#he wants nothing to do with wayne co he wants nothing to do with anyone who 'works for him'

[batgeance]

god bruce fucking hates talking to wayne execs and financial advisors

[jasontoddisasorceror]

Oh, I love it. What's up with the Jason/danny Ghost? Is it the other Jason's? And who brought Danny to this? Was it the ghost? Was it clockwork? Dan? Also I smell a custody battle brewing between the fentons and Bruce or maybe Dick?

sO i got to part two of the daniel jason todd fenton au :)

>:) word count 8k+

So, first, taglist for folks who asked for it: @blep-23 @mikyapixie @isnt-that-grape @randomenglishmajor @illryiannightmare @the-navistar-carol

SECOND: this part needs a trigger/content warning list: - CW Mild Swearing - CW Slight Psychological Horror - ^ CW mild depictions of being haunted by your own ghost/death flag and not realizing it (other people do though) - CW Brief Emetophobia (Danny throws up during a second nightmare) - CW Danny has nightmares of dying - except its of Jason Todd's warehouse death. It's not explicit but it's implied - TW Mild mentions of perceived Blood - TW Depictions of Corpses (first is non-descript, and then second one is slightly more descript but its not anything uh, super descriptive) - TW Mild description of burns (the descriptive part above) - TW Depictions of Panic Attacks (Danny's nightmares)

I mentioned that this au was inspired by a song lyric from Jann's 'Gladiator' here is that line:

I know your addiction's attention, Let's start a show Is it everything and more than you were hoping for? Show us something we ain't never seen before

The day after Danny meets himself, he's downstairs having breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the family, listening idly in on their conversations. Tim Drake is talking about something about Wayne Industries with Mr. Wayne - and wasn't that a startling surprise to learn the first time? - and Damian was slyly trying to feed Ace under the table. Duke Thomas was mid conversation with Cass, much of it audibly one-sided as Cass swaps between ASL and verbal speech.

(Danny comes across her a fair few amount of times in Wayne Manor. The first time was in the library. She hands him a book about planets, smiles, and walks away.)

(He hasn't talked much to Duke Thomas yet, but he plans to - he seems cool. They just haven't had the time to run into each other yet. Danny might just have to corner him, he thinks.)

And finally Dick Grayson on his left, his Dick Grayson, was talking away with the other Dick Grayson - who had stopped by from Bludhaven for the morning for his day off. He was a cop, ew. They were comparing lives, specifically college lives. There wasn’t much to talk about in their childhood, it seems. Danny was quietly listening in. 

(They both gave their Bruces headaches as children, apparently. Climbing the chandeliers and sliding down the staircase banisters. Flips and tricks only a child raised by the circus could do.) 

All-in-all, a very quiet morning, Danny thinks. That is, until the other Dick Grayson turns to him and goes; "I'm sure you've been asked already, but what do your parents do, Mini Jay?"

Danny squints at him, and releases his grip on his spoon to raise a pointed finger. "First off: only my Dick Grayson can call me Jay, you have your own." He says, slightly playful and nodding to Dick - oh that was going to get confusing, fast. He should come up with a nickname for one of them, probably - "And second: you're the second person to ask me that, actually. Jason - er, myself? - asked me yesterday. My parents are ectologists."

Apparently, mentioning that he met himself is a set of magic words, because the whole table stops what they're doing, and Danny's half-sinking back into his chair when all eyes turn to him in varying degrees of surprise. Dick - Richard, he’s going to call him Richard - looks at him with wide eyes and furrowed, confused brows. "You saw Jason?"

(Danny sends Bruce a confused look, but he's not paying attention - looking at everyone else with threaded eyebrows and a faint frown. Well, at least Danny isn't the only one confused by the reaction.)

(What a comfort.) 

"I guess that nickname is a dimensional constant." He mutters under his breath, and straightens up, eyeing the room warily. It... doesn't bode well to him that the Waynes were surprised by his other self's appearance -- was hisself estranged from the family?

...He hopes that doesn't happen in his world. Dick and Bruce may not be his adoptive family, but he likes them quite a lot. He wants to stay in contact with them when they get home.

"Yeah, he was in the library." He says, frowning at Richard Grayson. "He was sitting in my armchair." He supposes it was Jason's armchair first -- god, that was so weird to refer to himself in third person. "We talked for a little bit, and he asked me what my parents did. They're ectologists, by the way."

He turns to Mister Wayne and tilts his head, "Did you really not know that he was here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn't expect Richard to know, he doesn't live here. But Mister Wayne looks just as surprised, perhaps even a little remorseful.

(There’s a pit in his stomach that’s growing bigger.)

(His neck burns with a new pair of eyes, ones that he can’t see.) 

Mr. Wayne looks thoughtful for a moment, and then carefully, he goes; "Jason is rather... independent. He comes and goes from the manor when he feels like it." And the way he speaks sounds like he was choosing his words carefully. Danny suppresses the shiver of unease.

Something was not well in this house. Something unspoken was haunting the air. 

(Jason would know about hauntings, wouldn’t he?) 

He hopes history won't repeat itself, he likes Bruce quite a lot.

"...Alright," he says after a moment of silence, not hiding his wariness as he slowly turns back to Richard. His eyes flick towards Bruce, and then to Ricard. "Anyway, my parents are ectologists, as I've said for the third time now."

Richard, for his effort, takes the topic change easily, and his surprise shifts into one of curiosity - as does everyone else. (Did Danny really not mention what his parents did? Even Dick and Bruce look intrigued.) "That's... new." Richard says lightly, Danny commends him for the way he sounds non-judgmental. "What are ectologists?"

Danny quirks a dry half-smile, and deadpans; "Studiers of all things dead and afterlife."

...And there is that reaction again. A ripple of surprise and intrigue that spreads throughout the room as everyone looks at him, like a bunch of cats perking up their ears. 

On the other side of the table, Damian scoffs quietly, a sound much like the one Jason - the other one - did when Danny told him. Danny's eyes snap over to him in an instant, he stares at him, trying to study him. Why that reaction - again? 

He lets himself frown, briefly, before addressing Richard again. "Everyone just calls them ghost hunters, but the 'official' term is ectologists." He drawls, air-quoting the word 'official' with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. "They've been obsessed with ghosts since college. We even have a lab in the basement, and they keep liquid ectoplasm samples in the fridge."

Danny's been in the lab a handful of times, he and Jazz both have, either to clean it as part of their chores, or to listen to a lecture from their parents for their newest invention. The lab is cool, kinda, but Danny thinks it wouldn't look out of place in any evil lair of a Rogue with a doctorate. 

…He’s glad that the Fentons weren’t stationed in Gotham. They would have blown up a street. He’s surprised they haven’t already. 

"Ectoplasm?" Dick asks, leaning over to catch Danny's eye. Almost by instinct now Danny smiles at him, and then nods.

"Mom and dad say it's the stuff that makes ghosts." He explains, leaning back against his seat, his arms crossing. "It's invisible in its natural state, and it makes up everything. Kinda like the Force from Star Wars, or just, matter in general."

That cracks a few quiet, laugh-like sounds through the dining room. Danny halves a smile again, a swelling of pride in his chest that lingers for a moment. "My parents say that when ectoplasm condenses enough in one area, it can start taking on visible properties," he continues, "they say that ghosts are just the memories and emotions of a dying person or animal being imprinted on a concentration of ectoplasm, and that the ghost itself isn't actually the person or animal, just matter trying to mimic it."

Which Danny guesses makes sense, even if the way they talk about ghosts made him really uncomfortable. His parents insisted that ghosts weren't actually people, but he just couldn't shake the idea that they were. How close to ‘human’ does something get before they actually are? 

Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Superman wasn’t human, and yet everyone treated him like he was. Let him rephrase himself:

How human-like must something get before they are considered as such? Before they’re considered sapient and sentient, and real?  

"That's... quite interesting." Someone says, and Danny turns to see Bruce leaning his elbows against the table and putting his chin on threaded fingers. He looks genuinely engrossed in what Danny's said, and pride once again leaks into his heart. "You mentioned they kept ectoplasm in a liquified state in their... fridge?"

"Oh yeah," Danny says, putting his full attention to Bruce, "it's crazy. They keep little test tube racks in the freezer full of liquid ectoplasm, and it's this - uh - glowing, bright green stuff. It used to be the weirdest thing in the house."

(From his peripherals, Danny notices the room tense up again at his description — and he bites back the urge to slow his talking down and narrow his eyes. Suspicious. Suspicious. The Waynes weren’t scientists - why do they react to something like they are?)

(Nobody knows what ectoplasm is. To the scientific world, it's an unconfirmed theory of a state of matter. Why do the Waynes act like they know what it is?)

(Danny is not stupid. Even if his scientific family makes him feel like it, sometimes.) 

Bruce gives him this half-tilted, confused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Used to be?"

Danny opens his mouth, the answer already on the tip of his tongue -- and then he freezes. His jaw clicks shut as he frowns. Should he say what his parents' latest pet project was? Surely, surely, it would be fine? Their inventions never work - and a life-sized portal is just another thing on his parents' crazy ideas list.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, chewing on the skin as he rolls the answer over in his head. ...Surely, it would be fine. His face turns in hesitance, and his shoulders scrunch and twist to his ears, like he's about to admit something that could get him grounded by his parents.

"They... may, or may not, be building an inter-dimensional portal in the basement?" His voice steadily pitches upward nervously the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, his voice is close to a squeaky pitch.

There is a horrified silence that follows him, sitting in the air so still-like that Danny could hear the whoosh of a pin drop. He should have expected that, nervously surveying the ranging horrified expressions on the Wayne family's faces. "...I promise they're harmless... to the living." He hesitates, "Mostly."

Bruce stares at him for a long moment. "Mostly?" He repeats, his brows arched high and pinched together. Danny cringes back a little.

"Dad's a little clumsy, that's all." He says, shrugging with a helpless smile. It doesn't help, he thinks, and the silence is strangling. Sitting up, he's a little frantic to add; "I really, really, doubt it's going to work, Bruce. Their inventions never do. Mom and dad built a mini portal in college and it didn't work either!" There's a moment of silence following him, before he quietly adds, wincing, "It- it did hospitalize the guy who was helping them, though."

He only heard about that when he asked his parents about the portal - it was still in production when they picked him up. Jack Fenton claimed it was safe as safe could be - they’d make sure that the ‘college’ instance never happened again.

Bruce - both Bruces actually - looked vaguely ill at the thought. Mister Wayne’s face was blank, his face sunk into his folded hands, and Bruce’s stare burned into Danny, intense like concentrated fire. 

Danny for some reason - either through his panicked urge to make things better, or through temporary insanity - laughs forcibly. "The worst thing that could happen is that the portal could explode, but that never happens."

Next to him, Dick makes a stressed sound. "That's not better, Jay." He forces out. He looks even more horrified.

Danny sucks on his bottom lip for a long beat. Then lets out a breath.

"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs, deep and long while his shoulders slump. He watches the room for a moment, with their various stony-like expressions, and looks back at the very concerned-looking Bruce. "But Bruce, I swear it's fine. Nothing's gonna happen, please don't call the Justice League on my parents. They really are harmless."

Bruce looks conflicted.

"I was being dramatic when I said the portal could explode, it won't." He continues, giving Bruce what Jazz has called his 'cheating puppy eyes'. "My parents are eccentric about their line of work, but they understand lab safety. They'd never do anything to put me and Jazz in danger."

...Actively or on purpose, that is.

He and Bruce stare each other down. One second, two seconds; what feels like thirty seconds pass in silence before Bruce relents, sighing deeply and uncannily dad-like. He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When we get back to our universe, you are giving me your phone number so you can contact me if anything happens."

Danny beams, nodding hurriedly. "Thank you, Buzz."

Bruce isn't able to hide his smile - small as it was - quickly enough. "You're welcome, Danny."

—-----

Danny has a nightmare that night. He doesn't remember most of it. There's a ticking sound, and high laughter, and there is a thumping heartbeat in his ears. Everything is dark and he is in agonizing pain.

He wakes up in paralyzing terror, a scream lodged in the back of his throat. His head pounds like a concussion and there is a shallowing ache in his ribs, like someone's kicked him, and kicked him, and kicked him until all air has been knocked from his lungs. He can't breathe.

Danny's hands scrabble for his throat, and even though he can hear himself gasping for air, it doesn't feel like he's taking any of it in. There is no relief in the action, no reassurance, and everything is so hot. He kicks at his blankets, his panic growing higher as they tangle around his legs.

He needs-

He needs--

He needs to move. He needs to get up. He needs to free himself. He needs to prove that he's not dying. He feels like he's dying. He feels like he's burning. There are tears swelling in his eyes as he finally gets the blankets off his feet, and he rolls - quite literally - out of bed.

He tries to catch himself, he does. But he doesn't. He hits the floor with a heavy thud and can hardly bring himself to care -- he catches himself on his elbows, and the sting it causes makes him feel worse. The air is knocked out of his chest again. 

The ground is cold though, blessedly cold. And before Danny can realize this, he lifts his head and, disoriented, looks for the door. It's too dark, it's too dark. His head swivels blindly in search of it. He needs to get out, he needs to escape. 

"Bruce." He croaks, still trying to force air down into his lungs. His call comes out raspy, weak, and hot tears blur his vision.

"Dick." He tries instead when a minute passes and no one comes, and he thinks he can finally start breathing. No one comes to find him - his voice is too quiet to wake anyone up. The tears in his eyes bubble and pop, and stream down his face.

He makes a distressed noise. "Jazz?" He whispers, his voice shaky and uneven with an encompassing want for his sister. It's nearly been a month since they got here. He wants Jazz.

No one hears him. He's alone.

God, he doesn't want to be alone. Please don't make him be alone.

Danny eventually gets himself calmed down. But he is curled up on the floor, trembling with the lingering traces of fear from whatever dream had woken up. His fingers dig painfully into his arms, leaving crescent-moon indents by his nails. The contents of the nightmare are already fading further into his mind, slipping out of his hands like water. Like ash.

He feels no need to chase after it.

The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and in between the trembling he is also shivering, goosebumps lacing up his arms. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares with wide, crying eyes at the side of his bed. His breath comes out in short, shaky pants.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, trying to comprehend what happened as his mind still hangs onto the edge of the dreamworld. It feels like there is something in the room with him, crawling along the walls.

Danny forces himself to get up, and the sudden standing makes his vision blacken and swim as blood rushes to his head. He stumbles, slightly, and lurches halfway across the room for the light switch.

He squints as the room is drenched in light, chasing away the lingering paranoia in the back of his brain. He is still shaking. His head still hurts. He still looks, wide eyed, around the room for anything out of place.

There is none.

But he still feels unsafe. He needs- he needs to find someone, or go somewhere else. He grabs a firm pillow off the bed, and leaves.

(He ends up in the library alone. He turns on the lights and grabs a book Dick recommended to him, and he curls up tight in his armchair. He ends up falling asleep just as the sun is rising.)

(He doesn't tell anyone about the nightmare.)

-

Progress in getting the three of them back to their home dimension is slow. Dimension Hopping is a rare experience, and what update Bruce gets he relays back to Danny and Dick: they're trying to figure out a way to send them back safely, from the exact time they disappeared, and to find what dimension they're from. It's complicated magic.

It's been three weeks. 

Danny, for one, is getting homesick. He misses Jazz, Sam, and Tucker terribly, and his parents. Bruce and Dick are great, really, and Danny kinda wants to keep in touch with them after they return to their own world, but they aren't replacements of his sister and friends.

His nightmare from a few days ago still haunt his steps. He closes eyes, and that high-pitched laughter and blood-rushed pounding burns itself his ears and fills a level of unseen terror into his heart. Danny thinks that if he was hit with Scarecrow's fear gas, this is what it would feel like.

He tries to avoid falling asleep by reading in his room, by stargazing, but the place sets him on edge; an unsettling reminder of that nightmare. So he goes to the library when it gets too much, he's run into Bruce twice now doing it, and they both do reading.

Danny thinks Bruce can suspect something is up with him, but he doesn't want to tell him about that nightmare. Dick either, for that matter. He just wants to forget it.

They spend afternoons in the gym, they have it mostly to themselves - Tim Drake is at Wayne Industries, Damian Wayne is at school, so is Duke Thompson, and Cassandra Cain is... doing whatever she does during the day. Danny's not totally sure.

Dick in that time, tries showing Danny how to be more flexible. He says he's a fast learner, but Danny knows he's been slacking lately with his lack of sleep.

There isn't much they can do outside of the manor - Bruce and Dick can't go outside because they'll catch the attention of the paparazzi, and they are both significantly younger than their counterparts, and Danny isn't allowed out without a chaperone.

Which has its own unique set of problems because rumors could rapidly start if he's seen with any of the Waynes multiple times. The paparazzi aren’t dumb enough… okay, most — some — of them aren’t dumb enough to make a tabloid claiming there’s a new Wayne kid just because they see the Waynes interacting with one kid, one time. Multiple times however? That’s another story. And, he has the same issue as Bruce and Dick - he's a baby-faced Jason Todd. Who is Bruce Wayne's adoptive son in this world. He could be recognized. 

And how do you explain a tiny Jason Todd to a world where Jason Todd is a full grown man?

So all three of them are... stuck inside, so to speak. And making do with what they can. Danny spends most of his morning and early noon with Dick, and then they both separate after to have time to themselves before dinner.

Bruce is in one of the studies, doing... something. Danny's not sure and he keeps forgetting to ask.

--

Dick likes Danny - Jason? - Jay. Danny said that he can call him Jason, and he doesn't protest to being called Jay. 

Point is: he likes Jay. He's a delightful kid to be around; he's funny, and clever, even if he doesn't realize it himself. And Dick's a little upset that Jay isn't his brother in his world, he would've loved to have him around the manor. He probably would have visited more if he was around.

Something that he and Bruce were still slowly trying to fix...

