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timmydraker · 4 months ago

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During a patrol in Gotham one night, Red Robin comes across a strange sight.

A young woman stands over a crumpled body with a sling shot primed and ready, aimed a man with a rather large hand gun. It’s clear she’s protecting the woman who looks like she’s been hit over the head and had her bag nabbed, as it’s ripped and contents are spilled everywhere.

The girl sits shaking, she isn’t scared at all, standing strong with a shard of glass aimed at the man’s crotch.

Tim jumps down and disarms the man smoothly before turning to the young girl, who upon closer inspection seems to be around thirteen years old.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head and stares at him for a moment with awe in his eyes before her eyes widen and she turns to the person behind her, “But she is! That guy was cornering her and I tried to help but he hit her and-“

“Alright, I understand. Would you like to help me get her to the ER a few blocks away?”

The girl nods with a determination Tim remembers seeing in Dick and Jason in their Robin days and he smiles.

He doesn’t ask her what her name is because side he knows he’ll follow up and find something to feel guilty about, but the girl seems to have her own plans.

She shows up a couple of days later, standing on a tall building with a cheap Robin outfit on.

Tim is confused before he drops down and she gives a big grin and mock salute, “How can I help?”

Tim smiled a little before shaking his head, “Taking the title of Robin, are you?”

She nods, now more bashful, “Well, I want to help people. I don’t want to fight exactly, but… well, sometimes you bats are too busy with the villains to notice the little guy and- bro to say you’re a bad hero-“

“You’re right, it’s okay. We can only do so much and sometimes preventing more damage being done saves more lives, but there will always be a cost.”

She smiles, bright orange, and impressively curly, hair getting in her eyes and sticking to the poor quality glue of her fake domino.

“I want to help. I… can help, please.”

Tim answers after a solid minute of silence, “What is your name?”

She frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to have a secret identity?”

He smiles in answer, “Yes, but I know what you look like and I can find out, I’m asking out of politeness.”

The girl looks like she could pout and Tim feels strangely old at the sight, even if he’s still got a few months before he can even legally drink.

“Carrie. Caroline to be specific.”

Tim smiles, “Well, Carrie, here’s the deal. I will meet you here or somewhere like here every night and until, and only until, you can land a hit on me will I agree to let you help.”

While Carrie doesn’t look pleased she nods, a clear sense of hope in her eyes even as she looks nervous.

She looses the first fight, and the second and third and fourth, but she gets better and better.

Tim doesn’t tell anyone about Carrie Kelly, nor does he tell her that he does end up doing a back ground check and finds two dead beat parents more focused on weed than their incredibly skilled daughter.

When she proves to be relentless in her desire to save lives he sends her to a teacher to help her stay hidden and safe. He’s not like Bruce, he doesn’t send her overseas to some dangerous people, but close by and to someone he trust to not hurt her nor tell anyone else about the strange young girl whose managed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Selina Kyle is more than happy to take in the girl when she watches her sling shot fire crackers at muggers.

When Carrie comes back and meets Tim on a rooftop, she not only manages to hit him but knocks him off his feet.

Tim grins at her, pride filling his mind and making him understand Bruce just a little more.

But unlike Bruce, he isn’t throwing her into the fight at all.

Tim Drake is the one who pays for her school pills while her yippie parents refuse to work or spend money on her, and sends her real time footage of medical lectures in various collages across the country.

Carrie doesn’t become Robin, nor did she even wear that suit after the second night and he gave her a basic training outfit that properly covered her eyes and hair, but she does become something else.

She becomes Cardinal, the vigilante that swoops in to save civilians and provide the medical care that saves hundreds of people and allows the ambulances and hospitals to have a chance.

When she makes her debut the other bats worry about a new kid making bad choices, probably inspired by them, but Tim ignores it if only because he’s actually proud of her and trust her in a way he hasn’t trusted teammates in years.

After a year of this, a young girl asks for a meeting with Mister Tim Drake at his company and, purely so he wouldn’t have to do more pointless numbers, he lets her in after she passes the security check.

The girl who comes into his office is barely ten, cute little clips in her dark bob hair and a big book bag almost half her size behind her.

Tim recognised her instantly once he sees the bright yellow shoes she’s wearing.

This little girl, name Mia Mizoguchi, has been stalking him and Carrie for a few months now.

After he enrolled Carrie at Gotham Academy, the young girl nicknamed ‘Maps’ had been asking Carrie a lot of questions. Carrie had been good at avoiding incriminating answers, but had fallen for the younger girls clever trap as she casually spoke out infomation that could help with cases and Carrie delivered it back to Tim.

As soon as he realised that Maps had done exactly what he had done and figured out who Carrie was he was impressed. Because even if Carrie was new to the game, she had a skill for tricking people into looking away from her and had done well to stay low.

Maps had made the connection back to Tim, apparently.

Luckily, unlike Bruce, he wasn’t ignorant to their little stalker and actually knew her family from a few galas and charities. To be fair, Tim also wasn’t clouded by grief, but as he lets the girl explain how she totally doesn’t know who Red Robin is but if she did know who he was she would want him to know that a new drug trade route was actually being covered by a cotton candy company and she has over sixty pages worth of proof.

When he shows up to The Nest (named by Carrie) with Maps behind him, he finds Cardinal waiting with an excited gleam in her eyes.

Due to her being so young, Tim doesn’t allow Maps to go into the field until she’s the same age as both he and Carrie were, but she’s quick to show her worth taking over coms and doing an insanely detailed level of detective work that Tim can’t help but be a little jealous of.

Just like Carrie, who has been trying with Selina about only becoming Catgirl if Catwoman stops being a criminal for a few weeks now, he sends her to someone else for mentor ship.

Maps is a sweet girl, but she loves to talk and has a lot of friends who have most of the same interest, so he sends her to the one bat member he trust most.

Cassandra Cain immediately tells Tim that he has to adopt both of them and can’t quite understand why them both having living parents matters.

It’s Cass who gives Maps her vigilante name, Sparrow.

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 5 months ago

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SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

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yandere-wishes · 13 days ago

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༺ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒶𝓃'𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁? ༻

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

The problem with bats is that they tend to solely rely on their instincts, their carvings. They tend to forget their surroundings, that other creatures exist as much as they do.

Selina rings her arms around your frame pushing you closer, nose nuzzling your ear and cheek. Her hug only loosens when she hears the bat speak his echolocation ringing clearly through her ears.

"Daimian brought her home last, he's...he has a crush, I think."

Wasn't there some sort of new bat-eating fungus discovered in the north?

For a moment she debates asking Oswald to export in a batch or two.

