#no he is not the youngest. but yes he is the baby of the Batfam because you have to treat him like one

[puppetmaster13u]

Mermay Special Prompt 4

Go on vacation, they said. We can watch Gotham, they said. Just go hang with and adjust to caring for kids, they said. Yeah, well no one said anything about getting cursed while at the vacation lake house, which okay, fine. But did it have to affect the kids too? 

Bruce pressed his head in his hands, groaning in dismay as the children practically zoomed around the surrounding water with enthusiastic trills and squeals he could somehow understand. And through the air, to their increasing delight. Okay. Okay this is fine. 

It wasn’t like he also somehow now had an extra child who looked like one at most that he had no clue as to where they came from. Said child wasn’t squirming in his arms, black scales and tiny fins akin to the setting of a sun twisting as they chirped. Definitely not. 

Okay. Alright. He could figure this out. Probably…. hopefully…

[acid-ixx]

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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[zweetpea]

Yandere batfam one shot/imagine thing

I'll probably make a part 2

You met Bruce while you were working as a waitress for a gala. It was a second job to pay rent. Maybe he brought Selina or some other girl or maybe he came alone.

Either way you two end up in a room together and end up sleeping together. Just as you’re pulling on your clothes he asks to see you again. He even offers you a check (let’s say it’s for 500k). You take the money promising to see him again but you don’t for about a year.

After a year of him searching every corner of Gotham he finally finds you. And surprise surprise you have a three month old baby girl.

He goes up to you and begs you to let him be in the baby’s life. After a few weeks of bribes (and him secretly stalking you) you finally make a deal with him. If he works from home he can take care of the baby during the day.

So you brought your baby to the Wayne Manor. You expected maybe a servant or maybe Bruce to answer the door. You were not expecting a young man to open the door. He had short shaggy black hair with an undercut and a K-pop hair style. He stared at you with his piercing blue eyes-

“Tim drake! That’s who you are! I used to love watching your let’s plays! I love your sense of humor!” Tim was surprised. Being the middle child (especially the middle boy) he often feels left behind by his siblings, so having someone notice his accomplishments for once felt nice.

“Drake. What are you looking-” a short boy came up behind the gamer. He had a darker complexion and slicked back black hair with piercing green eyes. You smiled at him and he straight up slammed the door in your and your baby’s face. Your eyes grew wide and your face fell into a scowl.

You heard shuffling from behind the door and when if opened you saw Tim holding the kid by the scruff of his collar as one would do with a misbehaving animal. “Sorry about that Miss.” Tim smiled at you. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m going to be late for work. Here give her to Bruce. Her name is Echo.” You give the baby to Tim. “Oh there you go. Support her head now.” You threw the bag in the small rude kids face. “Everything she needs is in there. I’ve left instructions inside for how to take care of her. If she doesn’t eat that much try tickling her tummy. I’ve labeled the extra bottles of her food so if she’s really hungry give her some and if it’s not enough call me I’ll get here as soon as I can. I don’t want her drinking any of that store bought crap. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Tim smiled.

“Good.” You ruffled his hair. Then you turned to the younger boy. “Be good to my baby ya hear? Or else I’ll milk papa Bruce for every penny I can.” You ruffled his hair too. You then kissed your baby and went back to your car.

Tim shut the door and immediately Echo started crying. Bruce and Alfred came running at the noise.

“No… I missed her.” Bruce said. He looked at his three youngest kids. “Hey sweetheart.” Bruce tried to grab Echo. But Tim held her close. Everyone looked at him surprised.

“Father why did that rude lady drop off a baby.” Damian scowled.

“She’s not rude. She’s your future Step Mother.” Bruce smiled at the thought of your and his wedding. “Now Tim, give my baby here. She’s crying.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?” Bruce seemed flabbergasted.

“She trusted me to hold her child. This is my baby sister.”

“Drake! Give father the baby. She’s being loud.” Damian covered his ears. Echo looked over at him and made a grabby hand gesture at him.

“It looks like she wants Master Damian’s attention.” Alfred pointed out.

“but-” Tim was cut off as Damian took the baby.

Echo’s cries grew quiet as her youngest older sibling held her. While Tim’s obsession with You and Echo became apparent almost immediately, giving him the praise his own family and the Media refused to, Damian’s was slow. It started with someone (echo) actually liking him. After all he went from being showered in attention under Talia’s thumb to being practically ignored at Wayne Manor.

Dick was by far the kindest to Damian, being a mentor to the young boy. But he could still bite back at Damian’s snark. Barbara and Stephanie took none of his crap, to the point where they barely spoke to him. Cass and Duke held no qualms about fighting with a kid. Jason was like a cool big brother and while he wasn’t at the manor often he always made most of his time there focused on the kid. Tim and Damian had a very strained relationship. And while Bruce loves Damian there’s always a bit of strain, and guilt on Bruce’s part. If he’d stayed with Talia maybe Damian wouldn’t have to grow up in a cesspool of Violence and mental agony.

“Back to your old ways of not wearing protection father?” Damian smirked.

“Damian… give me my Daughter.” Bruce said gently but firmly.

“Its nice to know you fought for her more than you fought for me. Though to be fair to you Ummi did shove us together.” He snarked as he held the baby who’d fallen asleep. Bruce went to grab her but Damian stepped back. “Ah ta ta. You wouldn’t want to disturb her right?” Damian smirked.

Over the next few hours Damian was mainly the one taking care of Echo if only to stop her from crying.

And at the end of the day when you finally got off work to pick up your sweet baby you were surprised to see Bruce, Damian, and Tim all playing with her in the living room. (What was more surprising was that her attention was mainly focused on the brat from this morning Damian.) She cooed as she saw you and you rushed to pick her up and gather her things into her bag.

Damian glared at you as you took Echo from his borderline iron clad grip. Who were you to take his sister, his blood sister mind you, away form him? (Her mother but we're not going to get into that right now.)

"Sweetness how about you just slow down. I'll have Alfred prepare you a drink. Which kind of tea do you like more Earl Gray or Jasmine." Bruce smiled and twiddled a piece of your hair in his hand.

You smacked his hand away. "No thank you. My baby and I need to get home." You said and quickly hurried out of there.

"Father you can't let her leave!" Damian said.

"Yeah! Don't you want that nice lady to be your wife?" Tim agreed.

"I was talking about Echo." Damian deadpanned.

Bruce ruffled both their heads. "Patience boys. Have a little faith in your old man." He smiled as you walked away. Before the month was out he'd have you and echo safely tucked away in his arms in the deepest recesses of Wayne Manor.

[lazycats-stuff]

Oh god, i don't have any specific scenarios but i would really like to see some more babybat reader? Maybe batfam and a foodie baby? One where he's the happiest when he's eating

This was me as a baby, I swear. I feel this... This gif so cute

Summary: (Y/N) is a foodie baby. Meaning that he is the happiest when he eats.

Warnings: FLUFF

Nobody expected to have a baby in the house. Bruce thought that he was careful enough, but it was obvious that he wasn't. It was difficult to phantom it, but they all adjusted. Bruce took some time off from being Batman.

His older sons were old enough to patrol on their own and if they needed help, he would jump in. Bruce adored his youngest son, happy to see at least one of his kids as a baby.

The others adored their baby brother too. (Y/N) was always carried, cuddled and they were all very protective. They didn't allow any stranger to come near their baby. They all knew how much danger there was for children and Bruce would be damned if something happened to his son.

But they noticed something that made them all soft inside. (Y/N) was a foodie baby. There was no problem with feeding and considering that he had a routine, he would cry on the dot.

Bruce always laughed at how (Y/N) cried on the dot. Not a second too late and not a second too early.

No matter who fed him or what they feed him, (Y/N) was always giggling. Meal times were often filled with loud giggles and squeals from the youngest member.

" Imagine how easy life must be for him. " Jason said, watching as Alfred was feeding him and how lively he was. Legs kicking, arms kicking...

Such a cute baby.

" Yes, but he will grow up before you can even blink. " Alfred said, cooing at the baby.

" No! Don't say that Alfred. (Y/N) will always be so small. " Dick said, getting his cup of coffee.

" It's true. That's something that every baby goes through. "

Jason frowned at that. Not (Y/N).

" Not (Y/N), Alfred. " Jason said, tickling (Y/N)'s chubby cheek. " He has such soft skin. " Jason stated, sighing.

" That's the baby skin. " Alfred said.

Jason sighed, taking a rag to wipe (Y/N)'s mouth. " You can't grow up. You need to stay like this forever. " Jason said, trying not to coo at the baby.

Alfred smiled at the words. That much was true. Nobody wants babies to grow up. Especially if the baby was as cute as (Y/N). Their baby.

[toecrust69]

Can I request a gn!reader x batfam? The reader is in the batfamily business and is the 2nd youngest. They’re on a mission with the others, when they get hit by a alien tech which turns the reader into a toddler (2-3 years old?)😱 so the batfamily had to take care of the reader till they find an antidote. You can end it with the reader being turned back to their original age?

Young Again

Warnings: cursing, Bad writing, mild mention of violence

A/n: sorry if this took a while to get out, I was at a concert when I got this lol

Enjoy!!

'Bruce is not going to like this...' You thought to yourself as you looked up at everyone towering over you.

"Aw, look at them! Even their suit shrinked" Dick squeeled as he bent down to better look at you.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance and just ignored him.

Damian stared down at you with a smirk, clearly amused.

Tim was busy creating an antidote on the side but he'd glanced at you every once in a while.

Jason was dying of laughter, clutching his stomach in pain only a couple feet away.

And, as expected, Dick was treating you like a baby.

Which you technically were, but-

Damian hummed, "How will we tell father?" He asked.

Jason finally finished his laughing fit and walked over to all of you.

"Simple," he glanced down at you, "we don't. Problem solved".

"What? But that doesn't solve to pro-"

"Hush," Jason put a finger over damians mouth and he immediately smacked it away in disgust. "How do you think Bruce is gonna react to this news? Do you think he's gonna be happy?" Jason reasoned.

Damian thought about it for a second. "Hm, I suppose so"

Standing up, Dick looked over his shoulder at Tim, "How's the antidote going?"

Tim clicked away at the batcomputer rapidly before turning to look at everybody. "It's almost done, it should be out in about an hour" he stated calmly.

"An hour!?" Dick and Damian said in unison.

You huffed out in annoyance and Jason looked back down at you with a smirk.

He crouched down to your level just like Dick had a few moments ago, but instead of baby talking you, he flicked your forehead.

You stumbled back rather ungraciously with a loud and painfull 'thump' and Jason began laughing again.

Even Damian chuckled.

"Hey!" You whined just as Dick and Tim turned to look at you.

Dick was about to help you up when you felt two hands grab you from behind and pick you up.

You all turned and saw who it was; Alfred.

Alfred put you against his hip and looked down at you.

Smiling warmly, he gently poked your nose before looking down at Jason who had since stopped laughing but was still crouching down.

"What did you do to them?" He demanded.

Everybody stammered in an attempt to find an explanation when you finally spoke. "Alien tech. Patrol" you said simply and he looked down at you again.

"Ah, I see" he said, looking up at the rest. "And how exactly do you plan on telling Master Bruce about this?" He asked.

Everybody froze and Alfred almost immediately understood.

They weren't planning on telling him

He huffed and everybody instantly felt a bit bad.

"Sorry, Alf" Jason said sheepishly.

"Yes, we didn't know what else to do" Damian explained and everybody followed suit.

"Well, I don't know what he'll do but I sure do know for a fact that he won't like this"

"Who won't like what?"

Everybody froze and looked behind Alfred to see who it was.

Bruce.

He set down his mask and ran a hand through his messy, sweaty hair.

"And why are you back early from patrol?"

Alfred kept his back to Bruce while everybody else scrambled to find an explanation once again.

They were all trained to be great at lying but it all went out the window the moment they had to do it to Bruce.

They were talking over one another and Bruce couldn't understand a thing either of them was saying.

"Okay, okay, calm down and speak one at a time" everybody settled down and looked at him.

"Father, we-"

"No," he put his hand up, signaling at him to stop talking, "let Dick speak first. He's the oldest," he looked at all the other brothers, "and the most mature. At least for the most part"

Dick gulped and everybody turned to look at him.

Some sent him empathetic looks while the rest simply smirked, knowing he'd mess up.

"Well, w-we were out on patrol when..." He glanced at you in Alfred's arms for a split second and that was all the Bruce needed.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Alfred.

He gasped and everybody, including you, braced themselves for an earfull.

But when nothing happened, they looked at him.

Instead of a fuming Bruce, they saw a sad Bruce.

You froze as he brought his hands and picked you up off of Alfred grip.

He pulled you close to his chest and silent tears began soaking into your hair.

