#this energy from bruce is what we need

[supermanshield]

World's Finest #255

[mckinlily]

Plot armor but it’s Bruce Wayne’s wealth.

Bruce is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce does not want to be one of the richest men in world.

He starts by implementing high starting salaries and full health care coverages for all levels at Wayne Enterprises. This in vastly improves retention and worker productivity, and WE profits soar. He increases PTO, grants generous parental and family leave, funds diversity initiatives, boosts salaries again. WE is ranked “#1 worker-friendly corporation”, and productively and profits soar again.

Ok, so clearly investing his workers isn’t the profit-destroying doomed strategy his peers claim it is. Bruce is going to keep doing it obviously (his next initiative is to ensure all part-time and contractors get the same benefits and pay as full time employees), but he is going to have to find a different way to dump his money.

But you know what else is supposed to be prohibitively expensive? Green and ethical initiatives. Yes, Bruce can do that. He creates and fund a 10 year plan to covert all Wayne facilities to renewable energy. He overhauls all factories to employ the best environmentally friendly practices and technologies. He cuts contracts with all suppliers that engage in unethical employment practices and pays for other to upgrade their equipment and facilities to meet WE’s new environmental and safety requirements. He spares no expense.

Yeah, Wayne Enterprises is so successful that they spin off an entire new business arm focused on helping other companies convert to environmentally friendly and safe practices like they did in an efficient, cost effective, successful way.

Admittedly, investing in his own company was probably never going to be the best way to get rid of his wealth. He slashes his own salary to a pittance (god knows he has more money than he could possibly know what to do with already) and keeps investing the profits back into the workers, and WE keeps responding with nearly terrifying success.

So WE is a no-go, and Bruce now has numerous angry billionaires on his back because they’ve been claiming all these measures he’s implementing are too expensive to justify for decades and they’re finding it a little hard to keep the wool over everyone’s eyes when Idiot Softheart Bruice Wayne has money spilling out his ears. BUT Bruce can invest in Gotham. That’ll go well, right?

Gotham’s infrastructure is the OSHA anti-Christ and even what little is up to code is constantly getting destroyed by Rogue attacks. Surely THAT will be a money sink.

Except the only non-corrupt employer in Gotham city is….Wayne Enterprises. Or contractors or companies or businesses that somehow, in some way or other, feed back to WE. Paying wholesale for improvement to Gotham’s infrastructure somehow increases WE’s profits.

Bruce funds a full system overhaul of Gotham hospital (it’s not his fault the best administrative system software is WE—he looked), he sets up foundations and trusts for shelters, free clinics, schools, meal plans, day care, literally anything he can think of.

Gotham continues to be a shithole. Bruce Wayne continues to be richer than god against his Batman-ingrained will.

Oh, and Bruice Wayne is no longer viewed as solely a spoiled idiot nepo baby. The public responds by investing in WE and anything else he owns, and stop doing this, please.

Bruce sets up a foundation to pay the college tuition of every Gotham citizen who applies. It’s so successful that within 10 years, donations from previous recipients more than cover incoming need, and Bruce can’t even donate to his own charity.

But by this time, Bruce has children. If he can’t get rid of his wealth, he can at least distribute it, right?

Except Dick Grayson absolutely refuses to receive any of his money, won’t touch his trust fund, and in fact has never been so successful and creative with his hacking skills as he is in dumping the money BACK on Bruce. Jason died and won’t legally resurrect to take his trust fund. Tim has his own inherited wealth, refuses to inherit more, and in fact happily joins forces with Dick to hack accounts and return whatever money he tries to give them. Cass has no concept of monetary wealth and gives him panicked, overwhelmed eyes whenever he so much as implies offering more than $100 at once. Damian is showing worrying signs of following in his precious Richard’s footsteps, and Babs barely allows him to fund tech for the Clocktower. At least Steph lets him pay for her tuition and uses his credit card to buy unholy amounts of Batburger. But that is hardly a drop in the ocean of Bruce’s wealth. And she won’t even accept a trust fund of only one million.

Jason wins for best-worst child though because he currently runs a very lucrative crime empire. And although he pours the vast, vast majority of his profits back into Crime Alley, whenever he gets a little too rich for his tastes, he dumps the money on Bruce. At this point, Bruce almost wishes he was being used for money laundering because then he’s at least not have the money.

So children—generous, kindhearted, stubborn till the day they die the little shits, children—are also out.

Bruce was funding the Justice League. But then finances were leaked, and the public had an outcry over one man holding so much sway over the world’s superheroes (nevermind Bruce is one of those superheroes—but the public can’t know that). So Bruce had to do some fancy PR trickery, concede to a policy of not receiving a majority of funds from one individual, and significantly decrease his contributions because no one could match his donations.

At his wits end, Bruce hires a team of accounts to search through every crinkle and crevice of tax law to find what loopholes or shortcuts can be avoided in order to pay his damn taxes to the MAX.

The results are horrifying. According to the strictest definition of the law, the government owes him money.

Bruce burns the report, buries any evidence as deeply as he can, and organizes a foundation to lobby for FAR higher taxation of the upper class.

All this, and Wayne Enterprises is happily chugging along, churning profit, expanding into new markets, growing in the stock market, and trying to force the credit and proportionate compensation on their increasingly horrified CEO.

Bruce Wayne is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce Wayne will never not be one of the richest men in the world.

But by GOD is he trying.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick ‘has been a barista like 90 times over 50 years of comics Grayson’ can absolutely prepare whatever drink you want him too. He can also guess/ judge what your go to order is.

With the bats

He can guess what WILL be there favorite even if they’ve never tried it before

——————

Bruce on 13 mins of sleep fucking exhausted but even Alfred isn’t giving him shit bc they HAVE TO crack this case: hrn

Dick plopping a take away coffee cup in front of him: DRINK

Bruce goes through a quick is this my son or a shapeshifter, mind control, demon situation before deciding fuck it we ball and taking a sip: this… tastes different

Dick: yeah

Bruce ‘actual freak who grumbles when coffee isn’t bitter enough’ Wayne: this is good

Dick: yeah it’s a red eye

Bruce: hrn

Dick: yeah no problem B

——————

Jay (just got done fighting aliens and needs to get back to whatever he was doing before) : get me a Drink as black as my soul

Dick: sure

Dick brings back the drink from the kitchen

Dick: strawberry iced matcha with oat milk right here for you

Jay: what the fuck Goldie

Dick: I saw you sobbing at the notebook a week ago don’t play tough with me and don’t fucking lie we both know you like tea more.

Jay sputtering: Don’t PLAY TOUGH? BROTHER I PUT A BUNCH OF HEADS A BAG AND MADE THE UNDERWORLD INTO MY BITCH

Dick: yes yes Jay now go drink your tea and run along

(It is the best fucking thing he’s ever tried, bought a matcha making kit as soon as he got him, has denied it ever since but Dick doesn’t buy it and keeps making him the drink)

—————-

Tim:

Dick:

Tim:

Dick:

Tim:

Dick: you’re a heathen

Tim: proudly

Dick: fine take the monster and go OH MY GOD

————————

Steph wincing at the taste of a latte: there’s something seriously wrong with this place, no matter how much sugar I add it’s just bitter

Dick: yeah Steph it’s bc they burn the beans to get more use of em

Dick: you could add all the cream and milk you want it’s not gonna do shit

Steph: ugh this is the only coffee spot on my campus in so screwed

Dick pulling out a takeaway coffee cup: don’t worry I brought you some from home

Steph: Jesus fuck this is delicious

Dick: upside down sweet almond latte with caramel and double espresso

Steph: should’ve married into the family with Tim god damn

Dick: Cass is still an option

Steph: what

Dick: what

——————————-

Dick:

Duke:

Dick:

Duke:

Dick: you’re one of Tim’s heathens aren’t you

Duke: just because I like energy drinks more doesn’t mean I don’t LIKE coffee

Dick grumbling: should’ve left you with the cops

Duke: what was that? I didn’t hear you

Dick thrusting the coffee cup at him: just take it, end my suffering

Duke: oh damn that’s good… what is it

Dick:…. It’s Vietnamese style coffee

Duke: fuck I might I have to switch, Jesus that’s good

Dick vaguely smug: another victory

—————

Dick: hey Cass

Cass: busy… like you should be

Dick: yeah, yeah I have like 6 mins of free time left before I have to meet up with Robin (Tim) for an op

Dick: anyway i made you strawberry hot chocolate

Cass: this isn’t coffee

Dick: it has 180 milligrams of caffeine

Cass: how?