"It's inevitable," Selina says, laying a bowl of food at the foot of the counter for the cats. Exhaustion seeps through her words, she speaks from experience, experience too deep to voice. "Bats are tenacious rodents, and robins are hard to kill. Mix that with demons blood and I'd say we're just about doomed." Your eyes stare up at her, even sideways, and anxious she's gorgeous. You'd always dreamed you'd grow up to be her. Inherit the claws and whip and lust for the endless shimmer.

But you're starting to think you'll never make it to that.

Not with the bird, who shows affection by breaking bones and spilling blood.

Selina doesn't like it, not fully, not utterly. She doesn't trust the boy wonder, doesn't trust a future she can not see. The boy is young and overbearing, he'll only end up trapping you within a glittering cage. Domesticating the girl he loves, satiating her by handing her pearls and diamonds and gold. He won't let her take, won't let her bleed for own life. She's seen one too many men like that, she's escaped every one of them. The bat may believe in freedom but his heir does not. And after all this time, all these years she refuses to let your sovereignty be stripped of you.

Be silent thy traitorous voices screaming sanguinity inside her wry head.

Voices that utter such affirmations, that say this is destiny, that this too must happen. Who safer than the son of the bat, the blood son at that? Freaks stick to freaks, masks, and capes, and cowls. Selina would never trust a normal man to treat you the way you deserve...

But she knows a Wayne never could either...

Selina watches as the Boy Wonder's kick nests in between your ribs. He wasted no time, swinging straight for you. Your body tumbles back, finally gaining enough momentum to filp landing on your feet, knees bent ready to pounce. Your claws tear through the flesh of his cheek, scrapping up the skin, freeing the red letting it mar the concrete. But the bird only slithers in closer, pecking your lips before, slamming his head into yours. Selina's eyes land on the bat, the darkness at the ledge, he stands immobile, as if actually watching a cat and bird fight, as if thinking this is nothing more than a cartoon playing at the drive-through theater.

She extends her whip, lashing it through the air letting the leather coil around Damian before pulling him away. The demon boy shrieks in anger, he kicks, and writhes vying for freedom. You land behind your mentor, hiding behind her. For the first time ever Selina is almost sorry her suit is so tight, sorry she can't provide more shelter.

"Can you please keep this one a leash, bats? It's starting to annoy my kitten."

Batman doesn't say anything, he only cuts away the rope and drags his son away.

"Aren't bats just rodents?" You ask arms crossed as you finally crawl out of your temporary sanctuary.

"Yes, why?" It takes Selina another moment before she finally tears her eyes away from the disappearing silhouettes in the skyline.

"So why haven't we just killed them?"

It's only back in the apartment that both you and Selina realize he took your stolen jewels too.

Selina curses she really liked that new necklace.

This could all be a cruel joke, Bruce thinks as he watches Damian sulking on his bed, arms crossed. Robin suit still on.

After all, what's funnier than the son you unknowingly sired with your ex-lover falling so madly in love with the adopted daughter of your complex midnight affair, who you may or may not be madly in love with...

Bruce can't think of one,

He doesn't even think Joker could come up with anything better.

Or worst.

He's too tired to fully tell.

"Hey, Bruce?" Tim asks, poking him with the sharp end of a frame. "Can you hand him this when he's done brooding? I'd go in but I need my bones intact for the next few days." Bruce sighs, taking the frame from Tim and inspecting it with worry. Sure enough, it's a picture of you crouching in an ally, stalking some prey or another.

He can't help but think his sons are progressively getting worse.

Regardless Bruce leaves the frame in Damian's room.

When he closes the door a little pride bubbles in his chest.

Bruce knows that freaks stick to freaks.

Masks, and capes, and cowls.

Who better to understand you than another who wears your endeavors?

Who can love an anomaly if not for another anomaly?

Bruce leaves, missing how the young heir, gently kisses your photo.

Running his hands across your photo, muttering a silent, simple 'I love you'.

Damian pricks his finger on his tooth.

Drawing a bloody heart around your face.

"You'll be mine my love" he promises.

He swears it on his cape and cowl.

He swears it on his lineage.

Tumblr keeps eating my asks when I try to answer 😭😭

But anyway heyy Anon, so to answer your question:

Selina is torn because she wants you to be free and live the life you want. This includes picking who you fall in love with and how the two of you spend your lives together. She finds Damian's obsession annoying, if not dangerous. She knows he'll try to "domesticate" you, to make you into nothing more than his doll. And really she just wants to buy you as much time as possible to be free. However, she also knows, deep down, that the only person who can really understand you is another "freak" whether a rogue or a hero. Someone who knows what it's like to wear a second skin. She just really wants you to pick who that "freak" is.

Bruce on the other hand is simultaneously proud and amused. A part of him really really understands why Damian would fall in love with Catgirl. It just goes to show how similar Damian is to him. A chip off the old block if you will. He also shares both Damian's perspective of seeing this all as legacy, as passing on the torch, feeling like in a way Damian is really ready to step in as the next Batman if need be. He however also shares Selina's perspective of "freaks" being with "freaks", really approving of his son falling for someone with obsessions and desires, someone twisted like they are.

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blond3ang3l · 2 months ago

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Nightwing is the type to say “that’s my best friend” and then proceeds to make out with you when no one’s looking.

———————————————————————

Now you had known him your entire life. You two went to school together, you knew about him being night wing, you met all million siblings he had, and even the big guy himself Bruce Wayne. You’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends before but it never worked out in the end. Same thing with Dick, no matter what they always broke things off. For the most part they just couldn’t handle his family life like you could. With you knowing his siblings basically since they were born they liked (or in Damian’s case tolerated) you a whole lot. Hell even his stepmom Selina loved you in the short time her and Bruce been together. Everyone else he brought him got weird stares or snickers from his younger brothers. You on the other hand would go to the batcave even without him just to see the rest of them.

You’d accompany him to galas so you two were also seen out in public together many times. The media loved seeing you two together. He introduced you to reporters as “his moon” because the first time you guys met was during a full moon. In reality the only reason you guys weren’t dating yet was because he couldn’t figure out how to ask you. He wasn’t worried about you saying no, he was worried about doing something big enough to your liking and it was taking him months to plan out.

Yet when you two were alone it felt different, more intimate. Just like now as you two were in his bed. He had you on top of his lap, his hands gripping your ass while to two of you kissed. This wasn’t the first time and it damn wouldn’t be the last. He had been gone for three long weeks and damn did he miss you. He texted you but his text was always cut short with him having to fight yet another criminal. Every day spent away from you was pure hell for him, and he made sure you knew that with the picture of his hard leaking dick he sent you just a few days prior. He was painfully hard, his dick so pretty leaking with precum, and in his words “all for you”.