Bruce was crying.

Bruce Wayne, Batman, was fucking crying.

"B-Bruce are you crying!?" Jason gasped.

"No, its just the rain"

"Father, it's not even-"

"Shh, let him have his moment" Dick slapped a hand over Damian's mouth just like Jason had.

Everybody stood awkwardly— some staring in awe— behind Bruce meanwhile you slowly melted into his touch.

When you arrived at the manor, you were just 3 years old— still a toddler.

Originally, he would've never adopted you but you were technically his child and he knew your mother would start a huge scandal if he didn't accept you.

But as time passed, he grew to fall in love with your bright and once innocent personality.

Sometimes he stays up in the middle of the night, remembering the times you were young and innocent and he just wishes he could go back in time and stop you from joining the vigilante life.

Sometimes he'd cry. Just like now.

He knew they'd probably make fun of him for it later but he didn't care— all he could think about was how his beautiful, innocent baby was back.

Even if it wasn't true, even if it was just for a split second, he loved it.

Suddenly, a loud ding rang from behind you and you turned to see what it was.

"Oh, the antidotes ready" Tim walked over to the bright green liquid in a bottle and gently picked it up.

"I thought you said it'd take an hour?"

"And I thought you said you wanted an antidote" he said sassily like the gay dude be was.

He turned on his heel and locked eyes with Bruce.

"Can I...?"

Bruce nodded his head and reluctantly pulled away from you before wiping his tears.

Tim thanked him briefly and scooped you up.

He propped you onto his lap and slowly fed the nasty green liquid into your mouth.

You held back a gag and nearly spat it out but you fought through it and drank it all.

Tim immediately pushed you off of him and set you down on the floor.

You were about to complain when you suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through your body as it grew to its original size.

You tried your best to bite back a groan and hunched over in pain.

It felt like you were burning from the inside out, like a million scorpions were biting every part of your body.

But thankfully it was only for a few seconds.

Alfred and a Tim rushed over to your weak form and helped you up.

"We'll take them to their room so they can rest, the antidote was painful" Tim explained.

They eventually disappeared up the stairs with you, leaving everybody else alone.

They all thought they were clear when Bruce suddenly spoke. "Well, who wants to tell me what happened?"

.

I'm not really proud of this fic but I hope yall were!

-toes

[redheadjustin]

could u do batfam x toddler male reader who is rlly shy but someone tries to like kidnap him at a gala and the fam just has to figure out what to do

Ah yes, the infamous bat family. And the family that proves blood isn’t everything. Bruce, the infamous Batman, had adopted all of his children. With the notable exception of Stephaine and Duke. Steaphaine was still living with her mom, when she wasn’t in rehab. And at this point Burce was only fostering Duke though everyone but Duke knew adoption papers were imminent.

Which brings us to you. You were adopted by Bruce the second you were born. Though that's because both of your parents weren't in a good place to raise you. So, one night your parents approached Batman after a fight. And you were a member of the bat family ever since.

Dick was the best oldest brother. You could ask for. He always made time for you. And always took you to the circus. And he instilled the same love for elephants he had.

Jason was not as lovey dovey as Dick. but he always has time for you and a nerf battle. He also takes you to the safe part of crime alley.

Tim loves to teach you technology. He's also the one to keep watch over you during your naps since he never sleeps. 

Damian is in charge of your exercise and physical development. He also is as caring to you as his pets. And he almost never insults you. He also trains with you in the bat cave when Bruce is busy. 

Duke is the one who exposes you to Gotham culture and other things like music and art. He knows how easy it is to become spoiled and out of touch. He doesn’t want that for you. Plus your parents are from the streets like him. He wants you to know full well what background you come from. 

Bruce is the best Father you could ever ask for. He loves to take you to meet other heroes. He knows Batman will be your favorite hero till you die. He also brings you gifts often after a mission. And he is there most nights to tuck you in. He genuinely cares and has done his best to scale back his Batman activities. He cares about his newest son.

But during a gala Riddler kidnapped you. It was all hands on deck for the Bat family. They called all reserve membersing Batwoman, Batgirl, Spoiler, Orphan, Batwing, Huntress and The Question. Bruce wasn’t taking any chances. 

Riddler was driving when the Bat family found you. You were in the backseat scared, confused, lonely. Your young mind couldn’t figure out why you were taken. You didn’t know that your family’s wealth would put a target on your back. 

What neither you or your captor noticed was the batmobile gaining on the car. Or the batcycles riding next to the car. You looked out the right window and saw Robin(Damian) on a batcycle. Damian smiled seeing you unharmed. The current Robin winked at you and pointed backwards. Curious, you turned your head to look out the back window and you saw the batmobile. Your eyes went wide with happiness and you whispered to yourself. “Daddy came.” 

It was then the car hit spikes in the road that Batwoman and Question set up. The car’s skidd was controlled and you were left unharmed. Then the windshield was broken as a fist reached in and pulled Riddler out of the care. That’s when you saw Red Hood. jason was pissed as hell but you didn’t have time to think about that for long as the door opened and a pair of black gloves reached in to pick you up. You knew instantly it was Your Daddy. Batman. And as soon as you could you curled in to Batman’s chest.

“Shhh, its okay baby bat. We’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Bruce says to his youngest son, he is determined to never let this happen again. “I’ve got you.”

[butcherlarry]

Weekly Fic Recs 58

This week's fic recs! Also! I am going to try out posting these lists on Saturday instead of Sunday starting next week. If it works out, I'll probably stick with that schedule then (barring travel/holidays/other unexpected shenanigans). Anyway, onto the fics!

a sky of honey by TheResurrectionist - Superbat, complete. The omegaverse mpreg Bruce fic! This part is done!! And it's sooooo gooood!!!! The gala chapter was everything I hoped for and more, especially the Clark and Lex scenes :) If you've been waiting to read this fic until it was no longer a wip, here's your chance! Do it now! And check out the art januariat has been making along the way!!

the trials and tribulations of fatherhood by InkpotSprite - Batfam, complete. Dick, Jason, and Tim argue who was the worst kid growing up. Bruce is so, so done with everything.

The Bruce Wayne-Batman Feud Theory by inabsurd - Batfam, complete. Bernard releases a conspiracy theory out onto the world that Bruce and Batman hate each other. Shenanigans ensue.

"Whatcha Got There?" "A Smoothie." Colourized by TheWitchBoy - Batfam, complete. Bruce gets deaged into a baby. The bat kids take care of him until he gets reaged. Shenanigans ensue.

(Love) Triangles Have Multiple Centers by frozenpotions - Superbat, wip. More identity porn shenanigans! Clark is feeling better after getting hit with Kryptonite! Robin continues to be adorable! And Bruce cock blocks himself :)

Riddle this for me by Speechless_since_1998 - Batfam, complete. The Riddler captures Robin (Jason) and is being a big meanie to him >:( Luckily Tim is there to defend his honor until Batman arrives :D

Patchwork Pod by Ktkat9 - Superbat and Batfam, wip. More mer Bruce fic! Bruce is back, but injured! Also, where is Tim??? :(

keep me there by TheResurrectionist - Superbat, complete. Fellas, is it gay to distract your teammates from when your alien boyfriend isn't feeling too good by verbally attacking the nearest space cop? (The answer is yes!)

Collective Judgments by withthekeyisking - Batfam, complete. Dick has some incidents of people being racist to him about his heritage. Luckily, he has his family to protect him and call people out on their bullshit :)

A Brief Interview by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday - Batfam, complete. An AU where Tim is the youngest. Damian finds a small, unsupervised child stalking him. The only solution is to adopt him (obviously).

Padam by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) - Superbat, wip. A fic inspired by januariat's lovely art! A young, college student Clark explores his queerness for the first time by going to a gay club. I wonder who will meet there? :)))))))

Running Headlong into My Arms by gleesquid - Batfam, complete. Jason discovers the power he holds by calling Bruce "Dad." Shenanigans (and feelings) ensue.

Road Rage Robin by heartslogos - Batfam, complete. Turns out, Tim has terrible road rage. Shenanigans ensue.

Enjoy!

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Obviously, I do love "Terry and Matt Meet the Batfam Earlier" AUs because fuck yes I want my Neo-Gotham boys to interact with all the other Batkids.

But I will also admit that the biggest appeal for me is watching Damian lose his fucking shit over:

1) No longer being the only "blood son" and all the subsequent smug ass remarks/jokes the Batfam will make at his expense for all the years of smarmy assholery he subjected them all to with that particular "justification."

2) No longer being the "baby" because as much as Damien wants to deny it, he does secretly love all the attention and privileges that come with being the youngest.

And, last but not least-

3) He has to be the older brother now and there's genuinely nothing more terrifying than the thought that he has a responsibility to look out for his younger half-siblings. And while he may be no Dick Grayson, his pride alone absolutely refuses to let him be anything less than perfect. Even if that means he will now have to put effort into interacting with and building a relationship with Terry and Matt on a continual basis.

Lord fucking knows that if he doesn't step up, the rest of the family will find some way to corrupt them beyond repair.

(Damian, of course, doesn't realize yet that Terry and Matt are already beyond "saving," but he'll be damned if he doesn't at least try to salvage what he can).

[regonold]

What if damny had some of his memories intact like he can't access all of them but like he knows his name and what age he's meant to be and why he's like this

As he age's his memories come back but like imagine the batfam arguing about whos older/younger so they should get the last cookie

And someone (probably daimian to share with his baby bird brother) says well Danny's the youngest only for danny to say actualy am 16 but my godfater kill me and i's com back like dis

Amd everyone is just like what cus they're all operating under the assumption of this is child a shape-shifting child but still child

Amd when asked what he means danny tells them in excruciating detail how he died(second time) and alludes to the first

Oh ye frut loop desided that cus i woodnt be is son i was da problem with im getin wit ma ma so ee desided to ill me din't huwt as ba as da irst time do

(I will tag everyone who wants to be tagged for any of my previous prompts but it might take awhile since I'm taking a break from writing to help my Mom recover from a stroke. Now! Heres a prompt before I go silent.)

I'm going to yoink chunks of content from my previous prompts (shapeshifting and the one about Danny's core reforming according to how long he's been dead,)

Now throw Vlad into the mix. Vlad is desperate to have Maddie and no longer cares if Danny is his son. He now thinks of Danny as a problem he has to dispose of. So Vlad being the bastard he is brutally slaughters Danny, making sure his body is beyond repair.

Vlad, not knowing halfas can reform like ghosts takes Danny's core and uses it as a paperweight or puts it on display. All while telling Danny's parents that Danny had run away.

Danny with his core out in the open is able to reform as literal two year old. With his newfound baby brain that is riddled with trauma he barely remembers, decides that Vlad has bad vibes and promptly dips by shifting into a bird and phasing through a window.

Now Danny is on the run, with Vlad trying to find him. Everytime he shifts into human form either people freak out or Vlad finds him. So he just stays a bird, only shifting back when he needed human dexterity or had a safe place to rest. Even though staying shapeshifted all the time is draining and painful he knows what Vlad would do is worse.

Inevitably, he finds himself in Gotham. He's just hopping around as a bird before he runs into the bats and his core registers them as halfas. Immediately the gremlin instincts kick in and Danny starts fucking with them in everyway he can possibly think of. He messes with them when their out as civilians and vigilantes because he's two and doesn't have the logical reasoning skills to see why that would be a bad Idea.

So he just starts going ham, snagging keys, knocking cups out of their hands, fluttering around them and chirping constantly but pecking their fingers whenever they try to touch him. He gets into places it should impossible for him to get to and just stares at their confused faces. He grabs objects left out and charges at whichever Batfam member was unlucky enough to be in his vicinity. (Damian left a knife out on purpose to see what would happen. Jason tried to give the bird a gun for the same reason,)

Danny does help them in his own way though. He helps by chirping and throwing rocks to lead them to crime scenes. Brings shiny objects to offer them. He alerts the other bats when one of them is injured or needs backup. Overall he is their moral support even though he is gremlin.

Eventually one of the Batfam follows Danny to wherever he was hiding out. Maybe they were hoping to catch him, or maybe they were curious of the weird acting bird. Either way they are absolutely horrified when the bird that's been following them on very dangerous patrol routes turns into a tiny toddler.

[raeofgayshine]

Y’all

I love Tim Drake so much, there is nothing about his story that isn’t stupid and hilarious to me and he is such a disaster and I love him.

[theredheaded-stuff]

Batfam on a mission and being attacked by LOA assassins and them taking them all out except they notice Dami not trying to take out his opponent but merely playing with them (not toying with but actually having fun sparring sort of fun). The Batfam intervene and Damian quickly defends them before revealing their identity as his twin sister, Athanasia. Damian manages to convince Athanasia to come back to the cave with them, on the ride back although they are sitting quietly the Batfam can easily tell the twin are, as they assume, communicating through twin telepathy.