Dick: don’t ask difficult questions

Dick: where the hell did she go?

Dick: is this how everyone else feels about us?

——————

Damian: I want coffee

Dick: you’re an infant, no

Damian: IM 15 GRAYSON

Dick: a certifiable baby

Damian: I hate you

Dick: you would hate me more if you stunted your growth and ended up Tim sized

Tim: HEY!

Damian: this is true… apologies Richard

[reubyanne]

i know I'm late to post this but RAMADHAN WITH DAMIAN.

Bruce just finished his work from the batcave at 3.30 a.m only to find Damian eating alone in the kitchen.

Bruce: "Damian? what're you doing? you're not asleep, tomorrow is school day."

Damian: "I'm eating, father. this is important."

Bruce: "why did you need to eat this.. early? late?"

Damian: "it's called suhoor, father. I'm eating my suhoor right now."

Bruce: "ah, i understand. want me to eat with you?"

Damian: "suit yourself."

..

Tim: "Damian, you're not eating your lunch."

Damian: "I don't have any."

Tim: "and why that? Is someone able to take your lunch money?"

Damian: "no, Drake. I'm fasting."

Tim: "Damn, i thought you really got your lunch money stolen."

Damian: "hrn." *walking away.*

Tim: "wow, he didn't even touch his sword to me."

..

Jason, mid sparring: "wow! you're a lot weaker, boy! what happened?"

Damian: "I don't have the energy to continue this spar at this moment. maybe we'll try again at night."

Jason: "... you're not.. saying anything?"

Damian: "i just said, I don't have the energy. let's continue this at night."

Jason: "why did you not cussing me? is this your new way to rail me up, kid?"

Damian: "... I can't. not this month."

..

*At dinner.*

Damian, praying, drinking water, eating some dates then eating his dinner.

Dick: "wow, is this your new diet?"

Tim: "he's fasting, Dick."

Dick: "what?"

Damian: "i suggest you study more about my lineage, Grayson."

..

*one month later.*

Bruce, giving Damian extra pocket money.

Damian: "thank you, father. i have mother and grandfather sending me presents too."

Jason: "what!? why he's getting extra money and we don't?!"

Tim: "yeah, it's kinda unfair ya know? since he's your blood son or whatever."

Dick, walking in: "Damii! here, here's your Eid money, don't spend it carelessly okay!"

Tim: "Eid money?"

Damian: "yes, i have been fasting for a whole month, and i deserve praise and presents such as Eid money."

[acid-ixx]

why can't we return to what we once were?

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

i know my main trope for the neglected reader series is how never, for once, bruce had ever held them in his arms, but i've been thinking of something which pains me where what if you were never truly neglected as a child, only that, your family's affection for you slowly faded over time?

what if bruce was a good father — always was, you thought to yourself even if it's been years since he last picked you up personally from school — and yet he's slowly been distancing himself from you from the overabundance of his workload, managing both wayne enterprises and his double life as batman?

a pile of tasks, of missions, all stacked up to the point he just couldn't pick a time of his day to schedule at least an hour with his so-called 'treasure', you?

what if the longer you've grown, the more their memories of spending time with you in the manor's garden, buying ice cream from the vendors off the side of the streets, or even quick runs to the grocery store with dick, him buying you your favorite treats, whilst carrying your small, younger form in his all became all but a fading memory?

what if they became too busy after you became older? believing you needed space, and yet all you received is an ever diverging relationship with each individual, a silent excuse, a mutter under their breath that they have things to prioritize, work more important than the time they spent with you all those years ago?

time so precious to you, time you realized you never cherished back in those golden days, where dick and tim would drop anything they're doing just to play board games with you back when you were freshly taken into bruce's arms.

time so slow, now, now that bruce looks at you with those sorry eyes, a gentle promise that feels like empty excuses that he'll be back soon, he'll find time for you.

and he'll cradle you, temporarily, time passing by oh-so quickly when he's with you, time you wish would just stop if it means being with your father for just a longer moment. he holds your sunken cheeks that he never truly gazed at, with calloused hands rubbing softly against the sleepless bags dipping below your eyes. and yet unlike last time, he never looks at you.

unlike last time, he doesn't cherish his hold, doesn't notice the finer details of starvation and utter desperation creeping deep inside your body.

the hasty goodbye hugs feel emptier than the presence of heartache which looms over your hallowed out chest.

his back turned on you as he entered through the hole behind the grandfather clock makes you wish you never hoped for his time in the first place.

their guidance is what led you to your growth, and yet it's what stunted you, forced you to cling into past memories, nostalgic laughter, dick's ridiculous attempts to make you laugh, to distract you from the trauma of watching your mother die. tim's awkward smile churned at you, and yet you once felt his care in the way he'd offer you his favorite energy drinks whilst alfred would snatch it away from his hands, scolding him for tempting a child to drink something unhealthy.

it once felt like the warm kisses of the sun, it once felt like a dream the longer you rest in your empty bed, in your quiet room.

a room once filled with laughter, a room which used to hold quiet sessions with bruce, where he'd read you your favorite bedtime stories, where dick would crash in after another fight with your father, where it used to be tim's favorite napping spot.

bruce loved you enough back then, to even adorn you with gleaming pearl earrings in one of the galas he'd take you with. he used to hold you in just one arm, carrying you off to the tables filled with desserts every time you point at it. he laughs heartily with the fellow rich, tells them of stories of your tantrums, of your achievements, wins their hearts with memories of you he recalls.

it once made you smile so widely it nearly hurt your cheeks, once made you forget what happened in that boxed up apartment, of your mother's corpse, replaced with genuine joy that your presence was held up like a trophy; that you meant something in this big, intimidating world.

now, even rebelling during the galas, masking your desperation for their attention with atrocious behavior. pretending to be all ditzy if it meant to steal your father's gaze for just a second, maybe your new brothers and sisters too— and yet all you're met with is judgement, barely disguised contempt for your inappropriate acts— tim's embarrassed wince, damian — the new youngest member — tsking.

where was it? where was once the light giggles at your clumsiness? where was once dick's gentle scolding and bruce's fuzzing over you?

they say things change. you know it's true, you should've believed it was, but you cling to hope so blindly, so eminently stupid that you think the world revolved around you, that you think you hold even an ember to the burning flames surrounding your weak demeanor.

they are heroes, you are not.

they hold double lives, you do not.

they are family, and sometimes, you feel like you are not.

not part of it, at least, not anymore.

and you don't know when it started, don't know why it feels like you're slowly slipping away from them, or rather, like it's them who throws you out of their circle.

but what you do know, what you always noticed, was that it hurts you all the same.

the same searing pain, the familiar ache against your chest once you've realized that they've always had time. that bruce always had time for the newer people living in the manor. he was always there for cass' ballet recitals, he was always there for duke even during his day shifts, he was always there for damian's football, for dick whom he'll drive away to bludhaven to care for if anything happens, for jason who works in the crime alley, for barbara constantly looming in the batcave, for alfred, for steph, for everyone but you.

just you.

the mundane little child who he used to easily pick up with just one arm, the kid whom he knew he cherished back then, who he proudly showed off to everyone during galas, who he used to match clothes with, watch movies with, helped silence their cries with hushed comfort, held them close to his chest.

to his heart which was always closed off, open just for you to hear the paced heartbeats if it meant help calming yours.

to his heart that held no more space for you after all these years.

seemingly forgetting you, seemingly rendering you restless, broken with all these questions on why, just why did this happen? just what caused all this sudden anguish, this sudden silence, this aching pain.

pain which held you in a vice grip, pain which forced you to smile at alfred as you pretending like all these— these attempts at restoring past memories never once hurt you, never once made you doubt if all the love they once had given you was all false.

pretenses, lies, deceit and manipulation which almost made you believe: that you're the problem, that they hate you, that your inherent choice, your eminent mistake at not choosing the vigilante life is what led you to your downfall; to this neverending pain.

and you almost believed, almost succumbed to the same paths if you were confident enough to believe in yourself.

after all, all you wanted was their presence.

all you wanted was to be cradled, no matter how childish you'd be called, no matter what it takes—

you cling to that hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd hold you once more.