With you perched up in his lap the way you were he was starting to feel the exact same way he did in that picture. His hands moved from your ass to hold your hip, rocking you along his bulge causing you to moan softly. His lips attacked your neck. A trail of dark hickeys going down your chest as he started to slide down the thin pajama shorts you wore.

“Fuck, I missed you baby. Can I show you how much? Let me baby. Please.”

#spotify #fanfic #x character #x reader #x black reader #x black plus size reader #x black male reader #x male reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #batman x reader #dc x reader #nightwing x black reader #dc x black!reader

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olailamajnoon · 1 month ago

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Bruce: *reads The Song of Achilles*

Bruce: *snorts* What a load of mooning crap. I can't believe I spent three afternoons on this book.

Later:

Bruce: *sees Clark*

Bruce, thinking: When he dies, all things soft and beautiful and bright will be buried with him

Clark: *turns around* Hey Bruce!

Bruce (in his head): I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth.

Clark: You okay, Bruce?

Bruce, touching Clark: Your hair never quite lies flat, here. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how I like it.

Clark: uhhh....

Clark: So what have you been up to, lately?

Bruce, murmuring: I think I would know you in death, at the end of the world.

Clark:...

Clark: Is that Madeline Miller?

Bruce:...

Bruce: no

Clark: *laughing heartily* When I read it, I thought of you too!

Bruce: And you don't think that's the slightest bit gay.

Clark: *shrugs* If I was going to be gay, I would much rather it be with you.

Bruce: *looks stunned*

Clark: *smiles* You kissed me at Christmas. I might return the favor next time we're around some mistletoe.

Bruce: That might be a year from now.

Clark: *takes out mistletoe from one of his suit pockets*

Clark: Make your own luck, right?

Bruce, looking at the mistletoe: I'm not entirely comfortable with this.

Clark: Neither am I.

Bruce: I'm not a homophobe.

Clark: Neither am I.

Bruce: It's just something scary, is all.

Clark, shrugging: I'm sure Lois and Selina will understand, if you and I spend more time together. We don't have to do anything, we can take it slow. Or not "take" it at all. It's your choice.

Bruce: How are you braver than me? I'm such a coward. Always running from my feelings.

Clark: How can I explain, that when I am brave, it is due to you?

Bruce, looking up: I would rather die, Clark, than be hurt by you.

Clark, coming closer: I. Will never. Hurt you, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce, closing his eyes: Damn you. I am this close to running away to my room like some hysteric.

Clark: It's not being a hysteric to feel too much and be overwhelmed by that feeling.

Bruce: I am NOT overwhelmed!

Clark, smiling: Hey hey hey. We'll take it at your speed, okay? No expectations. No deadlines.

Bruce: Clark I feel like a teenager discovering himself for the very first time.

Clark: *smiling* We both dress like teenagers, Bruce. Is it a surprise that we occasionally act like them?

Bruce: You know what I was thinking? Thank god it's just Clark, and not someone whose opinion I actually have to worry about.

Clark: *hesitates*

Bruce: But now I realize, the only one in the League whose opinions I give a shit about, is you.

Clark: *goes pink*

Bruce: *picks at Clark's sleeve* You wanna come to my room? We can play GTA 6 like some actual brain dead teenagers.

Clark: Wait. GTA 6 is out? What?

Bruce: *winks* Not technically it isn't. But things tend to make exceptions for me.

Clark: You bastard! How long have you had it?

Bruce: Not very long, a couple of months?

Clark: *high pitched* Months? You've had it for months?

Bruce: Well...yeah?

Clark: Now I'm rethinking our starstruck romance. The fact that you would keep such an important secret from me...

Bruce: You really ARE a teenager, Kent. *strides away*

Clark, trailing after him: Can I play or was that an empty promise to lure me to your den?

Bruce: Forget it! I'm rescinding the offer.

Clark: No please daddy I'll be good...

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incorrectbatfam · 9 months ago

Note

Ooh can we get headcanons for the batfam going camping?

Duke: Yo, Bruce—

Bruce: One second. Hey, Kate, where are you putting the grill?

Kate: As far away from you as possible.

Alfred: Likewise with the ingredients. We have a limited supply unless one of you plans on hunting.

Jason: *cocks his gun*

Damian: Only cowards kill animals. A true Robin uses his natural birdlike instinct to forage for edible plants.

Duke: Guys—

Steph: Last time we did that I ended up with a rash the size of New Jersey. Count me out.

Bruce: We packed enough. No need for hunting or foraging.

Cass, sadly: But I want to slurp river.

Selina: I'm not chaperoning if you do. You know how cats and water are.

Duke: Uh, guys—

Cullen, scratching a mosquito bite: Can someone please pass the bug spray?

Kate: It's in Bette's car and she's still at the last gas station.

Barbara: What about sunscreen? The UV index is off the charts.

Selina: I think Luke took when he went to the information center.

Carrie: Just stick next to a more enticing target.

Carrie: *crouches in Dick's shadow*

Dick, flipping his hair: What can I say? I'm irresistible.

Helena, annoyed: Are you just gonna stand there and look pretty or are you gonna help me pitch this tent?

Dick: I'll look pretty, thank you.

Harper: I got it, Helena. Boys, amirite?

Duke: Seriously, guys—

Bruce: Everyone, quiet!

Bruce: *does a headcount*

Bruce: Where's Tim?

Duke: Dangling off a cliff.

Bruce: WHAT?!?

Duke, shrugging: That's what I've been trying to tell you.

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captainamericasshieldandhelmet · 5 months ago

Text

Kaleidoscope | Spencer Agnew x Reader

Summary: You and Spencer dated for a few years in college, however, to live out your dream you move from LA to New York. You end up breaking up with him and are heartbroken. Fast forward to a few years later, you start working for Smosh and reunite with him again. Will you guys reconnect an old love?

A/n: Hi this is one of my first fanfics that I’ve written! There’s been a Spencer drought in fanfics on here so I decided to hop on and see if I can write something. It’s my first time writing for him so please let me know how I did and if you would like more! (If anyone even reads this 😭😭)

—————————————————————————————————————————

8 Years prior

“Spencer I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” Your voice was heard through the phone. You heard Spencer sigh. “What?” You felt tears coming down your face, not that Spencer could see.

You took a deep breath, “it’s just so hard-.” You stopped yourself trying to hold back a sob. “We barely have time to talk, we’re both so busy a-and it’s just been getting too much between us and work.” You stuttered out.

You could hear Spencer crying on the other line. “So we’re just done?” He asked, his voice full of anger.

