiment gone wrong while constructions of the building were canceled halfway.

Seriously, your spidey senses are going ballistic right now it's actually unnerving. (You swear you'd heard gunshots ring in the air and this time it's louder than the previous one as police sirens echo in the background.)

It's rarely acted this way before, except that one time you visited Hell’s Kitchen for a field trip. Only this time, the annoying constant thrumming at the back of your head was louder and more in-your-face than the one at Hell’s kitchen.

Right as you stood staring at the weathered billboard sign hanging from the shoddy building of what was once a fast food diner contemplating if you should just travel from the roof, you hear a cry for help.

***

[hurdy-girly]

The Batfam as quotes from my quote book

(Note: this is inspired by a post I saw from @billcipherapologist)

Jason, anytime Damian says anything: “I’m sorry I speak Midwestern, not demonic chanting, could you translate?”

Tim: “My brain is making sad sauce today.”

Robin! Dick at his first interrogation: “You have a look that says ‘I murdered this victim’. Am I right, or am I right?”

Jason: “If I was stuck in a room with Mr. Rochester and two evil politicians and a gun with two bullets, I’d force feed Rochester both bullets and the gun as desert.”

Steph: “Psycho snowman. Qu'est-ce que c'est? Fa la la la la la la la la la and a-“

Damian: “Don’t be disgusted. We are, all of us, humble wombspawn.”

Every criminal in Gotham: “HELP I JUST GOT PSYCHOLOGICALLY DROPKICKED BY A MAN IN HIS SIXTIES”

Jason and Kate: “Hippity hoppity, taste my second amendment right, bozo.”

One of Damian’s teachers: “You, sir, have lived a very exciting life for a six year old.”

Damian: “…I was five when that happened. How dare you?”

Duke: “Poor kitty getting flashbanged.”

Steph: “I like my gender roles like I like my men. Based on decades old pseudoscience. Get yourself that phrenology boyfriend.”

Cass: “Pörkölt with a side dish of overstimulation.”

Tim, at Titan’s Tower: “Why is some dead guy blasting freebird?”

[fantastic-nonsense]

I've been going through your writing tag and I know you said you don't want to share your Ao3 until you've actually published something for us to read, but I'm obssessed with your writing. is there anything in any one of your WIPs you're willing to share with us while we wait for you to finish them? Maybe one of your Batfam or Six of Crows WIPs?

Anon I've been sitting on this ask for awhile because I didn't know how to properly express my love for it. Thank you so much for your love and support. I know I'm taking a long time to get any of my (several) WIPs done, and I'm super thankful for your patience.

So yes, I will very happily share something from my WIPs. I'll actually even give you a couple, since you asked so nicely. I honestly haven't written much on any of my Batfam fics in the past couple of months (despite my Cass character study fic being mostly done and my Jason and his Many Mothers WIP haunting my dreams) and I don't really want to give too much away on those, so I'll share a couple of snippets from some of my Six of Crows WIPs.

Here's a bit from my Kanej love language WIP, 'to love him is freedom', from the "His Hands" section:

He hesitates, his hands hovering just over the jut of her collarbone. This time, Inej knows that the hesitation is not for his sake, but for hers. She’s oddly moved at even this small consideration. They’ve touched so many times now, and he still hesitates. He so often carries violence in his hands, the weight of it making him pause, but there is no pain to be found in this moment. There's nowhere she’d rather be than here, still and waiting beneath his steady hands. “I’ve survived far worse things than your hands on my body, Kaz,” she murmurs softly, reminding him as she always does that his hands are welcome where others aren’t. His bare hands, gentle but searing on her skin, are a novelty. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to take more than she’s willing to give. His eyes are steady as he carefully cradles her face. She closes her eyes and leans in, tilting her head into the warmth of his palm. She feels held, cradled, protected. There is safety in his hands.

A tiny snippet from a fic I'm working on about how Inej acquired each of her knives called 'To Build a Legend', from a bit about her buying the knife that will become Sankta Anastasia after her first kill:

The knife was plain, unadorned. Simple wooden hilt, simple silver blade. Useful. Practical. Deadly. It will get the job done just as well as any other knife, Inej thought dully as she took it over to the shopkeeper to purchase. She was a killer now, and she needed a killer’s tools to survive. But that didn’t mean she had to take pride in her murder weapons. Murderers didn’t have the right to carry pretty things.