maybe, just maybe, dick would swarm you in a pile of blankets like last time, bring home some junk food exclusive to bludhaven. that tim would sleep in your room, rest his head against your shoulder for just a sliver of rest. that bruce would just fucking hold you, console you when the tears become too heavy, when the weight of the world becomes too restricting against you.

maybe you wouldn't be alone anymore.

because after all, even if the hands that cradled you were calloused, blistering skin, scabbed and sullied. even if it held the weight of gotham's expectations for their saviors. even if it were stained with blood, and years of heavy combat.

even if it were unfamiliar now, even if you'll never know what it'd feel like anymore—

— it was still the same hands which cradled you all along.

and you could only hope it would cradle you once more.

you could only hope they care just enough to find you once you leave for an entirely different country, once you permanently erase traces which leads back to you.

you, just the mundane, useless child you once were.

a/n: wow, sorry for suddenly disappearing teehee <3 two things: i think i forgot how to properly write angst and i temporarily lost interest in the fandom (it felt too suffocating at some point), hence the sudden silence. everything felt utterly boring for me and i started to fixate on 10 other fandoms whilst trying to restore my love for this one. but hey! lookie here, a little concept i decided to post. it's my sorry attempt at regaining the spark of writing, and i'd rather not force myself to write for chapter 6 or else i'd end up losing more of my fixation for dc comics 😭

[thebubblesareevil]

UNO Reverse

So we all know Danny is batbait right?? But what if after vlad the fentons have developed a method to combat billionaires trying to adopt Danny.

So the fentons are in Gotham for some reason or another and they refuse the let Danny’s grades slip so they have him at Gotham prep.

Everyone knows Danny’s parents are mad scientists but Tim is really concerned about his new classmate that keeps coming in with new bruises everyday that he barely tries to hide.

He brings it up to Bruce after doing some investigations and Bruce decides to look into it.

Next thing Danny knows he keeps running into different members of the Wayne cult and the batfamily. It takes him longer than he’s care to admit to figure out they were the same people but in his defense he was exhausted from school, helping his parents with their clean energy project and training with fright knight.

That’s also his excuse for why it took him so long to realize they were trying to assimilate him. Once he does realize he starts going out of his way to avoid them, trying his best to keep his parents from finding out but he realizes it’s too late when his mom gleefully hands him a card one night and sends him on his way.

The next time danny encounters Batman he completely ignores his gentle encouragement and promises to protect him as he pulls out the card and throws it at batman.

Danny sighs and says “I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I need you to know you’ve brought this upon yourselves.” He turns and leaves behind a confused bat holding an UNO reverse card.

The next day Wayne manor is invaded by Jack Fenton carrying a stuggleing vlad over his shoulder and a giant tray of fudge in his other hand while Maddie gleefully hugs alfred proclaiming how happy she is to see her family getting bigger while Jazz is dragging Danny in behind her by his ankle while reading a book. Danny is snoring.

The Wayne’s are confused.

When Vlad finally breaks free he gives Bruce a pitiful look and asks if he also tried to adopt Daniel.

Jack then yells UNO REVERSE!! Instead of adopting Danny we have adopted you!!!!

This just popped in my brain so I thought I’d share

[flwrkid14]

Bruce shares custody of Tim with Harley Quinn

Yeah, you read that right. Gotham’s broodiest billionaire vigilante and the queen of chaotic energy are co-parenting Tim Drake. And, somehow, that’s not even the weirdest thing that's happened to the bats this year.

Why? Two words: Joker Junior.

The details are locked down tighter than the Batcave, but here’s what everyone knows (or guesses): Joker broke Tim in ways none of them can fathom. He didn’t just try to kill him—he tried to make Tim like him. And while Tim clawed his way back from the brink, he didn’t do it alone. Harley was there.

She was part of the nightmare. And then, unexpectedly, she was part of the healing. She stepped in, helped Tim survive when Joker was doing his worst. When it was all over, when Joker was (temporarily) gone, she didn’t vanish into Gotham’s chaos. She stayed.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, Tim started calling her “Mom.”

And Bruce didn’t stop him.

Cue the Batfamily losing their collective minds.

Dick is pacing the Batcave, gesturing wildly. “Bruce, this is Harley Quinn we’re talking about! You don’t just co-parent with a rogue! There are laws against this! Or, like, there should be!”

Jason is sitting on the Batmobile, arms crossed, voice dripping with disbelief. “She’s literally a former rogue. She tried to kill you! Like, more than once. This is insane, even for you.”

Steph is perched on the edge of a desk, trying (and failing) not to laugh. “Okay, but, like, can you blame Tim? Harley does make amazing pancakes. Better than Alfred’s, honestly—”

A scandalized gasp echoes from the other side of the room.

Cass just watches quietly, her head tilted, but there’s a small, knowing smile on her face. She gets it. She’s seen the way Tim softens around Harley, how he relaxes in a way he doesn’t around anyone else.

Damian glares at Bruce like he’s lost his last shred of common sense. “Father, you have truly surpassed yourself. Allowing that woman into the sanctity of our home—”

Duke raises a hand cautiously. “Okay, but can we at least talk about how Tim basically has diplomatic immunity now? No rogue in Gotham is gonna mess with him. He’s Harley’s kid!”

And it’s true. Between Harley’s reputation and Poison Ivy stepping in as Tim’s unofficial stepmom (because of course she and Harley got back together), the rogues have adopted a weird kind of reverence for him. Tim’s no longer just a bat to them—he’s Harley’s kid.

Picture this: Tim’s out on patrol, and Riddler has the gall to interrupt with a riddle—only to end it with, “You’re sharper than I thought, kid. Guess Harley taught you well, huh?” before disappearing into the night.

Harley’s brand of parenting is chaotic but deeply personal. She knows Tim’s tells, the way his hands shake when he’s overwhelmed or the too-quiet moments when he’s retreating into himself. She’s the one who sits cross-legged on the floor with him, working on puzzles and cracking jokes until the tension lifts.

She carries extra band-aids in her purse because “Ya never know when a fight with some thug is gonna leave ya with a paper cut!” She also leaves sticky notes on his projects with scribbled messages like “You’re a genius, baby boy!” or “Don’t forget snacks!” They’re goofy, sure, but they make Tim smile when he needs it most. She keeps a stash of snacks in the Manor because Tim forgets to eat when he’s working. She shows up with pancakes at 3 a.m., douses everything in syrup, and calls him “baby boy” in that soft tone that makes Tim feel… safe.

Even Harley’s chaos has an odd kind of comfort to it. She’ll burst into the Manor unannounced, dragging Tim into impromptu “self-care parties” with face masks, bad rom-coms, and every flavor of ice cream imaginable. Somehow, it works.

Ivy, on the other hand, balances Harley’s energy with her own structured nurturing. She insists on “proper nutrition” and occasionally sends Tim home with meal prep containers filled with organic, eco-friendly food labeled things like “Stress-Busting Smoothie” or “Brain-Boosting Soup.” If Bruce raises an eyebrow at it, Ivy simply reminds him that “The human body can only fight crime properly with the right fuel, Bats.”

One time, she cornered Bruce in the greenhouse, pointing an accusatory finger. “If you send Tim out on patrol without a proper meal or at least six hours of sleep, I swear, Bruce, your rose garden is compost.”

And while Harley is the queen of hugs and chaos, Ivy is the one who sits with Tim on the porch at night, talking softly about resilience and regrowth, using plant metaphors Tim pretends not to understand but secretly finds comforting. Once, after a particularly bad night, she gifted him a small cactus with a note: “Even when it feels like the world is trying to tear you apart, you’re stronger than you think. Also, low maintenance, like you.”

Bruce knows the family doesn’t fully understand. But as he watches Harley teaching Tim how to make lasagna one night, the two of them laughing as the kitchen turns into a war zone of flour and tomato sauce, he doesn’t regret it.

Sometimes family doesn’t look like you think it will. Sometimes it’s stitched together from the most unexpected pieces.

And sometimes, it’s an ex-rogue, a traumatized teen, and a brooding billionaire all trying to figure out how to keep the lasagna from burning.

Welcome to Gotham.

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and Mice and Tea Parties 20

Masterpost

AN: B really was trying his best to protect Danny last time, he just was missing too much information. Poor Danny...

No reading over. We suffer and post at 2am.

-

It had been two weeks since the last rogue Wayne visit.

Danny hadn’t intended to keep track. There was no reason to. One visit from Cass and one from Tim did not a pattern make.