He likes spending time with him - getting to teach him his acrobatic tricks was not something he expected, but he loves showing Jay how to do them. He thinks this is probably how Bruce felt when he was training Dick how to be Robin, all those years ago.

Speaking of which, Dick was still not over the Robin jacket that Jay wore. The origins of it weren't the best - Jay started wearing it to take back the insult the other kids at his school were throwing at him - but isn't that what part of what being Robin was about? 

Cheesy, he knows. But his point still stands.

He thinks that if he had to pass the Robin title down to anyone, it would be Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton. Or perhaps just Jason Fenton-Todd? Jay doesn’t seem all that attached to the name Danny. 

(“Mom and dad just started calling me it when they picked me up.” Danny — Jay shrugged when Dick asked him about it, the two of them swinging from bar to bar. “I wasn’t tellin’ ‘em my name at the time, so they gave me a new one.”) 

If he had met Jason before the Fentons had, Dick thinks maybe he would have adopted him instead. And what would that future look like? Would he have been able to, when he had to go to college and classes? Would he have been able to keep going out at night, and keep that secret to himself? 

He’ll never know, he supposes. 

“I think that’s it for today.” Dick says, swinging off the jungle gym and landing on the mats with a cat-like thump. Behind him, Jay groans, and drops with a less graceful thud as Dick stretches out his spine. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop of his back as he leans back. 

He turns, and sees Jay going for his water bottle. He looks tired — from what, Dick doesn’t know. But there are dark bags under his eyes and a sleep-distracted look on his face. He’s been distracted, and their lessons have been suffering from it. 

Dick wants to know what’s bothering him, but Jay hasn’t said anything, and Dick doesn’t know what he could say to make it better. 

“I can still keep going.” Jason insists, but he tiredly slumps over to grab his water, and straightens up sluggishly. It’s probably not a lie, but anything Dick shows him he doubts that Jay will retain it. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Oh but I want to.” Dick says, walking over to grab his own water. “I’m human too you know—” and Jay snorts at him with a grumbled ‘doubt it’. “—so I also need my breaks.” 

“With the way you can bend I really don’t think so.” Jason mutters, eyeing him up and down. Dick laughs quietly and takes a long sip of his water. “Seriously, circus boy, what do they feed you? Actually - what did they feed myself?”

Dick’s laughter doubles as Jay’s eyes grow wide and wild, his head shaking with spasming arms. “No, seriously! I don’t know if you’ve seen the other me yet, Dick, but he- he’s fucking huge!” He exclaims, and jumps as high as he can as his arms try to make a silhouette above his head. “I- I’m almost as big as Jack Fenton, and we’re not even biologically related! I don’t know where he got that much height to him, ‘cause- ‘cause Willis, that drunk bastard, was never that big!” 

Dick hasn’t seen the elusive other Jason Todd, and he’s been so curious about him. Both he and Bruce have — especially considering that everyone else doesn’t seem to want to tell them about him. He tried stopping his other self to ask about Jason Todd of his world, and his other self just said that he was his little brother and the second robin, and that he did a lot of his own stuff. 

It was a whole bunch of fucking nothing. And he and Bruce were growing suspicious about it. They hadn’t thought of it before because, well, they were busy adjusting to being in a new world and trying to figure out a way back. And then Jason was never really brought up, but neither was Dick Grayson unless Dick asked about it, and he didn’t think to ask about Jason Todd before.

It was all just strange.

But Jay’s exclamation over the size of himself distracts Dick long enough that he forces himself to put the mystery of Jason Todd on the backburner for now. “I’ll- I’ll have to see him for myself, Jaybird.” He says when his laughter subsides, and he straightens up. 

“Seriously,” Jay stresses, and he starts to make his way towards the gym door. “He’s fucking massive, Dick. Built like a brick shithouse.” 

Dick almost starts laughing again, “Where did you even learn that phrase?” 

Jay rolls his shoulders back and grins at him slyly, “I read.” He says, and it’s so clearly not how he learned that word that Dick barks out a laugh. 

They reach the door, and Jay holds the door open as Dick reaches for the light switch. He looks behind him, surveying the room quickly to make sure that there’s nothing they could have left on the floor, before turning off the lights.

Bright green eyes stare at him from the mirror. Right where Jay is standing. 

In an instant, the lights are back on. Dick’s heart has been kickstarted into fifth gear, suddenly and loudly racing in his chest as he darts his head around the room. It was only two seconds, perhaps only even one, but fear has been shot like an adrenaline needle into Dick’s veins. An inhuman, skyrocketing fear alike to Scarecrow’s fear gas. 

What was that?

What was that?

WHAT WAS THAT?  

But there’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. There is only Jason where the eyes were. 

From the mirror’s reflection, Jason turns his head — he hadn’t been looking at Dick, he hadn’t been looking at Dick — and stares up at him. There is confusion written on his face as he glances up at Dick, and then at the mirror. He meets his eyes - Jason’s blue, blue, not green, eyes — and Dick forces himself to look away from the mirror and down at Jay.

“What was that for?” Jay asks him, perfectly normal and perfectly confused. 

Dick feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s panting, he doesn’t know why, and he forces himself to sound like he wasn’t as he wets his lips and furrows his brows. “I thought I saw something.” He says, frowning. 

He didn’t think. He did. He did. 

What did he see? 

It was standing where Jay was. Those eyes. Those green-green eyes. It was where Jay was. He forces himself to shake his head, his frown deepening, unsettled. Jason peers around him as if to see what he had, and Dick puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. “It was nothing, let's go.” 

He turns Jay around, and ignores his bewildered look. That lighthearted mood he had earlier has plummeted, replaced with an eerie paranoia as he takes the door from Jason’s hand and flicks the lights back off. 

When he looks over his shoulder at the mirror, there’s nothing there. 

—------------

Danny has another nightmare. It’s the same one. It’s dark again. That high pitched laughter fills his ears. The ticking is louder, louder, louder. It’s counting down, but to what - he can’t see — he can’t see what it’s counting down to. 

There is still so much pain. His head hurts, his body hurts. He has a body now, he can remember he has a body. He’s in so much pain. He looks down at his hands and pooling around his knees is a bloody yellow cape, it’s torn and bloody and his hands are bloody and torn and he’s wearing green gloves. 

He wakes up just before the ticking stops. He doesn’t know how he knows that the ticking stops. 

Danny rolls over and hangs himself sideways off the bed, gasping for air that doesn’t come. He wants to scream again, to shriek with such terror that it sends everyone in the manor running into his room. He doesn’t, he can’t, he has no mouth and he must scream. 

Danny gasps for air instead, and then dry heaves until he throws up onto the floor. His head is spinning with the fadings of a dream-made concussion, again. His chest hurts deeper, more, it’s no longer shallow and as if someone was sitting on his chest, like someone had beat him in the stomach and chest and head.  

He feels like he’s choking. He is, he’s choking on what bile he can’t get out of his throat, and he forces himself to swallow it back down. He’s crying, he realizes, and dragging in air down into his lungs to the point it hurts. 

What is going on? He thinks through the haze in his mind. With what lucidity he has he brings a hand to his head to make sure he’s not bleeding. His palm swipes against sticky skin, and all that comes back is sweat. He’s not bleeding. He feels like he is. 

Make it stop. His inner mind wails as he finally, finally, starts to calm down again. He’s still crying. The tears burn down his cheeks, and he absently sticks out his tongue and licks the ones that gather at his lips away. He wipes at his face again, and when he looks at his hands, all he sees is skin.

He’s not wearing gloves. 

His hands reach for his back, and grasp his sweat-soaked shirt instead. He’s not wearing a cape. It soothes him, just a little bit. But not enough to keep him feeling safe. 

Danny peers over the side of the bed, and through his dark-adjusted eyes he sees the sitting puddle of throw-up on the floor. He cringes, sniffling. He can’t keep that there. He needs to — he needs to clean that up. 

Alfred must be sleeping by now — what time is it? He doesn’t know. He can’t wake him up. Where does Alfred keep the cleaning supplies? 

Danny throws his legs over the side — they’re not broken, he thinks dazedly — why would he think they’re broken? — and he stumbles to the door. He avoids, somehow, the sick.

(He passes by a mirrored vanity on his way to the door. He doesn’t see his reflection staring at him with green-green eyes. He doesn’t see those eyes following him.) 

He runs into Bruce in the hallway. He should have guessed it so. Danny freezes in his tracks, fear shooting up into his throat as Bruce turns towards him, already a smile pulling on the older man’s face. 

It drops immediately when he sees him. It twists down, and his face burrows into concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and Bruce is kneeling before him before Danny can blink. He looks worried. Danny must look awful then.

(He does. He looks pale as a ghost, and his face is splotchy red and shiny with tears.) 

Danny blinks at him numbly, trying to get his thoughts in order. Bruce’s hands are on his shoulders, Danny throws his hands over them, squeezing the knuckles and blinking widely. “I had-” he licks his lips, “a- uh, nightmare. And then I threw up.”

Fuck, he feels like a toddler. His eyes burn with embarrassed tears. He’s fucking thirteen. He’s not a baby. But he feels like a little kid going to their parent’s room. Bruce isn’t even his dad. He shouldn’t feel this way. 

But Bruce doesn’t make fun of him, or scold him, and Danny didn’t really expect him to, but the concern that melts over his face as his eyes soften makes him feel all warm and fuzzy anyways. “Okay,” Bruce says, expression softened but no less worried, and stands up. “Okay, we can go find Alfred then.” 

Danny’s lips press together, uneven and wobbling. “Please don’t.” He says before he can stop himself, and his voice cracks. He feels like such a baby. “I can clean it myself. We don’t have to wake him up.” 

“Do you even know where the cleaning supplies are, chum?” Bruce asks, and in the dark hallway he can see him raise an eyebrow. Danny’s lips press tighter together. He doesn’t. But he can find it. 

They wake up Alfred. Dany feels like shit the entire time. 

“I’m sorry.” He croaks as he follows Alfred and Bruce down the hallway with a mop and a bucket. He’s so embarrassed. He’s going to cry again, and he hates it. “I can do it, Mister Pennyworth. Please.” 

“You sound,” Mister Pennyworth starts, his voice soft, “just like young Master Jason when he started living here.” He turns to throw Danny an endeared smile, and Danny thinks it’s supposed to make him feel better. It does, a little bit, and it also makes him feel worse. 

“I am Jason.” He says, and tears spill down his face again. He is Jason. That’s his name. It’s not Danny, it never has been. The time he’s been here has slowly been pointing that out to him. He may be Fenton, but he’s not Danny. 

Alfred gets it all cleaned up, and Bruce sticks with him after he leaves. Danny’s grateful and resentful of it — hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough tonight? 

Bruce leads him to the library, a funny parallel to the first time. “We can ask Mister Wayne —” Bruce’s face scrunches up slightly, and Danny laughs under his breath. At least he’s not the only one still weirded out by it. “— about getting you a new room tomorrow.” 

Danny sniffs dryly, “How’d you know?” He didn’t think it was obvious that he didn’t want to go to sleep in his room. Bruce smiles knowingly at him, sadly, and they both sit down in the lounge chair next to the fireplace. It sits across from Danny’s armchair.

“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” He says softly.

Oh. 

Yeah.

That’s right. His parents. 

He probably had nightmares about that. 

Danny looks away from him, his eyes drop to his hands. His bare, non-bloody hands. He leans into Bruce’s side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He mumbles. He doesn’t want to talk about dying. Or what he thought was dying.  

“And you don’t have to.” Bruce says, slinging one arm around him and slumping against the curve of the chair. Danny reluctantly follows his falling, and finds himself trapped between the back of the chair and Bruce’s side. His ear is pressed to Bruce’s heartbeat. “We can just sit here, and talk about something else.” 

Danny blinks at the empty fireplace. “Okay. Tell me about films again.” 

Bruce’s fingers dig gently into his hair, and scratch slowly against his scalp. “Okay, Danny.” 

Danny frowns. “And don’t call me Danny. It’s Jason.” 

He doesn’t look up to see Bruce’s smile, but he can hear it as the man thumbs over the shell of his ear. “Okay, Jason.” 

(Danny falls asleep halfway through Bruce’s telling of the history of the Grey Ghost. Bruce knows by the way his breathing slows into a steady rhythm and his eyes don’t open.) 

(He smiles for mite a moment, before it drops and his eyes turn to the bookshelf in the corner. Standing there is a small black figure, with two burning green eyes.) 

(They stare at each other for a long, long minute, Bruce’s heart rising slowly. The figure tilts its head, and disappears. Bruce doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.) 

—-------

Danny stares down Bruce. Bruce stares him down back. It’s morning. It’s breakfast. Everyone is at the table eating, and he and Bruce are having a silent staring contest. Danny has to ask Mister Wayne about moving to a new room, he thought he would be able to do so after breakfast. 

(Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to ask at all - why bother Mister Wayne about something he can get over?) 

(Bruce, apparently, wasn’t having it. With that stupid knowing look on his face.) 

But Bruce wants it to be now. Danny narrows his eyes at him, and Bruce raises an eyebrow back. Dick Grayson, his world, was going to notice soon. He was sitting next to Bruce this morning. That traitor. 

If you don’t do it, I will. Bruce’s face says. Bastard. Danny was going to take away his Jason rights.

Danny’s the first to relent, pressing his lips together into an annoyed, thin line, before he lets out a silent sigh and turns to Mister Wayne. “Mister Wayne?” He says, cringing slightly when Mister Wayne looks up at him - as with most of the room. 

“Yes, Danny?” 

He spares one last look at Bruce, who nods curtly at him, and Danny throws him one last annoyed look before turning back to Mister Wayne. “Would it, uh, be fine if I changed rooms?” He asks. 

Mister Wayne tilts his head, slightly, to the side with a look of interest. “You can, but what brought this up? Is everything okay?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Danny was expecting that question. He glares at Bruce from the corner of his eye. And then smiles shakily at Mister Wayne. “Um, uh, yeah. Everything’s fine— it’s just, it’s stupid. Some, some stupid nightmares keeping me up.” 

Mister Wayne’s brows furrow, and Dick looks concerned from Danny’s peripherals. “It’s not stupid, you can change your room. I’m sorry you’ve been having nightmares.”

He doesn’t even ask what they’re about. Bruce didn’t either — he thinks he would’ve, maybe — but fuck, jeez. Danny laughs uncomfortably, scratching his jaw. “Yeah- um, thanks. It sucks.” He just barely stops himself from blurting out that he was dreaming that he was dying.

That was not a can he wanted to open. They would have questions, he knows they would, and he doesn’t want to think about it. The image of his bloody, torn hands are already seared into his mind. 

Everyone goes back to eating.

(Dick keeps looking up at him with a shadow of a frown on his face, like he’s keeping an eye on him. Quick enough that Danny doesn’t notice it. Bruce does, and watches his son from the corner of his eye.)

(Danny doesn’t see it, but his reflection turns its head. And peers around the back of its chair. Its eye burns green and it stares at Dick. The next time Dick looks up, it catches his eye.)

(He doesn’t straighten up, he forces himself not to react. He just keeps staring at it, his breath locked in his lungs, his limbs filling with a low, buzzing static. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s terrifying him.)

(The reflection doesn’t react to him, but its eyes seem to… glitch. And an eye appears next to it, and another one appears in a line. The pupils slowly turn to look… at Danny.)

(The window begins to crack.)

“JaSON!” Dick suddenly yells, standing up so abruptly that his chair falls back and slams against the ground with an echoing bang. Danny jerks back in surprise, and stares at Dick, who looks at him with equally wide eyes. 

Dick looks like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale as a sheet. He looks ill. He’s panting, there’s a sheen going over his forehead, like he’s just run a mile. But he’s gripping the table like he may just vault over it.

And everyone is looking at them both once again. Bruce looks incredibly concerned. 

“I— what?” Danny says, pushing his back into the chair as far as he could go. 

Dick blinks, and heaves a breath. Like whatever trance he was in was just… snapped out of. His brows furrow, and he moves, suddenly, peering over Danny like he’s trying to look around him. Left, right, and over, and then back again. 

“You—” he pauses, breathing in, “you looked like you were about to disappear.” 

Danny stares at him in disbelief. And he looks behind him, laughing nervously. There’s nothing there but his own reflection in the smooth glass window. “What- what kind of fucking—” he turns back around to look at Dick. “Why would you say that?” 

“There was something in the window.” Dick says immediately, and Danny is immediately rising to his feet and rushing around the table. Nope - nope, nope, fuck that. He’s by him and Bruce in an instant, as the other Waynes stand up and turn to the window as well.

Dick’s arms are around him the moment he’s within reach, tugging him into his side as one hand presses down against his chest, keeping him close. Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off the window, brows furrowed and serious. 

Everyone looks so serious. It’s freaking him out a little bit. 

“What was your nightmare about, Jay?” Dick asks when he finally tears his eyes away from the window and looks down at him. He’s got a protective hold on him, something so similar to Jazz whenever their parents set something on fire upstairs. 

Danny swallows dryly — does he have to say it? Saying it might bring him back to it, and he doesn’t want to go back to it. Twice was enough for him. “I was dying.” He admits anyways, and regrets it immediately when half a dozen heads all snap to look at him. 

In a panic, his mouth runs. “I was- I don’t remember anything- I just, it was dark and I was in pain and-” He presses his lips together, “I— I was in so much pain. There was this laughter—” Laughter. Familiar laughter now that he thinks about it. From the news. Danny’s lips curl downwards, and he whispers to himself, “Joker?”

“Joker?” Dick repeats, his voice hard. When Danny looks up, his face is unrecognizably stern. “You had a dream that the Joker was killing you?” 

“I— no— yes?” Frustration bleeds into his chest, fear pooling up his throat as the nightmare pulls on the edge of his memory. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t see anything, all I heard was ticking and that stupid laughter. And I was bleeding, and I was wearing this yellow fucking cape, and- and I was dying.” 

He pulls himself away from Dick, his breathing picking up. “I just- I was— there was this ticking sound and I woke up before it stopped, and I- I don’t know why I knew it was about to stop — but I know that when the ticking stops something bad was going to happen— and it was just a nightmare.” 