And finally, a bit from the Forced to Choose fic featuring Kaz, Jesper, and a pissed off mercher playing Russian Roulette:

“Any new information coming to mind, Mr. Brekker?” Kaz couldn’t bear to watch, but he wasn’t coward enough to turn away. Jesper had done nothing except volunteer for pain that never should have been his; Kaz owed it to him to stay with him. He watched the blood slowly drip down Jesper’s face and struggled to string together a coherent response. The heartrender, he thought dizzily. Remember the heartrender. He couldn’t lie; de Klerk would know. But he couldn’t tell the truth, either. It would be as good as signing Inej’s death warrant himself. “No,” he finally gasped out, keeping his voice as neutral and firm as he could manage with the shrieking pain radiating down his arm. De Klerk sighed. “A pity.” He looked at Jesper, almost casually tapping the gun against his bruised temple and smiling at his wince. “You’d think he would care more about the people who risked their lives trying to rescue him, wouldn’t you?” Kaz’s heart pounded in his chest as Jesper met de Klerk’s eyes with a determined glare, unwavering and unrepentant. Don’t do it, Jes. Don’t make it worse for yourself. Jesper spat in his face.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Blue Moon

Alright, It's time for my individual post! I'm not gonna post every chapter, because I have better things to do, but here's the first chapter of the @batfam-big-bang fic I wrote for @magpie-murder's stunning art piece. It was a blast working with you!

The whole thing is up on AO3 Click on the link to read the rest!

Chapter 1: Harvest Moon

[warning for: death]

(Harvest Moon: The transition from fall to winter, celebrated as the earth slowing down and "dying" to become something new. A time for reaping.)

Back in the circus, Dick had felt completely at home, surrounded by his own kind, as well as humans who knew what vampires were like and didn't mind. His life—or, his undeath—had been perfect for those few years. Those years where his parents had loved and cared for him, had taught him, had trained him. Those years where he and his parents, and the handful of other vampires in the circus, could all drink their fill and be gone before the local police could finish scratching their heads.

When he watched his parents fall from the trapeze, his greatest concern had been how they would explain surviving a fall from such a height without exposing the secret of vampires to the world. He hadn't realized they'd been poisoned before the show. They hit the ground with a sickening, horrible crack. Their bones breaking, skin splitting, blood oozing out onto the floor of the tent. If he'd been capable of vomiting, Dick would have lost his lunch.

He waited for them to get back up. Waited while Mr. Haly evacuated the big top. Waited while the other performers made up excuses as to why onlookers couldn't call the paramedics. Waited while his friends shouted up to the platform, coaxing him to come down. He didn't. He stayed right where he was, forty feet up, staring at the broken, unmoving bodies of his parents.

Someone was climbing up the ladder, but Dick didn't bother to look at who it was until they sat down next to him. It was a man in a suit more expensive than anything Dick had ever owned. He cautiously placed a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, son," the man said. "I watched my parents die, too, when I was about your age. No experience could ever compare to the despair I know you're feeling. If you need anything, I'm here."

Finally, tears welled up in Dick's eyes and began to fall, pouring down his cheeks as he wept. He turned and buried his face in the stranger's expensive shirt, bawling loudly. It had finally sunk in. His parents wouldn't be getting back up again. They were well and truly dead. And Dick knew exactly who was to blame.

His parents had been so sure they'd thrown that vampire hunter off their scent. They'd triple checked all the equipment they'd seen him so much as stand next to. Turned out it wasn't him, but them who'd been duped. Somehow he must have done something to them, or their equipment, or costumes, or something. That damned vampire hunter had killed his parents, and if he wasn't stopped, he'd be coming for Dick next, that much was certain.

"I'm Bruce," said the man in the expensive suit as he awkwardly wrapped an arm around Dick, the other holding tightly onto a safety rope to ensure neither of them fell from the high platform. "Your name is Richard, right? I saw on the posters."

"I go—by Dick," the boy responded through gasps.

"I see." Bruce was awkward, and not very good at consoling or comforting, but he was still trying, even though Dick was a stranger. Empathy was one hell of a drug. Dick had no idea how humans could keep that up all the time when he himself had trouble even faking it. "Well Dick, you just go ahead and cry, let it all out. I won't let you fa—ah... I'll... I'll hold onto you."

"This wasn't an accident," Dick whimpered, and sniffed. "Someone—messed with the trapeze. We thought we fixed it." Sobs interrupted him, and he let it go for a moment before he pulled himself together enough to keep talking. Fabricating a story as he went. "He was threatening—Mr. Haly. Said if he didn't pay him—something bad would happen." Mr. Haly would corroborate the lie, he always covered for his people, no matter what their stories were.

"Do you know the man's name?" Bruce asked. Dick allowed himself the smallest upturn in the corner of his mouth. Got him. Bruce was clearly rich, meaning he'd have connections, and that empathy of his would drive him to help Dick get 'justice' for his parents.

"Mr. Haly knows," Dick said, and that much was true. "I just can't believe anyone would—would do something so h-horrible!" Dick blubbered into Bruce's chest.