A sigh left your lips not knowing what to do. “Spencer we’re in different states all the way across the country from one another. We don’t have time for each other anymore. I thought that this would work but-.” You stopped yourself, not knowing what else to say.

Spencer let out a shaky breath as he spoke up. “Fine if you don’t want to try anymore and give up on three years of us, then do it.”

You started to let out your cries as you tried speaking. “No Spencer it’s not that! I love you so much I-.” And then the line went dead.

All you heard was a beep, knowing that he had hung up the phone. You tried calling him back, the call going straight to voicemail. You tried a few times until a text popped up. “We’re done.” Was all the message that Spencer had sent. You finally let yourself break, the tears falling freely. You guys were done and nothing could change that, you had just hoped that you made the right decision.

Present time

You heard your name being called and stood up to grab your coffee order. You bid them a thank you as you walked to the office. Today was your first day working for Smosh and you couldn’t have been more excited. About a month ago you had auditioned for them seeing that they had an opening. You thought it’d be perfect since you were moving back to LA and you had been a Smosh fan for a few years. Hearing back from them saying they thought you would fit in felt like a dream. You had applied to be both cast and crew, being able to edit some videos and be apart of the videos as well. Walking up to the office you took a deep breath and headed inside, ready for your first day.

Once you stepped inside, you headed to the office to start with introductions first. Reaching the office you ran into Selina who couldn’t be more excited to show you around.

“Hey y/n! So glad to see you again.” She said. “We’re going to start with introductions first just to get things situated and then we’ll show you where you’ll be working at.” You smiled at her joyfulness, “Sounds great, I can’t wait to meet everyone!” You said.

After meeting with Ian and Anthony of course, Selina took you to meet the rest of the cast and crew. Since they were about to start filming for a TNTL, she thought it’d be a great idea to be able to introduce you to more people. As you both stepped in you noticed how bright the set was, you could feel the excitement bubbling in you on being able to work here.

Selina grabbed everyone’s attention to let you have your introduction. From watching Smosh before, you had known who most of the cast were. You saw Courtney, Shayne, Angela, Amanda, Tommy, Chanse, and Arasha. You gave everyone a huge smile while introducing yourself. “It’s so nice to meet everyone! I’m y/n and I’ll be in a few videos with you guys as well as being able to edit them.”

Everyone had smiled at you and properly introduced themselves to you as well. Arasha was finishing her introduction when you heard the door open. “There he is! He’s barely becoming a cast member just like you too.” You heard Shayne say. As you went to turn around to introduce yourself, you heard Shayne say his name. “Y/n this is Spencer, Spencer this is y/n!” At that moment you were fully turned around to him.

You saw him, he looked the same from the last time you had seen him, only with a little more of a stubble now and older. You could see all the years you’ve been apart show in his face. You couldn’t remember in the moment just how long it had been, you just stood in shock as your eyes met Spencer’s.

Spencer looked down at you, shock in his face along with guilt and anger. “Y/n?” Was all he could say.

———————————————————————————

A/n: I hope this turned out good! Let me know if y’all would want me to continue this. :)) Also I’m naming this kaleidoscope after Chappell Roan’s song “kaleidoscope.” I don’t know if that makes sense…

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #spencer agnew imagine #Spencer Agnew Smosh

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smoshyourheadin · 8 months ago

Note

spencer’s funeral and his partner is the special guest and roasts spencer so hard and than revels that they are getting a cat together but everyone thinks it’d a baby announcement lmaoooo or however you wanna end it

Special News

pairing: spencer agnew x f! reader

a/n: anon i love this idea so much!! guys please don’t come at me for these terrible jokes i’m just a girl really 😜 also i’m posting sm rn go me

requests are open <33

“lebron james inspired us with his baller moves. steph curry inspired us with his words. spencer agnew inspired us by being a piece of shit, so we would never follow in his footsteps.”

you’re stood at the podium of the funeral, spencer in the coffin next to you holding a bouquet of plastic flowers as he tries not to laugh.

“spencer is a gamer, and we all know that. but if he spent as much time with me as he does on world of warcraft, i’d be the happiest girl on earth, but hey, at least he has a high gear score to keep him company whilst i cook.”

you see everyone laugh as you switch the paper, angela cackling over what you thought was a pretty shit joke.

as the laughter dies down, you continue on. “spencer and me only ever disagree over stupid things, and i think to myself, he must know he’s short when he has to look up to see eye-to-eye with someone who's shorter than him, because i’m always right. i’m sure courtney feels the same about shayne.”

at this, courtney yells “FACTS!” from behind one of the cameras, and you shoot her a wink.

shayne then stares you down, and all you say is “shayne don’t worry, i’m a short king ally!” which he just smirks at.

“i have some pretty bad jokes here, so let’s quickfire some.“ you mutter to everyone.

“if sleeping on my arm were an olympic sport, he’d have more gold than michael phelps.” this earns a giggle from spencer, as you have a folder on your phone of him asleep in the most awkward ways possible, always lying on your arm somehow.

“he’s so obsessed with video games, even his posture looks like it's from a character model that hasn't loaded properly yet.“ this makes everyone cackle, spencer opening one eye to glare at you, and you just laugh him off.

“your gamer boy posture is so bad, chiropractors have your picture on their vision boards on what to improve on.”

“do you guys think that,” you exhale through your nose at what patrick has written on your prompt card. “spencer’s idea of sitting normally the same as a pretzel’s idea of being straight?” which is so bad it’s good, making you crouch down to laugh.

you stand back up after a moment, your stomach twisting over what you’re about to do. it’s going to be so worth it, but gosh you feel bad.

“spencer, my lovely boyfriend, is a mt dew kickstart addict, certified gamer girl, and a soon to be father” and at this last statement, everyone gasps, and spencer’s eyes shoot open and he sits up. he looks at you intently, and you see him experience about a hundred emotions at once

you smile at everyone, turning to a camera, pulling out a printed off certificate of adoption, a picture of a tiny ginger cat taped to it.

“we got a cat!” you say, almost proud of how shocked everyone is

as you turn to look at spencer, you hear shayne’s laugh, and you look at spencer with sympathetic eyes, mouthing ‘i love you’ to him over all the laughter. he just smiles, knowing that this cat is going to be so loved by you both. especially you. because you love him so much.

as you sit back down, spencer sits up. having come back from the dead, he has some things to say. he goes through everyone at his funeral; alex, shayne, damien, tommy, selina, and then, you.

“and finally, my beautiful girlfriend, y/n. my bundle of sunshine, blinding and hard to look at directly.” you scoff at this, and he looks at you with a look that says this is a joke please don’t kill me when we’re home.