He tried to dismiss the observation. He had plenty to do; it wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. The bi-weekly trivia group would start meeting again soon. He also had a TTRGP session that did its best to meet around all that life threw at them. Tucker and him played online games when they could make schedules match and he and Sam talked when she was stateside. He even had regular lunches with coworkers!

Still, there had been something different about spending time with the family.

So no, Danny hadn’t meant to keep track, but he still knew it had been two weeks and a day. But of course he wouldn’t see the Waynes that often. Bruce was a very busy man and most of the children would have no reason to come to W.E. They had their own lives with work and school and being kids or young adults. The other visits had simply been flukes, as nice as the visits had been.

The subtle feeling of melancholy that had settled over him was ridiculous and he wasn’t having it. His mood was simply off because of the whole Ancient thing. The way it was affecting his health didn’t make feeling better any easier either.

Danny leaned against the wall of the elevator as he tried to catch his breath. He really shouldn’t be walking right then to get lunch, not with the way that he felt, but he hadn’t had anything at his place to make lunch with. He hadn’t had the energy to go shopping. He’d just go somewhere close instead of walking to anything on the other side of the park.

The natural reverb of the lobby assaulted Danny as he stepped out of the elevator.

He just had to get through the lobby, the street, the restaurant, back through the street, and through the lobby again. Then he could hide in his office and eat. Or he could hide in there and eat as long as Lucius didn’t find him. Maybe even Lucius would give him a break today though.

“Dr. Fenton…?”

Danny looked up from rubbing his neck.

It was Tim. Damian was at Tim’s side, flanking him like a little guard dog and scowling. Tim was frowning too. Danny immediately wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

“Look at that, a pair of Waynes. How are you two?”

“That is unimportant,” Damian said with a little sniff. “You are clearly unwell. I assume you are returning to your apartment to rest?”

“Oh, no, I’m just going to go grab lunch. I’m alright, really,” Danny said and put on the best smile he could muster.

Tim and Damian looked at each other in some sort of silence conversation. Danny started to edge away from them, thinking he could escape before they came to some sort of end. He really needed out of the lobby and its echoing sounds.

A startled shriek from the entry way cut off that plan.

Danny twisted to face the sound as he stepped in front of the kids.

Of course it was a rogue, what else would it be in Gotham? It was a rogue, but at least it was the Mad Hatter and his squad of likely mind controlled goons. He usually wasn’t prone to death and destruction like some of the others were. But still, Danny felt his metaphorical hackles rising. The kids were here.

The kids were here and sure to draw the Mad Hatter’s attention if he saw them. Danny stepped slowly backwards, herding the kids away from the scene. At least they weren’t far into the lobby.

“Back up to the stairwell,” Danny said lowly, trying to cast his voice behind him.

“Tch. We can—”

“The elevator, the back left one,” Tim said quietly but firmly over his brother’s protest. “I have a code to take it to a safe room in the basement.”

“If he kills the power,” Danny started.

“The elevators have emergency back up.”

“That’s not very good behavior for a tea party, is it?” the Matter Hatter shouted at someone.

Danny bit back a rising noise of anger in his throat. His fingers twitched to act. But he couldn’t. The best plan was to get the kids out of there away from any action.

“Yes I see, Damian,” Tim hissed. “We’re almost to the elevator.”

“Call it as soon as you can,” Danny said. Was there a reverb to his voice? It felt like there was a reverb to his voice. No, no, he couldn’t, he had to…

“That’s better! See? This is how you behave when someone invites you to a tea party! Now where is that little dormouse?” the Mad Hatter called. “I know I saw him come in here! With an even littler one too.”

He wanted Tim.

“Calling the elevator.”

“Another mouse? A rat? A cat?"

The Mad Hatter wanted Tim and Damian.

“Here mousy mouse mice… where are you?"

Danny would not let that happen.

“Oh there you are! Hiding back by the doors, of course he is!” The Mad Hatter said. The crowed parted in fear. His wide, manic eyes looked right past Danny and he grinned. “Get them. We have a tea party we’re late for.”

“Over my dead body,” Danny growled.

The Mad Hatter blinked at Danny like he just noticed him for the first time. His goons rushed past him and through the crowd. “Oh, who are you? Never mind, if death is what you want, we can make that happen.”

Danny couldn’t hold back the chortling laughter. “See, that’s where you have a problem you don’t even know you could have.”

“And what is that?”

“You couldn’t handle my dead body,” Danny said just as the first goon reached them.

Danny stepped forward. He ducked under the swing of the punch and used the momentum to spin the goon around. With a push of his ghostly power, he sent the attacking goon careening into the next one and they both went tumbling.

“Danny, it’s here!” Tim shouted.

Not turning his back to the attackers, Danny stepped backwards into the elevator. Tim slammed a button and the doors basically snapped closed, much faster than they should. Danny was left staring at the polished metal surface of the elevator. Luminous green stared back at him. Soft black feathers dotted his temples. His fingers ended in talons. And he could feel it.

He could feel the skin on his back started to split.

Wings.

[fanaticalthings]

Most children, once they've grown up and moved out, sometimes come back to visit their parents to use their house as a sort of personal grocery store

And with Bruce being a literal billionaire whose house is always stocked with food and supplies, the batkids (that aren't living in the manor) definitely visit just for the purpose of taking shit for themselves.

---

For Dick, it's just small things, food and maybe some utensils. Bruce is barely in the kitchen so he never notices dishes go missing, and there are like 10 other children in his house so literally any one of the younger kids could've stolen food in the middle of the night, so he doesn't bat an eye at all.

Babs probably steals Bruce's hardware or his tools from the batcave. Sometimes, if she's nice, she'll leave a note.

Steph probably takes shit that no one will notice at the time but will absolutely be annoyed about when they need said thing. Stapler, soap bars, the microwave plate, etc...(Taking after Jason, she steals the hub caps off the batmobile's tires)

However, for Jason, once his relationship with Bruce is somewhat decent, of course he's gonna be petty and start stealing the more expensive shit in the manor for his apartment. Jason's microwave is broken? The next day, the cave's self-made and enhanced microwave made by Bruce for convenience is just gone.

Jason's feeling a coffee maker for his place? The one in Bruce's study disappears, too.

---

At first, Bruce thinks he's just sleep deprived, but then much bigger things start to go missing, like the whole TV and couch set in the living room. He assumes the younger kids are just playing pranks on him (sounds like something Stephanie would do) but then Bruce notices that the thief deliberately avoids stealing things from the kitchen, which is where Alfred is most of the time, and suddenly Bruce has an irritated clue on who the culprit is.

At first, he doesn't say anything, until one day he comes back, tired from a patrol, and is about to log in all the info on the computer only to realize his batchair is gone. That's when he texts Jason a blunt "If you really need things for your place, you can just ask me. I'll buy them for you." (As if Jason himself isn't loaded from his totally legal activities)

---

So now Jason's pettiness levels increase tenfold, and oh, wouldn't you look at it, his bike needs some new tires, and he knows a great place to get some more.

One night, Bruce is just blearily getting up for a late night snack, only to see Damian scamper away with a...lamp? So Bruce immediately follows him into the foyer only to see ALL of his kids (sans the ones not living in the manor), trying to haul two arm chairs out the window, and they just stop dead silent to stare at him until someone whispers a nervous "Crap"

Bruce doesn't even have any energy to fight, he just pinches his nose and is all "What is the meaning of this" in his tired dad voice. And Duke meekly responds with "we wanted more chairs at Jason's place"

And suddenly it all makes sense. Not once did Bruce wonder how the HELL Jason managed to lug a whole 60in TV and a full couch set on his own in one night. Of course, he had accomplices. Bruce just turns right around and goes right the hell back to his room to sleep. He'll deal with this in the morning.

[witherby]

What would happen if Mouse got sick? Like super, probably at deaths door kind of sick? ok maybe that last part was exaggerating it a bit...But like almost 39 degrees fever, coughing to the point of gagging and vomiting, runny nose, fatigue, no appetite for anything, etc. Based off my own experiences when I get sick. I wanna know what they would do and who would panic the most. Who would lose the little sleep they already have even more. Who would think that the babeh is at deaths door. And who would be the most relieved when Mouse is better a few days later with the help of a paediatric approved medication

-🍨

I like this prompt a lot so I'm gonna do it. Hope u reaaaally like angst tho.

The Littlest Wayne: Sick Bed, part 1

Masterlist is Here!