Danny grits his teeth, and looks back up at Dick, forcing himself to calm down before he works himself into a panic. “It was just a fucking nightmare, Dick.” He says forcibly, and then he marches out of the room to the library. 

His appetite’s been ruined. 

—---------

Danny’s — Jason’s — asleep next to him. Bruce would think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that Jason’s been having nightmares about dying of all things. Nightmares that weren’t, he suspects, completely unfounded. 

His other self looked ill in the face as Jason marched out of the room that morning after Dick’s outburst. Outburst. That’s all he can think to call it even if it sounds juvenile. Like it was unfounded as Jason’s nightmare. 

His other self has been hiding something from him. Something about Jason Todd of this world, who he hasn’t seen at all since they arrived, but Danny — Jason — has. He would’ve thought the other Todd was a ghost if his other world’s… children… hadn’t confirmed seeing and knowing him recently. 

(That was something he still hasn’t fully comprehended. Children, plural? He adopts more after Dick? He has a biological son?) 

He’d be interrogating his other self on this if Jason wasn’t asleep next to him. It would be remarkably easy, as they were all sitting in the living room for the afternoon. All his other children were vigilantes, he wouldn’t need to keep pretenses.

But Jason is asleep next to him, and he doesn’t know. So he resolves to staring holes into his other self’s head, who was going through documents. A case, he bets. His other self doesn’t pay him any mind, but Bruce knows he knows that he’s staring at him. 

(“What have you been keeping from me?” He growls the moment Jason is out of the dining room, rising to his feet. The look on his other self meant that he knew something about those nightmares that Bruce didn’t. 

His other self looks at him, “Nothing that concerns your world.” He says, all of the kids looked tense as well, but now they were staring between the both of them like a fight would break out. 

“Bullshit.” Dick snaps before Bruce can speak, he walks around him and points an accusing finger at his other self. “You looked like you saw a ghost when Jaybird said he was dreaming of the Joker killing him. You know something.”

He did not tell them anything.) 

Whatever it was that his other self was hiding, Bruce would find out before they went back to their world. This concerned him, and it concerned Jason’s safety. If he wasn’t safe and his other self knew something about it, Bruce would be furious. 

Jason’s ragged gasp cut through the air like a knife, and Bruce’s gaze snapped down to his face as the boy’s eyes flew open and he jerked sharply. Jason’s hands were latched onto his shirt before Bruce could react, his nails dragging into his skin like he was trying to claw himself up.

It was another nightmare. Jason was clawing at him, trying to sit himself up while jagged, awful sounding gasps filled the air. He wasn’t looking at Bruce, he wasn’t looking at anything, his eyes glazed over like he was still trapped in the nightmare. 

Bruce wrapped his arms around the small boy and pulled them both down onto the ground, ignoring his other children standing up and looking at them until he had Jay in a cradle. 

The boy was still gasping for air, hyperventilating. His hands drop from Bruce’s shirt and scratch at his throat, his arms forming an ‘x’ while he tilts his head back and desperately tries to draw in oxygen. Bruce tilts his head back up with his hand, and leans him against his shoulder. 

“Breathe.” He murmurs, pushing damp black curls out of Jay’s face. It was a poor command - Jason’s eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched in pain, Bruce doesn’t think he can even hear him. “You’re safe.” 

“Bruce.” Dick hisses into his ear, and Bruce doesn’t look at him. He grunts to let his son know he heard him. “The mirror.” 

Bruce’s eyes fly up.

There was a floor length mirror sitting in front of the couch. A mirror that Bruce was conveniently, coincidentally, sitting in front of. A mirror that should have been working as all mirrors do. 

A mirror that, instead of showing Bruce his reflection back as he was, showed him in his Batman suit. Jason was in his arms, but in a torn, bloody uniform. A uniform that looked like a Robin suit. Jason - his Jason - wasn’t a Robin. But here he was, dressed as one, his black-yellow cape pooling beneath him and covered in blood. 

The Jason in the mirror, the Robin, wasn’t breathing. His head lolled over Bruce’s arm lifelessly. 

Bruce’s heart skids to a stop, and he looks back down. Jason was still breathing, his hyperventilating was beginning to slow, but he was breathing. The pained crease of his face was softening, even as his brows were still furrowed. 

When Bruce looks back up at the mirror, the reflection has changed. It wasn’t back to normal, Jason was just in a different suit. He was wearing a white hazmat suit now, and he was burned, horribly. The suit was melted to his skin in patches around his body in black, charred splotches, what wasn’t burned was torn, and the skin he could see was cauterized. The only part of him that was bleeding was his head, and it soaked his black hair red. What of his face he could see, there were bright green lightning figures going up his neck, burning the skin around where it glows. 

The mirror cracks down the middle, severing Jason from Bruce. 

He forces himself to look down, terrified to see the reflection a reality right in front of him. But Jason was alive, uninjured, and breathing quietly. Bruce presses two fingers to his throat, and feels a steady pulsepoint thumping against the pads of his fingers.

Jason’s eyes open and blue stares up at him.  

When Bruce looks up at the mirror, the reflection is back to normal.  

[cheer-nympho]

The older kids all have wills.

Nancy, Robin, Steve and Jonathan, ages 18 to 21, all have wills tucked away in various boxes under beds and behind wardrobes.

Their similarities only extending to the fear felt when writing them, mixed with resigned acceptance. A common feeling of “Man, it sure is sad that my late teenage years are spent contemplating the very real possibility of gruesome early death, I should be at the club.”

But in every other aspect they are completely different.

Nancy’s was written on a cream notepad with dainty flowers surrounding the border. Written from a view of logic and forward planning, a need to protect her family. All of the demands straight to the point, no nonsense.

Warped only by the small tear stains across the bottom.

Robin’s was clearly written in a panic, barely legible handwriting on a ripped off lined sheet.

Written after she read an article about a man whose boyfriend was refused access to him after his death because there was no will.

She refused to leave anyone in the dark like that.

Jonathan’s was the most emotional, surprisingly. But most of that emotion was palpable anger, the word “nothing” pressed so hard into the yellow paper next to Lonnies name it had almost ripped the page.

Even if it was the last thing he did, Jon would keep Lonnie away from them.

Steves was written begrudgingly, more out of a need to prevent his parents from tossing it all. They weren’t around to know about Robin or the kids, wouldn’t know he’d promised Lucas the car or Max his records.

They weren’t evil people, they just didn’t know. This way they would.

They hadn’t spoken about it in advance, hadn’t co-ordinated it or hidden them together like a morbid friendship pact. They had all just at some point come to the realisation that, given their current lives, it may one day be necessary.

Eddie had not had that thought.

Eddie Munson had many thoughts.

He had thoughts on the disease of pop music sweeping the last worthwhile radio station, he had thoughts on the price increases in his favourite gaming store in Indy, he had thoughts on selling enough stock to buy a new trailer gas canister.

What he very rarely had thoughts on was death.

It took a lot for him to say that these days, considering where he’d been not too many years ago. But these days the only thoughts on death he had were more abstract and fleeting, nothing more than the average schmuck.

And even if the thought would have crossed his mind, he would have shrugged it off with a ‘Wayne knows what to do.’

He had no other family and, as far as Eddie was concerned, nothing particularly valuable to single out to anyone. He may need one of the guys to burn the shoebox hidden under his bed, but that could be a more verbal agreement between bros.

So Eddie didn’t have a will.

Didn’t have a plan, didn’t have the worry.

And it’s not until he’s lying on his back, being cradled by a child that frankly should not have to see the insides of Eddies stomach, that he remembers that.

It rushes to him in a panic, the thoughts feeling slow and syrupy but in reality only taking a split second.

He needed to write a will.

He needed Wayne to know that Eddie /wanted/ him to have everything, not just given it by family rights.

He needed to write Dustin in, and Corroded Coffin, maybe even some random shit for all the other nerds.

A donation to Hawkins Church to really confuse them, not that Eddie would be leaving any money behind. Maybe they could have his guitar.

When he got back he would write it up on the finest non-scrunched up paper he could find.

When he got back he would take care of it all.

But that was a job for later Eddie, right now he really needed to sleep.

He could see Dustin crying above him but that was okay, he’d take care of it when he woke up.

When he wakes up he’ll take care of it all.

When he wakes up he’ll write his will.

When he wakes up.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

See one of my favorite things about fanon is that Dick is like a normal dude outside of nightwing like genuinely he’s normal person who isn’t that extreme canonically. He loves his family but he needs space with them and doesn’t want to be a carbon copy of his father.

He follows Bruce is moral compass while also being more lenient on some crimes. He canonically values life and protecting the sanctity over it than actually stopping crime and has a very strong moral compass that exceeds “well it’s the law”. Dick canonically thinks that Corrupt police officials are worse than criminals and became a cop to weed them out the same way he did the mob. And has bad blood with the BPD despite working for them.

He has genuine reservations about trusting Jason for obvious reasons even if you don’t like Dicks run as Batman where Jason was flat out the worst or like stealing the Nightwing suit in New York in brothers and blood. While still being able to work with and like him.

He is supportive of Tim while still being frustrated at taking on more work bc he knows Tim does too much and will need help.

He loves Damian but steps away from that relationship because unlike Bruce at his age he’s emotionally mature enough to realize he cannot be a parent for the kid. A role model sure! A big sibling, yeah. But not a parent.

He didn’t want Steph as spoiler, Robin or batgirl bc she wasn’t well trained but neither did literally anyone else. Once she and him started working together they had a decent relationship.

Dick and Cass have a strong relationship and he helped Babs with her when Bruce was being an asshole while still not stepping into a parent role bc he’s in his mid 20s and not going to do that actually.

And Dick believes Duke is going to become a big leader in the hero world and sees his potential despite not agreeing with the we are Robin thing.

And the fanon goes 1 of 3 ways

he’s fully uninvolved, doesn’t like the bats, has cut them off after trying to send Tim to Arkham, and abusing/ mistreating or co-signing the mistreatment of Jason. All his relationships with everyone except Damian have been erased. He ruined Tim’s trust, hated young!jason, has never spoken to Steph or duke and Cass doesn’t like him because she’s on babs side or in Hong Kong.

Or

Literally Bruce Wayne’s lapdog, says yes to everything with the worst case of battered women’s syndrome you’ve ever seen. Jason must stand up for him and protect him from the big bad bat/ the bats cut him off aswell after abandoning the bat movement (more rare but I’ve seen it). He doesn’t have critical thinking and his morals are identical to Batman’s and he refuses to question them. Will call the police on a homeless man stealing food bc it’s illegal. And has never tried to rehabilitate anyone including his friends, abandoned Roy and Kory bc of moral differences. He’s still a cop and doesn’t understand the nuance that Jason, Tim, Steph and Duke do.

Or

Dumb himbo, doesn’t know nothing except smile and nod. Pretty face, no brain. Has had one thought and it’s the fact he misses his siblings and needs his cereal oh wait was that two thoughts? He forgot how to count lmao. Babs or Tim will roll their eyes and do stuff for him bc he’s so dumb and sweet like a puppy who has had a lobotomy. :( doesn’t even have a college degree dumb silly teehee. Worst liar you’ve ever met everyone can see right through him hehe. He’s loves Bruce and calls him Dad 24/7 and uses nicknames for everyone.

And like it’s total flanderization

He has some of these traits sure, (more rigid moral compass, more willing to work with other heroes and delegate though this one literally only became a thing during Tom kings run and maybe a little bit after Donna died, in the current canon he went to Uni for business and dropped out, he’s not as good on the tech side as oracle)

But they’re just so exaggerated and I firmly believe it’s bc the rest of the bats are so extra. Like Tim trying to clone his dead bestie 99 times.

Jason goodness gracious I’ve been bamboozled let me try and kill the penguin on live tv

Damian my mother literally tore my spine out

. Duke let’s start a cult that’s something that isn’t dumb and won’t get us murdered.

And Dick is just there like… yeah fuck okay.

Like he’s still unhinged even for a superhero but he’s just objectively more hinged than all of his siblings like you’re telling me if TIM got the talon ancestry storyline shit wouldn’t have hit the fan??? The mother fucker who at age like 13 broke in Nightwing and starfire’s house, memorized all their schedules bc he’s the most insane stalker you’ve ever met. You’re lying and we both know it.

And everyone thinks their fave is the sane won and you are all just wrong I fear. I have already slandered Tim so I’ll do the rest for funsies

“Oh babs is the only sane one”

Bby Barbara is such a stalker with a need for control someone stole her tech and turned Gotham into a police state. If she decided that she wanted to go dictator she has a WHOLE setup for it. She’s also unhinged

“Jason just needs to get away from the bats then he’s the only sane one who the others go to for protection”

Yall Jason’s 2 biggest teams were

An Amazon, and a kryptonian

An arrow and an alien (also some times an Amazon)

So the league big three knock off and a titans knock off

He has also slept with his dad’s ex and 2 of his brother’s exes. Let’s not pretend that he’s being dragged back into the bat family, bro never left.

He wears a bat on his chest

He has a helmet with explosives in it… when he died in an explosion and fought with a crowbar when it was one of the major reasons he died. Let’s not talk about his whole thing with scarlet but the Morrison run had some weird characterization.

“Damian-“ no actually you can’t even start with Mr let’s go to Lazarus island. Let me adopt a giant bat monster bc my abusive childhood means I slaughtered his entire race. No actually I will not allow it. The fucker is unhinged and I love him.

“Steph” - you know what she is also my fave so everything she has ever done is justified and she has the best batgirl run and also her and Damian are hilarious. (She’s also the best female bat hands down I prefer her to both Cass and Babs for so many reasons I will not get into)

In summary this isn’t actually a criticism I find it hilarious plz keep going my darling fanon fanfic writers

[imagines4thefandoms]

Family Reunion

word count: 6.5K

Summary: y/n reluctantly goes to a family reunion that may or may not be a disaster

TW: adoption hate, No y/n used

You were sitting in the living room reading a book when Alfred walked into the manor with the mail. He placed it on the table behind the couch and went into the kitchen to start dinner. Jason came running into the room and jumped on the couch next to you. 

“Hey, mom, whatcha doin’,” he asked, laying his head on your shoulder.

“Just reading,” you answered as you turned the page of your book. Jason snuggled closer to you and let out a sigh. You put your book down and looked over at your son. 

“What's the matter, J,” you asked, placing your book on the table behind you. 

Jason sat up straight and looked at you. He gave you a serious look, which made you worry a little. Jason was one of the least serious of your kids; well, they are all less serious than Damian. “Nothing, just bored,” he said, looking at you with a smile.

“Mom, did the mail come in yet?” Tim yelled, running up from the cave. 

“Yes, Alfred just brought it in,” you replied. 

Tim ran into the living room and searched through the mail. He was so excited that he dropped the rest of the mail on the floor. Your husband walked in and sat down on the couch between you and Jason. 

“Hey honey,” Bruce said, kissing your temple.

“Tim, make sure you pick up your mess,” you said, cuddling into Bruce.

It was moments like these, where Bruce and the boys stayed home that made all the drama of marrying Batman/ Bruce Wayne worth it. Just as Tim came and sat on the chair next to you, Dick and Damian walked in through the front door. Dick walked over to you and kissed your cheek while Damian stood in the living room with a grimace. 

“Grayson, just because I asked a question about your job didn’t mean I wanted to spend the day with you,” he exclaimed. 

Dick went to throw his keys on the table, but they landed on the floor. When we bent down to grab them, he noticed an envelope under the couch. 

“Hey, Mom, there’s mail for you,” he said, handing it over. 

Your name was handwritten on a baby blue envelope. Just from the writing, you knew what was in this piece of mail. Your mother was trying to get you to come to a family reunion, but we were not interested. You loved your family, but there were some people you just didn’t want to talk to anymore. “It's nothing.” You said, placing it on the table and opening your book back up to finish the chapter you were reading when Jason interrupted you. 

“Nothing, Mother, it looks important. It’s handwritten,” Damian said, opening it up. 

Before you could stop him, he started to read the invitation, which you had already gotten about seven times.  Bruce looked over at you and gave you a questioning look as your son finished reading the invitation. 

“Like I said, it's nothing,” you said, getting up from the couch and grabbing the invitation from Damian. 

“Family reunion. That sounds fun, Mom,” Jason said, grabbing the card from your hands. 

“Sure, but not when it’s my family that is reuniting,” you replied, grabbing the invite again. 

This time, before anyone can grab it from you again, you rip it up and throw it in the waste basket in the living room. You knew you probably should have burned it, but you had hope that your sons and husband knew to leave it alone.  You went to your office to do a couple of things for work when you got a call from your mother. 

Hey Sweetie

“Hey, mom. What’s up.”

 Nothing, I just wanted to talk to my daughter.

“I’m not going mom.”

We miss you

“I miss you too, Mom. You know you and Dad are welcome to come visit whenever you want. The kids miss you.”

Sweetheart, please

“Is she going to be there?”

Yes. She’s a part of this family.

“Then just let me know when you and Dad want to come visit.”

It’s not just me who misses you. It's in two weeks you still have time to change your mind.

“Ugh, Mom, if I say I'll think about it, will you stop sending the invitations?”

Yes, only if you consider it

“Ok, Mom, I will consider going to the reunion.”

Great, well, I’m going to let you go and let you get back to work Tell my grand-babies I love them and tell Bruce I said hi.

“Alright, mom. I love you bye.”

Love you too, baby. Bye

You hung up the phone and looked up when you heard a small knock at your office door. Bruce was standing in the doorway, waiting for you to finish your phone call. He walked over and sat on the edge of your desk.

“Mom says hi,” you said, placing your phone on your desk and walking to stand in front of your husband. 

Bruce gave you the face he makes when he wants you to tell him what’s wrong, but he won’t ask. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you told him, placing your head on his chest.

“I didn’t say anything,” he responded, wrapping his arms around you tightly. 