“i mean, come on, you cry at surf's up? i guess even animated penguins have higher emotional intelligence than you.” he manages to say through a fit if giggles. spencer always teases you for this, even though he cries at the NGE film. loser.

after wrap, courtney comes over to congratulate you on your cat, and just catch up generally.

“so, cat parents hey? proud of you girl” she says with a grin.

“yeah, i kinda feel bad scaring everyone into thinking spencer gets game in bed.” you reply, earning a laugh from her.

“don’t be mean to me! i’m a player you know?” spencer says coming up behind you.

“okay, sure you are mr ‘i cry at anime’.” you snap back.

he throws his hands up in defeat, and you kiss his cheek, going off to see amanda.

“she’s so cool.” courtney says

“yeah,” spencer replies. “she’s not that bad.”

she elbows him in the ribs, and he clutches his side

“i mean, she’s the best!” he says through strained teeth, courtney doing a proud nod before catching you up.

#smoshyourheadin #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #arasha lalani #courtney miller #shayne topp #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh #alex tran #tommy bowe #damien haas #my sillies #i love them

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batbirdies · 21 days ago

Note

What are your top fanfic recs for 2024?

aha!! I am late answering this as usual but I went through all of my bookmarks made in 2024 to pick out my favs and I saved the links in an email draft and then when I went to make this post it was poofed gone so then I abandoned the idea but am back, recollecting links here and half rereading them as I go lol.

So these are some of my particular fav fics read and bookmarked in 2024, not necessarily that were published in 2024. (Though I think most of them were)

Also I don’t know if most of these authors have Tumblrs or what their handles are if they do, so if you recognize one and know it please tag them! Or let me know and I’ll edit in the tag.

So:

Ground Control to Jason Todd by TheThoughtsThief [22,520 words]

Jason died at fifteen years old. He recalled a light, searing and white against the expance of a black sky and the nothingness of space. He recalled a star, speaking to him with a morose calm. Then, finally, he remembered the universe giving him a second chance at life. A few years down the line, he goes chasing after myths to figure out why.

Or, a Dick and Jason space road trip au featuring Japanese death poems, Shakespearean tragedies, and Abba's greatest hits.

My first bookmark of 2024! This fic is super unique. I’m not usually big on AUs but road trips are my jam so I gave this one a shot and the ~vibes~ are impeccable. It’s soft and flowy and the recurring poetry and the relationship between Dick and Jason and the willowy liminal space experiences… so good.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers by TheSilencer [13,106 words]

"Oh." Nightwing said. "It's your first time."

"My what?" Jason said.

"It's like 'The Time Traveler's Wife.' Except I'm not your wife. Not that I'd be a bad wife, but not for you. That'd be gross - Wait, is that movie even out, yet?" Nightwing rambled, and Jason stood up on wobbly legs. "Shoot. I guess it doesn't matter. Not relevant -"

Or Jason Todd is a time traveler, and Dick Grayson is always his destination.

A story about brothers doing their best.

Basically what it says in the description. Jason randomly moves through time throughout his life, always landing where Dick Grayson is. sometimes Jason needs Dick, and sometimes Dick needs Jason, and neither of them ever really has the full picture of what’s going on. But they do their best for each other<3 they’re brothers your honor 😭😭

Still hurts underneath my scars by valkyriered [2,928 words]

“Stop.” The man in the purple suit says, and Jason freezes.

“Stay there.” He says. “Don’t move.”

Jason tries to lurch forward, has some half-prepared snark about being told what to do, and he finds that he can’t. He can’t even move his arms. His eyes dart around the empty warehouse. Fuck. “Who are you?” Jason demands. “What is this?”

The man doesn’t even look over at him. “Stop talking.”

I’ll warn, this fic says “no archive warnings apply” but there is heavy implication of previous sexual assault. No direct references but it’s definitely there.

The use of Killgrave in this is stellar, I still find him one of the most terrifying villains I’ve ever watched or read about in anything I’ve seen. The moment is small and doesn’t even seem that bad on the surface but the writing puts you in Jason’s head and you can feel how frightening it would be, and how scared Jason really, really is. Has made me think about using Killgrave in a fic sometimes cause it truly has some juicy potential.

There is comfort, and Selina is great in this, but it is from Jason’s POV and he is still pretty Not OkayTM when it ends, so just, you know, be careful with yourselves. It’s very well written and Jason is well taken care of by his loved ones in the end but it’s a hurty one.

Displacement by @imbecamiel [21,244 words]

“He’s dead,” Tim said, blankly.

“Look at me.” Jason ducked his head to catch Tim’s eyes. “Hey, look at me. You didn’t kill him. You just shot him. No big deal, right? You’ve injured lots of people. Just part of the job. Doesn’t matter it was with a gun this time. Doesn’t change anything. I’m the one who killed him. You’re fine.”

Loooove this fic. Tim accidentally fatally shoots someone in self defense. Jason is there, sees Tim panicking, and finishes the job himself so he can take the blame.

The relationships in this fic are so good, and the CHARACTERS are just SO GOOD. I started to say a lot more but then I just started summarizing the whole thing and spoiling it. Just know that Jason and Tim’s interactions in this are great, and Bruce and Jason have SUCH a good and satisfying end to their arch in this, which is so important to me and can be hard to find.

A Sad Song With Nothing To Say by WakingNightmares [14,805 words]

It starts with the Make A Wish foundation, and ends with a funeral.

Which, Bruce supposes, is unfortunately how things involving the Make A Wish foundation usually work. But what happens in-between catches him completely off-guard.

Ok, know first that this fic isn’t really my usual fair because it’s heavy on the hurt and light on the comfort. Be prepared if you decide to read this one.

A young gotham boy dying of cancer uses his Make A Wish Foundation wish to meet The Red Hood, more as a joke than anything, not expecting it to actually happen. The boy has no one else, he’s dying alone and in pain, and Jason can’t do anything about the pain but he can keep him from being alone. So he stays with the kid, whenever he can, and soon the other bats start helping, so he’s not by himself. But Jason grows attached, and Bruce knows, they all know that it is not going to end well. That the devastation this is going to wreak on Jason will be no small thing. But no one really has the heart to do anything but help.

Like I said this fic is damn well agonizing but it hit me in such a cathartic way. Because it’s devastating. The story is so painful, but everyone is helping. Everyone is there. There is so much love in this fic and as much comfort as can be offered even if it is not nearly enough. And when it ends—Bruce is there.

Open Line by @lurkinglurkerwholurks [2,140 words]

Dick pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled the crate down from the top shelf. The line rang twice before connecting.