"Don't worry, Dick," Bruce said solemnly, holding the boy a little bit tighter, his grip much stronger and more secure than Dick would've expected of some random rich guy. "I'll make sure that man faces due process. He'll see the consequences of what he's done. I promise."

Dick mumbled out a teary thank you, and tightened his own grip around the man to seal the deal. Blinded by his emotions, Bruce had bought the story hook, line, and sinker. If Dick's life was about to change forever, then at the very least he could move forward without constantly having to look over his shoulder. Vampire hunters were a rarity these days, but that didn't make them any less of a pain in the ass.

"I know it's sudden, and you don't know me very well," Bruce said gently, his deep voice cutting through Dick's sobs. "But if you'd like, you can stay with me from now on. I'm more than happy to take you in, and care for you, now that your parents...." he trailed off. "I just... I wouldn't want you to have to be alone."

That surprised Dick, although he supposed he should have expected something like this from a bleeding heart like Bruce obviously was. He considered the offer for a moment. The circus was likely no longer safe for vampires.

Within a week, that vampire hunter's friends would descend on the big top like vultures on a rotting animal, and Dick was young and vulnerable, especially compared to his parents, whom the hunter had already successfully killed. He definitely didn't want to still be within these three rings when that happened, and they came nosing around with holy water and silver daggers.

If he went with Bruce on the other hand, he'd be protected. Firstly, Bruce was obviously the type to keep anyone remotely dangerous away from the kid in his charge, and secondly, because, in Dick's experience, rich people could get away with pretty much everything, up to and including murder. That made being this guy's charge a very convenient position for a creature like Dick to be in.

When the silence had finally gone on long enough to be truly uncomfortable, Bruce started to backtrack. "If you don't want to, I understand. I just wanted to give you that option so—"

"Okay," Dick said, a victorious smirk hidden in their embrace, though he couldn't stop the tears still trickling down his cheeks. "I'll go with you."

[msfcatlover]

OKAY THIS IS A BIG ONE, just answer the ones you want to :D

DC (preferably Batman or Green Arrow or Superfam but actually everything) - games, comics, movies, books, fandom

what is your (can be more than one each category):

favourite fan AU

favourite headcanon

favourite female character

favourite male character

favourite comic

favourite canon AU (you know all these Future State and Kingdom Come and Injustice and Arkham verse and all that!!!)

favourite ship (IF you have one, otherwise the ones you can tolerate)

favourite death (if the character died more than in one universe or more than once, specify which death)

favourite powerset

favourite resurrection (LOL, same with #8)

favourite AU villain/antagonist (those who aren't villains but you imagine would be cool villains in your opinion)

favourite canon villan/antagonist (if characters like Jason or Talia then specify which plotlines/comics)

favourite DC loser.

sorry for bad English!!!! have a good day/night

Oh boy, that’s… that’s actually really hard for me. I have a hard time picking favorites, because I generally love things for very different reasons. I know much more clearly what I dislike when I see it; enjoying things is sorta my default state, y’know?

Like, take the AU question. I’d be hard pressed to tell you whether a good Reverse Robins setup was something I liked better than, say, @jube-art’s Superfam/Batfam role-swap (which, if you haven’t seen it, go check it out!)

I’m also working my way through canon chronologically, and am still in the early/mid-90s, so there’s a lot of characters I haven’t officially gotten to, and a lot of stories I haven’t gotten the chance to really dig into yet. (I made it to Knightfall, realized I hadn’t put any of the buildup to that arc in my comic library, and decided to go back and read Barbara’s time with the Suicide Squad instead.) I don’t feel comfortable planting a flag on this until… oh, at least until ~2006, probably. (Which, given just how many books/characters suddenly got added in the 90s, will probably take a while.)

(There are also lots of characters who have so much potential in their backstory/power set, but who never got to use them to their full potential. Or who only had the cool parts of their backstory tacked on as an obvious retcon in the process of writing them out of the story, because the fans were vocally upset about them, meaning they never got the exploration any of those story ideas deserved.) (I have a special level of ire for power sets that are really cool on a surface level, but where the creators added just one power too many to stop them from being fully interesting. For example, Menagerie’s bugs having mind control properties overcomplicates her too much, in my opinion. Or—if you’ll let me hop over to Marvel—a character like Alpha who has all the “standard” superpowers, but only one at a time? What makes that interesting is having to choose between being super-strong or invulnerable or super-fast (etc.) therefore this character should not have ranged attack options built into said power set; it disincentivizes him from ever getting up-close with enemies, forcing the writer to choose between having the character be stupid or having the character never use the interesting elements of their powers. (…I mean, Alpha being stupid is kinda the point of his plot, but you see what I’m getting at, right?))