“I would love to see everyone, but every time I’m in the same room with HER, it doesn’t end well. You remember,” you opened up. 

The memory of the last time you had a run-in with your sister. It was before you and Bruce adopted Dick. It was also the last family reunion you went to. The night just went downhill as soon as she walked into the house. It ended with her calling you a gold-digging whore and Bruce having to hold you back from attacking her. 

“Oh, I remember. You were scary,” he said with a smile as he kissed your head. 

“Mom. Scary? Impossible,” Damian said, walking in to check up on you. 

You knew that going to the reunion was a terrible idea. No matter how much you would love to be around everyone again. Bruce looked at you, and you knew whatever you decided, he was going to support you no matter what. 

“Your mother can be very scary,” he responded to Damian but still looked at you. 

“Demon, ask her about the letter,” you heard Jason “whisper” from the hall. 

You laughed and shook your head as you stepped out of Bruce’s warm embrace. Damian tried to act like he had no idea what Jason was saying or that he couldn’t hear his brother from the hall, but you knew better. When you walked past him to go to the door, Damian avoided eye contact and acted innocent. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, Jay,” you said, poking your head out of your office and looking at Jay. 

He quickly stood up and caught your other boys off balance, making them either stumble back or fall on the ground. You motioned with your head to come in while you walked back to your office. 

“Grandma says hi,” you said, sitting on your desk. 

“You talked to grandma,” Dick asked excitingly. 

Just seeing Dick’s reaction, you knew that you had to go for your sons. You looked over to your husband, and he knew what you were going to do. 

“That letter was from Grandma about a family reunion in two weeks,” you explained. “I didn’t say anything about it sooner because last time I was at a family reunion, it didn’t end well.”

“Your mother almost got into a fight,” Bruce explained further as he took out his phone and rearranged his schedule so he could go with you. 

“Mom getting into a fight. I would love to see that,” Jay said, sitting in one of the chairs in front of your desk and putting his feet on your desk. 

“You might jay bird,” you whispered. 

“So, are we going,” Tim asked. 

After taking a deep breath to calm your already anxious mind, you told them yes. You grabbed your phone to call your mother to tell her that you will be attending, so Bruce and the boys left your office. Your mother was super happy that you would be going home. She told you how she wasn’t going to tell anyone, so it would be a big surprise. After you hung up, you were heading back to spend time with your family when you overheard Bruce and the kids talking. 

“I can’t imagine mom getting in a fight,” Dick stated.

“You haven’t seen your mother with her sister,” Bruce responded, taking a sip of his drink.

“Aunt Lilah?” Tim asked.

“No, Sophia.”

“She has another sister,” Jason exclaimed. 

You walked into the living room, and the boys stopped asking questions because they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or angry. You sat down next to your husband and Jason and put on a movie. 

The next two weeks consisted of your mother texting you how excited she was to have you, Bruce, and the kids back home. You also spent those two weeks learning some kind of calming technique Alfred knew in hopes it would help you not go crazy. The night before you left to head back to your hometown, the boys kept talking about how they were excited to see where you grew up and hopefully learn some embarrassing stories about you. 

In the morning, you woke up before Bruce and just watched the love of your life sleep. You trace your name over his chest when you hear a small laugh escape your husband’s throat. Your hands stopped as your eyes met his blue eyes. He grabbed your hand, brought it to his mouth, and placed a small is on the palm. 

“You don’t have to mark me. I'm already your’s,” Bruce said, pulling you onto him. 

“Shut it,” you smacked him. 

The two of you just lay there til Alfred knocked on the door and came in with two cups of coffee and the newspaper. He placed the try on Bruce’s nightstand and opened the curtains before leaving. Bruce handed you your cup, and you just wrapped your hands around the mug, absorbing its warmth. A light kiss on your right shoulder brought you back to reality. 

“Penny for your thought,” Bruce asked, leaving more kisses on your naked shoulders. 

“Wow, only a penny. When did you get so cheap,” you joked, placing your coffee on your nightstand and turning towards your husband. 

He let out a chuckle, pushing you on your back, and hovered over you. “When my wife got so expensive,” he joked, leaving love bites on your neck and collarbone. You slapped his chest at his comment. “I hate you,” you said, pulling him on top of you so you’re being crushed by his weight.

“Sure you do.” Bruce pried himself from your grasp to get ready for the flight. “As much as I would enjoy you staying like that for the trip, it might traumatize the kids,” he joked, staring at your naked form still lying in bed. 

“Or we can just forget the reunion and abandon our kids and just go on another honeymoon,” you suggested as you got out of bed and joined Bruce in the bathroom.

“They would find us,” he replied after giving your idea a moment's thought.

“And whose fault it is that they are great detectives,” you asked, getting into the shower. 

While you and Bruce were taking a shower, Alfred was in the room packing your bags for the trip. Since the boys haven’t seen your parents in a long time, you decided to spend a week at home. The boys were excited to get to spend so much time with their grandparents. 

“Your flight is scheduled to leave in an hour, so I suggest you two hurry up,” Alfred yelled as he left the room. 

“Last time I checked, it's my plane,” Bruce called back as he was helping you dry off. 

“The sooner you leave, the sooner I can find some actual peace,” Alfred replied, causing you to laugh. 

The boys were waiting in the living room with all their bags when you and Bruce finally got dressed. You saw how excited they were for the reunion, and you understood. You come from a giant and mainly loving family. They’ve heard a few stories from your childhood, and you noticed how there was a longing look in their eyes. So, you decided to push past all the drama and try your best to make this the best weekend for your kids. You want them to have a happy, normal family experience. 

“You guys ready to head out,” you asked, interrupting their conversations. 

They all jumped up, grabbed their bags, and ran to the car. You laughed at their antics as you followed them out. During the car ride to the airport, the boys were planning all the things they wanted to do during the week. Bruce pulled you against his side as you watched the kids.

“I brought some of the jokers laughing gas if you need it,” Bruce whispered into your ear.

“I'm gonna need it later, I’m fine now,” you laughed. 

“We can just drop the boys off and go do something just us,” he suggested, kissing the top of your head.

“No,” you exclaimed, jumping up and turning to him.

Bruce looked at you with concern and questioning. “What’s wrong,” he asked. 

“We are all going as a family,” you replied, ignoring his question. 

“Mom,” Dick asked.

“It's nothing, ok. I promise,” you replied, rubbing his back. 

As soon as you got on the plane, your outburst was forgotten by all except Bruce. As soon as the pilot said we were free to roam the plane, Bruce unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you into his lap.

“B, the kids are right there,” you lightly scorned as you tried to get out of his lap.

“As much as I would like to. I’d much rather talk about your outburst in the car.”

“I don’t want them alone around Sophia,” you told him. 

Before he could ask why, you pulled out your phone to show him the family bulletin email chain. You showed him the edition where Sophia announced the birth of her son, Aaron. And her reply to why the title was a new addition to the grandkids instead of the first grandchild. 

“She constantly refuses to acknowledge the boys as family. Because they are not blood, they don’t count,” you explained. 

“Sounds like Damien when he first came to us,” he joked, pulling you closer to him. 

“Yeah, but Damien matured and realized he was wrong. She never has. I’m worried she’s going to open her mouth and ruin their trip,” 

“They’ve heard all that before, especially when the world wants to know if/when we are going to have a baby. But they know the truth.”

“But that’s coming from strangers. This would be from family.”

“Does anyone else think that way?”

“No.”

“Then there should be nothing to worry about,” You relaxed in his arms and rested your head on his shoulder. “But if something does happen, I’ll release the laughing gas, and we can book it out of there.”

You let out a loud laugh, causing everyone to look at you. Bruce buried his face in your neck and just enjoyed the sound of your laughter. He only pulled away when Damien came over and glared at you. 

“Ummi, father, please, do not join the mile-high club while we are right here,” he said with a deadpan look on his face before going back to the video game he was playing with Jason. 

“Oh my god,” you said, trying not to laugh as you looked at your husband. 

“Damien, really,” he asked, turning to look at his youngest. 

“That’s your kid,” you said, getting back into your seat.

“Mine,” he laughed, quickly checking his phone. 

You nodded your head as you took a sip of your drink. The rest of the flight, Bruce did as much work as he could finish before the plane landed, and you read more of your book. When the plane landed, instead of a town car, your mother was standing by her minivan, jumping up and down. 

“She insisted on picking us up,” Bruce explained, helping you down the stairs. 

“Jida,” Damien yelled, jumping over the railing and running over to your mother. Your heart melted at the sight of Damien jumping into your mother’s arms. She spun him around and then put him back on the ground. As soon as she took a step back, Jason wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. 

“Oh my, baby, what are you feeding this one,” your mother laughed, hugging Jason back. 

“Jay, put Granny down before you hurt her,” Tim warned as he started putting the bags in the trunk of the minivan. 

Bruce helped Tim while you tried to greet your mother. Before you could get your hug, Dick stepped between you and stole your hug. “Oh my, look how tall you’ve gotten. Your being safe,” she asked, pushing him back slightly as she looked over him. 

“Yes, Granny, I'm being very careful at work,” he said, pulling her into another hug and kissing her cheek. 

Once he released her, you finally got your hug. “That one worries me all the time,” she whispered in your ear. 

“Me too, but I get texts after his shifts, so I know he is safe.”

“I need those too,” she said, looking at Dick and Jason as they smacked each other on the back of the head. 

“Oh, my favorite son-in-law,” your mother said as she pushed you aside to hug Bruce. 

“Hey, ma,” he said, kissing her cheeks. “You look amazing.”

“You’re already my favorite, no need to suck up,” she joked, slapping his arm. 

Your mother loved Bruce. As soon as you told her you were dating, she warned you to be careful cause of his reputation. But after she met him, she would always say, ‘Don’t do anything stupid to mess that up. I’ll choose him in the breakup.’ Sometimes, she’d just randomly call Bruce, and they would chat for a couple of hours. 

Once all the bags were in the car, Bruce insisted he drive so your mother could relax and catch up with the boys. You sat in the passenger seat so your mother could sit between Tim and Damien. 

While Bruce was driving, he kept one hand on the wheel and the other was holding your hand. You just watched him drive as you listened to the lively conversation in the back of the car. 

“Never thought I’d see THE Bruce Wayne drive a minivan,” you joked, drawing circles on his hand. “I should send Clark a pic so he has an exclusive.”

Bruce squeezed your hand in response. “Don’t make me tell Ma that you’re being mean to me.”

Even though he whispered it, your mother still heard, and she slapped your arm. “Leave my baby alone,” she scorned, gently shaking his shoulder, then she returned to Tim’s story. 

You quickly stuck your tongue out at Bruce, then quickly made sure your mother didn’t notice. When Tim finished his story, your mother leaned forward and told you how the rooms were made so you could stay with her.

“Mom, there is not enough room for all of us.”

“Please, unless you had planned on wasting money on five different hotel rooms, I have enough room. The boys will double up,” she said, playing with Damien’s hair. 

“What about everyone else.”

“I kicked them out. Told them they couldn’t stay the night. Besides, unlike you, everyone else lives close by.”

Deciding against arguing with your mother, you accepted that you were staying at home. When Bruce pulled into the driveway, your father was mowing the lawn. As soon as everyone got out of the car, Dick and Jason went over to your father to mow the lawn for him. 

“They don’t do that at home,” You commented, watching Dick push Jason to the ground and start up the lawn mower.

“Our lawn is too big for a normal lawn mower,” Tim said, getting the bags out of the car. 

“Ah yes, the plight of the rich,” you joked, ruffling Tim’s hair. 

Your mother carried in your small bag and carried it up to your room. Then, she showed Tim and Damien the guest room and Lilah’s room that she made up for them. Tim refused to share a room with Damien, so they went their separate ways. 

“You guys freshen up, and I’ll start dinner,” your mother said, leaving you in your room. 

“Absolutely not. You set everything up for tomorrow. I'm taking us all out for dinner. You just relax. And make sure to utilize the 12 hands you have to help with tomorrow,” Bruce said, holding her hands. 

“You’re too sweet,” she replied, gently patting his cheek. 

“He’s right, Mom. Why is no one here to help.”

“I didn’t ask Lilah 'cause she’s got her hands full with the kids and with Henry being deployed. I asked Sophia, but she said she couldn’t. But now I can put those boys to work. You baby them too much,” she replied, ignoring your look of disappointment. 

“Mom, you are the one that spoils them,” you joke. 

“They are my grandbabies it's my job. Now, why don’t you two hurry up and unpack? I'm ready to eat you out of house and home,” she joked, walking down the hall.

“If those boys couldn’t do that, I doubt you could,” Bruce joked back. 

After dinner and a lot of butt-kissing done by the kids, you and Bruce got ready for bed. You were doing your nighttime routine when Bruce came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you.  Bruce took the moisturizer out of your hands and, just held you and stared at you in the mirror. 

“I can feel your tension,” he said, kissing your neck. 

“I'm worried about tomorrow,” you admit. 

“I’ll fake a work emergency if you want.”

“Won’t be as effective since we are staying here.”

He chuckled and placed another kiss on your neck before telling you to hurry up and come to bed. Your mother never changed a single thing in your room, so it looks exactly like it did when you left for college. Same embarrassing posters. Same stuffed animals. Same book. Same twin-sized bed you were supposed to share with your gigantic husband. 

There wasn’t a single inch of room for you to lay next to him. Not that it mattered at home you have a California king yet seem to still sleep on top of each other overnight. You were going to lay on top of Bruce, but he moved, so he was on top. His head was on your chest, and your legs were tangled together. Even though you knew his feet were hanging off the edge, he quickly fell asleep. You, on the other hand, stayed up longer, running your finger through his hair, praying to anything and everything that nothing terrible happens tomorrow.

“Let her sleep some more,” you heard someone whisper before the door closed. 

Since you didn’t feel the 200-pound man on top of you, you figured that Bruce already started his day. You knew you should get up and help, but unlike the rest of your family, you are not accustomed to minimal sleep. But your plan to get more sleep was thwarted by a tiny body getting into the bed and jumping on your stomach. 

“Tete, wake up,” your niece yelled, trying to force your eyes open. 

“Robin,” you heard your husband whisper and pick the little girl off you. 

“It's morning time. Tete needs to wake up Ruce,” she said with her adorable lisp. 

“Tete is very tired.”

“But it's morning.”

“I'll give you candy if you let her sleep more.”

“5 dowars AND candy,” she said with as stern of a voice as a four-year-old can have. 

“You’re just like your aunt,” Bruce said before carrying the little girl out. 

Another 5 minutes passed by before you heard the door open. Someone walked in and sat at the foot of the bed. “I know you're awake, dummy,” your sister Lilah said, slapping your feet. 

“First, your kid jumps on my stomach, then you slap me. Your violence is spreading,” you joke, sitting up to hug your sister. “I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Yeah, I figured mom was super busy and forgot to call me, but imagine my surprise when I find out the prodigal daughter returned.”

Lilah handed you a cup of coffee and climbed into bed next to you. It felt like the old days when you two would sit in your bed and talk about anything and everything. 

“You know I’m surprised you showed up,” she said, gently nudging your side. 

“Me too, but the kids missed Mom, and I can’t just keep hiding,” you admitted. 

“How’s Henry,” you asked, changing the subject before she was mentioned. 

“He’s good. Safe. And excited to hear what happens.” She laughs.

Robin opened the door and ran into the room laughing. Your husband came in after her and lifted her off the ground. 

“You promised,” he said, holding her upside down.

“It's been hours.”

“It's been 7 minutes,” he said, turning her rightsize up. “Oh, morning, sweetie.” He walked over to kiss you while holding a wiggly child. 

“Tete, you sleep forever,” she said, slipping from Bruce’s grasp and getting between you and Lilah. 

You handed your cup to Bruce and attacked Robin with tickles. Robin laughed and cried out for her mom to save her, but Lilah watched and said she should have listened and let Tete sleep. 

“Ruce, save me,” she laughed. 

“I got you, princess,” he said, pulling her from my grasp. “Come one, let's go help with breakfast.” 

Before he left, Bruce looked at you and blew you a kiss. You heard your sister laugh and gently kick you. Lilah caught you up on her life and what Robin has been doing and showed you pictures of baby James, who was snatched from her by your mother as soon as she stepped inside. 

You wanted to stay in bed longer, but the smell of cinnamon rolls filled the house. You and Lilah looked at each other before racing each other down to the kitchen. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” your father greeted, looking up from baby James. 

“Morning, Dad,” you said, kissing his cheek and then making faces at James. 

You took a seat at the dining table, and Robin came to bring you a cinnamon roll drenched in icing. “I made this one for you, Tete.”

The roll had so much icing that when you bit into it, you could’ve sworn that you got a cavity. Your mother came out of the kitchen and plopped down in the chair across from you. She looked exhausted. 

“All the food is prepped we just need to throw it in the oven,” she said, picking at a cinnamon roll.

“Mom, did you wake the kids to help you,” you asked, slightly scorning her. 

“They need their sleep they are growing boys,” she said. 

Before you could scorn her some more, she got up and said she was going to take a nap. Your father came over to you and handed you the baby, and dragged your husband outside to help set up the tables and chairs. 

After everything was set up and you put a couple of dishes in the oven, you brought James to the floor and played with his toys with him. Your kids sat on the couch watching TV while you got up with James every couple of minutes to switch out the dishes.

“How do you do that,” Dick asked, helping you put a dish in the oven.

“I’m a mom. It’s a mom superpower,” she said, closing the oven with her hip and starting the timer. 

“I can take him to make it easier,” he offered, holding his arms out. 

“Im fine, Dick. Besides, Im soaking up all the baby time I can get,” you said, blowing raspberries on James’ arm. 

At noon, people started showing up. First, it was your aunt and uncles, then your cousins. The next thing you knew, the house and backyard were filled with family members. 

“Im going to try and put him down for a quick nap,” Lilah said, taking James from your arms. 

“Okay. You can use my room. I think Damien and Jay are in your old room.”