“Hey, you busy?” Dick stepped down from the stool and carried the crate to the table, popping the top and flipping it off to the side to reach inside.

“Everything okay?” Bruce asked. His voice sounded close, like he was in a small space.

Dick is dealing with some unexpected grief and Bruce is a good dad. That’s all you need sometimes, you know?

Eat Your Heart Out by Lishalalalala [35,527 words]

What people don’t expect of Bruce Wayne is his ability to love in such a detailed way. What people absolutely expect of Jason Todd is his ability to show up at the worst place, at the worst time, every damn time. But not all late-night calls from the hospital are bad, not all galas are bad, and not all of Bruce's culinary attempts are bad. Featuring food; Jason's self-esteem issues, his complicated relationship with food; and the different ways confidence can be filled. Also featuring one Bruce Wayne trying his best.

(Endeavoring to grow up shouldn’t have been this hard considering it’s the second round for him. )

A story of Bruce and Jason revolving around each other, pinging off in different directions when things don’t go well. Of love shown through food. Of Jason’s skittish and slow acceptance of that love.

Each chapter is its own scene, little time skips between, building on each other to craft a very soft picture. This fic makes me ache in such a way. It’s poetic, it manages to make sweet, nostalgic moments stab you in the heart. Very recently completed, and I still need to leave a comment on the final chapter, whoops.

Also gives a well thought out and reasonable explanation for Bruce’s poor cooking skills lol.

Thats all from 2024, but im gonna cheat and also add one from this month cause I read it yesterday and have been gushing about it since and there’s so little Steph and Bruce fic out in the world, it needs more love.

If they could only remember/which one is you and which one/the source of all fire by @luvo27 [9,086 words]

When she’s not with him on patrol, he knows she’s often patrolling on her own. When she’s not patrolling on her own, he knows she’s wandering around Gotham. She doesn’t spend a lot of time at home, not even after her father died. She seems, Bruce thinks, like she’s lonely. He clears his throat. Stephanie looks up from her phone. Bruce can read the screen upside down, she’s still looking up solar eclipses. An idea starts to form in his mind. He starts to ask, “Do you…would you—the path of totality crosses over Vermont. Or the state of New York.” “Yeah,” Stephanie turns her phone to face him. “I was looking at the maps.” “That’s a little over seven hours away by car,” Bruce says.

Or: Stephanie and Bruce take a road trip to see the solar eclipse, featuring: Stephanie Brown and her Stephanie Brown-ness, Bruce Wayne and his Bruce-ness, and grief.

Bruce’s POV throughout. Stephanie is Robin, Jason is dead, and Bruce can see so much of Jason in Stephanie that he can barely look at her. But even in his grief he can’t stop caring, can’t stop wanting to help her. Can’t stop being terrified that she will meet the same end that Jason did.

Bruce is messy and he’s not doing amazing but he’s trying very hard. Stephanie is also messy and not doing amazing, but she is trying very hard. Has a soft ending but deals pretty heavily with grief, so be aware.

Hope you enjoy these!!

#So many of these are very sad sorry lmao #2024 was an emotional time i guess #Fanfiction #fic recs #batbirdies answers #Selkienight60 #Batfam

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fancyfeathers · 25 days ago

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Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Eight -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer

“Miss Wayne, any comments about your disappearance?”

“Miss Wayne, where have you been for the last four years?”

“Miss Wayne, does your father, Bruce Wayne, approve of your engagement to Gabriel Christel?”

“Who will you be wearing at your wedding?”

“Miss Wayne, will you family be invited to your wedding?”

“Miss Wayne…”

“Miss Wayne!”

A sudden flash of a camera made you flinch and stumble backwards, an environment you had once lived in and you were now being thrown back into.

You had returned to the penthouse after you woke up at Selina Kyle’s apartment, arriving just in time for breakfast with Gabriel, his parents, and a new hired wedding planner, but they did not last long because their idea of some high class celebrity wedding that felt tacky and just for show, all about guest lists and who is going to be wearing what. They tried to push back on your wants, you two were very high profile people and your wedding should match, but even that was breaking point for Gabriel, he snapped at the wedding planner, telling them to leave, or rather yelling at them to leave.

So now you had just been dropped off at Gabriel's mother's boutique for some sort of surprise after you and Gabriel did some of your own wedding planning after breakfast. You just did not expect the swarm of gossip column reporters and paparazzi, even if you grew up with it you were no longer used to it, you felt like an absolute deer in the headlights.

“Excuse me, but Miss Wayne is taking no questions at this time.” Like she was your hero, the doors to the famous fashion’s designer boutique opened up and a hand came to rest upon your shoulder, like your guardian angel Mrs. Christel came to your rescue, pulling you away from the press and back towards her fashion house. “Please save all questions for a later date when Miss Wayne is ready for a proper interview.”

You heard their shouts of protest as you were tugged back into her building, leaving the press stuck outside, still shouting their questions. You breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the doors close behind you as you walked deeper into the designer’s gallery, your future mother in law interlocking your arm with hers.

“Reporters and paparazzi, they are like rats or cockroaches.” She sighed. Her hand squeezes around your arm. “Even when you think you have stomped them out and think they are dead, they always come back, desperate for another taste.”

“I… I don’t know about all of that.” You muttered, feeling yourself shrink into yourself. “A-anyway, what is the surprise?”

“It is not my surprise, I just helped plan, closing the doors of my humble boutique to the public for a few hours.” Humble was not the exact words you were looking for, this was a high end fashion boutique, the most esteemed in the city, perhaps practically in all of the East Coast, the place had marble flooring and crystal chandeliers. She led you into one of the departments of the boutique, the wedding dress department which was only open to appointments and there you saw two very familiar ladies.

“M-mom! Selina!” You yelled out, running over to the woman sitting on one of the white velvet sofas along with Selina, glasses of champagne in both of their hands, though your mother passed hers over to Selina as you came running into her arms, nearly knocking her over and off the couch she sat on and the sound of hers and your laughter filled the empty designer boutique.

“Miss Kyle contacted me earlier this morning before breakfast and asked if I could set this up.” Your future mother in law smiled, walking back to the dress racks, seemingly where she had already picked a few dresses out, along with your mother and Selina no doubt before you got here. “But you Mrs. Wayne, I have not seen you in ages, truly a sight for sore eyes, but how ever did Miss Kyle get you out of that manor your husband owns?”

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to know.” Your mother replied as you scooted over to sit next to her on the sofa she sat on. You certainly knew what that meant when she said that, Selina snuck her out, probably when everyone in the manor was still asleep. “Let’s just say my husband will not be happy when he realizes I am gone.”

You definitely knew now that Selina snuck her out.