I will say, I adored Jason’s post-Crisis Robin run (in both Batman series, though for very different reasons) and so far very little has brought me as much joy as reading DC’s Detective Comics from that time period! And those few pages of Dan Mora’s B&W cyberpunk short that went around recently had me absolutely frothing with excitement for the possibilities that verse holds. And Jason being Tim’s Robin brings me endless joy, which neither canon nor jerkfaces will take from me.

(Aaaaaaaand while shipping isn’t the catharsis I come to comics for (thank gods, basically every canon ship I’ve witnessed thus far has been awful in motion even when their potential is off the charts,) I can actually blame DCEU SuperBat for getting me into this whole mess in the first place. Blame @susiecarter, whose fics I found immediately after watching someone do a deep-dive analysis of everything that went wrong with BvS, which I paused when I thought, “Huh, these are actually all really good points… I bet fanfiction has done this exact story, but with much better execution, recognizable characterization, and probably a hell of a lot gayer. Let’s go check.”)

[f4nd0m-fun]

I'd like to promote my Loki-Batman AU in which the kids are technically demigods through adoption but they won't know until they or Bruce either die or awaken their godly selves. That or they're reincarnations of Loki's Kids. I feel like they'd have some minor abilities but I need I find where I wrote out who correlates to who... I remember some but not all. Also blurb about the reblog definitely being almost right.

For Bruce, he's mostly just subconsciously changing his face details and some other minor stuff whenever someone tries to unmask him. Once he awakens, that includes some memories, but he'll still need time to train his abilities, from magic to shapeshifting and manipulation skills. Also, I'm laughing at the idea he goes full recluse as Bruce for a bit because he can't get his shapeshifting under control.

Dick of course is Jormungdr (I can't spell). So he probably has a Naga form once he awakens, but a full snake form might not be a good idea, I dunno (be hilarious if Damien is all 'Batsnake!' because he doesn't realize it's Dick until he changes back). Anyway, this just makes his flexibility that much better/worse, and his Naga form moves surprisingly quickly. Also, more of him to hug others, he's gonna love that.

I think Jason would greatly correlate to Hela but I'm not entirely sure on the direction. On one hand, just imagine him scaring the piss out of magical creatures by not only summoning the allblades but also his appearance being half skeletal at that point. And, if the creech is pissing him off enough, he might summon a few of the dead, since post-death knows his truth. Also, Trans!Jason my beloved. Either he has a lil bit of shapeshifting from Bruce/Loki or the Lazarus pits acted like magical HRT. But also might be interesting if he's using glamours instead, with the idea that he's always looked malnourished/skeletal no matter how much he ate, it was just worse before he was taken in by Bruce, because of his tie to Hela.

Tim I keep imagining as Sleipnier (again I can't spell). So just imagine a coffee fueled superspeed centaur Red Robin running on two hours of sleep with 70 awake, a Red Hood with his glamour gone and a large snake/naga Nightwing on his shoulders (none of them have slept in at least two days, and Bruce is trying to corral them, but considering Red Robin already has some kind of minor superspeed even before caffeine... he should probably wait until they crash, either into a wall or just fall asleep). Anyway, goons are just gonna quit if they see that.

But, despite the chaos, the Batfam still tries to pretend to be absolutely human, at minimum around the Watchtower (Diana knows, she was there when Bruce awakened his godhood, they can bond over that stuff).

I'm still trying to figure out if Alfred is mythological in any way but all I can think of is Heimdall or Freya or Frigga, but I think it'd be funny if he's fully human (aside from a minor bout of immortality) and yet he's the one corralling most of the insanity.

Anyway, since Norse Mythology isn't prevalent in DC (I say the Greeks and Romans are allowed their fun as long as they mostly avoid Marvel) Loki isn't well known so they aren't seen as demigods/deities by the populous.

Bruce is ever changing so he's considered more a personification of The People in a sense, due to the fact he never has the same face when unmasked.

Dick tends to be seen as a personification of Hope but also Despair, with the snake stuff being seen as 'a cycle of despair and hope' and 'shedding what once was'

Jason I'm not entirely sure, maybe vengeance or something, maybe more justice, or maybe something like Heart? I'm not sure.

Tim is is bit harder to place but I suppose he might kinda be 'The Right Time' or something else weirdly specific, somewhat due to the fact he arrived right when Batman started calming down, and also the fact that when he returned as his new self that's when Batman returned as well, and don't get started on how he seems to keep getting faster and faster, as if to always try and be on time.

Feel free to rewrite my ideas on the personifications.

Gothamites knowing that Red Hood is actually the dead Robin brought back to life really isn’t helping the cryptid/eldritch Batfamily rumors. Just saying.

[wishicouldgetausername]

I am in the process of making full spotify home pages for the bat fam but for now enjoy the preview, friends activity thing i made. :) please do not repost anywhere :)

[wordsofthefanfic]

Dick puts his hand to his head. Then, turning to Bruce, he says, “This is your fault. You’re the one who decides to give me siblings.”