How does the Batfam react to Damian revealing he has a twin sister born of both Bruce and Talia?

How does the Batfam react to Damian and Athanasia’s twin telepathy?

Damian was having fun "fighting" Athanasia, like they used to do when they were kids, Batfamily is very confused.

Jason didn't seem surprised, after all he's lived with both of them since they were babies (at least before coming to Gotham) he has fond memories of telling the story to the twins and they both talk about the story with each other.

Bruce looked at Damian in a questioning way, no one can say what feelings he was feeling at that moment, Athanasia decided to take a step forward and make it clear that she didn't go before because she didn't want/ was having some trouble since she feel a little guilty with let Mara "alone"

Dick smiled at both twins, it was easy to see the way they protected each other and would do anything for the other's well being, he was proud that Damian and Athanasia have another youngest in the family doesn't sound so bad

Barbara as soon as Athanasia got more comfortable started braiding the girl's hair, that was fun for both of them, Barbara used to play with Cass' hair so the feeling was good, While Athanasia remembered when Damian made a point of learning to braid hair simply to "make her hair beautiful".

Stephanie and Athanasia? Bond through Athanasia talking about funny or embarrassing happenings from Damian and her childhood, Damian face is red? Yes but is happy with the situation.

Duke and Alfred are preparing some extra food while asking if Athanasia has any restrictions or favorite foods, it turns out that Athanasia has some very different tastes than Damian.

While Damian doesn't like sweets that much and prefers to eat them with cinnamon if he does, Athanasia loves sweets and would totally eat any sweet with strawberry syrup.

Tim and Athanasia prove to be both coffee lovers, Tim is happy that someone "is like him" Bruce is worried about someone else getting addicted to coffee in the house, Damian prefers tea.

Cass and Athanasia started practicing dance moves together, apparently both are unbeatable with classical ballet! Barbara's eyes are shining with pride, Barbara helped make the bun in both hair.

Both Twins Love Alfred's Cookies

Athanasia reminds Bruce a lot of Talia, but he's born with his eye color, he's amazed, but sometimes it does Bruce miss Talia a lot.

( I answered the first ask about how to handle the powers in the last post)

Thanks for the ask darling

[redrobin-detective]

Idk for some reason I feel like everyone in the DC comics fandom who likes Batman has at least a bit of a Rev!Robins au written down somewhere. If you do, would you care to share?

I uh yes, I have written multiple reverse robin shots so you got me there. My favorite version I shopped with @timdrakeothy in which bruce is also included in the swap so it's B as the youngest (but still 'in charge') and Dami as the oldest.

1. Bruce's parents die when he's 8, he's bitter and lonely and craving retribution. Damian is a top assassin for the LOS and is hired to kill Bruce Wayne. But he gets there and finds he can't. Bruce, being who he is, is impressed by Dami's skills and offers to hire him as a bodyguard and to train Bruce to save Gotham. Damian... can't refuse that face. So it's middle age Alfred, young adult Dami and young child Bruce.

2. Cass, also an assassin as the daughter of David Cain also comes to kill Bruce but is impressed by the boy's resolve. Together, her and Damian take to the streets as vigilantes to protect Gotham for Bruce who is so fired up. Tim is so impressed by their heroing, he shows up and asks to help out. He's the first Robin and is killed in the line of duty which devastates the family.

3. Teen Jay is caught breaking into the manor to steal things and is forcibly adopted by Bruce. You now have Alfred, the exhausted parent. Dami the bodyguard and second parent. Cass as the 'Maid' (her cover, she never cleans anything) and Jason as a tutor/ Robin. Steph worms her way in through Jason (street kid buds) and becomes the second batgirl.

4. Oops Ra's al Ghul brought back Tim and he's pissed. The Red Hood is a villainous hacker going after Damian but his love of Bruce and vice versa helps bring him back towards the light even if he's still a bit morally dubious. Circus comes into town and, yikes, that poor acrobat kid lost his parents? Whoever will adopt him? Bruce is finally glad to have an adopted child younger than him (he's like 12 by this point, Dick is 8). Barbara is his playmate in school and Dick sneaks her out on patrol as Robin III and Batgirl III

5. Bruce is baby the whole time but he's also the heart and soul of the team. All of the batfam would die for him, they all have paternal/older sibling feeling for him. Dami and Alfred already agreed to shared custody. Bruce is trained by the others and helps out every night with surveillance and info gathering. Does a crap ton of charity work in the meantime and is waiting for the day he can assume the mantle from Damian. Everyone is hoping they can talk B out of it because the thought of him being in the field....

[ellana-ravenwood]

The day he understood what Death means - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : The youngest Wayne makes a shocking discovery...And will need his parents, siblings, and the one and only Alfred, to recover from it. /Drabble.

I don’t know. I was thinking about this. How when you’re a kid, realizing that one day you’ll die, but worst, that the people you love will die, is sort of traumatic...And wanted to write about it. So. Here we are, with little Thomas eh. I hope you will like it :) :

My masterlists blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

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If you have no idea who Thomas is, he appears in those stories (long story short he’s the youngest kiddo, biological of Batmom and Bruce) : The Great Mall adventure, Master of Diaper Shaky steps and bad teaching, Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, Wild Child 2, “We want them back”, How do you make babies ?“ and Mom got lost again”

                                                   ******

Realizing your loved ones are not immortal for the first time can be traumatic. 

Especially if they’re amazing, if they’re your heroes, if you admire them beyond all measure, if they love you unconditionally just like you love them so damn much, and if you can’t even imagine your life without seeing them every day.

If you can’t even fathom the fact that maybe, one day, they won’t be there when you wake up and go look for them. And that they will never be there again. 

And so it was particularly quite the shocking discovery for little Thomas Clark Wayne, 5 and a half years old, to find out about that certain thing called...”Death”. 

It happened on a moody, rainy Summer day. The weather outside was awful, even for Gotham City. And it meant that Thomas was calmly playing inside, rather than getting up to some shenanigans in the garden. 

His parents were home, it was one of those rare day they both had off. 

Which always filled little Tommy with joy. It wasn’t often he could get them both with him !! In the end, the fact it was rainy outside was good. It meant they’d probably all snuggle up later in the day, and watch a film, a mug of hot cocoa in their hands. 

You would probably throw a blanket over him, and keep him close, sandwiched between you and his dad. His father would fall asleep half-way through the film, which would annoy you and Damian. 

Damian would join for sure. Sitting next to you. Yes. He would. Maybe Tim too, if he wasn’t too busy with college ? Oh he would surely make the time to come. And Cass ? Yes. Yes Cass would be there, sitting in her usual spot, on the floor right in front of you (or maybe Tommy). Because she knew you’d gently run your hand through her hair, and your youngest son slowly took the habit to do the same. Which was so soothing to Cass...Duke would certainly be there, he never said no to a good movie. 

Maybe, because it was a rainy day, Dick and Jason would come too ? Unlikely, but Thomas could hope. He loved having his entire family in one spot. 

They’d ask him to do his “puppy eyes” and convince Alfred to join them too, and not work. 

Alfred had an armchair reserved just for him. Right next to the couch where Bruce would sit, leaving enough space for Ace to lay down (Damian’s dog, Titus, always preferred to be near his master, who would more often than not be sitting next to you, laying his head on your shoulder, even as he was not a child anymore...Yes, Titus sat next to Cass, at Damian’s feet, letting his head fall down in Cass’ laps). 

Ace...Ace didn’t feel well yesterday, and this morning, the “dog doctor” came. 

Thomas heard him say they needed to give him a...an “indection” or something ? (An injection, really) So he’d probably get better. Shots were supposed to get you better or to avoid you getting sick, that’s what you told him. 

His dad looked upset, but it didn’t alarm Thomas much. Because his dad was always upset when him or his siblings would get a shot, he hated going, so it was probably the same thing. 

Come to think of it, Thomas hadn’t seen Ace since the “vekerinarianan” (or whatever it was pronounced) came earlier in the day. 

He suddenly wanted some “doggle” (dog cuddles), and so he put down the toys he was playing with, and went to look for him. 

Maybe, he could also round up the rest of his family so they’d start movie time earlier ? 

Hyped to have some family time, as he considered his dogs family for sure, he went on the hunt to find Ace, and gather everyone else. 

If only. If only he had known...

************

“Aaaace !! Aaace ? Ace boy, where are you ?” 

This was odd. Usually, Ace would come running if he heard the little one’s voice. That dog loved children, and he made it his mission to protect all of them (bonus point if he had some snuggle, and a few treats, while doing it). 

Bruce told him long ago to protect his kids...So Ace was always there. 

Maybe he wanted to play hide and seek ? Thomas would play that game with Titus and Damian, Ace never seemed very interested, but maybe he changed his mind ? 

“Ace ? Aaaacceeee ?” 

The boy roamed the manor, but every room Ace would usually hang in were empty. 

Finally, he decided he’d ask his parents, who would usually hang out in...oh, they weren’t in their usual spot either. In their bedroom, maybe ? 

Thomas ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, sure that he would find Ace, and his parents, asleep in the master’s bedroom. When they had their day off, his mama and daddy would often take long naps together.  

Thomas immediately knew something was wrong when the door to the room was wide open. Slowly, he approached the place and...surely his parents were there. 

But something was off. 

His dad was laying in the bed, back to the door, his head laid in your lap. One of your hand was caressing his head soothingly, while the other was drawing calming circles on his back. 

Definitely something was not normal. You’d do that to your kids when they were sad, or sick...Was daddy sick ?! This gave Thomas a little fright. 

You whisper something into Bruce’s ears, and he doesn’t answer, just shaking his head to say “yes”. And so you stand up, after giving him a kiss on the cheek, and...You spot your youngest son. 

You smiled at him reassuringly, and go to him. 

“Hey little buddy. You should give a big hug to Daddy, he’s very sad today.” 

You say, walking past him and ruffling his hair. 

From the direction you were taking, you were going to the kitchen, and Thomas just instantly assumed you were going to brew some tea for his dad. When Bruce was sad, you’d always brew some tea for him, from his mother’s garden (which was kept up nice and clean by you and Alfred, now). 

Worried about his dad, Thomas slowly walked to him and climbed on the big bed. Bruce turned around to see what this new weight was, as he knew you had just left and...He smiled. 

Of this wide pure genuine smile he gave his family only. 

But there was a hint of sadness behind his eyes, and Thomas didn’t like that one bit. So the little boy crawled to his dad, and nestled next to him, wrapping his little arms around his dad’s neck and holding tightly. 

Bruce engulfed his son in his own arms, holding onto the little one, burrying his face in his hair. There was always something comforting, in the smell his kiddo had. It was a mix of your smell, which was always soothing to him, but also something more...Something soft and sweet. 

Just like his son. 

Little Thomas was the epitome of a sweet child. It was a miracle, a man like him made a child this cute and happy. Ah, but he wasn’t raising him alone of course. There was you, and his siblings, and Alfred... 

After a pause of the little boy holding his dad, he whispered slowly : 

“Daddy, why are you sad Daddy ? Please don’t be sad, it makes me sad too.”

Thomas unwrapped his arms from around his dad’s neck, and squished his little hands on Bruce’s cheeks. Which made Bruce sigh fondly, chuckling a little as he said, honestly (he shouldn’t hide this sort of things) : 

“Because Ace is gone.”  

There’s another silence, during which Thomas tries to understand why is the fact Ace went somewhere so sad. He cannot figure it out, so he asks : 

“But, he’ll come back daddy. Like always. Yes ? Ace is a good boy.” 

“Was.”

Bruce is clumsy in his grief. He always been. He’s not sure how to broach the subject to his son, how to explain to him their dog was just too old and sick to make it...He doesn’t know how to explain death to him. 

“Was ?” 

“Ace is gone for good.” 

“What do you mean Daddy ? Where did he go ? Why couldn’t we see him again ? Did he move out, like Dick ?” 

Oh. Oh the sweet innocence of a child that is maybe a little too sheltered by his family (he’s the youngest, the one they’re trying to keep away from the horror they see every day as much as they can...Although he’s still trained, all of them hope he will never become a Robin, or worst, a Batman). 

“Did he move out, like Dick ?” 

Sweet, sweet Thomas. Not able to even fathom that Ace is never coming back...and why would he ? How could he know what his father meant ? 

“No, no he didn't move out. He left us, to a place we can’t follow him to.” 

Another short pause. And you could see the gears in little Thomas’ head turning. After a little bit, he asks :

“...The toilets ?”

This makes his father chuckle, even in this sad times. But he continues : 

“No. Not the toilets. He...He went really far away, where we can’t ever see him again.” 