“Well it is a shame your husband and other children do not approve of the union of our daughter and son, it would be nice to have Bruce Wayne’s blessing, then perhaps we could finally get along.” Your fiancé’s mother sighed, taking back the dresses that were already picked out and hanging them up in the dressing room which was connected to this little lounge you all found yourself in. “Oh I remember that time where your little Damian got all up in knots over your daughter kissing my son, that was sure to be an interesting meeting with the principal.”

“Ah yes… my apologies, that was an unfortunate chain of events, my stepson has always been protective over my little girl, she is his little sister and his blood sister no less.” Your mother’s hand trailed down to your own, giving it a soft squeeze. “Besides Damian has always had his anger issues and over protective tendencies, the ladder is something he very much inherited from his father I believe.”

“That reminds me, who is Damian’s mother? You are his stepmother so it is not you and he is not adopted like the rest.” Your future mother in law leaned against the door of the dressing room, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Don’t tell me the Brucie Wayne had an affair with another woman while he was with you during your original engagement to him.”

“No… Damian was something… actually you really do not want to know that one.”

______________________

“Hmm, I don’t know, I quite liked the lace one.”

“Yes, but that one is a very select taste, maybe we stick with the silk.”

“I think the plunging neckline looked quite pretty on you, that way you can wear a statement necklace.”

You have lost count of all the dresses you have tried on for the three older women, they were probably having more fun out of this than you were at this point, having you dress up like a doll.

“I need a break.” You sighed dramatically as you leaned yourself up against the open dressing room door, glancing back at the older women in the room. “How many more dresses are there?”

“Well I have about a dozen dresses a designer friend of mine sent me from their boutique in Barcelona.” Your future mother in law commented which made you groan loudly and Gabriel’s mother glanced at your mother and she smiled, reaching for a white paper bag that is reminiscent of the ones you would get with a purchase from a designer store. “But I suppose there is just one more for today.”

“What is it?”

“This was my mother’s wedding dress and her mother’s wedding dress. I am the one who didn’t wear it because it is so important to our family and I didn’t feel like I deserved to wear it on my wedding day, but maybe you would like to wear it.” She walked towards you, handing you the bag with the dress inside.

“Thank you, mom.” You smiled at her, swallowing down any crying so as to not make a scene and ruin the happy moment you all were having. You let her push you back into the dressing room and close the door once you were inside.

You set the bag down on the small bench in the dressing room and you pulled out the dress from the bag and for how old it is the dress was in perfect condition. It was an older style, the top was covered in lace that created a transparent turtleneck with long sleeves and the underdress made up charmeuse with a sweetheart neckline and tulle puffing out the skirt a little bit, sort of a toned down version of a Victorian style wedding dress. You had seen photos of your grandmother and your great grandmother wearing this dress before, but your mother never wanted to, her marriage did not deserve such a privilege in her own eyes.

You slipped on your mother’s family’s heirloom dress pull the sleeves over your arms and the lace was soft, not itchy like you imagined, but when you tried to reach to the back and button it up since it had no zipper you could not quite reach them or see them. You sighed and opened the dressing room door, peaking your head to look at your mom. “Hey mom, could you help me button up the back? I can’t quite reach the buttons on it.”

“Yes, of course, my sweetness.” She replied to your request, standing up from where she sat next to Selina and your future mother in all, walking into the dressing room with you and closing the door behind her. She pulled your hair over your shoulder before her hands began to make quick work of buttoning up the back of your dress, her nimble and quick fingers doing her best to get a hold of the small fabric buttons. “You look so beautiful, I am so happy for you my darling little girl… I just wish I could be there, but you know…”

“I understand mama, life… life has been rough on us, especially you.” You sigh, slightly flinching as you feel her icy cold, freezing hand brush up against your bare skin over your spine. “But at least we have this, right?”

“…right.” She sighed, her face turning sorrowful before you watched her form a bittersweet smile across her lips. “You are going to make the most beautiful bride, I just know it, and I see it as well in this moment now.”

“I love you mom.”

“I love you more, my little bug.”

Eventually your mother finished and opened the dressing room door and you were entirely prepared for the doting comments from Selina and your future mother in law but instead you got assaulted with a mesh of black fabric being thrown right at your face. You caught the dress, a black wedding dress for those who were more their style.

“Wear that one, it fits.” Your body tensed up as you heard an all too familiar voice, Damian. Your eyes shot up to look at your older brother across the room and walking towards you and his current state of anger was clear. Selina was just sitting there on the velvet sofa, sighing and shaking her head in clear disappointment, meanwhile your future mother in law was busy taking out her phone and calling up her security, all while wondering how he even got past them and into her boutique.

“It’s my wedding, not my funeral, Damian.” You snap back at him, settting the black wedding dress down on the white velvet sofa next to Selina as Damian grabbed your mother by her wrist and began dragging her out of the room, but not before he looked back at you, a glare like daggers in his eyes.

“It might as well be.”

There was a silent gasp that escaped your lips as he spoke those words, your lips agape in shock at his hurtful words and your brow furrowed as he turned away from you, pulling your mother out, you can only imagine the scolding she is going to get on the ride back to the manor and the scolding she will get back at the manor as well.

You broke…

You fell to your knees crying…

Your heart broke, being hurt by a person you always told yourself you hated.

______________________

You left the boutique shortly after your mother was taking away by Damian, Selina left with you but you decided to tell her that you were walking home, well the penthouse, since the paparazzi was long gone by now. In actuality you were not going back to the manor, you lied to Selina.

You stepped into a back alley, it was about a block away from the boutique and three blocks away from the building the penthouse was in on the top floor. Your heart pounded in your chest as you unzipped your white Italian leather purse, a designer brand which was a gift from your future father in law, and you pulled out that beautiful silk scarf you had been gifted by Talia Al Ghul. Your hands were shaking as you wrapped it around your neck, your breathing growing unsteady.

You closed your eyes as if by clockwork you felt two other presences in the ally way, barely hearing the footsteps of the two members of the League of Assassins, looks like they have been following you.

“Just… don’t leave any visible bruises please, I can’t explain them to my in-laws.”

“My lady, if we did that we would be a good as dead.”

That was the last thing you heard before you felt a swift finger press against a pressure point on your neck and your body grew rigid, numb. You could of sworn you felt something being pressed against your lips and nose but you could not quite process that or anything, everything just felt numb…

Being kidnapped was just like falling asleep.

______________________

Your body felt as if it was as heavy as metal as you woke up from your drug induced sleep, you opened your eyes but everything was blurry, you still could not feel anything in your body, you could barely hear anything either, it was as if your ears were stuffed with cotton.