⚠️ Spoiler/content warning: Young sick child, fever, depiction of seizure ⚠️

It starts with a cough.

"Hey, careful," Jason says, patting your back. The water you'd been sipping sprays across the table as you choke. Tim reaches over to right the glass and Alfred goes and collects a rag to mop up the mess. "You okay?"

"Mhmm," you mutter, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "Sorry...I can clean it, grandpa Alfie."

"It's quite alright, Flittermouse." Alfred gently runs a hand through your hair. "Oh, my, you're quite warm. Why don't you head up to your room and I'll have someone bring a tray to you with soup and crackers?"

"Okay." You push your chair away from the table and duck underneath it, allowing the shadow of the furniture to swallow you up. Bruce watches the dark blob you've become slide out of the dining room and towards the stairs with less energy than usual.

"I'll take it, Alfred," Dick says before anyone else can volunteer, rising from his seat. He sets his leftovers in front of Jason as he passes, helping the butler prepare a tray for you. "Do we have any Tylenol for little kids? If not, I can just crush up a half-pill for them."

"Child-friendly medications will be found in the young master's en-suite bathroom cabinet," Alfred says. "It will just be a few minutes for the soup, Master Dick. I'd recommend you head upstairs and measure out a small dose for your sibling before it's ready."

"Kay, sure," he nods, excusing himself.

Dick hops up the stairs two at a time and enters the family wing of the manor, trailing his hand along the walls and door frames until he finds yours. He knocks lightly and rapidly, a silly little sequence to let you know which brother it is, then opens the door to let himself in.

Your bedroom is almost pitch black. Since the development of your powers, your space has changed to reflect your needs overtime, which means the overhead lightbulbs have been removed and the sheer, pastel blinds over your window have been replaced with thick blackout curtains. For your family who require some form of illumination to see, you have several night lights you pick and choose from; you currently have a round projector plugged in that casts aurora borealis across the ceiling (a gift from Tim) and you've activated the touch sensors installed in the floor that briefly light up everywhere Dick walks, leaving his footprints behind for several seconds until they fade away.

The furniture you originally had, designed in warm, woody colors with bright accents, have also been replaced with black hardware and dark materials. Your bed frame is a dip-dyed wood with silver accents, your mattress and sheets are black, and your dressers, nightstand, and closet have all been painted to match.

At first glance, the large bedroom looks like every goth kid's biggest dream, but the light from the hallway spills briefly into your space when Dick walks inside, showing the bright, colorful books sitting on your black bookshelves, the even more colorful clothes in your wardrobe, your vast collection of toys, and a litany of pictures and photos on all the walls. There is a vibrant, beautiful life in the darkness, which encapsulates you perfectly in his opinion.

"Hi, Flitty," he greets, moving slowly as his eyes adjust to the light. "Alfred's working on your soup, so big bro Dicky's here to do medicine time. Holler at me so I don't accidentally step on you in here."

"Okay," you say from his left. Dick turns and squints, spotting a lump on your bed. He smiles.

"There you are. Lemme see if there's any of the gummies in your med cabinet. Those ones don't taste all gross."

He steps into your bathroom and turns the fairy lights on, bathing the area in a soft glow, and rifles through your cabinet for a minute. Then he makes his way to your bed, sitting on the edge of it with some chewables and a glass of water.

"C'mere," he says, and you comply, shuffling across the bed to give him a quick hug. "Alright. Can you show me you're a big kid and take this for me? Then you'll get a nice bowl of soup and maybe some juice."

You comply without fuss. Dick hears more than he sees you take the medication in the low light, and you go back to hugging him when you're done. Dick wraps his arms around you and lies down, propping you mostly on his chest.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah. Just sleepy," you reply. "And my throat hurts kinda, from when I spit my water."

"Aw, I'm sorry. You only need to stay awake long enough to take a couple bites and then you can rest as long as you want."

"Okay...stay?"

Dick hums, running his fingers gently through your hair. He was supposed to go back to Blüdhaven this afternoon, but...

"Yeah, Flitty. I'll stay."

--

It turns into a fever.

"I'm sorry to turn you away when you've already come by, Delilah," Bruce says, meeting your private tutor in the vestibule. "Mouse came down with something yesterday, and I don't think they'll be up for lessons for the next few days. I forgot to tell you."

"Oh, that's absolutely no problem, mister Wayne," the tutor smiles, shaking her head. "I wish them a speedy recovery! Let me know if there's anything you need."

"I will, thank you. Take care!"

Bruce closes the door after seeing her out, the Charming Socialite mask slipping off his face as he heads for the stairs. He meets Alfred at the top with a nod, stepping past him and walking up to your bedroom door.

He gently knocks three times against the glossy wood, calling your name. "Can I come in?"

After a moment, he watches it click open, and you squint up at him in the doorway.

"Hi, daddy," you croak, voice dry and harsh from the progression of your flu. Bruce tuts and scoops your clammy body into his arms, carrying you back to your bed.

"Honey, you didn't have to come greet me," he says, "manners get thrown out the window when you're sick, remember? Let's get you tucked in."

You don't fuss or complain, which makes the worry flare up in Bruce's mind. He pushes it back, refusing to catastrophize a cold. All of his children get sick, it's not unheard of. A little fever is fine, and so is your lack of excitable energy. It's normal and expected.

"How do you feel?" He asks, pulling the blankets up to your chest. You squirm a bit, kicking them down.

"Hot," you say, "sleepy."

Bruce compromises by tucking the blanket around your tummy instead. You don't push it down any further. He pulls out a thermometer from his pocket and scans your forehead.

"Yeah, you are running a bit hot," he admits. An even one hundred degrees. Should be easy enough to control with careful attention. "Alfred says you refused breakfast this morning. Do you want to try eating something small for lunch? More soup?"

You shake your head. "Not hungry."

"I know you're not hungry, pumpkin," Bruce says, gently squeezing your hand. "But you don't wanna starve, either. Then you'll shrink up like a raisin! How am I supposed to snuggle a raisin?"

You smile a bit and give a wheezy huff of laughter. Bruce smiles back.

"So, will you try? You can have anything you want. I just need to see you take a few bites of something."

"Okay, daddy. Want...um... I want more soup please."

"You can have more soup," Bruce promises, running a hand through your sweatslick hair. He reminds himself to run you a bath in a couple hours. Maybe after a nap. "Do you want anything else?"

"Mmmyeah. Bedtime story?"

"Yeah," he says. "Any story you want, after we get some soup in you."

You smile again. It eases the knot of dread in Bruce's chest.

--

It gets worse.

Three days into it, your fever spikes in the middle of the night. You completely refuse any sort of food or drink all day, despite the angry growling of your stomach, and the family unanimously decides to bring you to the hospital in the morning to get looked at. Dinner without you is full of worry and tense glances toward the family wing, and it seems like not a lot of sleep is going to be had before they find out the total extent of your illness.

When tossing and turning in bed for a few hours doesn't lead him anywhere, Damian decides to give in to the nagging in the back of his head and pop in your room to check on you. He rushes to your bed when he sees you seizing and gasping for breath. Your temperature's shot up to a hundred and six and you don't react when he tries to shake you awake.

Fearful and, for once, feeling every bit the child he still is, he clutches your body to his chest and screams.

"BABAA!!"

The door slams open in seconds, though to him it feels like an eternity. Hal and Jason are coaxing Damian to let go of you and Bruce climbs on the bed to roll you onto your side, carefully wiping the foam and drool away from your mouth while he checks your vitals. Tim is in the hallway calling 9-1-1 and texting Dick to let him know what's happening.

"Dami, you gotta move," Jason says, placing his hands overtop his brother's. Damian's grip on your arm is so tight it's bruising. "Let go, they're okay. Let go."

"I'm tracking their pulse, you dumb bastard!" Damian snaps. "Release me!"

"You're hurting them, Dames," Hal says in his ear, wrapping his arms around Damian's waist. "Bruce has them, now. You have to let go and get out of the way for the paramedics."

Green eyes snap to your arm. He seems to finally take stock of what he's doing and eases off, letting Hal pick him up and pass him off to Jason, who carries him into the hallway.

"Stay out here," Jason says. "It's our job to keep out of the way for now."

"Who's going to let the paramedics in?" Damian asks, trying to pry himself out of Jason's grip. As much as he tries to crane his neck, Jason's standing too far away from your door to let him see how you're doing, and his iron grip is unyielding.