This idea is so foreign to your son, that he raises himself on one of his elbow and exclaims : 

“Why would he do that ? Does he not love us anymore ?” 

Obviously, the thought is distressing to the little bird. So Bruce says : 

“No no no, of course he still loves us...loved, us. But he had to go.”

“But why ?” 

“Because he was getting very old, and sick.”

“But we don't mind daddy, right ? We don’t mind ? He doesn't have to go away for that, I don’t care if he doesn’t play like he used to, I want him to stay ! Tell him daddy, call him on the phone to tell him to come back.” 

Bruce is lost. How ? How can he explains what death means ? He thought about this moment coming many times, but never told him anything as he thought that he had time to know what it meant. He had time...

How do you tell a child that one of his favorite “person” in the world is dead ?

“Unfortunately buddy, we have some sad news.”

His savior. You, as usual. With two cups of tea, and a cup of hot cocoa on a tray. As you went downstairs to get some “pick me up” for Bruce, you knew your son was gonna need it too. 

“What news mama ?” 

“Ace. He died today.” 

You actually thought about it as you were preparing everything for them. How to talk about this ? You decided to go with “honesty”. Not brutal honesty though. You weren’t about to traumatize your son. 

But you thought it was important he knew what happened to Ace. As a child, you hated how your brothers tried to make you think your ferret ran away to Las Vegas or something of the like. 

You understood this sentiment, of course. But you also remembered how betrayed you felt when you finally understood “death” and realized your beloved Mister Will Ferret was NOT in Sin City having fun, but just died...

The truth was important. 

Especially about such subjects. 

Children weren’t dumb. And they had every right to know certain truth.

Did you wish your son could stay innocent for longer ? Of course. But he still had a right to know what happened to his dog. To be treated like a person and be explained things. 

People, too often, treats children as some kind of idiots who wouldn’t comprehend complex things anyway, and who have to be protected at all cost from anything...

Kids were clever. You had a bunch of them to prove it so. But above that, although you agreed kids had to be protected...You weren't one of those person who thought you should lie to your children in order to do so. 

 Because one day, he’ll know what death is. He’ll know what happened to Ace. And what if the fact you lied that day, settles a slight distrust in him towards anything you’ll ever tell him ? Just like it did with you and your brothers ? 

No. You thought at first it was a good idea to delay such a conversation. But why ? Because it would make you more comfortable ? That didn’t sound very fair in regard of your boy.

Everyone always talked about “the birds and the bees” talk, but never about something that was even more inescapable than that...

Death. 

You give him a few seconds to take in your words. “Ace died today.” You wait for his reaction. He seems to think about it, having vaguely heard of “death” before...finally he asks : 

“What does it mean ?” 

He’s sitting up in the bed now. Bruce did the same, encircling his arms around his boy protectively (old habits die hard). But he’s determined to explain things to him too. You and Bruce were always rather in sync, about how you should raise your children. 

“It means he will no longer be with us. He passed away to something else.” 

“To what ?” 

“No one really knows.” 

“Will we see him again ?” 

“No.” 

“Why ?”

“Because he’s dead.” 

“And being dead means you can’t see anyone anymore ?”

“Being dead means you are not living on this Earth anymore, so yes, you cannot see them anymore.” 

“It means we can’t see him ? And what do you mean not on Earth ? Is he in Space ? Can we see him if we go to the watchtower ?” 

“I mean in our life, we will not see Ace again. He won’t be with us ever again. He’s not in space, he’s just gone.” 

“Because he’s dead ?” 

“Because he’s dead.” 

“So, being dead means we don’t get to see someone ever again ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ever ever ?” 

You decide to leave any conversations about a possible after-life aside, as it’s clear this, he’s not quite old enough to comprehend. So you keep on talking about the truth, with the support of Bruce. 

“Yes. Ever ever.” 

It takes Thomas a few minutes to take in all those new informations. Bruce is sitting on the bed, legs crossed, behind the boy. And your son is clearly lost in deep thoughts...Up until finally, finally tears are starting to well up in his eyes. 

“But I didn’t even say goodbye !”

“Unfortunately, we don’t always get to say goodbye...” 

“But mama, how will he know I loved him so much if I didn’t even say goodbye before he left ? How could you let him go before I did ?”

“I’m sorry, if I could chose I would’ve-...He knew you loved him and-”

“Are you going to die too ?!”

The dreaded question. Dreadest of them all, really. But you can’t lie to him. Not now that you started to explain things. 

“Yes. Everyone dies one day.” 

“But but but...but I don’t want you to die ! And Daddy ?” 

Bruce nods, and...and that’s when it finally happens. 

The awful moments your sweet innocent boy realizes what death sort-of means. That one day, none of his parents will be in his life anymore. Than one day, he’ll lose his siblings, and Alfred. 

Just like he lost Ace. Because he was “old and sick”. But...Thomas knew a lot of sick people ! And a lot of old people ! Were they going to die too, without him being able to say goodbye ?!

And so the tears started to fall. And oh, oh did they fall. 

Bruce held his son against his heart, drawing soothing circles on his back, just like you usually do. And you came to sit next to them, encircling them in your arms as well. 

Thomas was trying to talk, but nothing came out very clearly as he cried, cried, cried and cried some more. 

When he finally calmed down, he was slowly falling asleep, crying drained him of all his energy. That night, there was no “movie time”, but comforting snuggles with his parents... 

Thomas had finally discover what “Death” meant.

************

“Oh my God Thomas !”

Bruce’s heart drops.

The entire scene goes in slow motion, and the fearless Batman can see his entire life flash in front of his eyes, as his tiny son is running towards him, while a few thugs were about to shoot automatic weapons at him...

“There’s a kid ! There’s a kid !”

“Who cares, we have the bat right at our mercy, just shoot !”

“I can’t shoot a kid...”

“Should we shoot ?”

The few seconds of surprise after Thomas bursted in allow Damian to swoop down, and to get rid of everyone. Slowly, a serious face on, your son walks to his dad and, solemnly, he says :

“This was too close, father. And...Thomas...”

“I know Damian, I know.”

Your little boy was inconsolable, clinging to his dad.

They didn’t even have to ask him how he got there. It was obvious he somehow snuck into the Batmobile (which wasn’t that much of a surprise, although it was already quite a feat...Thomas was small, but also very stealthy, as he was taught to be).

He was only five, and it wasn’t really clear to him yet his dad was that “Batman” everyone talked about, that his siblings were also vigilantes...But he knew that when they went out at night, they were often in danger.

And that night. That night right after the one Thomas learned what Death was...He snuck in the car, so he would make sure “she” would not take her dad away ! Or her brothers and sister !

Only Damian and Bruce were in the car, on patrol together. The rest of the kids were scattered across the city, and you were taking care of the bat computer (nowadays you were the one doing so to give some relief to Alfred).

Thomas took the habit to fall asleep in the cave, in a bed there just for him...and he must’ve snuck into the car. 

It was nobody’s fault. It was very unlike the boy, to do such a thing.

He got into the car. When Damian and his father got out of it to apprehend a few of Two-Face’s thug, he stayed behind, looking at what they did...but when he saw those men about to shoot his dad (a proper ambush), he jumped out, punching every buttons (which was quite dangerous itself) to find which one opened the door, and then he ran to his dad...

The surprised probably saved Bruce. But it also almost killed him with a heart attack. 

What if those men didn’t hesitate long enough for Damian to take care of them ? What if they shot anyway, ignoring the surprising appearance of a small child ? What if they had recognize who that kid was, too ? (Unlikely, this was a time where Thomas was still quite sheltered from media, as you tried to give him a childhood as normal as you all possibly could). 

What if they shot anyway...

Bruce doesn’t think he would’ve survived the death of his youngest son. He was sure, actually, that he would’ve killed those men. 

That is, if Damian didn’t do it first. 

But it didn’t happen. It didn’t happen, but it was so close. So close. 

Later, when everything calmed down, Thomas would explain he jumped in the car to “keep death away”, to protect his daddy and brother. To make sure Death wouldn’t take them. 

And that's when you all understood Ace’s death, and the discovery that everyone dies one day, one way or another, truly was “traumatic” for your baby. 

From that point on, you made sure that Thomas would be in the cave...but this event. This event really unfolded a problem you knew you’d have to tackle truly one day. 

You just had no idea yet how to help your son. 

************

Damian had told Jason the debacle that was yesterday. About his parents explaining to their little brother what it meant to be dead. And about how it lead to Thomas sneaking into the Batmobile and running in front of danger to “protect” his dad. 

Because of where he grew up, Damian always knew what death meant. And he never cared much (or convinced himself he never cared much). He understood from a very young age what all this shenanigans was...

Jason did too. He found his mother, dead, when he was three years old. He grew up surrounded by death, in the gutter of Gotham. He knew. He did. 

But Thomas. 

Thomas was a “normal” 5 years old boy, as normal you can be in such a family. He trained a little, and sort of knew about his dad being “Batman” (but it seemed he didn’t understand he was ACTUALLY the Batman people talked about in the city). 

He spend most of his nights in a little area made just for him, with a bed and such, in the batcave (he hated sleeping upstairs alone, so he would sleep in the batcave and you’d pick him up to bring him in  his bed once you’d go to bed, and/or once the rest of your family would get home). 

So for a little one like Thomas, who was pure and sweet and nice...It was a shock, to know one day he’d lose the people he loved. 

He was inconsolable, at Ace’s funerals (thrown at the back of the Manor).  

He couldn’t get over the fact he didn’t get to say goodbye, and that he would never play with his dog anymore. 

It made it worst, that Ace’s death made everyone else sad. That dog truly was a member of the family... 

“I know you're feeling very sad. I'm sad, too. We all loved Ace so much, and he oved us, too.”

You told him a few times, tryin to put words on his emotions and helping him understand...God, to Damian, you truly were the most amazing mother. Always knew what to say, how to say it, when to say it.  

But Thomas was still blue, and it was so unlike his usual bubbly personality. 

And so, both Damian and Jason made it their mission to distract their little brother, and...it worked. For the most part. It really worked. 

Amongst all his siblings, Damian and Jason were the ones that loved having a little brother the most. Not that the others didn’t, of course ! They just were a little less willing to play for hours on end with a little kid. 

They were rather busy. Jason and Damian always found ways...They were an unlikely pairs at first glance. Most people would think Damian was the closest to Dick, and Jason too. But no. They were equally as close to all their siblings, in different ways. 

But Damian and Jason, they had an extra connection. Jason was there, when Damian was a baby. He didn’t remember his own name, and was used by the Al’Ghuls after they resurrected him...But he was still one of the only person in Damian’s life that truly valued him. 

Fate, right ? A funny thing. After all, how small did the world have to be for two of Bruce’s sons to meet in such a way ? A hidden son, and one he thought dead, at that ?! 

In any case. They were closer than most would think. And they also were linked not only by the Al’Ghuls, but by how they were both ripped off of an actual childhood, and therefor wanted to make sure their little brother had one too (Cass was the same, but more subtle, and discreet). 

And so...

They played, made art pieces, jigsaw puzzles, watched his favorite movies, cooked...Anything to take his mind off of “Death”. 

That little boy would overthink too much, for such a young age. 

But overall, Damian and Jason did a good job distracting him from the pain. 

They did an amazing job. 

You were so proud of how they took care of their baby brother (and it would give yourself more time to go cheer up the “Oldest Wayne”, your dear husband, who definitely had a hard time getting over his dog’s death...). 

Only, there was one problem...And that problem was that neither Damian nor Jason, just like everyone else, were immortal. 

And this, this, Thomas would realize very soon. 

************

“More compresses, Master Tim !” 

“On it Al !” 

The loud noises woke Thomas up. You knew. You knew you should’ve gone up to bed earlier. Tuck him in, and wait for your family to come back. 

Ah. But when they all arrived in the cave, ALL of them, including Dick who did not live at the manor anymore...You knew there was a problem. 

And indeed. Jason had been badly hurt. Not something that couldn’t be fixed, but ah, once again, too damn close. 

Everyone was on the tail of a high profile serial killer, the newcomer called “Dr Pyg”, and...Collateral damage. It happened, in this line of work. 

It wasn’t easy. Especially when it was one of your baby. But you had to keep a leveled head, as you helped Alfred fix your boy. 

You had taken medical trainings early in in your relationship with Bruce. For obvious reasons. And there was rarely a day it didn’t come in handy. 

In any case, all the noises around woke Thomas up. 

Before. Before he knew what death truly meant, he would’ve been worried. He would've cried. He would’ve been distressed. Of course. 

And one of his siblings would’ve taken care of him, reassure him, soothe and console him, and little Thomas would be ok again. 

Before he knew what death truly meant. 