Bruce’s face is deadpan. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nightwing. How could I, Bruce Wayne, a harmless non-bender, be able to decide who becomes your siblings?”

— Flameo, Batman!, HuiLian

[dc-junkyard]

Oh fuck my heart

“What I would do to see you smile.”

[zitkaplushie]

A Kory and Jason piece I commissioned from Denise Fanta on twitter! I could not be happier with how this came out! I’ve been staring at this for the past 3 hours.

[polliwogillustrations]

Decided to draw a Jay bc I love him and it is his birthday week. Plus I needed a new icon ^_^

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Slumber Party?

A/N: This has no point. None at all besides cuddles and fluff :) Featuring a teensy bit of Bruce POV at the end.

Tags: Jason Todd x f!reader, Jason Todd x you, Jason Todd x Reader, Jason Todd, Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Batfam, Batfamily, DC Imagines, Red Hood x f!reader, Red Hood x you, Red Hood x Reader, The Joker, Death in the Family, Lazarus Pits, Nightwing, Robin, Damian Wayne, Richard Grayson, Dick Grayson, Batfamily fluff

WARNINGS: mentions of grief/loss/depression

Summary: There's no better cure to a hard day than cuddles and ramen noodles.

Word count: 2.6k+

Grief is a funny thing.

Sometimes you feel it acutely, perhaps from the initial loss of someone close to you or ending a relationship. Other times it’s a chronic ache, visiting now and then to remind you of someone or something and drag your day to a halt. 

Today, you were feeling the latter. 

It’s been over four years since your brother died, and the pain is manageable now. In the beginning it was like losing a piece of yourself- it was losing a piece of yourself. Now, you think about him every day and even laugh at something which reminds you of him when your family gets together. It isn’t painful anymore, and you’ve accepted what’s happened and the fact that no one can change it. Overall, your heart did what hearts do. They heal around the hole left in them, and you push on to the next day. 

You hadn’t had a bad day in a long while, and suppose you were due for one. The young brother and sister playing tag down the street were overflowing with youthful innocence, their excited shouts bouncing off concrete sidewalks and ancient brick buildings. When you realized the boy shared a name with your brother though, the pain crept back into the corners of your psyche. It wallowed there before swelling and penetrating the fenced-in part of your heart, tugging at the exposed heartstrings. 

Hence, your current position. You shuffle down the grocery store aisle, one Airpod shoved into your ears and hood up while some celebrity podcast rambles to fill the void. A sniffle escapes without proper permission, and you hastily wipe your face with your sleeve. Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink rapidly while tossing a whole case of instant ramen into the cart. If there was anything you wanted to do, it was to sit on the couch with your electric blanket and eat shitty ramen while crying your eyes out. 

Of course, nothing could be that easy. 

Footsteps approach from behind, and you tense automatically. They’re short strides, and you discern it’s a young person fairly easily. Slowly, you lift the hood from your head and turn, furrowing your brow at the pint-sized person. 

“Damian? What are you doing here?”

The youngest Wayne raises one aristocratic brow, wrinkling the smooth olive skin on his forehead. “Shopping, obviously.”

He launches himself up effortlessly, landing inside of your shopping cart. Of fucking course he does, because the big carts you hate pushing were the only ones left, and -oh yeah- he was Batman’s offspring. 

“Seriously?” You groan and drop your head to the handle. “Dami, I’m really-”

“Sad? Upset? In need of comfort?” 

This time you turn the whole cart around- Damian included- to face the second member of your pity party. Dick Grayson leans casually against the shelves, dressed in dark jeans and a blue sweatshirt, black hair tousled perfectly as per usual. 

“God, you too? Can’t even shop without being bothered by your cult.”  You bite out, snatching a package of tortillas from the shelf near Dick’s arm. 

It was a bit more hostile than you intend, but you’re not in the mood for a Wayne Family intervention at the moment. You’ve had enough since Jason had come back from the dead. 

“Hey, we really were just shopping and saw a familiar face. You looked sad, so Damian wanted to check on you.” Dick pushes away from the shelf.

And if that wasn’t the biggest load of shit you’d ever heard. 

“Really? You two? Shopping?”

“Alfred is visiting family out of the country.”

You narrow your eyes. “And they entrusted shopping to the two members of the family least  likely to step foot in the kitchen?”

“Tt. Nonsense. They entrusted shopping to me, since I am the only one capable of making and fulfilling a list.” Damian glances at his adopted brother. “Grayson is only here because I required a driver.”

“Uh-huh… Well, it’s always nice to see you guys, but I gotta go.” You haul Damian out of the cart by his armpits, eliciting a squawk of protest that almost breaks your eardrum. “Things to do.”

“Like crying by yourself at the store?” Dick presses. 