"Alfred's by the gate controls, he'll let them inside."

Tim gets off the phone with the emergency dispatcher and glances at your door with a frown. Every hitching gasp and choke you make can be heard from the hall, along with Bruce and Hal's barely-concealed, panicked murmuring, and he crosses his arms tightly and shuffles over to Jason now that his task is done.

"Can we wait downstairs?" He mutters. Jason keeps one arm wrapped around Damian and slings the other around Tim's shoulders, guiding them to the staircase.

"I want to stay!" Damian insists, pulling against Jason, who ends up needing to sling the little assassin over his shoulder to get him to move. "Todd!!"

"Robin," Jason snaps in his best Batman impersonation. It's a damn good one, because Damian quiets immediately, stiffening in his arms and ceasing his struggling without further protest. Tim freezes beside him, but Jason just pats his back and keeps guiding him down the stairs.

The trio is quiet as they file into the main living room. Jason and Tim sit on the couch and Damian gets propped up in his brother's lap. Try as he might, he can't wiggle out of Jason's arms.

"This is asinine," he hisses. "I should be up there."

"Doin' what?" Jason asks. "Bruce and Hal are both in there with Mousey. Alfred's about to guide the EMTs inside. Tim called 911 and then told Dick the situation. You were the one that first found 'em and got help."

Jason gives Damian a squeeze, propping his chin on top of his head.

"You saved their life, Damian. Ya don't need to do more than that right now. Let the grown-ups take the reins for a while."

"But I —"

"You've done more than enough," Jason insists, not unkindly. His tone has been uncharacteristically soft the whole time, Damian realizes belatedly. "I'm sure they'll thank you when they come out the other side of this."

Damian didn't do it for your thanks. He did it because he loves you. Despite you quickly approaching the age where Bruce might offer you the Robin mantle soon, which has filled him with more anxiety and anger than he's had in a long time, he loves you dearly and doesn't want anything to befall you.

In spite of everything, he's your big brother and he loves you just as much as he can't stand you.

"They will be fine," he mutters firmly. "There's no alternative."

"Right," Tim speaks up. He sounds like he needs the reassurance just as much as Damian. "M is gonna be okay."

The three of them turn their heads when several pairs of footsteps enter the vestibule. Four paramedics rush in with a stretcher and duffel bags of medical equipment. Alfred orders them in the direction of your bedroom with simple, firm instructions, and they head off.

The butler then turns, spotting them out of his periphery, and he clears his throat and adjusts the belt around his robe. He's still in his sleepwear, having rushed out of bed to help prep for the emergency like everyone else.

"I've had my fair share of exciting nights," he comments, "but I must say, they never become more enjoyable. Why don't you all join me in the kitchen and I'll prepare some drinks? Hot chocolate should suffice on a chilly evening."

"Sounds fantastic," Jason says, hopping to his feet. He lifts Damian up with him, denying him the chance to refuse, and with a glance and jerk of his chin, coaxes Tim to get up and follow after.

"Put me down," Damian says, reaching up to tug on Jason's night shirt. "I won't run back upstairs. I swear."

"Yeah? You double-swear? Don't make me chase you, kid, I really do not have the patience."

"On Father's life," he insists.

Jason sets him on the floor. Damian follows them into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island, cupping his hands around a warm mug of hot cocoa when Alfred hands it to him a couple minutes later. He watches the wisps of steam curl up into the air and dissipate, unable to stop thinking about your writhing body in bed. Your eyes had rolled back and your limbs had locked up, jerking uncontrollably. And the noises you were making...

The mug gives a foreboding creak under his grip. Alfred gently places his hand on Damian's back and gives it several soft pats.

"Do not fret, master Damian," he says, "our little Flittermouse is very resilient. An illness turning poorly won't keep them down for long."

"I know," he says. Alfred nods, and with a final brush against his shoulder, tends to Tim next to ensure he's also doing okay. When Damian looks at Jason, he sees him calmly drinking from his mug without so much as a furrow in his brow. But there's an almost imperceptible ricketing noise that means he's bouncing his leg nervously. It makes his stomach twist almost painfully, to know he's just as scared as everybody else.

Damian takes a deep breath. He sips his coco. He thinks of the froth pouring out of your mouth when Bruce rolled you into the recovery position. He puts the mug down.

He knows you'll be okay. You have to, because he just can't live with the alternative.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson:

*runs the titans*

*works for the league*

*has a day job*

*solo patrols bludhaven*

*solo patrols New York*

*on call 24/7 for regularly scheduled Gotham crisis(es)*

*training at least 40% of new gen heroes at any given moment*

*infiltrating the current annoying cult, corrupt gov, spy organization, company, mafia group, evil underground ancestral foundations of a city and random corrupt modeling industry*

*monitoring drug pedaling in 3 cities*

*emotionally regulating 80% of his family bc why would they do it themselves? Nah let’s just ruin relationships for fun -cough Bruce cough-*

* maintaining civilian cover*

*canonically does volunteer work*

I am beginning to think nightwing doesn’t have anger issues he’s just overstimulated bc wtf

Like Dick take a break what is this?

————

Dick currently working on infiltrating the mob, after 4 days of 6+ hour patrols bc bludhaven has no chill an Arkham breakout, a performance review at work that took too long, organizing a titans outer space mission, just got back from training Jon Kent: no one call me plz god no one call me I can’t do this I have so much work no one. Call me plz

*phone rings* -it’s tim

He could ignore it but last time he left Tim alone for a month the dumbass lost his spleen and decided a cowl was a fashion choice (equally bad in his opinion)

Dick picking up the phone with his non broken arm: yello

Tim: so I accidentally maybe got kidnapped and maybe also started a cult around the concept of Batman and I’m out of energy drinks. (All equally dire in tims opinion)

Dick popping 4 caffeine pills: shut up I’ll be there in 30 don’t DO ANYTHing.

—————

Jason: sooo I might be engaged to an alien princess

Dick about to pop a Xanax: tell me it’s Kori or at least in this galaxy

Jason: nope

Dick: …. Can it wait

Jason: she wants to eat me, their species is like a praying mantis knockoff but with space and mind control.

Dick: yeah okay give me an hour I’ll call raven

————

Damian: hello Richard

Dick: what did you do.

Damian: I have been kidnapped by my mother

Dick: again

Damian: I feel it would be redundant to say anything

Dick: …….. alright I’ll call the nearest flying hero be there in a bit… keep ur spine where it is Damian or I swear to god-

——————

Bruce: cult

Dick who just got done with an undercover mission: anddd?

Bruce: we need someone to infiltrate it

Dick: I swear to god I. will. hurt. you

Bruce: hnnnn

——-

Babs: I have… acquired a child

Dick who is fighting deathstroke : …okayyyy

Babs who is watching the fight: she’s a little bit … traumatized

Dick, dodging a katana: preaching to the choir

Babs: can you do your whole, human empathy and kindness tell me ur life story I have puppy dog eyes.

Dick: ….

Babs: you owe me

Dick: … one day I will delete all your numbers and disappear

Babs cheerfully: you know no matter where you go I can find you hunk wonder see you in 3 hours don’t die before then!

[sugardaddy-glucoseguardian]

DPXDC IDEA:

Ok so, angst. Dead on main, and demon SIBLINGS not twins. Soulmate AU where only you know the name of your soulmate and it is guarded jealously.

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

Danyal is the 1st son of Bruce and Talia was deemed too much like his father, so they had Damian to replace him as the true heir, Danny became his guard.

Danny dies protecting Damian in an attack on the league, before he dies he tells Damian the name of his soul mate and asks him to give him his love if he ever finds him and tell him sorry he couldn't be there.

-----------

Danyal gasps through the hole in his lung, blood pours out of him. But he did it. He did his job. Damian was safe. He killed all the intruders after him.

He drags his feet toward Damian room, he has to be sure he's ok, then he can rest. Alarm bells ring in the back of his head, soft and incessant. Danyal ignores them.

Pain pulses from the many punctures and slices on his body but he makes it. He pushes the door open.

"Ahki!" A small voice cries out, Damian only seven looks terrified. He rushes over and Danyal looses the fight with his body to keep upright. He collapses in the middle of the room with Damian supporting his head.

"Ahki?! Please we need to get you to the medics or or the Pit! You've lost so much blood." Small hands press on his wounds trying to staunch the bleeding.