He was so small anyway, most of the time he’d forget things, or just not understand them...but he was five now. Close to the age of reason. And definitely aware of his surroundings enough now to pay attention, and remember things. 

And he knew what death truly meant. 

He clung to Jason for dear life, even as everyone reassured him he was actually ok. Jason himself was conscious, he had been badly hurt but nothing he hadn’t seen before. 

He needed some rest for sure, but it was fine, really. 

It wasn’t fine for Thomas. He yelled, threw the biggest tantrum he ever threw, yelled some more that they should stop. That he didn’t want them to die. That whatever they were doing...He begged them to stop. 

Never before in your life, had any of you witness Thomas being in such a state. He was inconsolable. You couldn’t calm him down, no matter what...

And once more, it’s only because of exhaustion that he finally relaxed. But yet, still in his sleep, he clung to Jason’s sleeve, as if afraid his brother would be gone when he’d wake up. 

It tore yours and Bruce’s heart apart, to see your baby like this. But to be honest...neither of you knew what to do...

************

“Where’s Damian mama ? Where is he ?” 

Thomas was truly panicked. 

The first day, he thought maybe his brother was busy with school and such. The second day, he started to worry. But now ? Three days in a row with Damian not at the dinner table ? Or in his room ? Or in the batcave ?! 

It made Thomas anxious. What happened to his brother ? Was he...was he...DID DEATH TAKE HIM AWAY ? 

“Where’s Dami mama ? Where is he ?!”  Thomas kept asking, crying. And it took you moment to finally realize what your son must’ve thought. When you did, you picked him up and calmed him down, explaining Damian was simply over at Jon’s for a few days... 

And from that day on, you’d make sure to tell him why anyone would be gone for any amount of time. 

That night, Bruce and you talked about what you could do to help Thomas get over his consuming fear of losing one of you. 

But nothing really came to your minds. 

And it was awful, to feel like a failure like that. 

Later on, your Damian would tell you you were NOT failing at parents because you were a little lost about this. After all, none of your other kids got into quite a crisis like this one. He said maybe considering a therapist could do ? But oh, oh Thomas was so little. 

And if words were out that Thomas Wayne, barely five years old, was seeing a therapist ? The scandals would be unending, and would it really help your son ? 

Damian joined in in the search for a way to soothe his baby brother. He never said “no” to cuddles from him, but lately...Lately, Thomas almost became overbearing, as he made sure he’d always sort of have his eyes on everyone. 

And it wasn’t healthy, for such a little boy to worry so much. 

Damian missed his carefree baby brother. He knew he had to eventually grow up, of course, and that he’d have some hardships but...he was just five and a half ! He wasn’t suppose to be so scared of death ! 

And so he thought, nights and days, of a way to soothe him. But just like you and Bruce, this matter was quite delicate...

************

It seemed like Cass was the only one able to truly console him, and make him relax. She would sing him songs, just like you did to her when she felt sad. 

She would tell him tales of Death as a good thing, inspiring herself from many legends from around the world. 

She would try to put perspective on everything, in a way you truly admired. 

She never spoke too much, your Cass...But when she did, every words were carefully chosen and crafted into truly beautiful things. 

And it would soothe your boy. 

But only as long as he was with Cass. And he couldn’t always be with her. 

You didn’t have her talent to tell those tales, and your singing was working only for a few moments to put him to sleep but...you couldn’t always have him sleep. You had to think of more viable options. 

Nonetheless, when Thomas was really too anxious, Cass would be there. 

Relieving everyone of their worry, as she could calm her baby brother in matter of seconds. In those  moments, you wished time could stop. You truly did...

************

Thomas would cling to you and his dad the most. His siblings were often out and about, but you two ? Well you took some time off to be with your youngest son, to be there for him in this odd times...

And you weren’t sure it was such a good idea, in the end. 

He would often just snuggle up to you or Bruce, listening to your heartbeats, which would calm him...You’d normally never say no to hugs from your children. But this was all starting to become so unhealthy for the little one. 

What could you do ? What could you do ?!

************

Duke was panicking. 

Thomas was doing fine today, and Duke felt like he royally fucked up. 

Thomas was worried about Duke, telling him to be careful and that his heart would break if Duke ever died...Which melted Duke’s heart. 

It made him feel so loved and accepted. And he wanted to help little Thomas so much...

That’s when he made a rookie mistake. 

After all, he was still quite new at this “big brother” thing. 

“There are things worst than death.” 

Is what he told him. What was he thinking ? Reflecting on things, Duke realized he didn't think it through. To him, it was a soothing way to say death wasn’t that bad. But...Ah, ah it made Thomas cry. 

“What ? What is worst than not seeing you guys ever again ?!”  

At that moment, Duke hadn’t realized quite yet how much he fucked up. So he said : “Well, my parents can't remember me, can’t remember who they are...They’re not dead, but they’re not here anymore. They’re physically here, but they don’t know me, they don’t know how to hug me, they can’t be my parents anymore...Yet they’re still alive.” 

The horrified look on Thomas’ face is what gave him a hint that this really wasn’t a good thing to say...

“No no no wait Thomas, don’t cry please, I was trying to tell you...Wait Thomas, please, no. Oooh buddy, buddy I’m so sorry.” 

It almost made Duke cry too, to witness the one he considered his little brother in such distress. He wasn’t trained for this ! He wasn’t trained for this !!!

This was the first time Duke truly felt like an older brother, truly felt like he understood this important role. He had to think before saying something. He had to protect his baby brother. He had to find ways to soothe him...

“Ok here we are, here we are everything is a-okay, you’re ok, things will be ok...” 

Duke picked Thomas up, and started to rock him back and forth slowly, just like his own mom did to him...He mixed the way his mom used to put him to sleep, with your soothing singing. With words he borrowed from you. 

“I’m here, I’m here. Don’t worry I’m here, I won’t go anywhere. Things will be ok baby boy, things will be ok. You’re gonna be ok. I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t mean any of it...” 

Duke had been living with you for a while now. He came to see all of you as his second family, even as his parents were still alive, and a constant chain holding him back at times...a chain that broke right at this moment. 

Thomas was his little brother. He truly was. 

And Duke was determined to be there for him. Especially after he made him cry. 

“It’s ok Tommy, cry all you want. It’s ok to cry. It’s ok to cry.” 

You always told him that. It was ok to cry. To be angry. To want to break everything. To want his mom...

But you were his mom too now. You were. And you had such a way with words. Such a soothing touch. Even as he was grown up now, you always knew what to say. You always did. 

“You’re ok, right ? Yeaaaah you’re ok. See, things are fine, we chill, we chill.” 

Duke was slowly swaying from left to right, Thomas in his arm, slowly lulling him to sleep, calming him down. His voice seemed to have the same effect than yours...Because he was calm. And because he meant it.

The love. 

The love he had for this little boy. 

It poured out of him, easily, naturally. 

He loved that kid so much. And he wanted him to be ok. And it seemed like Thomas ? Thomas felt it. He felt the love. Just like Duke felt the love of all of you...

That little bean put himself in such a state at the mere thought of Duke dying, of one of his brother leaving...And Duke. Duke realized he felt the same. 

Couldn’t imagine any of them dying. 

And so he poured love in his every word, and swayed from side to side, calming Thomas, and making sure he knew...He knew that, he was right there. 

Right there. 

************

“You’re getting old, Alfred.” 

You said jokingly, as you beat him at chess. And oh. Oh what a mistake you just did. 

“Old ? I don’t want you to die Alfred, I don’t !” 

Thomas was playing next to you. You hadn’t thought about his “trauma” for a little while as he seemed to feel a little better lately...But oh, he plunged right back into it there. 

Because of you. You felt absolutely awful...

“I’ll fight Death for you Alfred ! I will ! I won’t let her take you !!” 

It took a while, as it became usual now, to calm him down. He was ready to throw hands with Death. Fierce that no one would take his “grandpa”. But he was still very scared and sad...

“I’m a terrible mother...”

You told Bruce that night. And he held you against him, consoling you, saying it wasn’t your fault and that it was just friendly banter with Alfred as usual...

“You are the literal opposite of a terrible mother, my love.”

“But Broosh, I made him- I-” 

You sniff, unable to control your sobs as you remember your poor little boy holding Alfred and yelling at Death she can’t take him. The poor butler himself didn’t even know how he could do anything to calm him down...

“We’ll find a solution my love, we’ll find a solution...” 

This entire night, Bruce stayed up although he was exhausted, so he could soothe you and take care of you. Skipping patrol (knowing though the city was safe with his children out). 

At some point during the night, Thomas came to your room. 

It was often, lately, that after a nightmare he’d come running to you. His nightmares would often be about losing you...

You had finally fallen asleep, in your husband’s arms, and Bruce gestured to your boy to not make too much noice. 

Sweet little Thomas acquiesced, and slowly came to the bed, taking the hand his father gave him. 

Bruce was about to fall asleep too, knowing you had finally found sleep...But now, he wasn’t going to. Not until he made sure his son was asleep as well. 

All he could do for now, was being there for you two. Try to soothe you as best her could. As best he could...

Sleep was restless and full of nightmares. 

************

Dick would try to often visit his parents and siblings. As much as he could, which wasn’t always easy, with his work in Bludhäven. But nothing is more sacred than family...He realized that over the years.

During those moments, it would be rather normal for Thomas to go settle in his oldest brother’s laps. He would make the most of seeing him.

So today, as Dick was in the kitchen trying to make himself a cup of coffee, it was no surprise when little Tommy came to see him.

You had bought a new espresso machine, and Dick had no idea how it worked...Slowly, his littlest brother came in, dragged a chair next to him, and used it to climb on the counter.

He then started to make Dick’s cup of coffee, without much of a word being exchanged. Dick smiled widely, his little bro was so cute and clever. In no time, he had make a great cup of coffee for him.

But...Something seemed to bother him. Tommy was an exuberant child when around his family, but he had been quiet right there. He didn’t jump in his brother’s arms like he usually does, and he wasn’t telling him all about what he missed since last time he came in !

Was it still this all thing about being worried about death ? 

“Are you ok little wing ?”

Ever since Jason, “Little Wing” or “Bird” became the common denomination for his younger siblings. A term of endearment that they all (secretly or not) loved.

Tommy seemed to think a little, while raising his arms, signifying he wanted Dick to pick him up.

Dick did, of course, and they went to sit at the kitchen counter, and as usual, Tommy settled down on Dick’s laps. He turned around and, after another short pause (Dick always knew when to stay silent, and wait for the other person to speak first) said :

“Dickie, are mom and dad not your mom and dad ?” 

“Mm ?” 

“Your real mom and dad, they died ? You can’t see them no more now ?”

There was a lump in Dick’s throat. Not because he thought about his parents no. He actually came to peace with their death long ago now. And though he missed them every day, it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. 

He was lucky to find another loving family...From which that little worried kiddo in front of him was an important part of. 

“Yes, I can’t see them anymore.”

“It hurts ?” 

“It used to. Now less. I miss them, but I wasn’t alone.”

“Because you have our mom and dad ?”

“Yes.” 

Dick ruffles his hair fondly. 

“Do you wish you’d still have your real mom and dad ?”

“Mom and dad ARE my real parents too. I was lucky enough to find new ones. Not everyone is as lucky, like dad. He was alone for a long time” 

“What about Alfred ?” 

“It took dad a while to realize that Alfred was a second father to him” 

“So...Will you be my second dad if dad goes ?” 

Dick feels another lump in his throat. Bigger this time. 

He couldn’t even imagine the day he’ll lose this “second dad”, this one he had now called “dad” for longer even than his own biological father...Dick was 8, when he came into yours and Bruce’s life. 

He spend more  years with you two than with his “real” parents. You never replaced them, no. You just..became his parents too. 

He would never forget his biological parents. But he would never diminish the impact his adoptive one had. The love you and Bruce gave him. 

Would he be good enough to be Thomas “second dad” ? After all, he currently had about the age Bruce had when he adopted him...

But Dick couldn’t imagine losing Bruce too. Losing another father. No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

Thomas was already moving on, asking more questions : 

“Will I find another mom and dad too if mom and dad die ? Or will I be alone like dad ? Will I have Alfred forever ?”

“I-I don’t know buddy.”

“What if I lose all of you at the same time ? I will be all alone then.” 

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do ?” 

“I’ll always be there.” 

“You can’t know that, can you ?” 

“Maybe, but this will never happen. You will never be alone.” 

“You really think so ?”

“I Do. And I promise little wing, I promise...You won’t lose all of us. You won’t.” 

Dick held his brother even tighter against him, and missed the unconvinced expression on Thomas’ face. 

************

Your youngest son was still utterly terrified of losing any of you. But his terrible fit would pass now, he would calm down more easily, and wouldn’t cry until exhaustion...But it didn’t mean he wasn't afraid anymore. 