You begin to push the cart away. “Goodbye Dick. Goodbye, Damian.”

----

Back at your apartment, the TV blares a depressing Netflix documentary while you put your ramen in a bowl. While the depression you’d felt at first had ebbed away, being alone was not exactly helping the issue. Now it seems that each TV show or movie you attempt has something to remind you of the pain. 

Ramen was the only comforting thing you sought. 

While you were praying that Jason would be over soon, you refuse to admit it. Any text to him would cause worry, and the last thing you want is Jason to be in a hurry while doing his nightly business. With your luck, he would channel it into an explosive to take down a city block full of mob members and cause an all-out war. Maybe behead some druglords. Or torture a up-and coming criminal mastermind. 

Or something else extreme. You’re not 100% accurate when it comes to predicting Jason’s pit-influenced creative thinking.

You continue on your journey back to the couch, and stoop to plug in your electric blanket. Tinny television speakers ramble on about the mistreatment of killer whales in captivity while you tuck yourself into the couch.

“Seclusion isn’t the ideal treatment for grief, you know.” 

You leap up from the couch to face the fire escape window. Darkness is settling over Gotham, but you can see the faint glow of two lenses outside the open window. Damian nudges it open enough to crawl in, changing from a clumsy tumble into a graceful flip faster than you can blink. 

“You’re breaking into my apartment now?” You don’t deign to give him a reaction, simply plopping down on the couch. As much as you hate to admit it, the adopted Wayne boys were something of brothers to you. Pushing them away at the store was nothing more than to protect yourself from embarrassment, but you can’t run away now. 

“It wasn’t breaking in.” Damian said as he moves to sit beside you on the couch. “Your fire escape is always open.”

You grunt in answer and decide to slurp on ramen instead. Damian flicks his cape boredly and focuses on the TV. 

“Are you watching a film about orcas?”

It’s kind of sweet, Damian sitting with you in an attempt to soothe the pain you were feeling. He might be Bruce Wayne’s son, but there’s a flicker of something more in the young man. 

“Documentary.” You mumble around a mouthful of noodles. “Think ‘s called Blackfish.”

“Perfect.” Damian declares. “I enjoy educational programs. I will watch it with you.”

Your heart flickers at the statement. So young, yet striving to be the most intelligent creature he can. But if there was one thing you know, it’s that where there’s a Robin, there’s a Batman not far behind. 

“Where’s your father?”

Damian huffs and falls back into the couch cushions. “Meeting with Gordon.”

You nod. “I’m sure he’s not thrilled about where you’re at.”

It wasn’t that you and Bruce didn’t like each other. Moreso the fact that he disapproved of Jason’s actions, and you were aligned with Jason. Therefore, you got the same end of the stick as the Red Hood: the shitty side. 

“Tt. His petty disagreements with Todd are none of my concern.” He answers haughtily, “Besides, he has no direct quarrel with you. Nor would he, since I am helping you.”

You look away from the whales. “Are you?”

As usual, the sarcasm soars over Damian’s head. “Of course. You’re having a day of mourning, and as I said: it’s unhealthy to be alone.”

 You ignore the pang of sadness and smile at him. “You know, Damian, you’re my favorite of the Wayne wards.”

He scoffs in the most menacing way an eleven-year old can. “We both know that’s a lie.” 

After a good ruffling of his ornery black locks, you lean back into your side of the couch and collect your rapidly cooling bowl to finish it. 

The documentary continues on, and you zone out. Tapping away at Twitter and Instagram draws your attention, and by the time the apartment door opens, you’re dozing off. Your phone has slipped from your grip and the afghan blanket has been tugged across the couch. A warm weight leans into your side, and you decide moving isn’t an option for the foreseeable future. 

Somewhere in your subconscious, you recognize the sound of the shower turning on and off. A faint haze of humidity wafts across the apartment, followed by a gentle brush of fingers over your hair. 

Eyelashes flutter against your cheeks at the touch, and you observe Jason hovering above you. His hair is shiny and dripping, black tangles with white as it hangs over his eyes. A black t-shirt clings to his damp chest, and sweatpants adorn his lower half.

“Hey, you.” You yawn, leaning your cheek into the kiss Jason lays there. 

Awareness bleeds into you, bringing the sensation of another smaller body near you to the forefront of your mind. Much to your surprise Damian is asleep, body slumped against your shoulder and domino mask discarded on the coffee table. You recall his dedication to keep you company earlier in the night, and smile softly.

“Big Bird is on his way to pick up Demon.” Jason opens his mouth to continue, but stops to stare at the window. “Fuckin’ birds. He’s here already.” 

Sure enough, the same window Damian crawled through is now occluded by the lithe shape of Nightwing. One dramatic somersault later, he manages to land himself on the couch between you and Damian. The youngest Wayne opens his eyes with a scowl but lets Nightwing toss an arm around his shoulders.