Danyal suddenly realizes he's dying. The blood loss and what he now realizes is poison are extensive. He's not going to make it. Mother won't waste the Pit on a failure, but at least he'll die with Dami.

A though strikes him, one last selfish request, then he'll rest.

"Dami-" His voice breaks and he coughs up a bunch of blood. Damian mutters at him to - shut up you're fine, stop talking you're making it worse.

"Damian, please, I have a request." Distantly Danyal registers this is the first time he's seen Damian openly cry.

"A-anything Ahki, but you'll be Fine!" He sobs pressing harder on his chest. Danyal feels the edges of his vision fading.

"My soulmate-" Damians eyes go wide- " is named Jason Todd, if you meet him pass on my love? And tell him... I'm sorry I couldn't....... meet him. "Danyals struggles to focus on Damians face, he can't hear his sobs anymore, all he can see is Damians bright green eyes,

"ahibuk....akhi."

And Danyal knew no more.

-‐---------------

Years pass, damian goes to Bruce's. Damian realizes Todd is Danny's SM. He also realizes hes not going to want to talk to damian, so he lures Todd to the manor. He uses his skills to restrain Todd in the dining room. While everyone freaks out, he kisses Jason on the cheek. Everyone freezes.

Damian whispers " Danyal is sorry he could not be here to meet you, he sends his love through me, he died an honourable death."

Jason is stunned and Damian walks away.

Jason had never told anyone his soulmates name.

---------

AN: I had ideas to keep it as he died or that he becomes Danny phantom but this is all I have energy for rn.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 2

Danny had to admit, Lunch Lady was an excellent teacher.

Sure they were blitzing though a cook book thst was more tape and hope the paper, but Danny was for once actually understanding and enjoying being taught.

Cracking an egg into a bowl, Danny held it close while whisking quickly, not fully incorporating the flour in his pancake batter before dumping a good sized dollop on the flat top, smiling from the brief sizzle that he heard.

There was a sudden cacophony sounds from the front of house (which was the dining area? He never knew that before) putting the flat top on low, Danny looked over to where Lunch Lady was floating only to find nothing.

Blinking a bit, Danny wiped his hands off OK his apron as he poked his head out, frowning at the diner car, "What was that..." his words were cut off by one of the blinds slats bending as if pried open, and as he squinted, Danny saw two figures watching from a distance ontop another rail car.

Vigilantes

Danny felt his heart flutter with excitement, while not as cool as maybe Martian Manhunter or StarFire (since y'know...fucking aliens, Space) the Gotham caped community were interesting, if only since Batman and his Flock were Sam's low key obsession, she had even gone out as Robin for multiple Halloweens, and don't even get him started on the fan theories about them all.

Smirking he tapped the bar, allowing thr blinds to snap closed, "Sam is so going to flip that I saw the Birds before her." Letting out a little giggled, Danny quickly swore as he smelt a bit of burning and rushed to flip his pancakes.

---

Tim was, in Dicks opinion, the most concerning member of the family, sure most days he gives of "miserable wet cat" energy but even then Dick had seen his little brother easily take down guys that even Bruce had trouble with.

That wasnt even touching on his um...mental quirks

The less he speaks of the time period between Bruce's and Kons deaths till their eventual return, the better.

Putting down the binoculars, Dick stole a glance over at Red Robin, who was frowning deeply at his wrist computer, scooting a little closer Dick leaned over to see what was happening, "Whatcha do~oing?"

So entranced by what he was reading Tim jumped a little, an elbow flying out to where Dicks face had been a second ago as he turned and glared.

"Don't...! Do that Wing! Ugh..." shaking his head as he let out a huff Tim took his eyes off the small monitor and looked up at the diner car, pointing at it as he spoke scornfuly.

"That place does not exist."

"Like, legally? I am sure Batburger doesn't either-"

"No." Tim said, cutting the older vigilante off, "It doesn't exist physically."

"Timmy..." Dick said as he ran through the protocols for when RedRobin got a little too many insane things in his head.

"Get that look off your face Wing, it really doesn't exist, like..." letting out a sigh, the teen tried to put his words right "Don't look straight at it but a bit to the side so it's to the side of your eye." Pointing to a middle distance a bit away from the diner cart, Dick sent a small frown at his brother but did as he was asked.

"Holy leaping lizards..." Tim, somehow, was right, since when Dick just looked about a few feet away from the diner, it started to waver turning...transparent? And a little blue? But when he looked at it closer it was just a normal, abet run down looking diner.

"Exactly, no need to bench me till Agent A stuffs me full of anti-psychotics!"

"That was one time Tim, and you were having a mental break down."

"I am not lying when I say we killed Santa Claus Dick!"

"Sure Tim...sure"

---

Danny drummed his fingers on the breakfast bar, nursing a cup of coffee as he waited for something to happen.

He knew thst he was being watched, he had a vague idea who was doing the watching, but was starting to get a bit bored waiting for them to get closer.

Pausing mid sip, a grin spread across Danny's lips, "Hey cart? Can you do something that might draw those guys over here? Let's get some customers!"

Some how, Danny's grin only grew at the rumble of the cart, and he xould hav sworn he heard a sound that was a mix between a train horn and a chuckle.

---

Tim shot his brother a stinging glare, swatting at his arm as he blushed, he did every much indeed accidentally killed Santa Claus and took an impromptu trip to Apokolips to give DarkSeid coal.

His next rebuttal to Nightwing was cut off as the diner cart shuddered as if it was in an earthquake before it stilled, and the banner that was across it suddenly gained a new line.

[JUST NOW! VIGILANTES AND HEROS GET ONE FREE SIDE OF FRIES! COME ON IN BEFORE THE OFFER ENDS!]

Tim was silent for a moment, watching the cart to see if there was any more changes before turning to Dick, who had lost the joyful energy that he always seemed to have.

"RR, plans changed, we are going to investigate inside."

Tim gave a sharp nod, his bo staff elongating as he grappled down to the train tracks below, his boots crunching gravel underfoot as he slipped from shadow to shadow, getting closer to Big C's diner.

---

Danny was in the back, flipping through his cook book as he heard a bell ring, jolting up, Danny could see through the service window and see who came in.

He had never met a real hero before, not like the two that had just came in, feeling nervous, Danny fumbled with a small notebook as he came out from the kitchen, grinning at the two Birds.

"Heya! Thanks for coming to Big C's! Names Danny and I am kinda the only one in today, what can I get you both?"

His eyes flickered between the two vigilantes, noticing new things each time he looked at them, like how Red Robin's cape had buttons instead of being sown on, or how Nightwings suit wasn't slick but actually textured.

---

Dick looked at everything he could as he stood in the diners door, it looked like a typical 50s styled mom and pop kinda place, an old radio buzzed with songs of a bygone era while the seats were cracked pink leather vinyl.

He could hear someone moving in the back, resting a hand on his eskrima sticks, Dick stalked further in, it felt real enough...

He could feel Red Robin knock into his back as the person from the back came into view, it was a teen, and holy hell did he look like Bruce Wayne adoption bait, raven hair, blue eyes and a cheesy looking grin.

He couldn't be older than Damian, who had turned 16 a few months ago, the teen was just so...tiny.

Danny, that's the name given to them, and Dick can see it, he looked like a Danny.

Pausing to look to Tim, Dick smiled back at the teen, "Well...can we see a menu?"

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 8

Jason and Danny leaving Catholic Mass.

Danny: That was sooo long.

Jason: Yeah, Father Henry spoke at length today.

Danny: I know the exodus is important and all, but there was no need for that to last 3 hours. Besides the man is ancient, how does he have that much energy?

Jason: I've been asking myself that for years. Our lead pipe issue here was so bad, the man should be long dead.

Danny: Had? Let me guess, Bruce paid to have them replaced?

Jason: Yup. Speaking of Bruce, want to go to the manor?

Danny: Sure why not?

Jason picked up his phone and called Alfred to pick them up.

Jason: Alfred should be here in five minutes or so.

Danny: Why don't we just fly there? I can carry you with me.

Jason: Kid, last thing I need is for you to be declared the anti-Christ by Father Henry.

Danny: I'm not even a baptized Catholic so...

Jason: What even are you?

Danny: Well I was raised Protestant, but after the whole ghost king thing, I more or less converted to the main religion of the Infinite Realms, called Infini. It's basically the worship of the multiverse itself.

Jason: I was half expecting you to say you were a figure of worship yourself.