Unfortunately. 

“Death” was still a constant on his mind. One of the biggest question. Without much answers. 

His mother and father said no one knew what happened after “death”, but Thomas wasn’t convinced. So he went to the only one he knew would tell him the truth, and was most likely to know...Tim.

His older brother was currently in the garden, studying for his finals. But oh he’d take a break for his little brother, of course. 

Especially lately, as said little brother was overly worried and needed constant reassurance. 

“Hi Timmy.” 

“Hey little one.” 

“Bothering you ?”

“You are not bothering me, never.” 

“Can I ask you a question then ?”

“Of course.” 

“What happens when we die ?” 

Oof. 

OOOOF. 

Not something Tim could say he expected to be asked. Even as he knew Thomas was sort of obsessed with this lately. And ah...Ah he started to get lost into physiological effects of death, into science, into things Thomas could definitely not understand...

And into things he didn’t care about. 

Thomas had no interest in knowing what happens to the corporeal side of things. To our bodies. He wanted to know where “we” went. Where the being went. The conscience. 

Of course he wouldn’t word it that way, but it was easy to understand that it was what he meant when he said : “where do we go when we die ?”. 

After a long time of Tim getting lost in many complex explanations about decomposition (what the Hell Tim ?), he finally stopped as he saw that Thomas was most definitely lost.  

“Where do we go after we die ?” 

“Yes. What happens ? You must know, you know everything !” 

The faith his littlest brother put in him made him feel warm inside but...unfortunately on this subject he had to disappoint him. 

“I..I don’t know about this, actually.” 

Thomas looked crestfallen. Was nothing sacred anymore ?? Death existed, and the one he thought would always have a solution to everything didn’t know something that important !! 

“There’s many theories.” 

“What’s a theories ?”

“One theory, multiple theories. A theory is...an idea of how things might work.” 

“What are the theory ?” 

“Theories, plural.” 

“What are the theories ?” 

“Well. Some people think that you go into some kind of afterlife. It depends the culture, and the religion, and...many other factors. But there’s usually a few places we can end up.” 

“And we’ll see the people who died there ? We’ll see them again ?” 

“Supposedly so.” 

“Is it sure ?”

“No, it’s just a theory.” 

“You said a theory is an idea of how things might work.” 

“An idea that might not be proven.” 

“What’s the point then ?” 

“Theorizing.” 

“I don’t understand...”

Of course he didn’t, he was a smart little boy...But still just five. Tim sat down to his level, and looked at him in the eyes : 

“Well. You have to understand that um...No one knows what happens after death. So we have to make theories, things that might or might not be. You understand ?” 

“No.” 

“Well, since we don’t know, we make things up. But maybe those things are right. Maybe they aren’t.” 

“So the answer is we don't know ?” 

“Yes. But there are theories ?” 

“Ok. So aside from the place we see others again, what are the theories ?” 

“Well (...)” 

Tim was a patient boy. For hours and hours, he tried to explain every single “theory” people might’ve had about what happens after Death. And Thomas listened carefully. 

Finally, Tim was done, and his brother said : 

“So...No one really knows, and there’s a lot of theory...ies. Theories.” 

“Basically.” 

Thomas looked so discouraged. Tim was very well aware that none of what he told him really helped his brother, or reassured him...But ah. Tim was known to not lie. Which was a good thing. And he couldn’t possibly have a free conscience if he had told his brother just one theory of the after life, the nicest one, just to reassure him. 

Of course, he wanted to reassure him. To distract him. But he would do so another way. Lying to him was not it. 

Still, it was so disheartening to see this sweet little boy so crestfallen. 

“Um, Well...I guess some people know.”

Thomas looked up at his brother, hopeful, waiting for him to continue. 

“Like Constantine. But um, he’s sort of crazy. And dad doesn't want him around the house for...reasons you’ll understand when you’ll grow up. And-”

Ah but Thomas wasn’t listening to Tim anymore, and his monologue as to why maybe John Constantine wasn’t such a reliable source.   

“Constantine” huh ? Interesting. Ah. Sometimes, Tim forgot how smart his little brother truly was...for a five years old. And how he took after his father, when it came to memory and attention to details. 

************

This constant worry went on for quite just a few days. A few very eventful days, that were so...exhausting. Thomas was constantly scared for your lives, and would cry if anyone got hurt too much. 

He would follow you around, and be way too stressed for such a little bean. 

Everyone came to hide their injuries from him, tried to distract him from what they were doing when out as the Bats...But it was becoming a real problem. 

How ? How could they make a little five years old understand that he couldn’t forever be afraid of death ? It was impossible. None of you, not even you, had the right words. There were no right words anyway. 

You could tell him whatever you wanted, it’d never make him stop thinking about Death taking one of you with her, taking one of you far away from him. 

“A place he cannot follow you to.” 

How ? How could you help ?!

But the change had to come from within him, you would soon realize. 

About a week after Ace’s death, and a truly painful few days of everyone being lost and unable to help the baby of the family... he suddenly spoke up, at dinner time : 

“Mama, mama, if one day you die, I will bring you back. I promise. Same for daddy, and Dick, and Jason, and Cass, and Tim, and Duke, and Damian, and Alfred. I don’t know if we can bring dogs back, but humans yes ? And worst case scenario, I’ll conjure your spirit so I can say goodbye, and then I’ll know we’ll see each others again !”

“Wh-What ?” 

“Stunned” doesn’t quite cover how you felt at your son’s sudden tirade, at dinner that night. Everyone was here, a rare occasion. Your one dinner a months that was mandatory for all your kids ! To make sure you’d all have moments together. 

And boom. Came this monologue out of nowhere, from your small little five and a half years old son. 

Stunned. Not a strong word enough to describe you, or your other children. 

But Bruce. Oh Bruce. Bruce was frowning. Narrowing his eyes in a way you knew perfectly well...It meant he was angry at someone. 

“Who told you all this, son ?” 

“Mister Constantine.”

A growl. A scary growl. From deep within your husband’s throat. You would NOT want to be John next time he’d see 

“How did you talk to him ?” 

“I used your phone.” 

“I don’t have his number on my...Wait, the bat phone ?!” 

“Yes. The one you call uncle Clark on !”

“What the-...how did you-ugh ?!” 

There were so many questions. So many. 

“I copied what you do, on the phone. And I asked it if it could call the Constantine.” 

“The Constantine”, this better not be a stupid way he called himself in front of his son, Bruce thought. Ah, and curse the fact he kept having kids that were too damn smart for their own good ! 

Kids this days. Growing up with technology. Able to work a batphobe at age 5 and a half !! 

“Hope I helped little man - John Constantine”, said the note that came to the manor a few days later. Which made Bruce fume with rage, but Thomas beam happily. 

Bruce was already planning to go after John, and force him to say what he told his son. But...But...

To be honest. Whatever he said. You didn’t care. You knew, more than anyone else, that “Death” wasn’t as definitive as it sounded at times. And you knew for certain there was something after you died. What ? You couldn’t be sure. But something. Another place. Or maybe reincarnation ? Who knew. 

Deep in your heart though, you knew that no matter what, if you ever were to die...You’d see your family again. You weren’t sure how or where. It was just a certainty in your heart. A gut feeling. 

Yes. You didn’t care what John told your son. If it could help him accept that everyone will die one day. Didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of losing you anymore. Oh no. But at least...At least he knew worrying about it lead nowhere. And to truly enjoy the moments of the present. 

Whatever John said, it helped your son. That’s all that mattered. And as Thomas would grow up, you knew he’d understand things more and more. 

He already knew he was luckier than many people. He had a loving family. They were all there with him for now (minus Ace, whom he missed every day). A lot of people couldn’t say the same thing. 

Death was an odd thing. Especially in the World you lived in. 

It wasn’t as definitive as some would say.

Your family knew that more than anyone else.  

Death was an odd thing, that wasn’t always the ultimate end...

This, one day, Thomas would truly understand. 

The end 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). Just a quick thing again, my bigger story (fake boyfriend trope with Bruce hehe) is coming soon. But in the mean time, felt compelled to write about this. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and liked it ? Not my best work :/, another quick drabble written very late at night eh. But nonetheless, fun to write ? Hope it’s not a disappointment, it’s just a thing to make ya wait for a more elaborate thing that I took a lot of care writing. Anyway it’s 4 am, time for bed :).

If you did, don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback or/and to reblog :). If you didn’t as well really, it’s always good to know what’s not good so I can improve (just stay civil please). 

PS : Bonus point if you get where I’m trying to arrive at with those last few words about how definitive death is :p. 

[outoftheframework]

Hey! I was wondering if you had any ideas for a younger!batfam??? I hope you're having a wonderful day!!!

Ohh!! I can sure try!

So logically, the youngest we can get is about 12-13-14 years younger (whatever age Damian is). For the sake of consistency, let’s say 14 years younger, as based on this post of mine.

Ages:

Damian: New born (~1 month)

Duke: 3 years old

Tim: 5 years old

Steph: 6 years old

Jason: 8 years old

Cass: 10 years old

Dick: 13 years old

Babs: 15 years old

Alfred: 58 years old

Bruce: 28 years old

So let’s make this make sense. So, keeping the canon steady of Steph and Babs not being Waynes, Bruce would have to adopt/have 6 kids by the age of 28, which is pushing it a little bit (even for him). But let’s go with it anyway.

Dick Grayson has the same backstory and was taken in by a 23-year-old Bruce at age 8. Starting with that fact, all the rest of the kids would have to have come into Bruce’s life in a span of five years. Adoption is a long process, so it may make more sense for some of the kids to be “wards” or foster children of Bruce’s still in the process to be legally adopted. That being said, he loves and protects them all the same.

A year later, Batman finds a toddler (2-3 years old) wandering by himself in crime alley. He quickly discovers the kid is very intelligent for his age and babbles non-stop. Bruce cannot help but warm up to the child, and “banters” with the babble until he makes the grim discovery of the fate of the child’s mother. He stays with to kid until the police arrive, and a little bit after that, electing not to disappear into the shadows quite yet. As Bruce Wayne, he learns the name of and tracks down Jason Todd in the foster system and starts the legal process of adoption.

Not even six months later, a 6-7 year old Cassandra cain seeks out batman by breaking into Wayne Manor. Bruce almost has a heart attack coming home after work to see another child sitting at his dining room table with his two. She has come to ask Batman to train her, but instead Bruce does all in his power to remove her from her toxic home situation. She becomes close with Jason and Dick, who had been learning ASL in school and were excited to make a new friend. Soon, she’s on her way to becoming their new official sister.

Bruce gets one and a half years with his three musketeers before a frantic knock at the door gets their attention. They’re in the living room playing a heated game of Uno with extra made-up rules when Alfred leads a crying toddler into the living room, along with a pair of lawyers and a social worker. The trio leads Bruce away while Alfred tries to calm the child. “The Drakes had no suitable next-of-kin to take Timothy in. You’re named as the god-father. But we understand if-” “I think this house has room for one more.” Bruce had known the quiet boy from his gala appearances where his mother passed him around the other socialites while he held a straight face. He’d been suspicious of the Drake’s parenting from the first month they had Tim home, where he saw them leave to catch a plane without him. He’d been practically raised by nannies. Was it an impulsive decision? Yes. Does he regret it? Absolutely not.

Bruce and his growing gaggle of children were familiar with the Thomases; Mrs. Thomas did consulting work for WE and the younger ones’ favorite playground was in Duke’s neighborhood (Bruce can easily assume that Duke’s being there was a main reason for that specific playground to be their favorite). When his parents are tragically infected with Joker gas, Bruce is one of the first to know. He consoles a confused and traumatized Duke, who does not let go of Bruce’s shoulders when the social worker comes to speak with him. The Thomases don’t have any family on this side of the country, and Duke isn’t in any state to be moved a long distance away from his parents to live with people he barely knows. So, Bruce is the best choice to take care of Duke, and he does so happily. 

Well, his entire family wasn’t “planned” per say, but Damian was certainly the most unexpected. Talia was at his doorstep for maybe 30 seconds, uttering only: “Teach him to be like you.” Bruce had experience with children, but none as young as Dami. He called in other heroes to watch over Gotham while he stayed up all night with the baby: consoling, feeding, and changing when necessary. The other kids were fascinated by their little brother, and often begged to hold or feed him. Dick always excelled at his position of older brother, but has a special bond with Damian. 

I kind of love this. Hope it was what you were looking for!

Lemme know of you guys want any of this expanded upon.

[lazycats-stuff]

if ur requests are open could you do jason todd w brother reader whos like a baby baby, super young and the batfam is suprised he likes jason the most and jason gets really emotional when his first word is 'jay'

This is the most adorable thing I have read in a while. If a baby said my name as their first word, I would have lost any emotional self control l have.