Your fingers felt ice cold, it was like they had been soaking in ice water from the Arctic Ocean. The feeling of a freezing cold like numbness made you panic for a moment, almost thinking your fingers would fall off or maybe your entire hands would.

Your head had a roaring headache, the type you could get after falling from a building and getting a severe concussion, but that was quickly fading away as you felt hands push you to sit up, hands maneuvering you as if you were a porcelain doll or a puppet or marionette.

Being moved around made you painfully aware of the stiffness in your spine, as if a metal rod ran through it, unable to move it probably.

You heard voices, but they were muffled and you could not quite hear what they were saying nor process their moving figures, just blurs. There was someone sitting in front of you, someone you could think was man by the outline of his build. The other was a woman sitting next to you, the one making you sit up, she was saying something to you, something you could not quite process and you felt her warm hand on your cheek, her thumb running circles on your cheek, it was something soothing from what you could process. You felt the woman’s free hand reach for something on a table, a cup, it was warm, if you were less lucid you may have mistaken it for tea, but you could smell it, it was sharp and pungent, the very scent of the hot liquid snapping your senses back into place, your control over taste, touch, sight, hearing, all flooding back to you thanks to your sense of smell.

You found yourself coughing, choking on your saliva due to the sudden shock, and you felt the woman’s hand on your back running soothing circles as her other had stroked your cheek. You could barley hear your own heartbeat, you could hear your own heavy breathing an comments, the sudden sensory overload making your body want to vomit but your stomach was already empty at the moment.

“Shh… just breathe, my dearest.” Your eyes snapped open wide at the sound of a familiar and feminine voice, your head turned to the side as your body was still hunched over from your coughing, and you looked up to see a familiar woman, albeit dressed far more comfortably than the sort of thing she wore during the times you encountered her in the nights of Gotham. You felt her hand on your cheek pinch slightly, it was affection you think, as she smiled down at you. “How are you feeling, dearest?”

“F-fine…” You cleared your throat as you forced yourself to sit up straight again. Your body felt tense as you felt another set of eyes upon you from across where you and Talia sat next to each other.

“That is good, after all it has been far too long.” You felt fear itself course through your very veins as you heard the man’s voice who sat across from you and his own daughter. You kept yourself from shaking as you turned your head to look him in the eyes, his bright green eyes sending intense shivers down your spine. You had only met him once or twice before, and neither time could be described as exactly peaceful, both were times you were dragged along by Damian after you were caught after you snuck out of the manor to go to parties or your friend’s houses in high school and you had gotten caught up in his family drama on your way home all while trying to get away from your own.

The far older man smiled at you, a smile you would have placed as a kid or affectionate if you did not know who this was, and knowing who this man was just made you want to shrink into yourself and pretend this was not happening.

“We have much to discuss, my dear.”

You sat across, trapped in a room with Ra’s Al Ghul.

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butcherlarry · 3 months ago

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Weekly Fic Recs 84

Well, this week kinda sucked. Here are some fics to help you feel better 💖

Come Home to My Heart by rotasha - Superbat, Explicit, 2726 words, complete. An Excellent trans Bruce Wayne fic :)

(Love) Triangles Have Multiple Centers by frozenpotions @froizetta - Superbat, Teen, 80619 words, wip. More identity shenanigans! And mysteries being solved! And Superman in trouble!

Building Healthy Relationships: A Guide by Hal Jordan by frozenpotions - Superbatlantern, Explicit, 17317 words, wip. Hal continues doing his Best™ by providing relationship advice to Bruce and Clark. God is truly giving his toughest battles (horny thoughts about your coworkers) to his strongest soldiers (Hal Jordan (stop laughing, that's mean)).

feels like a fair trade by TheFlirtMeister - Batcat, Teen, 1101 words, complete. Battinson puts on a new type of armor with the help of Selina.

Waking up at the start of the end of the world by orphan_account - Batfam, Teen, 1095 words, complete. Steph helps Bruce out of a physic attack.

pace yourself for me, i said maybe, baby, please by NotesAppWitch @notesappwitch - Poolverine, Explicit, 37763 words, complete. This fic has everything! Logan and Wade chaperoning a school dance! The boys in fancy suits! Time variance shenanigans! Logan in lingerie! It's perfect! (Did I mention it has Logan in lingerie? 👀)

how lucky [ain't that a kick in the head] by Potrix - Poolverine, Mature, 11385 words, complete. A jealous and possessive Logan over Wade fic?? It's more likely than you think!

Try It, Bite It, Lick It, Spit It (Pull It To The Side And Get All Up In It) by Curupia @curupia - Poolverine, Explicit, 4221 words, complete. Wade wears a dress during a mission and Logan goes a bit feral about it. It's *chef's kiss* perfect.

Happy reading!

#weekly fic recs #fic recs #fic rec #fanfic recs #fanfic reccomendations #fanfic rec list #batman #bruce wayne #superman #clark kent #superbat #batfam #poolverine #wade wilson #logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool

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lazycats-stuff · 2 years ago

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Batfamily

Batfamily & male!reader, part 2, part 3, part 4 - platonic

talia and bruce having a older son who “went missing ” but actually joined the court of owls . he’s become friends with a bunch of rouges and two face is like a dad to him. he lives with harley and ivy and sometimes selina and they just chaos. but he runs into batfam and damian just wants to kidnap him so he can have his brother back - REQUEST

Batfamily & male!reader, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4 - platonic

can i request a scenario where the reader, who has been trained as a weapon for most of their life, struggles with expressing their emotions. The reader has been adopted by the Batfamily and is injured during a mission. They try to hide their injuries, but Dick or Jason (or both) find out and scold the reader for keeping it a secret. The reader responds by saying that they didn't think it was a big deal. it was a big deal. So it’s fluff and angst. The scenario can end with the Batfamily having a movie night after patching the reader up to help them feel better. If the scenario crosses any boundaries, please feel free to change anything necessary.

Batfamily & male!reader, GENDER NEUTRAL VERSION - platonic

Hi! If this makes you uncomfortable writing, you can choose to ignore it. I was hoping you could do male!reader, who was on patrol and the reader is kidnapped by a villain, and once the batfamily find them its to late and they were brainwashed and was now under control of a villain. (Bonus points if the villain, is actually their biological father who trained them to be a weapon before the reader got saved by the batfamily) Once they like have a fight and the batfam knock ‘em out they bring him to the cave and try to bring his memories back. It takes a while to get his memory back since the reader is not trusting them and doesn’t talk to them because they were brainwashed to think the batfamily is bad but after a while something happens and their mind snaps and they’re back to normal and they get all emotional because they hurt their true family??