You tried to find your husband but were suddenly being hugged by someone. “I can’t believe you’re here,” your favorite cousin said, hugging you. 

You turned to face them and gave them a proper hug. They dragged you outside and grabbed a drink. Just chatting with your cousin lifted your spirits, but then you heard Sophia’s voice and could have sworn there was the noise of a record scratch, then she stepped into the backyard. 

Aaron stepped from behind her, and his face lit up when he saw Dick entertaining the kids with his acrobatic skills. He ran to Dick, and luckily your son was done his flips when Aaron latched himself to his left leg. 

“Hey, nugget,” Dick said, picking Aaron up and tossing him up in the air. 

Just as Sophia came up to you, Bruce appeared by your side and kissed your temple. Sophia looked between the two of you and smiled. “Oh, you two are so cute. Im so glad it worked out so far,” she said, hugging you.  

Bruce wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to him. “She can’t get rid of me.” He gave you another kiss on the temple before hugging Sophia. 

“How have you been,” he asked since you couldn’t open your mouth without saying something mean. 

“Amazing, it’s hard with three kids under ten, but it’s so adorable watching them grow up,” she said with a condescending smile. 

“Sophia,” you heard her husband call as he came up behind her with a look of apology. “I was getting the kids out of the car, and you just disappeared.”

“I heard my sister was here I just had to come see her. I haven’t seen her in years,” she pouted. “How are the kids,” she asked, glancing over your shoulder. 

“My kids are great. They are over there with all the other kids,” you said, turning to wave at Damien. 

“Oh right, that’s Bruce’s son. I read about that in the news. So glad you two worked through that issue.”

“Damien is my son, too. And that’s none of your business,” you said, flexing your hand.

“Ummi, I'm hungry,” Damien said with a fake smile, trying to act like a normal 10-year-old. 

“Ummi,” your sister questioned. 

“It's Arabic for mother,” you said, grabbing Damien’s hand and bringing him inside to get him food. As soon as you got inside, you let his hand go and turned to him. “Which one put you up to that,” you asked, hugging him. 

“Father, he gave us signals so we could be a buffer. But I don’t understand why I had to act like an idiotic fool,” he scowled as he crossed his arms. 

“I love you,” you said, ruffling his hair. 

“I love you too, Ummi,” he said, grabbing a plate and grabbing his food. 

With that freedom, you decided to walk around and converse with anyone else. You were talking with weird Uncle Bert when Sophia found you again. Everyone in the room got quiet and just watched the two of you. 

“I’m so proud of you, little sis,” she said, rubbing my arm.

“Whatever for Soph,” you asked, slowly turning to her. 

“For putting on a brave face with Bruce’s affair and accepting the consequence with open arms,” she said with a genuine smile like nothing she just said was wrong. 

“Excuse me,” you exclaimed.  “First off, that consequence is my son, and I’ve already told you to mind your own business in the matter.”

“Sorry, I guess you’re still sensitive about it. I thought you and Bruce were in a good place.”

“We are,” you replied, confused about where she was taking this. 

“Oh good, so when are you finally going to have a kid,” she asked giddily. 

“I have four kids. But I’m not sure when we are going to have a baby,” you replied through your teeth. 

“Yes, of course you have ‘kids,’ but like an actual kid. You're the only one without one,’ she said, playing with a string on her sweater like she didn’t just insult you. 

“Why the air quotes, Sophia,” you asked, clenching your fist. 

“Cause they're not your kids. You didn’t give birth to them. They are not your blood. So they don’t count. 

Outside, Bruce was looking around for you when he saw Sophia’s husband looking around, too. “Scott, where’s your wife,” he asked with a small bit of panic in his voice.

“Hopefully not by your wife saying something very stupid.”

“Excuse me,” they heard you yell. 

“I think I found them,” Scott groaned, rubbing his face in annoyance. 

“Boys code red,” Bruce shouted before going inside. 

When he got to where you were, your face was red and cracking your knuckles. He could tell you were pissed. 

“What the hell do you mean they don’t count,” you asked, fuming. 

“Look, if it means that much to you, I'll let them get into the family photo,” Sophia said, holding her hands up.

“Oh, thank you so much for letting my kids join my family photo,” you said sarcastically. 

“You know how much mom loves her grandkids I just hope she gets some from you.”

“She has 4. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damien.”

“Real grandchildren.”

“Ok, that’s it. Just because they are not my blood and I didn’t give birth to those boys doesn’t mean they are not my kids. I love them with every ounce of my being. I came to this for them cause they missed Mom, but you came and opened your mouth, spouting ignorant shit once again. And if Bruce and I have a baby, I'm not going to love those boys any less. Cause I chose to love those boys, and they chose to have me as their mother, and nothing could top the feeling of hearing them call me mom for the first time. Now, please, for once, keep those thoughts to yourself. No one cares about your Etsy shop or how you're trying to start a media business.”

“I was being nice before, but since you want to be a bitch I can too. That little one is a freaking psychopath, and I don’t want him around my kids. The oldest is a terrible influence cause now Aaron wants to join a circus. The other one, Jason, is even worse. What kind of kid fakes his death at 13 years old? Guess you're not that great of a “mother.” I mean, look at his scars, and he’s probably on drugs. The only one I feel sorry for is Tim. He looks so sleep-deprived I'm not sure what you’re doing to that poor kid, but CPS needs to take him and the psycho away from you,”

Before you could attack her for threatening to take your kids away, you heard Damien yell out in pain. You pushed through the crowd that formed and went to him. 

“What’s wrong, dami,” you asked him. 

“I hurt myself outside,” he said with a tear falling down his cheek. 

You saw your mom staying in the kitchen and told her you were taking Dami to the hospital and weren’t coming back til Sophia was gone. When you stepped outside, you watched as Damien popped his shoulder back in place. 

“Damn, mom. I'm a bit scared of you now,” Jason said, scratching his head.

“Good. Not stop using Damien and a buffer, and don’t dislocate his shoulder again to do it.” You said, making sure Damien was okay. 

“Yeah, I could have faked it.”

“Are you okay,” Bruce asked, hugging you. 

“No, I hate her so much,” you said before turning to your boys. “I'm sorry about that. I hope you don’t take what she said to heart.”

“I mean, the demon is a psychopath,” Jason joked, earning him a kick in the shins from Dick. “No, mom. We’ve heard that kind of stuff before it doesn’t bother us cause you are our mom.”

You were hugging all your kids when the front door opened, and Sophia stormed out angry, and Henry followed with their three kids. Sophia sat in the passenger seat while Henry put the kids in the car. 

“I'm so sorry,” Henry said, coming over to say goodbye. “It was nice seeing you two again, and nice meeting your kids.”

“His wife is nuts, but he seems like a cool guy,” Tim said as the car pulled out of the driveway. 

Your mom came out of the house and saw that you guys were still here. “Is he okay,” she asked, looking over Damien. 

“Yeah, he just dislocated his shoulder. We popped it back in. Is Jen still in there so she can give him a quick look over,” you asked.

Your mother nodded and went to grab your cousin, the pediatric doctor. “Mother, I'm fine. I’ve done that hundreds of times,”

“I know, but I would still like a medical professional to check it out since your brother actually hurt you,” you said, glaring at Jason. 

“I was trying to stop a fight.”

Jenny came out and checked Damien’s arm. She said it seemed perfectly fine, but she would prefer to have it x-rayed to double-check, but for now, an ice compress at the joint will do. 

“Come on, boys, I’ve got to show you your mother's baby pictures. Have I ever told you about the time she went missing from home and we found her 3 hours later in the fireplace,” she called from the entryway. 

“Oh no,” you groaned, covering your face.

“No,” Jason laughed as he ran inside to gather some leverage for the next time he was in trouble.

“Fireplace,” Bruce asked, laughing. 

“You might as well go listen to see what you're getting yourself into if we have a baby,” you said, pulling him inside. 

“Why does a mini-you terrify me more than my night job.”

“Cause I was terrible growing up.”

“Was,” he asked, pulling your back towards him. 

“Listen here, Mr. Wayne,” you started to scorn before he pressed his lips to yours. 

“Oh my god Mom you started a fire at 3,” Dick laughed.

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah, I'm terrified for our future children.”

“Of baby. You should be terrified of our future children,” you said right before Damien yelled about how you told a police officer your mother kidnapped you cause she wouldn’t get you a toy.  

Bruce laughed and shook his head as the two of you walked into the house. 

[mae-mae-me]

DP X DC PROMPT

Ok, so I had this idea in the shower.

Alicia and Maddie are sisters, right? Wrong.

Talia al Ghul and Maddie are sisters. Twins, to be exact. Idk what happened with Maddie for her to be cut off from the LOA, but let’s say that she’s a researcher for the Lazarus Pits (ectoplasm), and leave it there.

She married Jack Fenton (which— why do the Al Ghul women marry big men who are ditzy and himbos on the outside, but are surprisingly smart?), and they had one child; Jasmine Fenton.

Talia on the other hand had twins— Danyal and Damian. (Again— what is it with twins here??)

Anyway, same thing happened with Danyal. He was cut off somehow, some way, and Talia decided to bring him to her sister, a “civilian”— as far as LOA operatives can be civilians. (Is this an excuse for backstory for her 9 black belts? Yes. Yes it is.)

Damian goes to them periodically, maybe once a year, and since Danny and Jasmine and Jack aren’t aware of the LOA, this is literally a sneak mission. Can you pass off as a civilian 101. So, once a year, Damian goes to meet his “cousin” Danny, Jasmine and his aunt and uncle. He is to be a normal American Teenager™ when he visits them, and this skill is rarely used but can be used.

Cue Damian going to the BatFam, all of canon stuff happens etc etc. For about 2 years due to all off the canon stuff, Damian doesn’t meet his cousins. So one day, in the middle of dinner, Damian says

“Father, I will need to be dropped off in Amity Park to meet my cousins. I will be there for roughly one week, and I will need you to pick me up after this.”

Cue Bruce and co, going “Whaaaat?? Cousins?? What are they doing in Amity Park, which, last I checked, doesn’t have any LOA hotspots??”

Damian doesn’t elaborate.

They research, and find a seemingly normal family, if a little eccentric in their research of the paranormal.

They go to Amity Park with him. Damian is sighing and tt’ing this whole time going “They are normal. There’s nothing wrong with them!!”

They meet the family. As soon as Maddie opens the door with a “Darling! How have you been!” it’s like a switch has been flipped.

No longer is he Damian Wayne, son of the Bat and the grandson and heir to the Demon’s empire. No, no, he is just a normal American Teenager ™ who is just very excited to have his annual sleepover with his cousins.

Everyone is weirded out by this.

Ok, that’s as much as I have for this, if anyone wants to add on to this prompt, have a go!!

@nerdpoe @starry-bi-sky @hecate-hollow @bet-on-me-13 @deadsetobsessions @dcxdpdabbles @virgamsysxvolumes @lazerswordweilder @evilminji @hdgnj

[on-leatheredwings]

Co-Conspirator

Yandere! Bruce Wayne x Yandere! (Fem!) Reader 

> romantic > summary: Ever since you asked him to help with your… reconnaissance, he’s been nothing but a great help. And judgment-free. Batman is as paranoid and insane as you are, and that is why he is quite possibly your best friend. > word count: 1285  > [ a/n: just something short, something cute, something for the Girls. i think mutually yandere relationships are a fun dynamic not very explored!!! Still, its pretty mild yandereism here. Trying to warm up to writing bitches who are Actual Freaks . uhhh lmk what you think. hope i communicated the reader's backstory well. the fact she's only a little crazy is amazing, all things considered. i'd love to make a whole fic of this but alas, i am Not Very Good At Plot]

You are dating Bruce Wayne. You bite your lip at the thought, hoping it disguises your shit-eating grin. You have been told you look like a total cheeseball when you daydream. 

It’s a month-long relationship that’s still currently under the radar because you don’t have the luxury of a dual superhero-civilian persona. First, getting trapped in a pocket dimension for 10 years because something-something-Speedforce; next, being booted back into your home dimension and falling out the sky; then, wreaking havoc in Gotham City with your new, uncontrollable powers unmasked and in clear view of Gotham City choppers and news cameras… These things secretive identities do not make. No matter.

Hence why you tend to stay holed up in the Justice League’s Watchtower or your apartment, and rarely go out otherwise. But a month ago, you were bored. Neurotic. You decided to help your good buddy Batman. Fly to Gotham with your power and surprise him on patrol. And, well, you ended up saving Bruce Wayne (and hundreds of other socialites) after a three ton bowling ball careened into a gala at Wayne Tower, courtesy of the Riddler. Your telekinesis kept the whole building from collapsing. You guess that must’ve really turned Bruce Wayne on, because he was shortly afterwards chatting you up and won your phone number. 

On your first date with Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor, you blurt out, flustering, that you don’t want to overshadow his charity and all the good work he’s doing. Bruce Wayne dating anyone makes headlines – let alone a superhero. Yes, yes. You simply didn’t want to cramp Bruce Wayne’s philanthropic style. It wasn’t that you were utterly unprepared to have that level of media scrutiny on you and were insecure about dating a man completely out of your league. 

Bruce thanked you for your concern and then kissed you deeply, expertly, for your trouble.

You replay that night’s events in your head, and– goddamnit– cheeseball. You clear your throat and clear your mind.

“I think I’ll want a copy of his birth certificate from Gotham General.”

You glance at Batman, who is seated beside you, and see the corner of his lips quirk. 

“Because you’re going to pull up his birth chart.” Batman knows astrology is an enduring interest of yours. You pout, pulling up Gotham General’s files and sifting through the database. 

“... Maybe.” 

You pause from your search on one of the Justice League’s supercomputers, sneaking a sheepish glance at your co-conspirator. Ever since you asked him to help with your… reconnaissance, he’s been nothing but a great help. And judgment-free. Batman is as paranoid and insane as you are, and that is why he is quite possibly your best friend. 

You flush. “You know– I– Thanks, Bats. Really. I’m glad you aren’t acting all weird about this.”

Batman doesn’t say anything, but you know that he’s giving you his full attention. 

“Like, I’m not a freak or anything. I just have to make sure I know what I’m getting into.” You puff your cheeks. “Know he’s… you know. Good.” 

What a lie. You’re just scared and don’t want to get caught with your pants down. Despite being an actual living, breathing, metahuman and superhero… Bruce is the one with the power in this relationship. He’s… everything. Encapsulating. Towering. Anyone would want him. You think of the lingering looks very, very beautiful women give him. Everyone does want him. 

You feel a pang of violent loathing and nausea that is tided over when Batman speaks.

“... I know plenty about Bruce Wayne. He’s… good.”

Your brows rise. You’ve only known the man for a few months but even you know that’s a glowing compliment coming from Batman. His highest praise on most people is usually neutral at best. “Hmm… okay.” You turn back to your work, laughing. “Well. I also just think he’s kind of interesting to learn about. What other celebrity has this much lore? The prodigal son… Prince of Gotham… Collector of orphans… Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor...” 

You worry your lip, gnashing your teeth. Bachelor. That’s what everyone thinks he is, right? You blink and curiously turn to Batman, whose hands are flying across a keyboard, hard at work. You hope you’re not bothering him. W-well, he’d say if I were, right? you think.

“Is it weird if I put cameras in Wayne Manor?”

Batman stills and your throat dries. Damn.

“... Um… Too weird…?” 

After a tentative silence, Batman responds.

“... No. You’re just covering your bases.”

Your cheeks fill with color as being vindicated – a view you don’t know makes his heart race marginally quicker.

“Yeah!” You cough, composing yourself. “I mean, yeah. You can learn a lot about someone from what they get up to when they think they’re alone.” You can also make sure they’re not bringing anyone home, but you keep that part to yourself.

“I could plant them, if you need. I have plenty made for this kind of surveillance.” 

You’re smiling widely, wheeling your chair over to Batman’s side before you know it. 

“... God. Batman, you magnificent mind, you. This is why we’re buddies.” You lean over and poke his chest cheekily, right on the bat emblem. 

Bruce has to restrain himself from catching your hand on its retreat. Your poke burns a hole in his chest for minutes afterward, and he welcomes every second of it. He turns back to his computer screen, vainly attempting to not think about how much he wants to kiss you right now.

Perhaps Bruce should’ve simply asked you out as Batman. You spend much more time when he’s under the cowl than not. But frankly, you would’ve been too distracted during missions. Hell, he would’ve been too distracted. He already thinks of you all the time. 

Your investigation into Bruce Wayne has tripped several of his alarms, even before you told him of it. Anyone making inquiries with this level of depth draws his attention. Nothing you’re looking is anything he’s averse to you knowing, so he’s allowed you to investigate him freely and without redirection. But of course, you don’t know that. The effort you’re making is… cute. The fact you don’t know that Batman is Bruce is cute. You think you have the upper hand. And that’s… cute.

Bruce doesn’t think too deeply about your stalking, even though he probably should. It’s probably evidence of an unstable individual. He’s sure ten years alone with no stimuli in a pocket dimension does things to a person. But who was he to judge? He’s violated the privacy and boundaries of everyone who affects his life in any important way. Nor does he claim to be a shining example of ideal mental health. 

And at the end of the day, this situation is all under his control.

There is a small part of him that feels guilty for keeping his identity under wraps, but there’s a bigger part that’s amused. You don’t know that he’s had your birth certificate since the day after you met. You don’t know that there’s about twenty cameras working 24/7 in and out of your apartment. Or that he’s your new landlord. These are things he’ll tease you about once he confesses that he’s Batman. You’ve made him someone who likes to tease. 

Still, Bruce remains hesitant about telling you. How would you react? Would you feel betrayed? Hurt? Dread floods his bloodstream, an effect only the most depraved individuals in his rogues gallery tend to have on him. 

Would you leave him? Hate him?

His eyes skirt towards where you sit. You worry your lip, eyes glued to a plan of Wayne Manor, no doubt debating where you want him to place the cameras he’s offered. Tension leaves his shoulders, almost imperceptible. 