Summary: Jason adores his literal baby brother and nearly loses his mind when he hears (Y/N)'s first word.

Warnings: fluff, just pure fluff, emotional Jason.

When (Y/N) first came, Jason thought that he wouldn't like him. He never liked babies, he thought that they were annoying and loud. But it seems like babies seem to have a power to tell who doesn't like him and make it their mission to make that person like them.

(Y/N) came because his mother didn't want him and the mother gave up her parental rights. Bruce was happy that she did that, knowing that she wouldn't care for him.

The boy won hearts of all the residents, even Damian. But he loved Jason the most. Bruce couldn't figure out why for the life of him (Y/N) liked Jason.

But he didn't mind, but Jason some times acted like a father. A single sound that comes from (Y/N), he is there. And that's why when (Y/N) was sleeping in the living room in Bruce's arms, when he started whining, clearly waking up, Jason popped his head in.

" He is waking up, don't worry. " Bruce calmed down Jason, who walked up.

(Y/N) opened his eyes and started squirming. Jason took him from Bruce, letting (Y/N) cup his face with his hands.

" Hey to you too, little bird. Did you have a good nap? " Jason asked the baby, watching him babble in response.

" Good? That's nice to hear. "

Jason left the living room, making Bruce watch in wonder once more. Jason walked outside, into the soft sun. (Y/N) also like Titus and he knew where the Doberman would be. He saw Damian getting back from his walk and Titus happily walking up to (Y/N) and Jason.

Jason knelt down, watching Titus slow down. Titus gently sniffed (Y/N)'s hands and gave them a nudge. Titus was always soft and careful with (Y/N).

And he was very protective of (Y/N). He was also sensitive to were (Y/N) was and he was vigilant whenever he was in the room with the baby.

" I know, you love him. " Jason said to the dog, petting him too. " Good boy. "

Jason stood up, allowing Damian to say his hellos.

" Did he sleep? " Damian asked Jason, giving (Y/N) a finger to hold.

" Yes, in Bruce's arms. "

Damian nodded, cooing at the baby. (Y/N) made happy noised and reached out for Damian. Damian took (Y/N) into his arms, swaying him in his arms. (Y/N) giggled and was happy to be swayed.

" He is such a happy baby. And easy one to. " Jason commented.

" You really think so Todd? I remember you not liking our youngest brother. "

" Well, he changed my mind, okay. Babies can be cool if they want. "

" I thought that (Y/N) was the only baby that was cool. " Damian said, giving (Y/N) a kiss on the side of his head.

" Well, he is the coolest baby in the world. Other are less cool. " Jason explained, offering to take (Y/N) back.

" Sometimes I feel like you are his father rather than Bruce. " Damian commented, watching (Y/N) settle in Jason's arms and watching Jason being careful with (Y/N).

" (Y/N) is one of the best things to happens to us. " Damian said, making Jason nod. Damian wasn't wrong.

" I know. This baby is the light of this family. " Jason said.

" Come on little bird, lets see the others. " Jason said, swaying (Y/N), making him giggle.

" I know, I know. "

It was dinner and the family was enjoying a family time on the couch, watching a cartoon. (Y/N) was sitting in Jason's lap, watching the Incredibles, watching as if he was hypnotized.

Jason was eating his snacks, also watching this cartoon. He didn't know how (Y/N) could watch this particular cartoon on repeat. It made Jason wonder how baby's brain works. (Y/N) was just babbling, gesturing with his arms.

Jason watched in amusement. His baby brother was so funny. And it was still weird to say that.

" Jay. "

Everyone heads whipped to (Y/N) and Jason froze up. What? Everyone got closer to the baby.

" What was that (Y/N)? " Damian asked, trying to understand the word.

Jason was still frozen, but he felt tears in his eyes. He sniffed as he waited for the word to repeat. What they didn't notice was Alfred recording this moment.

" Jay. "

Jason sniffed, trying not to cry. Everyone watched him, trying to keep his composure.

" Just let it go Jay. " Bruce said, taking (Y/N) into his arms, allowing him to lean forward and to bury his face into his hands. He allowed himself to cry, but those were tears of happiness and joy.

" Oh (Y/N), you are going to put me in a grave. " Jason said, leaning back, a smile on his face, despite the tears.

" Are you jealous old man? " Jason asked, seeing Bruce's facial expression.

" I'm not. I can consider myself lucky that he didn't call you dad. " Bruce joked, tickling the little bird. (Y/N) shrieked in laughter.

" Also, I think a little bat is more appropriate for him. "

Jason huffed at the nickname, moving to take his brother into his arms.

" Give me my brother. " Jason said, taking (Y/N) from Bruce. He made sure to give (Y/N) a kiss on his head.

" Good job sweetheart. " Jason praised his brother, making his brother babble once more.

[ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing]

Ven’s Idea Outline #1 (Maribat)

Remember that MariDamiJon fic that I mentioned I was going to do for the gift exchange? It’s still bouncing around in my head and Luka decided to join in so I’ve decided to at least make an outline in (assuredly vain) hopes that it will leave me alone for a bit.

Ao3

Part 1

Typical Daminette but Hanahaki style bc I can’t find any Maribat hanahaki fics and I need one and I can’t find any.

Dick and Damian sent to scope out Paris for Hawkmoth related reasons

Jon goes with bc he’s Damian’s emotional support kryptonian but he might arrive later This idea has been removed but I like it so I will share it.

Damian is getting familiar with the new battlegrounds  taking a walk in the park when a girl falls from a tree and lands on top of him

The girl apologizes profusely before explaining that she’s really clumsy and she was just trying to help a kitten stuck in the tree

It’s not love at first sight but Damian appreciates an animal lover and is slightly less of an ass than he would usually be

Might mix this with my Blossom Soulmate AU that I never got around to finishing and posting, now that I think about it

Anyway, Damian helps her get the cat down from the tree

He latches onto this potential information source who is not as annoying as most other people and sticks with her

They become friends friendly acquaintances and he drops by her school to pick up her up after she agreed to show him around Paris.

Debating Lila salt...

Debating Class salt...

If yes: Damian walks into a scene where Marinette  and sweeps Marinette away without a word to the rest of her class

If no: Damian arrives and proceeds to wait for her outside by his motorcycle

Either way, his appearance makes waves in Dupont’s rumor mills

They do not know he’s Damian Wayne, just that there’s a dude who attractive enough to be model with a motorcycle waiting for the schools (tragic, if salt) sunshine fashion princess.

Robin and Nightwing meet up with Ladybug and Chat Noir to offer their help in figuring out who Hawkmoth is, as well as fighting and training.

Full Miraculous court meeting with Ryuko, Viperion, Queen Bee, Carapace, Rena Rouge, Pegasus, Bunnyx, and Monkey king. (Rena Rouge is removed if Class salt. Replaced with Fox!Nath or Fox!Julieka)

Ladybug and Robin get along

About two weeks in Adrien starts officially dating Kagami.

Another week passes and Damian finds out Marinette has been coughing flower petals and her unrequited love is her classmate Adrien Agreste.

She refuses to remove the hanahaki - this version is the standard they can’t fall in love ever again if they remove it.

This revelation makes him oddly uneasy, it isn’t until his own Hanahaki shows up later that night that realizes he understands why.

Damian does a pretty good job of hiding it.

Dick knows something is up but he’s trying to give Damian more space so he doesn’t look into it and trusts Damian would ask him if it’s life threatening

Ladybug notices his discomfort on patrol and they talk

He is surprised to learn Ladybug also has it and Robin comes up with the brilliant idea that they should fall in love with each other.

There is precedent that if you fall out of love with the person, the Hanahaki will go away. But falling out of love is difficult and not easily done. There must be no lingering romantic feelings at all.

Ladybug encourages Robin to chase his crush first, because he at least has a chance if the girl he likes also has it.

Cue the debates

If Ladybug wins: Enter Damian going all out in flirty assassin seduction techniques from his mother - Good Talia that kills rapists, none of that she raped Bruce bs, she actually had a good relationship with Bruce and a mutual breakup because of differing views on killing people - that he’s barely used since his lessons on it in the league and romantic advice from Dick.

He goes full on Bitch-sensei from assassination classroom.

He’s commissioned a shirt from Marinette. She gets to design it however she wants.

It is a long sleeved button up, specifically made to accentuate his muscles without being too revealing.

That’s the shirt he wears when he asks her out with flowers and a stuffed kitten holding a stuffed wood board that says “please date me” He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone. Collar and hair ruffled up for maximum sensuality. He’s got a lot of references between all the people he knows (Bruce, Talia, Selina, Dick, and really his whole family is full of objectively attractive, seductive people he can reference. Just as long as he avoids mimicking their failing romantic habits, he should be fine.)

He tries to be suave about it but is a little too nervous to completely pull it off. It doesn’t matter because Marinette finds it endearing.

On the date, he’s more confident and is able to pull off suave bastard much better but only at the end. He’s a gentleman until the very end, when he leaves her in the bakery

He goes in, and twirls her admittedly short hair around his finger, maintaining eye contact as he presses his lips against her hair - it’s admittedly harder than he expected given how short it is but being so close made it more intimate and the blush on her face was definitely worth it

He leaves in the bakery slightly dazed and counts the date as a success.

Marinette’s mind shut down bc damn that boy is fine and smooth af is flustered and confused as heck but she’s willing to give him a shot

Alternatively: Marinette’s not sure about dating Damian because she feels like she’s just using him to get rid of her hanahaki bc of the idea that Robin had proposed.

Dick is ecstatic that Damian was acting weird because he had a crush and loved helping his brother out with this date planning in the city of love

He doesn’t report it back to the batfam yet because they had a small argument about it and Damian pulled away with the small victory of Dick has to wait until after the first date to tell them.

Damian is glad he Marinette’s willing to give him a chance but he’s worried about Ladybug

he wonders if he should set her up with Tim or Duke, it’d be a shame to lose a friend and hero like her.

Robin brings up his success to Ladybug and asks if there’s anything he can do to help her.

She notes that a friend had actually confessed to her and she’s giving them a chance.

They accidentally compare notes on their dates and that’s their reveal.

If Robin wins: An awkward start that smooths into moonlit dates on the Eiffel tower, dancing on rooftops, an increase in flirting but only after battles, never before it bc they have a professional reputation to keep, increasingly physical training routines, stolen kisses but not on lips until they’re more comfortable with each other.

Fast tracked mutual slow burn which kinda defeats the purpose of a slow burn but whatever

I have realized these ideas are not mutually exclusive.

Maybe Ladybug wins first but Damian fails to seduce Marinette because she has the doubts so they go with plan B and date each other. Ladybug is more comfortable with the idea of dating Robin because they both have Hanahaki and are knowingly using each other to get rid of it?

There is no identity reveal in this version

Complaint Break time: I was writing this to get it out but it keeps growing, wtf.  This is so long and I haven’t even gotten to the main part.

It was supposed to be an established Daminette but I wanted to show how they got together, this was supposed to be like 5 bullet points, 10 tops.

At some point, I’m going to have to mention the rumor that people with Hanahaki are being kidnapped because the flowers that bloom after their death make great medicine but that cures most illnesses and are good potions ingredient whatever, something along those lines. It’s not the ones they cough up but the flowers that grow on the vines constricting their lungs after until they die and only blossom after death. Those flowers that spread the pollen into the air that makes the Hanahaki disease possible.

That’s why people keep it a secret unless they’re going to get the surgery as there’s not other way to treat it.

But that’s a plot point for part 2.

I feel like this is already longer than anything I’ve put out at this point in time.

Back to the story:

Even though they’re dating, the Hanahaki doesn’t go away immediately. It slows and becomes less frequent but there are times when they think of how their love doesn’t return their feelings and the flowers come back with a vengeance and they’re down for the day, possibly the entire week, hacking up flower petals and buds.

(Ladybug Wins version until otherwise stated) It’s during one of these fits that Dick finds out and is angry at this girl playing with his brother’s feelings.

Damian is too busy hacking up bloody flower petals to correct him

The entire batfam and subsequently Superfam now know the batfam’s youngest has hanahaki

Jon is called in and flies in to help keep an eye on his best friend

Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Duke are shocked but they pack up and are ready to go in guns blazing to have a talk with this girl bc the boys might not be on the best terms but that’s their baby brother. The girls stay behind to hold down the fort (because I need more time to get familiar with them before I can confidently write their characters. I’m not too confident about Duke either but I already mentioned him and it’s too late to back out now.)

