Reverse trope
where instead of the Bats forgetting that they’re adopted (something actual adoptees do on occasion and is hilarious) they forget that some of them *cough Damian cough* aren’t
_______
Jason in the heat of a probably ridiculous argument: Yeah well YOU’RE adopted!
Tim just as invested in said argument: So are YOU! We all are!
Damian who had previously been quietly watching this unfold while he drank his tea: Actually I’m not
Tim and Jason who didn’t realize he was there but are already DoneTM: ……
Damian continuing to sip his tea entirely unbothered: :)
Damian: Because I’m not an orphan-
Jason: ok, yoU KNOW WHAT-
____
or like in their group texts (that we know they have thanks to Nightwing (2016) #79)
*Steph changed the group chat name to “Bruce Wayne’s Personal Orpanage”*
Jason: Really?
Steph: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Steph: It’s the truth
Damian: Both my parents are very much alive
Steph: Shhh you don’t count
Cass: Mine too
Duke: Technically so are mine
Barbara: I still have a dad so there’s that
Steph: YOU GUYS ARE RUINING THE JOKE
Tim: Stephanie aren’t BOTH of your parents alive???
Steph: KNOW WHAT? FINE
*Steph changed the group chat name to “The Technicality Police”*
Tim: well that’s more accurate at least
Steph: :)
_____
Damian in his 10th argument with Tim of the day: That’s- this is-
Tim in full Antagonizing Big Brother mode: I’m listening
Damian -a Gen Z and best friend to Jon Kent- extremely frustrated: This is such Motherless behavior!
Tim taken aback: [voice cracking] W-what-?
Damian who didn’t mean to say that but doubling down anyway because his bloodline doesn’t believe in admitting mistakes: THIS! This is such Motherless behavior!
The rest of the family who is also motherless: :O
Cass whose been spending way too much time with Meme Queen Stephanie Brown and not involved in the argument but finding it entertaining regardless: [nodding along seriously] Facts
Tim: [visibly betrayed] CASS WHAT-
A video copy of the interaction gets sent out anonymously to the entire family. Barbara is the prime suspect but there is no proof as of yet (and they will never find any)
Steph, Cass, and Duke continue to respond “Motherless behavior” everytime one of the bats does something they deem questionable/insane. It is said often
It only stops when one night in the middle of patrol. Batman is in full Dark Knight mode (possibly in the middle of threatening someone) and descends from the ceiling into the middle of a warehouse drug deal, dark cape billowing out behind him-
and Steph just automatically whispers “Motherless behavior” forgetting her com was still very much on
She immediately realizes what she said and frantically apologizes but it’s too late.
Bruce just- Blue Screens. Completely stunned into silence
Dick -who was unfortunate enough to be the one teamed up with Batman tonight- is fighting for his life to choke back his laughter
Jason doesn’t even try to stop his and has collapsed to his knees from lack of air from how hard he’s laughing. Cass try’s half heartedly patting his back to help to no avail
The criminals are terrified into surrender from The Red Hood just laughing hysterically at seemingly nothing while Batman just Stands There
Damian ends up being the only one still functioning enough to continue arresting everyone, though he is privately amused and strangely proud
Tim and Barbara have saved both the com recordings and cowl footage to at least three different servers and sent it to absolutely everyone before Batman even recovers
Duke finds out second hand the next morning and is furious he missed the chance to see it in person. He declares he is moving to the nightshift so it doesn’t happen again. (He is all talk and goes to bed by 9 pm)
Bruce bans the phrase for life and promises swift and server punishment to anyone who dares to use it again
1K notes
·
View notes
I never read the locked tomb series but I got into it through sheer vibes and aesthetic... The harrow nova au is what actually got me further into the, well, lore and universe. I already love your necro!gideon design, like the bone accessories and her look just *chef's kiss* it's perfect!
Got any necro!Gideon headcanons? (If you're comfortable with doing that) You may info-dump if you want, I find it really helpful when understanding a person's idea for a character. (only if you want to ofc).
THANK YOU SO MUCH I HAVE REVEREND DAUGHTER GIDEON NAV ON THE BRAIN!
Sit down with me while we talk, okay: First of all, she's an asshat, like, just straight up a bag of dicks. She's cocky, she's a show off, she thinks her shit don't stink. She's entitled, abrasive, MEAN, and above all else very VERY competitive.
Physically she's a wet little chicken bone, with greyed out skin and dull hair. She did all her piercings herself (shocker), and she implanted bone into her own neck! Half for defense, half for it looking badass as hell. She also files her teeth so they're sharp af, which is great for looking like an abomination but the scars all over her lips and tongue will tell you not to do it yourself. She keeps a chain of teeth, fingers, and other misc. bone fragments around her neck for easy access for constructs, and she'll stim with it mindlessly while she's bored or thinking. She keeps three or four skulls on her waist for bigger constructs, sometimes she snaps off their teeth when she's in a particularly bad mood. She doesn't usually dress up in her full garbs with the skeleton hand shoulder pads, bone crown, veil and capes -- it's usually just for formalities and special occasions.
Kept the idea of those braces on her fists, though I thought it would be cool to implement them into her gloves so she can wolverine at will.
She's creepy, she's conceited, and she's seemingly always dissatisfied. She keeps Nova on her toes for sure (threatening).
IDK i just think shes really neat, wish we could've gotten more of her in the books U - U
576 notes
·
View notes
Clone^2 - Separation Strikes
"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.
His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.
Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.
And it was summer; Damian starts today.
"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."
Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.
"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"
"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."
Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.
Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.
Danny just...
His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.
He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.
Not like he was.
Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.
He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.
Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.
His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.
(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)
Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"
He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.
Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.
He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.
Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."
"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.
Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?
He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."
Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"
Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.
And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.
His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."
Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"
That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"
Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.
"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."
Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.
"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."
Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"
199 notes
·
View notes