Luckily, the chances of that seem slim.

[miryum]

"Clark's Phone Number"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

Cass and Steph’s phones pinged at the same time. Steph scanned the message then called over to Damian, “shouldn’t we be using the other group chat for this?”

Damian glared and typed something on his phone. The message was: I doubt we need Richard or Timothy for this revelation. Are they truly as invested in this cause as we are?

Dick created the group chat in the first place, Steph reminded her friends.

“We’re sitting a couple feet away from each other,” Cass deadpanned. “Why are we even using the group chat?”

Because it’s more entertaining, Damian wrote while maintaining eye contact with Cass.  

Anyone else notice that Todd and L/n aren’t here? Dick stopped their bickering by typing away in the larger, all-encompassing, precinct group chat that was titled Operation Lovebird. The group chat with everyone, including Y/n and Jason was graciously named Practically Hell, courtesy of Y/n, due to the six-six being “only one six away from Hell.”

Al Ghul was just mentioning it in The Best Ones, Cass replied. 

Why do you guys even *have* another group chat? Tim asked.

Because we’re ‘The Best Ones.’ Obviously. Steph added the eye-roll emoji.

Just tell us what’s happening with Operation Lovebird!!! Dick demanded. 

All we know is that they’re both gone, Steph said. 

If you were better detectives, you would’ve noticed the culprits entering the copy room together. Captain Wayne’s contact suddenly popped up on everyone’s screen.

A plethora of messages popped up after his comment, including:

Dick: Culprits???!!!!! Brucie, why???

Tim: Why is Captain in this chat again? No offence, sir.

Wayne: None taken.

Steph: omg are they…

Steph: … you know?

Cass: Fucking?

Steph: NO!!!

Steph: Smooching, obvi.

Damian: Brown, please. Stop maiming my eyes with your typed words. 

Tim: Though, seriously, what are they doing?

Wayne: Pull the security tapes and meet me in my office.

There was a scrambling around the precinct as the detectives (and Damian) ran to Wayne’s office. “Does anyone have the surveillance tapes?” the captain asked. The detectives glanced around and slowly shook their heads. Wayne groaned and commanded, “Cain, grab the tapes.”

Once Cass did as she was directed, Tim used Wayne’s computer and pulled the tapes onto the screen.  

On the tape, Jason stood in the copy room, glancing around anxiously as he fiddled senselessly with the machine. Y/n’s figure appeared on screen and she shuffled into the room, calling out to anyone who would listen, “yeah, I'm just gonna make some copies in here. In the copy room. Heh. Perfect cover. Nailed it.”

“Hey…” Jason waved awkwardly to his coworker. “Hi… Y/n…”

“Jason,” Y/n stepped towards him, smiling devilishly. “Why’d you wanna meet me here?” Her grin showed that she knew exactly why Jason wanted to talk to her. “To boink? At work?!” She gasped dramatically. “Todd, I expected better of you!”

Jason’s cheeks flamed up and Y/n congratulated herself on making the buff, six foot tall detective stutter. “No…” He said, “I wanted to talk about uh, Brian and Lacy.”

“Ah… yeah. Brian and Lacy,” Y/n nodded her head, demeanour shifting. “What about them? I thought they were a pretty cute couple.” 

“So did I,” Jason admitted softly. He took a step forward until Y/n could simply reach out and touch him. He had a faint bruise on the underside of his jaw from an incident with a criminal half a week ago. He stared down at his colleague, his gaze filled with agonised hope. “Brian wanted to ask Lacy on an official date.”

Y/n’s heart was being cleaved in half and sewn back up again by Jason’s own hands. “What about Brian’s old girlfriend, Daisy? Lacy was pretty sure that Brian was making googly-eyes at Daisy during their last meeting.”

“Just to be clear, Daisy being Rose?” 

“Yeah.”

“Brian went on a couple dates with Daisy,” Jason continued, “but soon realised that Daisy couldn’t hold a small, dying match to Y/n’s burning, beautiful fire.”

“I thought her name was Lacy,” Y/n whispered. Jason’s chest rose and fell and he moved even closer to her. Jason reached up towards her face and swiped the pad of his thumb along her cheek. He angled Y/n’s face up so he could finally look into her eyes with the redamancy and forelsket that had been stored away for so many years. 

“Yeah, well,” a corner of his lips curved into a knowing smirk. “I just made Lacy blush, which is usually an impossible feat.”

“You flatter me, Brian,” Y/n said. “It’s clear that you take your words straight from a romance novel. You spend too much time reading.” She reached up and brushed a tuft of hair away from Jason’s face. Her words were teasing, but her actions were careful.

“My words aren’t from a romance novel,” Jason reassured her. “They’re from the heart- yeah, no, I hear it now. A little too cheesy, huh?”

Y/n shrugged and said, “I rather enjoyed it.” She relished the feeling of Jason’s touch on her skin. She hoped to feel it more often. “Your kissing could improve, though,” she referenced their impromptu kiss at the restaurant. 

Jason chuckled lightly. “I doubt that. You seemed to like it a lot.” He spoke lightly while memorising her face. “So, what do you say to a date, darling?”

“Darling?” Y/n asked. “I thought I was the one with the nicknames.” 

Jason shook his head. “I think I’ve found your ten.”

“And now you’ve stolen my quips. Love, you’ve already stolen my heart. Soon I’m gonna see you in the interrogation room.”

“I bet you’d love to see me in handcuffs.” 

Y/n’s mouth fell open and she let out a shocked laugh. “Mr. Todd! That’s no way to speak to a lady!” 

Jason’s hand was still cupping Y/n’s cheek and his other hand drew up to trace meaningless patterns on her forearm. “Does this mean you say ‘yes’ to the date?”

“What if it makes working together awkward?” Y/n’s hand clutched onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Then we’ll be awkward together,” he answered easily. “I want this too much for a little awkwardness to get in the way. I want you too much, Y/n.”

“I wanna try this,” she decided after a moment. “I want you too. Tonight? At eight?”

Jason nodded quickly, afraid she would take it back. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

Y/n stared at him and she couldn’t seem to place the expression on his face. It had a softness that looked suspiciously like love. His cheeks held a pink tint and his eyes gazed down at her and Jason knew he would spend the rest of his life holding her if he could. After a moment, Y/n realised, heart jumping, that Jason looked like he was in love. “We should probably get back to work before they realise we’re missing,” Y/n said slowly.

Jason nodded and moved towards the door, not before taking Y/n in his arms and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Should we tell the rest of the team? he asked quietly. 

“Probably not,” Y/n said. “They would get way too involved.”

“Should we tell them we’re spying on them?” Tim asked from inside Wayne’s office where the rest of the six-six was still crowded around the computer which displayed Y/n and Jason.

A chorus of ‘no’s and shushing erupted from everyone else and Steph squealed, “oh! They’re finally together! I’m over the moon! They’re adorable!”

“Brown, will your fangirling get in the way of your work?” Wayne asked, smiling slightly.

“Yes, definitely!” 

Wayne sighed. “Understandable.”

“Well, what are you looking for?” Jason asked. “Symbolism and overall themes or simply personal enjoyment?”

“Both,” Y/n took a lick of her ice cream, legs swinging happily under the park bench.

“The Great Gatsby for symbolism and overall themes,” he answered after a minute of thinking. “And then my favourite book is Pride and Prejudice.” 

“Yeah, I definitely knew that one,” Y/n nodded. “You’ve read it a thousand times in the precinct.” She shook her head, “I’ve tried to get through that book, man, but I don’t get the hype over it. Granted, I’ve never been able to get through the first five chapters.”

Jason began ranting about Pride and Prejudice before shaking his head in defeat and asking, “what’s your favourite book? Please don’t let it be Goddess Girls or Geronimo Stilton or some other children's series.”

“No, although those were great series.” She pointed her spoon at Jason accusingly. “As I’ve grown up and matured, it’s either The Fault in Our Stars, Memoirs of a Geisha, All Quiet on the Western Front, or Ella Minnow Pea.”

Jason stared at her and finally said, “those are all very different books. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve even read four books.”

Y/n punched him in the arm. “How dare you! I’m very well-read! You should see the length of my Ao3 history!” 

Jason laughed loudly and cradled his ‘hurt’ arm. “I’m sorry I underestimated you, Y/n.”

“You better be!” Y/n crossed her arms before finishing off her ice cream. “Now I’m not gonna have sex with you until our fifth date.”

Jason let out a dramatic groan. “I don’t know if I can wait that long, sweetheart.” 

“Keep calling me ‘sweetheart’ and you may not have to.”

“How was the daaaaaate?” Steph used her wheely chair to roll up to Y/n’s desk, grinning cheekily. She waved a finger in Jason and Y/n’s direction. “What is this, huh? Casual? Serious? I need to know how to make fun of you. Also, please get married in a barn ‘cause I have a lot of jokes that are centred around that.” 

“How’d you know about the date?” Jason asked.

“You guys are officially dating?” Dick was walking by when he paused and placed a firm hand on Jason’s chair.

Y/n looked at Jason helplessly. “...yes?” she said quietly. “Maybe?”

Dick and Steph exchanged a look. “This isn’t good,” Dick said.

“We said we weren't gonna tell anyone,” Y/n explained. “It's very new, and we're still figuring it out, you know?”

“Enough.” Dick stated. “Look, I love love, but I also love maintaining a professional work environment. As your commanding officer, I’m kinda disappointed in both of you.” He bent down and added in a stage-whisper, “but as you loving friend who sees himself as a father-or-brother figure to both of you, I adore you two dating and hope that it works out. Kori and I have a big binder left over from our wedding full of ideas and samples we’d be happy to lend you. Please lemme give a toast at the wedding.”

”I already have mine written,” Steph admitted excitedly.

Y/n’s head fell into her hands and Jason cursed Dick under his breath. Dick had to admit, Jason’s curses were getting more creative.

Bonus Scene: 

“You guys have a group chat dedicated to us?!” Y/n cried out. 

“Why wouldn’t we?” Dick chuckled. “It’s where we share blackmail, cute updates, and random stuff related to you guys.”

Y/n snatched Damian’s phone away, the closest person to her and much to his protest. “I can’t believe-” She scrolled through the messages before realising, “wait, I’m sorry, what are our contact names, Dami?”

“It’s simple.” Damian explained, “Richard is Moby Dick. Todd is Bamboozled from when he was drunk and said it out of context.  Drake is obviously CCA which stands for Computer/Coffee Addict. Y/n is Da Best Homie because she set up her own contact and I haven’t gotten around to changing it. Stephanie is Titus because she reminds me of my valiant and excitable dog. Cain is Cassandra Cain and Wayne is Captain Bruce Wayne. I also have Clark’s number and he’s listed as Mr. Clark Kent.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or unsurprised,” Dick mumbled.

“At least you’re a classic novel,” Steph crossed her arms. “I’m named after a dog.”

“Steph, you’re literally the epitome of a joyful dog.” 

“Aw, thanks!”

“You have Clark’s number?” Y/n murmured to Damian, “can I have it?” 

“No.”

Not my fav way to do it and I would probably rewrite it, but it's already on ao3 so... *shrug*

[mxtantrights]

famous dc!au (dick's version)

TRACK ONE - HEAD OVER HEELS

You weren’t expecting to get a call back. In all honesty you were expecting to hear nothing from the casting crew. This was your last ditch effort before you gave up and looked for another job, a more practical job as people would say. 

Being in the industry was hard if your parents weren't already in it or if you didn't have enough money. You've barely been getting by with doing advertising. And while you still weren't sure what specific field you wanted to go into, you thought that music videos could be cool.

So that's why you sent in a thumb drive of photos of you. Which wasn't the weirdest thing you've had to do to pay rent but it was still a bit iffy.

It had been a week or so. And in that time usually the rejection is already setting in so really there was no need to hear the word ‘no’ or read it in an email. You got the gist. You weren’t chosen. 

Just when you’re about to click on an application for a desk receptionist job in an office space downtown, you hear the ping from your phone. Thinking it’s just another senseless ad you open your phone. And to our surprise its not an ad. Or a phishing link. 

You got it. You got the lead role in the music video. You let out a scream and then cover your mouth with your own hand. Then you scream again, it’s muffled this time. You put your phone down and jump to your feet. Jumping around is the most cardio you’ve gotten this week.

You reach for your phone again and read the email again.

“We’re please to offer you the role of the love interest in an upcoming music video. Of course because of the artist’s large stature we’ll need you to sign an NDA if you agree to come on. Please contact us at the number below if you have any concerns…” 

You scream again. 

This is it. You can feel it. In your bones, something is starting right now. And you’re at the center of it. This means you can't give up, you won't give up.

-

Dick didn’t want to come off as a creep. He’s already known as the heartthrob of Hollywood and that’s not doing him any favors. It’s not that he wants to be a heartbreaker. And nine times out of ten he isn’t. It’s just that he’s looking for something real. Not some fleeting PR relationship. 

Of course the casting of a love interest in a music video isn’t really something he needs to concern himself with. And for the past two albums he hasn’t. But he decided to take a chance this time—and Damian straight up told him to do it.

The youngest Wayne had enough of his endless chatter of failing at love and ending up old and lonely. First it was Barbra and then it was Kory, at some point it might have been Donna but that turned out to be more platonic. And then there was Zatana. Damian had had enough.

So he told Dick to look for someone that wasn’t in the music world. Someone who might not even be in the entertainment industry. Which was hard because who would want to enter the hectic Hollywood life for a possible relationship? And what if it didn’t work out?

Dick knew it was out of the question. Jason had been lucky to fall in love with his co-star who was up and coming and shared his love for acting. Dick hasn’t had that luck and he doubted he ever would.

But when he asked to see the finalists that would be playing his love interest, he was shooting one last shot into the universe. A call out into the ether for anyone to hear. And someone did. You did. 

He was sent a thumb-drive with five folders. All the four other applicants had professional shots. Like professional backdrops and themed pictures. The works. But you? You kept it simple, you kept it real.

There were only five snapshots of you in the folder but they managed to get Dick’s heart to race. A cafe photo, a fun beach shot. There were two of you out on the street amongst a flower shop. And lastly, the not that did it, a picture of you on a porch taken off guard. The way the sun hit you and the way you seemed so at ease, it made Dick take a moment.

And then he was texting his casting crew that you were the one. Those exact words. And they had agreed and said they would ask if you wanted the role. Dick was happy they did. He couldn’t wait to meet you in person though. 

Maybe you would be the one. He hadn’t written a song in six months besides the one he’s filming a video for. And that’s why he’s doing the video in the first place, to placate fans and business execs. At least long enough for him to write an album.

And you had a face to write a million songs about. You seemed like a genuine and kind person. At the least he'll be able to write a song or two and satisfy his label. At the very most? Maybe he'll fall in love with you, who knows.

[wakkoroni]

✨Damian Wayne Headcanons✨

Because it’s his birthday and as a gift I will give him some headcanons but I realized I have a lot so I’ll probably split into parts cause I don’t want it to be this long ass post. There will be 3 parts total soooooo

He self isolates when upset or just on accident sometimes. He can live his life and then remember that people exist and start socializing again. 9 times out of 10 he does this on accident/unaware

Damian uses anger as a defense mechanism. It’s his way to not get hurt. If he is mean/angry/violent enough then nothing can hurt him. Once he gains trust he will be nicer

He doesn’t talk about the league not because he wants to avoid the feelings and emotions and trauma about it. It’s just every time he talks or mentions it everyone grows silent and it always ends with Bruce calling Talia and arguing so loudly Damian can hear them from his room late at night

So he has a journal where he can write down the good memories he had of the league and his mom. He doesn’t want to forget the good times

Whenever it’s his birthday he’s always surprised he made it this far. He is convinced that each year will be his last because of his past that he doesn’t keep track of the days. All he knows is that one day he will die young, he doesn’t even consider the fact he’ll turn 18 or even 21. His family makes plans and tells him “when you turn 21 we can-“ and Damian just nods stays silent. He already died at 10 and got revived, who says he won’t die again?

Damian always keeps his bedroom door open or at the very least cracked (unless he’s hiding an animal) but like anyone can walk into his room cause he doesn’t really care. Also the league never really had privacy so Damian although he’s a private person, his space is open to anyone. Sometimes Tim or Dick will just stroll in just to co-exist with him

Damian is very task oriented so he needs something to do or else he will simply just exist and not do anything and be stuck in wait mode. When he first arrived he would follow Bruce around like a little ducking and Bruce was so confused until he told him to do something and Damian would leave and complete the task and come back. Bruce is like oh so he gives Damian little tasks to keep him occupied and the tasks grow more and more vague like “draw something” or “make something” and yeah Damian slowly regains autonomy

Damian is Robin but he doesn’t stay Robin? Like as he grows older he quits Robin and doesn’t make another identity because honestly he’s tired of fighting. He’s always following orders either his mothers or his fathers and he’s tired. When his father taught him how to make his own decisions he didn’t think that not being Robin would be one of them. When Damian comes to this realization he doesn’t know what to do cause he thinks that if he isn’t Robin then he’ll be disowned or something so he makes this whole plan to buy a place under a fake name in another state to flee when Bruce tells him to get out and has a go-bag ready. When he tells Bruce that he doesn’t want to be Robin, all Bruce does is say okay and asks why in a very calm and understanding tone. This throws Damian for a loop and yeah. They talk it out, no one gets kicked out, and it’s a happy ending

Next

[project1939]

Day 46- Film: High Noon 

Release date: July 24th, 1952. 

Studio: United Artists 

Genre: Western 

Director: Fred Zinnemann 

Producer: Stanley Kramer 

Actors: Gary Cooper, Thomas Mitchell, Llyod Bridges, Katy Jurado, Grace Kelly 

Plot Summary: Will Kane, the Marshal of Hadleyville, is retiring to marry his Quaker sweetheart. She wants nothing to do with guns, and they plan to leave town and live a quiet life. Just as they are leaving, a message arrives that a psychopathic criminal Will tried to have sentenced to death is on the noon train, and three of his goons will be there to meet him. Will goes all over town trying to deputize people to help him stand them off. Everywhere he goes, people are scared or selfish or have some reason why they won’t help. As the clock ticks closer and closer to noon, Kane becomes desperate to find anyone who will stand up and fight with him. 