So, Damian’s brothers and his father track her down to a different park in Paris where Marinette’s hanging out with her friends

They’re incised to find their brother’s girlfriend with another guy’s arm around her, leading her away from the main group of friends

It’s Luka, he’s helping her hide her hanahaki because she assures him that she has it under control and will go with him to the hospital if it becomes too much

They confront the couple

There’s a lot of intimidating posturing and accusations

Batfam is absolutely not prepared for the bloody flowers that spill from her lips - her hanahaki is even worse than Damian’s

Detective bats (correctly or incorrectly, depending on which version happens) put the pieces together and figure they’re dating to get rid of the hanahaki, that is something Damian would absolutely propose

and oh shit, this time it’s not just Bruce that’s adopting someone. They have a little sister now.

Luka explains what he knows about the situation and basically confirms what they’d deduced.

Welp, since they’re here, Hawkmoth has become top priority.

Hawkmoth takes one look at the Miraculous circle and the new set of bats and just- nopes out plus super boy and just nopes out.

Like, he tries but he has no expectation of winning and tries to run instead. It doesn’t work, they have all grounds covered.

I should probably make use of Mayura if I ever do write everything out but she didn’t really leave much of an impression on me tbh and I don’t have a lot of ideas. Maybe if I ever go back and watch it.

Celebratory, on-the-spot kiss between Robin and Ladybug where they do “oh“ and realize the pressure in their chest is finally gone and the Hanahaki is no more.

(Robin Wins) Dick is obliviously happy about little Robin leaving the nest and finding a mate until he finds out both the little heroes coughing up flower petals on their date

then he goes in and mother hens them both, before demanding answers

He’s also less happy about this whole dating thing

Dick can’t do much about Ladybug without revealing her identity but Damian isn’t getting out of it so easily

Dick figures out who Damian’s crushing on and goes to do a little investigating. He is very surprised to see it’s a bubbly, energetic designer girl and not someone... calmer. But then he thinks of Jon and it makes a little more sense

He talks to her, asks about what she thinks of Damian and is pleasantly surprised by her positive view of his brother. He asks if she would go out with him and she coughs up some petals

Now, Dick’s freaking out and why are there so many children with Hanahaki? This is the third one in two days!

fast forward because I’m finally out of ideas for this part

Ladybug knows she’s fallen for Robin, which was the entire point of them dating but she not sure he actually reciprocates or is still trying to forget that other girl.

Or if you went the other way, Robin’s still chasing Marinette but Ladybug now likes Robin and is aware that he’s trying to woo her. So, out of the frying pan and into another for her.

Robin is absolutely having regrets bc he is an emotional wreck and crushing on two girls and this was not supposed to happen, damnit.

A meta gets akumatized and takes out half the miraculous court but turns out the meta’s psychic ability can help track Hawkmoth so its all cool, now that they know what Hawkmoth feels like

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuko, and Robin vs Hawkmoth and Mayura

Nightwing stayed behind to watch the other heroes are no longer brain dead from the battle but boy are they out of it and he has to make sure they get home safe

that does not mean he’s not extremely put out and worried about it since he knows half the team has hanahaki and it may interfere with the fight

Even if the Ladybug suit lessens the hanahaki attacks, they still happen from time to time

For two people who don’t  show up to fight often Hawkmoth and Mayura put up a good fight

Ladybug has an hanahaki attack and Hawkmoth tried to take advantage of it, only to get knocked out by Chat Noir who’s still pissed at his dad for causing this whole thing

Chat Noir and Ryuko are pretty shocked Ladybug has hanahaki, even more her timer runs out and she choses to present it to Robin

Robin is shook

He gets it together and pulls her into a kiss that cures their hanahaki and makes their brains melt

Now Marinette’s kinda confused bc what the other girl

Damian, slightly shifting his mask so she can see who he is: That other girl was YOU

Now Marinette’s the one who’s shook

Note: Chat Noir and Ryuko have both de-transformed at this point and are watching with wide eyes but they do not see who is under that mask. Also, no cameras in this section of the manor bc that would be proof.

They have a lot to talk about but it works out in the end.

the outline above was written out of order bc I had to go back everytime a new idea hit and I cannot be bothered to go back and dodeca-check this thing again just to make sure everything makes sense.

Part 2 (that was supposed to be the main story- finally made it, the starting point. I cry.)

Ok, so, now that Daminette is established and the evil is defeated

Damian returns to Gotham with his girlfriend in tow to introduce her to the rest of his family, despite his better judgement

Jon is happy that Damian is in happy, loving relationship but he’s a bit sad that it’s not him and oop, sunshine kryptonian boy got hanahaki’d.

Same for Luka. (Yes, Jagged will be his dad and a Gothamite.)

Jagged and his kids join them in Gotham bc he has to be there to show his favorite designer niece around to all the best places of his hometown.

Luka finds out Jon has Hanahaki and they bond over the experience

They make a pact to cover each other and get the other to the hospital when it gets to that point

Pining/Simping meetings over their best friends that for some unknown reason seem to lessen the flower coughing over time even though these meetings probably make things worse but they also need vent before it increases again.

Luka and Jon beginning to fall for each other but they think the other is still in love with Marinette/Damian and it’s true that they still hold feelings for their best friends that aren’t diminishing in the sleightest and it’s all very confusing.

It’s even more confusing when we add the new hero in Gotham, Viperion who’s there to continue training with the bats since he’s visiting the area, rescues and lightly flirts with Jon who ended up developing a small crush and Jon realizes he has a type.

So, poor Jon’s now crushing on Damian, Luka, and Viperion

Viperion meets Superboy and the kryptonian doesn’t seem to like him?

Luka’s crushing on Marinette, Jon - still doesn’t know that Damian is Robin. And is kinda curious and a little hurt that the Robin’s oddly familiar kryptonian is actively and obviously avoiding him and that heart song is kind of familiar but different.

Viperion also gains a crush on Robin after watching him take down a thug in a very graceful way - the bird was showing off for his bug and decided to make it a little showier, he accidentally also caught a snake

Ladybug and Robin still flirt but the court - aside from Ryuko and Chat, depending on which version - think that’s just their dynamic, though they do pull Robin aside for a bit to tell him she has a boyfriend now. He assured them it’s fine and he knows, oddly amused at their attempt.

man, I am not original with this identity porn thing

It isn’t until Luka sees Jon again that he puts it together.

Marinette suspiciously notes Luka and Jon been hanging out an awful lot she’s making connections to the time she had hanahaki and Luka covered for her

The pains of befriending deductive genii.

Cue the panic and they accidentally claim they’re dating but it throws Marinette off for now, so it kinda worked?

Hanahaki fic with a fake dating AU. Oops.

Mari decides since she and Damian don’t know this, they must have been neglecting their best friends and double dates are the way to go.

Cue more panic

Unlike Marinette who is willing to trust their word, Damian’s a suspicious bastard who’s kind of dubious and a little salty that Jon didn’t tell him earlier if they’re telling the truth but Mari’s all gung ho about it so he lets it go for now

They go on the date and it is an emotional mess for everyone involved

It starts out fine

Jon and Luka act a bit weird because they have to cover for each other randomly coughing up petals, not to mention they’re on a date with their original crushes without actually dating their original crushes not even mentioning their new crushes and the secret identity reveal that Luka still hasn’t confronted Jon on and Jon’s guiltily thinking about Viperion half the time he thinks about Luka and shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Yeah, so they’re a mess

Damian’s watching them like he’s trying to figure them out and it is not helping but thank god Mari’s distracting him totally on accident

Marinette? She found a random lost kid in Gotham looking for their parents

So now the double date’s been temporarily derailed to help the lost kid

While Damian’s watching Marinette try pass the crying kid off to Jon for a  moment so she can make a phone call to report a lost child but the kid’s clinging onto Marinette, and they exchange looks so Jon calls in the lost kid instead and he’s just struck with the idea of a family with the three of them and some kids

Cue panic time (again)

Ignoring the thought of children, why was Jon in his fantasy?

Luka’s just watching a smitten boy go into panic mode over the trio and while doesn’t quite know what’s going on in Damian’s head, but that was really cute and oh not again

They find the kid’s parents, and the date moves on

Jon’s more comfortable, Marinette wasn’t really bothered in the first place. Luka and Damian are now having crises

Luka makes a joke under his breath in an attempt to calm down before his Hanahaki acts up

It did not help bc Damian overhears and gives a small amused snort that made his heart stutter but hey positive interaction!

Both Marinette and Jon but end up having feelings very similar to the one Damian had earlier when they look over at Damian and Luka’s little interaction - Damian’s giving Luka a small smirk and Luka is entirely embarassed at being heard when he wasn’t hadn’t meant to be.

But then Luka gives Jon a small sign before he excuses himself to the restroom so Luka can run off and cough up his flower petals

You remember that whole thing about the kidnapping people with hanahaki so they die and medicine and things can be collected from the flowers springing up from their corpse thing? Yeah, the kids are in Gotham and there is definitely a group there that has dealings with the trade and someone saw Luka hacking up flowers

but they mark him and pull back to plan instead of kidnapping him then and there bc drama and Jon followed him to the restroom to check on him

Date ends ok and everyone’s kind of an emotional wreck

Damian has surprisingly learned his lesson on miscommunication and guiltily confides his fantasy to her like a parishioner to his priest

Marinette basically goes same and confesses about the moment she and Jon saw his interaction with Luka.

“So, We’re together, and they’re together...and I might be in love with Jon, you think you might be in love with Luka... What now?“ Damian asked, trying to make sense of it all

“We could...” Marinette swallows, “um, all four of us? together?“ she offered meekly. Seeing that Damian seemed to like the idea, she continued. “Y’know, feel out how receptive they are to the idea and then just seduce them?”

Ok, so the temporary communication skills were nice.

Because instead of talking it out with their best friends, they decide to seduce them but to be fair, there’s at least one version of this where Damian got where he did because of seduction.

Between both Damian and Marinette’s phsyical attractiveness, their combined determination and stubbornness, Damian’s assassin seduction knowledge, and Marinette’s fashion ability and tactical knowledge of where to accentuate what, Jon and Luka have no chance of leaving pining hell for the foreseeable future.

Marinette doubles down on the “double dates” aka, seduction plans in action and group hang outs, aka much more softer, subtle seduction plans

Marinette and Damian do not do much seeing how receptive they are and really just jump right into the seduction, except they adjust the plans so Luka and Jon don’t catch on so Daminette couple thinks it’s ok to go all out.

Cue seduction and pining hijinks, and a whole lot of bloodly flowers and plenty of internal screaming

Damian learns that Luka might not be too bad in the group and Jon is panicking because oh shit he’s got another crush and it’s his best friend’s girlfriend.

the quartet’s love issues are really full circle... or whatever this shape is supposed to be. Because there’s still the whole Viperion/superboy thing and - i just... I’m not going to keep analyzing this.

Somewhere during this, Jon confesses his feelings this particular friend group to Con, leaving out the whole Hanahaki thing. Con tells Tim for advice on being a big brother and things happen but I’m not sure what. I just want TimCon and the Superboys bonding

So a couple weeks pass by the Hanahaki’s getting pretty bad and Luka suddenly goes missing

Ladybug and the bats are on it as soon as they realize he’s gone

Except they are missing one, very important piece of information

Luka’s hanahaki

So, for the next few days, they don’t get anywhere until Jon slips up and ends up coughing up a shitton of bloody flowers which leads to panic, confusion and explanation, bc wtf Jon, you’re supposed to be dating Luka and that’s definitely not unrequited

So everyone gets the full explanation, the final piece of the puzzle snaps into place and the bats are on it.

Marinette and Damian have to put aside that whole revelation in order to track and save Luka before he dies of Hanahaki

They both make sure to kiss Jon first so he doesn’t get handicapped by his hanahaki like Ladybug did but he and Luka will be on thin ice once they get Luka back

So it’s pretty much a race against time bc they don’t know how bad Luka’s hanahaki is

Tracking, beat up bad guys, possible magic related villain(s) searching for potion ingredients that may take harm Superboy more than than if they weren’t there

They rescue Luka or Luka and Ssass break out as Viperion and meet them halfway.

Hey, the identity reveals!

 Either way, at the end of it, Luka ends up with Ladybug and the unconscious and they have to wait until he wakes up to administer the kiss/cure bc it doesn’t work if one party is unconscious

which sparks an interesting idea of a sleeping beauty-cinderella style hanahaki fic where it would work if they’re unconscious, and the patient has to find go out to find who cured them and I’ll have to adjust some other rules of the hanahaki disease such as who can cure it but goddamn it

So while Luka’s out, Marinette and Damian confront the possibly injured but very much awake Jon

Once Luka wakes up and is brought up to speed, they take care of his hanahaki and work out the new boundaries of their new relationship

Part one is longer and I’m a bit put out by that. This made much more sense in my head but if you got this far, my rambling must have made some sort of sense.