“Hello again.” He chirps, then looks to Jason. “Jaybird.” 

“Dickwing. You’re on my couch.” He grits in response.

Dick smiles innocently at his foster brother, leaning a head of wild black locks onto your shoulder. His arms wrap around you in a loose hug. “Not your couch. I am cuddling your girl though.”

The sheer stupidity of their rivalry draws a giggle from your throat. You reach a hand up to Jason’s waist, tugging at his belt loops. 

“It’s alright, babe. I love you more than him.” You reassure, “Especially since you don’t stalk me at the grocery store.”

Jason stiffens, even with your playful tone. “You keeping tabs on us now, Wing?”

Dick pulls off his domino to roll his eyes at Jason. “Couldn’t be bothered. Dami and I had to do the shopping ‘cause Alfred’s on vacation. She was the one across town and crying in the cereal aisle.”

You drop your head against the top of Dick’s with a heavy sigh.

Teal eyes bore into you, suddenly filled with concern. “What happened, Bug?”

Swallowing the trepidation the claws into your throat, you look up at Jason. 

“I was just having a bad morning. Saw some kids that reminded me of my brother.” You grasp Jason’s hand, rubbing gentle circles onto it. “Damian stopped by tonight so I had company.”

“And now, I’m here! It’s like a family get-together.” Dick hums with excessive enthusiasm. “You should join the party, Jay.”

While Dick Grayson was annoying at his worst, he was a sweetheart at his best. All of the Wayne wards were, in their own way. Him being an advocate for Jason through the toughest times had brought the three of you close- no matter how much Jason would deny it.

“For once, I agree with Dick. You really should join.” You wiggle free from Dick’s hold, reaching your arms up to tug at Jason’s. “If you dont, I’ll be forced to cuddle Damian instead. Or Dick, if I’m desperate.”

Sleepily, Damian pipes up. “I shall not be used as someone’s teddy bear.”

This prompts Dick to let you go and instead rotate to gather Damian in his arms. “Too late baby bird. You’re the best teddy bear.”

“Unhand me at once, Grayson!” 

Much to your delight, while the other two argue, Jason relents. And that is how the four of you end up nestled into your old couch, Jason against the armrest pouting. You’re cuddled into his right side with an arm tossed around your shoulders, while Dick sits with his back on the opposite armrest and feet tossed across your lap. You choose a random documentary and press play, letting it drone on over the relentless bickering. 

“Touch me with your feet, Dickwing and I’ll break ‘em.”

“Relax, Jaybird. I washed them last week.”

“Yeah? Well I washed my machete when I got home tonight.”

“I oiled my sword the night before last.”

“Remind me why the fuck Bruce has a stick in his ass about a gun but he lets you carry that?”

It’s soothing, you realize, tucked in between three of Gotham’s heroes- or two vigilantes and a crime lord, as it were. Their bickering chases away the bits of grief that still litter your mind, and you relax a little more into Jason’s warm body as the minutes tick by.

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

Bruce Wayne hasn’t spoken to Bug in over a year. 

Not since the day after Jason tried to force him into killing the Joker. Since Bruce threw a batarang at his second son’s throat and the building exploded.

And, in that case, he might have deserved the tongue-lashing. He’d pledged to let Jason and her be- to let them live and enjoy each other as long as the Red Hood stayed in his territory. Bruce had followed that pledge to a tee too, until this morning. 

Damian and Dick were nowhere to be found after patrols, and though it wasn’t unusual for them to do their own thing- brotherly bonding, Dick had called it- but it was unusual for them not to check in. Tim was sick tonight, leaving Bruce with an odd sense of melancholy as he traversed the streets. Thus, when four-thirty rolled around, Bruce found himself hopping rooftops to Bug’s apartment. 

The fire escape is rickety, stained with red splotches that Bruce doesn’t want to believe are dried blood. It rattles against the building as he turns to the window and kneels to peer through the glass. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

His heart does a strange sort of leap as he sees two- three- of his boys curled up on the couch. Both outer seats have the footrests extended, and pillows littered the floor. Jason is stretched out on the far side, closest to the door. One hand is tucked behind his head, and the other is wrapped around Bug’s waist where she’s tucked into his side, legs twined with his on the recliner. Dick, unsurprisingly, takes up the most space, head pillowed far opposite from Jason and legs tossed over Bug’s lap. To top it off, Damian has managed to pile himself in the middle, arms wrapped around one of Bug’s and body pressed between Dick’s legs and the back of the couch. 

There are three domino masks and a broken red hood mask on the coffee table, though any identifiable costumes are covered by the blankets. Bruce winces at the amount of guns he sees discarded on the kitchen island and the crowbar propped near Jason’s end of the couch. 