My Rating (out of five stars): *****

(Spoilers!) Like Singin’ in the Rain, I have an especially vivid history with this film as a film student. I took a class in Westerns in college, because the class I wanted to take was full. I thought I hated Westerns, but the professor I had was so good, it ended up being one of my favorite classes. The first time I saw High Noon, I remember the goosebumps I had watching it, knowing that the guy who wrote the film was a blacklisted writer during the McCarthy witch hunts. Clearly the story is not just about a small-town Marshal. Kane finds that everyone, his friends, his hero and mentor, the church, the government, his co-workers and insubordinates... not one will stand up. Everyone can find a reason to argue or run. And look at what happened during the Blacklist years in Hollywood! Almost no one actually stood up to McCarthy’s committees. Everyone was terrified of losing their reputations and careers. 

The Good: 

I love films that take place in a short period of time, and this film takes place in the span of its running time- about 85 minutes. Most of it is the hour or so Will has to find deputies before the train gets in at noon. Having the constant reminders of time ticking by, as it is happening, adds so much to the suspense and immersion you feel watching it. 

It’s a short, sparse, slickly edited masterpiece! It doesn't have an ounce of “fat” on it. Nothing is filler. 

It’s almost an anti-Western. It doesn’t have any action until the end really. A lot of conservatives hated it, John Wayne included, because they thought Kane was weak for desperately running around to find help. They didn’t like that Kane looked and acted scared sometimes. They didn’t like that his wife helped save him. That’s why I love it! Kane is not some cardboard Western stud. Most people aren’t! And Kane is definitely not a weak character. It’s the ridiculous John Wayne types that think he is. Don’t listen to them. 

My favorite Westerns are psychological allegorical ones, and you cannot get any better than this. 

I like that this is not sentimentalized or idealized. It’s cynical and gritty and about the pain of reality. It’s an adult Western. 

I love the character of Helen Ramirez. She was smart and strong and beautiful, and when she told Lloyd Bridges to get his hands off of her, I wanted to shout with joy. 

There are no stereotypes of Native Americans in this at all. I don’t know if I can even think of another Western from the Classic period in Hollywood where that was true- even the ones that had good intentions! 

This is the kind of role that Gary Cooper was made for- and he did win an Oscar for it. He is so good at playing plain-spoken “men of few words." He’s really effective at letting you know what he’s feeling without saying it. 

The detail in the sweat on everybody’s faces! It’s one of those Westerns where you almost feel the heat and the dust like the characters do. 

The final shot when Kane throws his badge on the ground still feels like the most beautifully painful punch in the gut. I don't think there could be a more perfect way to end the film.

The Bad: 

Is there anything? I guess near the end I get a little sick of hearing “Do Not Forsake Me!” It’s a good song, but we hear it a lot. 

I don’t love Grace Kelly’s character. I don’t dislike her, but I wish she could have been a little stronger. I also wish they could have cast someone a little older. I like that she’s a Quaker, though. It adds another interesting layer to everything.

[jupitermelichios]

8, 9, and 10 if you want to! :)

8) a character you think did nothing wrong but fandom demonizes?

I know exactly enough about homestuck to know saying vriska here would be a funny joke, but not enough to actually know who she is or what she did or didn't do wrong, lmoa

Memes aside though, Scott McCall is innocent and I am prepared to defend him in court if necessary.

I do get why fandom didn't latch onto him the way they did other teen wolf characters, he's the platonic ideal of a highschool boyfriend and that's not the kind of character that usually appeals to people Doing A Fandom, but people hate him So Much, and I don't get it. He's just a little guy, he's a little birthday boy. Why are you hitting him when it's his birthday?

I especially don't get the 'Scott is a bad friend' take that's so common it has a canon AO3 tag. Him and Stiles have a pretty unhealthy co-dependant friendship, absolutely, but it's very much mutual, and Scott is just as ride or die for Stiles as Stiles is for him. They're just a couple of weird little guys who have had no one else to talk to but one another for years, and have ended up with a freaky psychosexual mess of a friendship, we've all been there.

(also 90% of all female characters from kids cartoons, but that's a wider issue than just fandom taking a dislike to a character. the fact that there are people who think mable pines committed any crime worse than 'having the emotional maturity of a 12 year old while being literally 12 years old' is baffling and terrifying in equal measure)

9) a character that did a lot of things wrong in canon that you think fandom woobifies?

Loki, obviously. I've done my time in the MCU fic trenches, and oh boy some of the Loki takes I've seen...

Stiles Stilinski, the counterpart to the demonisation of Scott. They are basically the exact same level of problematic in a very believable teenage way in canon, but in fanon Scott becomes a monster and Stiles becomes a woobie.

Every single member of the Batfamily, but most of all, Alfred Pennyworth. He's a fun character and an excellent valet, and he loves Bruce and the kids, but my god was he a shit parent. How does anyone look at Bruce Wayne and conclude Alfred was a good parent? It baffles me. 'I raised master bruce'. you ruined a perfectly good orphan is what you did. look at it. it's got anxiety.

(There is one exception to this, and that is the Alfred from the Gotham TV show, who has done nothing wrong in his life ever, and does stuff like hug Bruce, and tell him that he loves him, and actually talk to him about his trauma. 100/10, best Alfred, don't @ me)

But the big one, the one that will result in me just blocking people so I don't have to see their takes on my dash, is John Constantine. And this isn't fully fandom's fault, recent DC TV and animated movies absolutely also do this, but the result is just this horrible oroborous of bad takes as TV writers who think they're too smart for comics inform the opinions of fans who don't want to engage with moral ambiguity, and then the writers respond to what those fans enjoy by making him even more toothless, and around and around it goes until you get this character who is utterly unrecognisable as John, and cruicially, feels fictional, which is the absolute worst thing a version of John can be. If the fact that multiple Hellblazer writers have reported meeting him irl doesn't feel at least a little bit plausible, that's not John.

(and if this is your first time hearing about that, yes multiple otherwise apparently sane writers of a vertigo comic book have claimed to have met the character they created in real life, and the fandom just accepts that as a canon part of his mythos. comics are wild.)

10) what is your favorite “problematic” fandom?

I guess it depends how you define problematic.

I made the decision not to engage with it anymore when jkr lost her mind, and also because I just lost interest and moved on to other fandoms as I got older, but I'm not going to pretend I didn't have a lot of fun in the harry potter fandom when I was a teenager. It was my first real fandom, and I'll always have some nostalgia for it for being my gateway drug into this community, despite everything.

The Fannibals are some of the most talented and creative people in fandom, the art and fic for Hannibal is absolutely incredible, definitely the highest average standard of fic I've encountered in a fandom. Plus it's nice to have a fandom where you know people are capable of engaging critically with dark content. I won't say there are no antis in the fandom, they seem to turn up everywhere these days, but they're easily drowned out by the people who actually remember stuff like SLS and YKINMKATO

I have a weird soft spot for Twilight, something about it just hits the so bad it's good groove in my brain just right, and the recent twilight renaisance has been very fun to watch, but I haven't really engaged with the fandom all that much beyond reblogging some memes (and writing an 8,000 word not!fic about how much better twilight would be if bella swan was polyamorous that one time)

And despite the whole ackles tapes conspiracy theory, and the prevelance of tinhatting, and the dumb shipwars, I'll always have a special place in my heart for the supernatural fandom. it's a fucked up place to live, but I had a lot of fun there, and i still visit on occaision.

[johnconstantinejld]

Gotham Tales-Harley

Ting-a-ling-a-ling. Up I pop.

Mistah J is dying now, and I’m seeing him for what he was. A no-good, rotten, back-stabbing angel.

‘Is that why he always told the authorities on you when you escaped so he could get good reports from the Asylum guards?’

Diana’s just jealous cos she doesn’t have a puddin’ like I do.

Did.

He was just a clown when I met him. And after years listening to other peoples problems, he listened to mine. And in return, he told me things, secret things. He had never told them to anyone.

And he had a million of them. An abusive father one night, a runaway mother the next. Was his Dad a drunk, or was there only one time he only ever saw him happy? At a circus when he was seven? Ice show. He told me it was an ice show. And I gave him a joke to kill Bats.

In return, he kicked me out of a window and fractured my spine in three places, broke an arm and a leg.

But I wasn’t going to let that affect me. I could change him for the better. Only I knew what his real face, what he was really thinking. And every night, when we put painted on our smiles, we just laughed at each other. He wasn’t laughing at me. He never did that. Laughing at how easy he had turned me, corrupted me?

One night, he decided to raid the chemical plant. Mistah J always had something going on. Everyone was going to look as happy as he did. Happy as a clown.

‘Don’t bring the babies, Harl. They’ll be in the way.’

I now know why Red was telling me he was doing something big. There had been robberies at quarries and explosive places all near Gotham. He gives me a gun and tells me to watch out for the Bats.

Ting-a-ling-a-ling.

It’s stopped being funny. Walking through the narrow catwalks above bubbling tanks where anything could be in the shadows. I didn’t even see the Bats. He took out the lights and then I was outside, handcuffed and being put in the car.

When I got out, I immediately went to find him, and my clown was dying. He was always smiling now, but chemicals aren’t best for him. He was dying. Chemicals don’t do good for the kidneys. He was burning to death from the inside, and he was jacking off to someone.

I wasn’t the only Harley in his life.

He spat blood and looked at our jaded room. But I still thought there was a place for me.

Batman said it was a joke. He laughed at the joke I had become. From up-and-coming doctor to good-for-nothing sidekick. He laughed. It’s a sound you should never hear. He doesn’t trust me, and rightfully so. Maybe cos I tried to blow up the Comish. Not Bruce Wayne, though. I wouldn’t hurt him. Nice guy. And unattached.

Ting-a-ling-a-ling!

I tried to run my own thing. Me and Red, taking back Gotham and making it big. But she started giving me lectures, about how little we were getting. She wanted bigger projects with lots of science-y words. She wanted to return Gotham to a forest and it meant taking away my babies. Said they were in the wrong climate. I fell out again, went off grid, came out sometimes to talk to Batgirl and the others if they came round. Katana and the others. We’d take back this dump. Black Mask don’t know what’s coming. Things became bigger than Gotham. Batgirl told me about life outside. I got to spend days not wearing the bells and cap. Ting-a-ling-a-ling.

I took off the costume, dressed normally. It felt good. I didn’t have to listen to a lecture, be scared of a wallop when I came home. Now they’re talking about a League. Got talking something about a satellite. No, space station.

Fighting crimes feels good. If only I could get Bats to trust me.

[kettlefire]

First chapter draft created from this post!

Anyone who knows Bruce Wayne knew everything about his life revolved around Batman. Revolved around his crime-fighting family, and the burning passion to make Gotham safe. Make Gotham the home he once thought it was. A safe place for the coming generations of Gotham-raised citizens. A place where kids didn't have to worry about whether their family was making it home that night, where a Joker or Scarecrow could be found on every street corner.

It was taking time, and over the years, it has been getting better. His family has grown, and advance, and Bruce was left with a mostly empty nest in it's place. The few that still resided in the manor didn't need him, not like they used to.

The man would tell those around him that this venture out into the word was for the name of Wayne. Not for his nighttime activities. He would be lying.

Yes, Bruce Wayne was invited to this small town for a business indenture. Something he's been invited to plenty of times, something he's turned down just as often. Then news started cycling around the man who ran it.

Vladimir Masters.

He was mysterious in the world of business. Having suddenly come along a large fortune after a close brush with death. Since then, he'd monetary value only taken a rise. His competitors dropping like flies while he's numbers began to sky-rocket. Any sensible business-man kept a distance from the man, Vlad was deemed to bring bad luck to any business he worked with.

Bruce wasn't sensible, as Alfred has mentioned plenty of times.

So yes, the man reached out to Vlad. Apologized for the ghosting, and accepting the invitation this year. Chalked his absence up to much more internal things. The articles posted of in the past years all but supported his excuse. A child of his had just graduated, off to college in Metro city. Or as the public believes. Bruce Wayne was simply trying to find time for friends and activities since his number of children at home has decreased.

In truth, he wanted to know more about Vlad. Since hearing news about the Dalv co. expanding to Gotham, he found it best to check in on yet another corrupt business-man. Especially one stepping into his territory.

He hadn't expected to find out more about the rumors circling Amity Park, Illinois.

The town was infamous for it's attraction to all things supernatural. Ghosts are said to roam the town as often as it's citizens. If not more. Stories that many didn't believe, until they touched foot in the town. Within the few hours it took him to get situated in his hotel room, he had already seen three glowing creatures. Two had been in passing, floating the sky. Animals. Birds, to be specific.

The third was a man, dressed ready for a business meeting. He was laughing in a way that rivaled the Joker's own laugh, writing like maniac into a little notebook. Let's just say, it took a lot for Bruce to turn the corner and ignore it. No one else was flustered by the strange creatures, so he settled that it wasn't a dangerous thing.

Thus began his long day of shaking hands and rubbing shoulders.

Smiling, and laughing along with the other's that were invited. Playing nice. If Alfred had seen him, he'd be impressed considering the many events he hosted and failed to do his best at.

It was overall taxing and exhausting. He didn't find a single good thing among it all, no hint, or tip in where to look. It left him on edge in his motel room later that night, pacing and reading up on the various articles he found. Nothing was helpful. Vlad was almost as invisible as the ghosts that ran this town. He settled on going out, dressed in black, and eyes peeled for anything.

Bringing Batman to Amity would have been risky, if there weren't various different people from Gotham there. If the mayor of the town wasn't hosting so many different people from so many different places.

If the people of the town weren't the type to roll with whatever was thrown at them.

Bruce ran into one person on his new patrol. That person had fangirled about how amazing he was, begged for a photo, and rushed off squeal about what she could tell her friends.

The night was still. Nothing bumped, or screeched into the night. It was a drastic change from Gotham. Even after the oddities this small town carried, it was nowhere near as hectic as Gotham. Assuming the stories of the town disappearing from the dimension was a little exaggerated. Or the story of a plant trying to take over. Or the time the town was sent into eternal sleep.

The stories went on.

Bruce wondered why the league never thought to explore this place. Never gave it much thought. Only to remember he never had either. If it wasn't for Masters, he wouldn't be here. He never knew the extent of things until this moment.

His concern for those in the town rose when he learned about Phantom. A simple ghost who dedicated it's afterlife to keeping the townsfolk safe. A teenager. A child. Someone half the town hated, the other half idolized him. A child had died, and in the aftermath of it's death he protected the town he haunted. Even if the ghost hunters of the town fought hard to catch him.

This town had a macabre feel over every part of it. Everywhere Bruce turned a heaviness seemed to sit, a twisted heavy sense that so much more happened behind the eyes of the public. Something twisted, damaging for those who didn't know much about it. Even in a town that seemed to crawl, everything felt fast. Even as citizens lazily walked the sidewalks, a strange sense of urgency and speed coated everything along side the tension.

That feeling stopped the moment he saw him.

Bruce was coated in the shadows of the trees, only just reaching the park when he caught sight of the teenager. It wasn't the way the teen played carelessly with the dog. It wasn't the glowing green dog that yapped and ran around the teen. It wasn't the way the kid occasionally laughed when the dog got too hyper and ended up floating high enough to be eye-level.

It was the way he saw almost all his kids in those blue eyes.

They way it reminded him of the time he brought a younger boy into his manor, a boy who experienced depression at a young age after the death of his parents. Or the kid who would look to the world with longing, one who wished to still believe the magic of his name. His daughter who was brilliant and filled with strength, but held the weight of the world on her shoulders to protect those around her. His tired son who always worked hard to earn his approval that he already held. The son who would stare out into the world thinking about his parents that had yet to heal. The one that seems lost with the world around him because of the way he was raised.

He was a child that needed saving.

It wasn't the black hair and blue eyes-even if Dick would laugh at the cliché of it-or the glowing dog and almost aloof feeling the teen had about him. Even with the knowledge of his children teasing him about it, or Alfred's comments on finding another one he would be bound to receive if his family were to catch wind of it all. None of it seemed helpful in his investigation of the twisted mayor, even if a human friendly with a ghostly dog was something interesting. None of it motivated his next moves.

He settled for heavier footsteps, attempting not to alarm the teen, as he took calculated steps closer. The slight shift in the teen was evident, but nothing too drastic. Eyes staying focus on the puppy, hand waving through the air as the little being chased after it.

Bruce kept walking until he was standing over the two. The puppy froze in it's place, red eyes staring into Bruce's. A soft growl leaving the small creature.

"Easy Cujo." The teen eased, running a hand along the dog-Cujo's-shoulders. "He's okay." Even Bruce caught the edge of the words, a catch breath in concern of his words weren't true.

"Hello." Bruce spoke plainly, his modulator filtered his voice. The teen turned his head, catching Bruce's gaze. He offered a hesitant smile as he managed to easy the tension in the puppy.

"Sorry about Cujo, he's pretty protective." The teen answered, turning back to look fondly at the yapping Cujo. "It's not often you run into someone late at night that isn't look to cause trouble."

"I'm -"

"Batman, I know." The teen turned back, a small smirk on his lips. "Hard not to know the dark knight of Gotham. My friend's a huge fan… I'm Danny, by the way." The teen tagged his name on to it in the last second. Bruce nodded, idle taking a seat next to the teen.

To others it may seem funny that Batman had chosen to spend his night with a relatively awkward teen. Sat there as the teen rambled about nothing and everything at the same time. Gave short answers, appreciating the advice given to him. The ghostly beings to keep away from if they were to rear their ugly heads. The note that if he wanted to find anti-ghost protection to go to Fenton-works.