Danny: No, the old king made himself a figure of worship. Once I took his place I put a stop to that.

Jason: Damn, I wouldn't have.

Danny: Luckily you're not king.

Jason: I think it's for the best.

Danny: Hmm, what about everyone else? I know Bruce is Reformed Jewish, he's taken all of us to his synagogue.

Jason: Oh, we are very religiously diverse, let me think. Alfred is Anglican/Church of England, Dick and Duke are non-denominational protestants, Tim and Barbara are Agnostic, Steph is an Eclectic Pagan, Cass is Buddhist, and Damian is Muslim. He laughed. Poor Bruce has to keep up with so many holidays.

Danny: Is that why we never do any vigilante stuff on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays?

Jason: Yes, Bruce made that clear to the rouges years ago. Besides they like the days off to make their plans.

Danny: How nice of them?

Jason: One time the Penguin tried to rob a bank on a Saturday and Bruce landed him in the ICU for a month. No one dared brake Batman's "days of rest rule" after that.

Danny: Is that why his nose looks weird?

Jason: No, he was born like that.

Danny: Hmm, follow up question why don't the others join us for mass?

Jason: Father Henry has banned from attending, after they almost burnt the church down.

Danny: They almost burn the church down!?

Jason: Long story, Father Henry has never forgiven them.

Danny: I think Big J might disagree with that.

Jason: Did you just call Jesus "Big J?"

Danny: Yes, and he cheats in Monopoly.

Jason: You've played Monopoly... with Jesus...?

Danny: Yes, it was the Annual Abrahamic Figures Assembly. That game of Monopoly was between Jesus, Abraham, Moses, Ramses, Muhammad, and myself. And Jesus was cheating! He had half the railroads, houses, hotels, and was stealing everyone's money!

Jason: Hold up, Ramses was there?

Danny: Yeah, Moses and Ramses reconciled when they reunited in the afterlife.

Jason: And you attended a gathering of Abrahamic figures?

Danny: Yes.

Jason: ...I sometimes forget you're basically a god.

Danny: Yeah... I sometimes forget that myself. They looked at each other. Oh! Also Mary makes one hell of a challah.

Jason (ruffling Danny's hair): You never stop surprising me kid.

Danny: And I have no plans on stopping.

Jason: Nor would I want you to.

Alfred rolled up in front of them.

Jason: Well Alfred's here, let's go kid.

(Master Post)

[terrestrialnoob]

Not Martha Wayne stood in the foyer of Wayne Manor. She looked exactly like the painting in the den, same dress, hair, and makeup. Bruce had spent hours staring at it. She turned to look at him when he entered.

"Sorry for entering your home without permission." She said with a small bow of her head.

"Why do you look like that?" Bruce said, getting further into the room, but still giving her space.

"In all honesty, I was hoping it would make you more likely to say yes." She gave him a hopeful smile.

Bruce lifted en eyebrow, "I don't appreciate it."

"Then I apologize." She took a step towards him, dress flowing longer, hair growing dark, flesh and bone shifting under greying skin. Standing before him now was an easily ten foot tall skeleton-thin being. Long hair draping out of a wide hat with hanging veil shading a thin face with glowing red eyes. Her dress had turned Victorian in style, but was open from her neck to her waist. Her ribs were on display, but more importantly, a glowing, pulsing orb of red energy in her center. "Is this preferred?"

"Yes." Bruce didn't feel any more comfortable but it was preferred. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"You may call me... Amity, and I have a favor to ask you." She flared her dress and when it fell back, there were kids on the ground. One looked to be around five, carefully holding a baby to his torso, and one that looked around three, standing protectively in front of the other two. "I need a babysitter."

Bruce stared at the children. "A... babysitter? And you chose me?"

"You have a glowing track record." Amity said, a gentile smile spread across her face and Bruce can see the photo she'd been looking at when he'd gotten there. It was of most of his children, he'd taken it himself.

He sighed and looked at the children next to her, they hadn't moved, the older two still positioned to protect the baby. "Who's kids are they?"

"Mine."

"They look human." Bruce stated but it was a question.

"They have human - no, they had human parents, but they were born in me."

Bruce looked at them, the older two glaring at him, the third too small to know what's happening. "How long would they be in my care?"

"Not too long."

"What does that mean to a being like you?"

Amity actually looked surprised by the question. "I don't know. I supposed even hundred years is not too long for a being like me. But that is not what I intended from the statement. You will not have them for more than - a year. Maybe a bit longer, if things become... difficult."

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Is there anything specific I should know? Any dietary needs or special powers I should be made aware of?"

"They will be fully human and need only what a human needs until they come in contact with the Realms -my origin place- again."

Bruce nodded. "Okay. I will take care of them until you return for them."

She laughed a strange echoing laugh that sent a shiver through the entire house. "I know we can count on you, Martha said as much."

"Martha?"

"She is loyal to my sister, both recommended you. And we thank you, Dark Knight." Amity began to fade at her edges, her dress turned to rotting leaves, her bones crumbling to dust, until there was nothing but the three children left behind.

[incorrectbatfam]

batfam members being the smartest and dumbest person in the room at the same time

Damian: Here's the plan: we wait for your mother to put the pie on the windowsill to cool. Then, I'll spoof a call to her work phone in order to draw her away. That's when you come in and take it. Are we clear?

Jon: *walks up to Lois*

Jon: Mom, can Damian and I have a piece of pie?

Lois: Of course, here you go.

———————

Cullen: I tripped over my shoelaces again.

Harper: I can make self-tying shoelaces that can only come apart when you use a password-protected app.

Cullen: ...I was just thinking of wearing velcro.

———————

Duke: Check out my project! Not to brag, but I think I know who's winning the science fair.

Izzy: What is it?

Duke: It's a chamber that excites nanoparticles to generate short-term high-intensity thermal energy that can alter organic matter to make them suitable for human consumption. What do you think?

Izzy: Funny, I have one at home. Only I call it a microwave.

———————

Dinah and Babs: *talking*

Dinah: One sec, I'm getting a call.

Dinah: *answers her phone*

Dinah, immediately hanging up: Never mind.

Barbara: Was your number leaked? I have a list of possible suspects and plans for dealing with each one.

Dinah: Relax, it was just spam.

———————

Bernard, with a mic: Welcome back to MasterChef: Young Justice. We're down to our finalists, Red Robin and Spoiler. Let's see what they brought us today.

Tim: I made a nutrient-dense mass-conserving meal replacement with all essential components compressed in a gelatinous cube for a quick, on-the-go meal during our off-world missions. I'm serving it with a protein shake served in a vacuum-sealed pouch made completely out of recycled materials.

Steph: I made authentic Belgian waffles using techniques dating back to the 1958 Brussels World Fair. I'm serving it with a warm Swiss chocolate ganache, Japanese white strawberries, and homemade ube powdered sugar. For a drink, we have a cappuccino made with fair-trade Colombian dark roast beans and milk sourced from local farmers.

Kon, Bart, and Cassie: *taste and discuss*

Kon: You're both eliminated.

Tim and Steph: What?!

Cassie: Red Robin, the point of this competition is to showcase taste and culinary artistry, not just your engineering skills.

Bart: And Spoiler, you were supposed to make soup.

———————

Cass: *sneaks out her room*

Cass: *rolls down the hall*

Cass: *jumps over the couch*

Cass: *crawls through the vents*

Cass: *climbs down the rafters*

Cass: *slides down a gas pipe into the Batcave*

Cass: *lands in front of the door*

———————

Dick: I'll infiltrate the Iceberg Lounge with my state-of-the-art wearable camouflage that uses reverse psychology to throw all suspicions off of me by catching people's attention in a completely different way.

Jason: Pfft, lame. You should check out my latest tech. It's a potassium nitrate–based mixture that can be activated with a built-in timer to both create a diversion and incapacitate more of the Penguin's cronies at once.

Dick: That's stupid. We need to be subtle.

Jason: No, what we need is efficiency.

Dick: Roy, what do you think?

Roy, looking up from his phone: I think one of you wants to dress in drag and the other made a bomb.

———————

Bruce: I need the kids to steer clear of Crime Alley tonight so I can deal with a situation but I don't want to bench them because then they'll be mad at me. Any ideas?

Alfred: Give them paperwork.

Selina: Send them on a wild goose chase.

Kate: Get them to bench themselves.

Renee: Wow.

Renee: You all suck.