He gnaws on the idea of sliding the window open, drumming his gloves gently on the glass. Eventually Bruce straightens, taking a deep breath and turning towards the east where dawn is just beginning to break over the ocean. His kids are safe, Gotham is quiet. 

And Bruce can deal with that. So he lets his kids sleep a little longer.

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

Masterlist | Send me ideas

[dc-junkyard]

:")

recovery: then, and now

[analviel]

Atla x Batfam: we're going by the ages of the atla characters

Dick- Aang

Steph- Katara

Duke- Sokka

Damian- Toph

Cass- Suki

Jason- Zuko

Tim- Azula

Barbara- Teo

Ra's Al Ghul- Ozai.

Of course in this version there's no Katara/Aang or Sokka/Suki, it's complete gen. This means Dick and Damian are the same age, and Duke is older than Steph.

Steph vs Damian in that mud match of Katara vs Toph also "a gross, sweaty genuis". Tim calling Jason Zuzu but if you choose to keep their names, he'd be calling him JayJay (JJ) which is especially poetic here because Tim will be the one going through the meltdown. Ra's is disappointed and practically hates Jason while raising Tim on a pedestal. Imagine at the end JasonZuko reminiscing of better times when TimAzula used to follow him around and bring him the most random things to show his older brother and Jason doesn't know when it went wrong, probably when Tim started showing aspects and the kinds of talent that Ra's prize, that Zuko lacks, and Azula was then trained separately and since his strengths are getting cultivated whereas Jason is being forced to fit the mold of strength that just doesn't coincide with his actual strenghts progress leaps and bounds ahead of Zuko. Imagine Jason as the Fire Lord, I'll always hold it that Jason would've been the Wayne heir. Tim chasing the Gaang and it's terrifying how persistent he is. Also, also, I just realized this would put it that Jason is still chasing Dick (for his honor) and Tim chasing both Jason and Dick. Of course CassSuki always saves the day. Duke in this universe gets to be in a position to shine as Sokka, unlike the dc-verse where he's constantly outstripped in experience and skill department, he has a chance to progress in a similar pace as the others, and he's still unique here because he's the non-bender in a group of benders, and he's not misogynistic here like Sokka in the beginning, rather Steph just quickly gets frustrated at not being able to catch fish and that's what cracks the iceberg. Few tweaks here and there to find middle ground between two universe. DamianToph is blind, which would be interesting to explore since Damian is still an artist, but he'd be more into sculptures and Dick and Steph and Duke would describe colors to him so he can pick what material to use (sand would match Steph's hair more "fitting, with how hot-tempered she is", while coal is Dick "a perfect metaphor, just because it's cool now doesn't mean it never burns", and crystal bending for the eyes, blue and grey respectively). Barbara is the daughter of the mechanic who lives in the Air Temple and she has her father's penchant for tech and a fascination of flying. Dick and Barbara likes playing in the air. Dick learning and accepting what it means to be Avatar and his occasional temper, he's wise but he's also a kid running away from facing his destiny (I mean, better than being a Talon at least).

Ra's is not the brothers' father but their grandfather, his father is Sozin. His deal is that he doesn't think the other nations deserve to live under the same sun as the Fire, he's not sexist because Fire nation isn't. He's racist though, his discrimination being against those not born of fire. He managed to live long by mastering energy bending which, incidentally enough, Tim took after (another thing Jason fell short in but actually no) and that's why Tim looks younger than he is (yes, I'm forever going to include this baby face feature in everything I can but since Tim is fourteen here let's just go with him looking the same age as Aang and Toph and he really barely gets older). I imagine Tim mastered lightning bending much younger than Azula did, and during canon time that Azula was mastering lightningbending, Tim was learning energy bending. Unbeknownst to everyone, including Jason himself, at the same time Tim produced his first zappity zap, Jason was tapping into energy-bending, he just leans to utilizing certain aspects other than eternal youth -i.e faster healing and resurrection. JasonZuko redirects lightning but lacks Tim's preternatural focus talent in it and blue fire.

Cissie- would be in Mai's role but as an archer.

OOOOOOH OH OH OH WAIT WAIT WAIT I just realized that Alfred can be Uncle Iroh. I mean frankly speaking, Iroh is a much better guardian than Alfred is (Zuko vs Bruce) this opens a chance for one to actually use fanon!Alfred who is practically flawless, since he wouldn't be constrained to acting like a butler and can and will offer Jason the advice he needs.

Of course you can also then write the TimAzula redemption arc (please, I'm biased I love him).

EDIT: by energybending here, I mean when firebenders learn to bend their inner energy (what they use to generate fire, properly using it as fuel rather than emotions like anger), while they may be able to manipulate other people's energy, it's not in the same sense or anywhere like waterbenders do