Bruce didn't just sit there and listen. He actually observed the words, watched the way Danny's body or tone would shift ever-so-slightly as they spoke. His eyes shifting when he brooch a topic he seemed to know so much about. Bruce worried about how much the supernatural side of this town has affected the teen. In that moment, it wasn't Batman talking to a lonely teen in a park.

It was Bruce Wayne chatting it up in a dark empty park.

It was just Bruce. All of him sat in that suit as he spent time with the kid. Unable to hide the smiles, or laughs that left him at the animated way the teen told the story. Or the way Danny apologized when he mentioned loving the Flash over Batman. It was okay. It was easy. It was comfortable.

In a way Bruce hadn't felt in years. Hadn't felt in who knows how long. He was a man checking in on a lonely teen. Someone who could easily be left to more devious intentions.

It was different in a good way. He wasn't picking up a kid who lost his parents, or needed a helping hand to keep from the criminal life they could have. He was simply being there for a young boy who has a family. Has a support system, but was still fraying at the edges. A kid who would backtrack if he felt like he was taking up too much space.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Bruce finally asked after what felt like hours had past. A feeling that any moment now the night sky would exploded with light color, the sun slowly rising to say good morning to the inhabitants of Amity Park.

"I should, shouldn't I be." It wasn't a question, a soft look filled the kid's face. "I got… restless." Danny replied, softly petting the snoring dog. Cujo was a sweetheart, despite the name. The small explanation the teen gave flickered in Bruce's mind. The puppy came with the name, and Cujo had decided that Danny was his new human.

"Won't your parents be worried?" The shift was obvious, although subtle. A slight tension bled into his muscles, and a strange look crossed bright eyes.

"Your right." Danny nodded, pulling himself to a stand. Cujo cradle in his arms. "I should probably face the consequences. Estas tempo iri hejmen, kamarado." The language slipped from the teen fluently. Bruce watched with curiosity as the puppy yawned, suddenly floating at eye level with the small boy. Cujo yapped happily, rubbing his cheek against Danny's before vanishing.

"This was nice." Danny absent-mindedly mentioned. Bruce watched with a heavy feeling as the teen left, hands buried in his hoodie's pockets. It was strange, and although Bruce had an urge to make sure he made it home safe, he settled with waiting until he was out of view before heading to his own bed.

By the time he settled into his room, the sky was beginning to dust with color. He had a couple hours before he was bound to have to be awake. Putting on the Wayne face as he worked through yet another meeting. Yet another dull situation about it all. He could make this visit just a little more bearable with this new teenage boy and his ghostly dog.

If Bruce found himself at that park the next night, well that was a coincident.

[incorrectbatfam]

Stepmom!Selina?

She sees what she's getting into from a mile away, but she welcomes it because Bruce's kids are a part of him, and she loves all of Bruce.

The kids all see it coming too, and while some (Damian) take longer to warm up to her, she's welcomed into the fold with open arms.

Selina's got a heart as big as her partner and while she's not always perfect, you can see how much she cares.

As a former foster child herself, Selina understands Duke's unique experiences and traumas from the foster care system, so whenever he needs to talk, she's the first one he goes to. Sometimes he doesn't want to (or need to) talk, so they'll watch boxing matches or she'll teach him little bits of Mandarin. If the kitchen isn't busy, they'll try their hand at new TikTok recipes, and film themselves either succeeding or debunking the original poster.

Being raised in isolation to be a human weapon meant Cass missed out on a lot of the things daughters typically learn as children/teens. The evening of Cass's first gala, she didn't know the first thing about doing her own hair and makeup. She's braved assassin armies, but her self-made disaster of bobby pins and eyeshadow nearly drives her to tears. Selina swoops in, wipes Cass's face with gentle reassurances, and walks her through step-by-step.

Selina considers it a privilege to have watched Dick grow from the spunky little Robin to the man he is today. Even though he's taller than her, she still ruffled his hair when he does a good job. She also keeps the first ever birthday card he gave her, which includes a pop-up bat signal and scented stickers, and remembers all of his favorite radio stations. Also, when Bruce does something, Dick goes tattling to Selina.

For a while, Carrie mooched off of her siblings' Netflix profiles, but everyone got tired of her messing up their algorithm and she was forced to make her own. She soon realized how much freedom she had because no one could see what she was watching. Selina caught on to the power trip and started researching and watching snippets whenever a new show comes out. That's how she stopped a bunch of preteen girls from watching Squid Game.

Tim often gets overlooked as not just the middle child, but the child who appears put-together and regularly takes on adult responsibilities. Selina, however, remembers that he's still a teenager. She regularly checks in and gradually teaches him that it's okay to let go and act his age. Selina encourages him to call his Young Justice friends outside of missions and take small acts of rebellion against Bruce. When Tim and his boyfriend snuck out to a famous lover's lookout, Selina gave them the car keys and covered for them.

She noticed that Jason really enjoys hanging out with Harley Quinn, bonding over not just Joker trauma but other shared interests like music taste. After Harley turns to the antihero side, Selina discusses with Bruce and they start inviting Aunt Harley and Aunt Ivy to dinner. The first time they do that, Harley is so excited that she baked a three-layer cake just for Jason. Literally, in strawberry frosting, it said, "THIS CAKE IS FOR JASON ONLY." Finding someone that Jason can relate to remains one of Selina's proudest accomplishments.

She's trying her best, but she makes mistakes too. For instance, although Wayne Manor has plenty of kitchen space, Selina does her cooking at Harley and Ivy's because Ivy can offer her fresh plant-based ingredients that suited Damian's needs. When Alfred's not available, she sends Damian to school with healthy, flavorful vegan lunches shaped into Cheese Viking characters. One time, she was tasked with bringing brownies to a PTA meeting. Incidentally, Harley was simultaneously baking a... different kind of brownie for a block party (you can see where this is heading). When an angry superintendent demanded to know who was responsible, Selina wisely kept her mouth shut and thankfully, so did Damian.

Cullen loves concerts, but he's a huge introvert who gets anxiety when he's left alone in a crowd. Selina becomes his concert buddy, and she'll go as all-out as he does. Sometimes that's showing up to a garage band dressed-down in hoodies and sunglasses. Other times it's painting their faces and looking like they just came out of a Hot Topic blowout sale. She even listens to the discography beforehand so she can blend in. Selina learns a lot about Cullen through this, because nothing says more about a person than the music they listen to.

Harper, though looking rough around the edges, turns into a giddy little kid at interactive science museums. During one of these trips, Harper got distracted by the giant Newton's Cradle so she didn't notice a fourth grade field trip sweeping up Selina. When they reunited at the gift shop, a chaperone had given Selina a school t-shirt and she was put in charge of grading ten kids' assignments. Harper laughed so hard that she spewed lemonade on the museum owner. Neither of them will let the other live that day down.

Selina and Barbara openly talk about guy stuff, and Selina is more than happy to offer advice in times of need. They're both pretty liberal talking about that stuff, and one time they did a tier ranking of all the Gotham Rogues based on how effective their gimmick is (Joker was the only S-tier). They then proceeded to get into a debate on whether or not Man-Bat and Killer Croc should qualify for the list, which led to them staring each other down at dinner while the other family members sat around them confused.

Steph's school offered a Mother's Day breakfast. Although Crystal Brown was doing her best and wanted to make it, she was scheduled a double-shift that the breakfast fell right in the middle of. Selina reached out to Crystal and with permission, went in her place. Afraid that Steph would publicly reject her, Selina sat in the parking lot for ten minutes as Bruce amped her up over the phone. Steph, thinking that no one would no up, was ecstatic and said that she couldn't have thought of anyone better. They enjoyed stacking up waffles and making the girls who bully Steph envious.

Long before she and Bruce got married, Selina made it clear that she would not be relegated to the gender-typical role of a homemaker, and Bruce happily concurred because it's 2021. They knew that to give Alfred a break, they'd have to take on some chores themselves. Instead of dividing up a boring old chore chart, they find ways to make cleaning fun and collaborative. They'll dance around the halls in mop slippers, play "guess the stain", and race their roombas. The kids see this and start modeling the behavior in their own ways—Dick swings from high places to dust them, Damian trains his pets to pick up garbage, and Cass and Duke compete to see who can clean the most bathtubs.

Some parts of the Manor are due for redecorating, so Selina and Alfred make a day trip out of interior design sketches, flipping through furniture catalogues, and looking at paint swatches. It sounds boring at first, but the menial tasks meant they had plenty of time for conversation, and she finally understood why everyone respects him. They also made room in the afternoon for a stroll through the park and afternoon tea, where he told her and her only the secret to a perfect scone.

The other Justice League partners welcome her into the group too. Whenever Selina's in Metropolis, she joins Lois and Ma and Pa for Sunday brunch where they share what their kids have been up to. Iris shows her life hacks to cooking large batches of food in a short time. Selina and Dinah discover an online store dedicated to selling vigilante gear and go on a Cyber Monday spree for their whole families. Steve Trevor, Diana's partner, teaches Selina how to fly with the invisible jet so she can surprise Bruce with the batplane.

After overcoming their initial conflicts, Selina and Talia hold a high amount of respect for each other. Talia sees Selina as not just a capable combatant, but a worthy partner to her former beloved and stepmother to her son. Selina, after spending all that time with the kids, understands the motherly love that Talia holds for Damian and makes it abundantly clear that she would never try to replace Talia in the boy's life. Regardless, looking after all those kids is hard, so they are very much open to the idea of co-parenting.

(Selina doesn't know it, but all this makes Bruce fall in love with her all over again.)

[artxyra]

Damian Acting Like A Teenager? Impossible.

When Damian entered the halls of Gotham Academy, the first thing he notices was the change in the dark atmosphere. It felt oddly kinder and more lighthearted. Everywhere he turns, there are whispers focus around the new girl. At first, he didn’t care about the gossip, well, that was until he met her.

It was an unusual encounter, something that he would look down on.

It was the passing period, and she was running down the halls in a hurry as he was walking to his next class, one that he didn’t particularly care for; they bump into each other, causing a standstill in the halls. Everyone wondered how the dark prince would react to their newly dubbed princess of sunshine. They expected a yelling match, which, of course, occurred, but what they didn’t expect was an eventual best of the worst of alliance ever made.

Several months passed since the two had met and several weeks since the blooming of Damian and Marinette’s friendship, and not a single student could say that there weren’t surprised.

The moment Marinette had broken down any (and all) walls that the boy had placed, she was able to make the stoic teen become his age. It started small with a joke here and there; then it progressed into card games followed by video games. To this day, Damian swears that he’ll beat her at a shooting game at one point, to which Marinette would respond with a laugh and an over-the-shoulder wink. The young Wayne swears that he has never blush a day in his life, but the photographic proof on Marinette’s phone says otherwise.

The school soon became accustomed to being Daminette’s playground. At first, the teachers were opposed to the idea, but after seeing how slightly more open Damian has become, they slowly agreed to the concept of allowing the duo to have less strict rules. That and they didn't want to be sued by the Wayne family.

Which now brings us to this moment: Marinette swings on a swing set while Damian practices his form with a katana; don’t ask how he managed to get it past security-- cause there is no answer.

“You know, maybe we should do something wild?” Marinette thinks aloud, looking up to the sky with a mischief smirk on her lips.

Damian doesn’t turn to her; he only sets the blade down to his side. “What mayhem do you have in mind?”

Marinette giggles uncontrollably.

Let’s assume that whatever Marinette had in mind would rule the yearbooks for years to come.

~☾★☽~

Since his partnership with Marinette, Damian has been hiding his characteristic change at home. Surprisingly, it was simple. A few death threats here and there, maybe sneaking out moments every so often. No one at the Wayne cared enough to pay any attention to it. It only then became a shock when Damian left for school along the lines of being late. Alfred had offered to take him to school to which Damian declined and got onto his “normal” motorcycle and speeds off.

“Does anyone else seem to think that Damian is acting strange?” Dick asks, pipping his head down from the ceiling. He’s on the chandelier again. Poor Alfred, maybe Dick should dust the chandelier for him as an apology.

Tim walks in with a large, filled to the brim, coffee mug in hand, “Which one?” He absently wonders, taking a long sip. The dark circles and bags around his eyes explain it all.

“I do concur with Master Richard; the young master has been acting somewhat strange for quite some time now.” Alfred appears out of nowhere, thus starting an array of concerns.

It wasn’t long before Jason came in shouting demands with the head of the household trailing behind him. Alfred reprimands Jason for the yelling as he hands Bruce a cup of coffee.

Not caring enough about the conversation and looking like a madman, Jason shouts, “Look, I can’t explain it, but we’re going to need Demon Spawn for something huge.”

“Uh, why would we need Baby Bird?” Dick asks, dropping onto the floor and twisting his body. “Not that I don’t mind getting Damian involved.”

“Look, there’s no time to explain,” Jason facepalms and begins to push everyone towards the door despite the lack of proper wear they have on.

After several protests and one change of clothes, the Wayne household now stands in front of the gates of Gotham Academy.

“Is it me, or does this place look less you know Gotham-y and full of life?” Tim ponders, narrowing his eyes, as he takes a long sip from a to-go coffee cup with Red Robin’s emblem.

“No, no, Timmy, I see it too.” Dick whispers as Jason struts past the gates and onto the school’s property like a man on a mission.

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Come on, let’s go get your brother so Jason can stop being Jason.”

Tim shrugs before passing the gates himself, with Dick following him.

Upon entering the school, they could immediately see that it was either a passing period or free time from the number of students in the halls. Some student dared to pull out their phones while other whispers amongst themselves.

Bruce makes his way to the attendance office, where the attendance assistant, Joyce, resides sitting at the desk.

“Hello Joyce, I’m here to pick up Damian. He has a, uh, dentist appointment this evening.” Bruce speaks, hoping that she wouldn’t catch the lie.

“Well Mr. Wayne, Damian is, uh…” After lingering in her thoughts, Joyce turns to someone besides her. “Do you know where Damian Wayne would be at today?”

“Try the art room.” A feminine voice answers, followed by a series of typing noises.

Joyce turns back to the Wayne family and smiles, “He should be in the art room; it’s down the hall to your right, you should not miss it, as it’s in the only hallway that has a series of artwork posted on the walls. Before you go, please sign here."

Joyce hands Bruce a sign-out sheet, to which the man signs and ushers his wards to search for his youngest.

“They’re so screwed.” The same feminine voice speaks, causing Joyce to break out laughing.

It took a total of four different locations for the men to find the youngest Wayne.

First, they went to the art room like Joyce’s co-worker told them to do.

When they got there, Damian wasn't there, but the teacher did show Bruce a couple of Damian's artworks. Bruce couldn't help but feel proud.

While looking around the room, one of the art students told them they last saw Damian playing Pokémon Go near the gym; he was trying to catch a legendary Pokémon that spawned there.

So, of course, after an awkward eye contact with one another, they walk to the gym. Once again, Damian wasn’t there but a different student in his stead. He tells them that Damian was making ice sculptures out of ice cream at the cafeteria. The student then goes on to explain that Damian had some wicked skills with a knife.

Jason, with wide eyes, practically shouted at the student that he was crazy and that Damian would never, and he means NEVER would do something that stupid. The student shrugs it off like it was an everyday occurrence. It was Dick that had to hold Jason back from thrashing the teen. Bruce then apologizes to the instructor for their disturbance, as Tim walks casually behind Dick carrying Jason.

By the time they got to the cafeteria, it was damn near empty aside from a few students still eating. There were no signs of ice cream or the tools that would go into making an ice sculpture. Tim had to ask a few students to see if Damian was in here at some point in time. One of the workers overheard the question and answered him. Evidently, Damian was there earlier making sculptures out of ice cream before handing it out to students.

When they asked the question that has been slowly driving the four insane, the worker replies with: “Upstairs racing on these old colorful scooter board down the halls."

After three locations and no Damian, Tim wanted nothing more but to have a mental breakdown, and he would have if it wasn’t for Bruce holding him up and taking his coffee away.

So, they quickly found themselves on the second level of the school. There was no sight of Damian Wayne, though there were wheel tracks smudged into the flooring.

“Are you kidding me?” Jason shouts out into the ceiling. Thankfully, there were no students in the halls to hear it. Well, that might have been the case if it wasn’t for a teacher to open their door and shh the male. It took every bone in Jason's body not to show the teacher his middle finger.

After a beat of silence and walking down the hall, they overhear a familiar voice.

“Angel, you are desperately in the wrong here. The bear only wears one color, so it has to the color red.” Jason stops dead in his tracks and turns to railings.

The voice was too good to be true.

Looking over the staircase, they find an alcove, and sitting in it is none other than Damian Wayne himself, but he’s not alone.

“I’m telling you, Wayne. Pooh’s favorite color is yellow.” The female answers before taping her fingers as she makes her points, “He loves honey, which is by default a yellow color. He's never seen with a yellow background, and if yellow didn't clash with his fur, he would definitely be wearing it.”

“I disagree. Winnie the Pooh has been drawn on numerous of occasions with red items, not yellow. Case in point, the red balloon, his shirt." He counters. The conversation continues with banters and statements; whether it was true or false is up to debate.

This was not happening.

Tim.exe has stopped working.

Jason.exe has stopped working.

Jaws dropped, a low groaning sound.

They cannot be witnessing this. The most deadliest of the Wayne’s is currently arguing about Winnie, the motherfucking, Pooh’s favorite color.

Bruce has no words. He's practically in the same stance as his middle children. Dick, on the other hand, pulls out his phone and begins to record what remains of the conversation.

No one dares to move or utter out words. This version of Damian is the apocalypse. Nothing in the world is okay.

Slowly, the four Waynes exit the school; no one saw them leave.

Legend has it that Damian never went home that day despite being excused from his classes. When he had returned home, his family didn't utter a word to him. He was meet with either a profusely blinking, unwanted hug or laughter, as they were still in shock at what they just encountered. It wasn’t until a couple of months later that all hell breaks loose. Damian had introduced the family to Marinette.

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A retouch version of Request #2