#twenty-something bruce wayne is Raising a Child

[desos-records]

My Adventures With Superman making me cry with Clark believing he's a weapon sent to hurt people and his friends insisting that NO, what you are or what you were created for doesn't matter, what you choose to do matters. and just. I don't know a lot about comic!superman so maybe it just comes from that, but. I can't help but see...

Iron Giant. a weapon who chooses to be Superman. the creators of this show have to know that, probably grew up on it. I can't help but see the cyclical nature of inspiration and folk mythology. if Superman helped the Iron Giant, did Iron Giant help Superman too? this young Clark who is not the near omnipotent god that renders his narrative meaningless, but a real person. In the same sense that we recognize the Iron Giant as a person.

This Clark's story is one where they address the very real world parallels between Clark and immigrants, between him and so-called 'aliens,' a story addressing the real world parallels of seeing the horrible things 'your people' do and hating that they are a part of you. hating yourself for being anything like them. I just. it's so well-done. and interesting. and impactful in a way Superman has never been for me.

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[e-nonsense]

Request for batfam x estranged daughter who looks like Batdad's mom Martha💔 she's more independent and has been raised by her mother's family who she is extremely close with, but when it comes to Bruce’s side of her fam she gets awkward and shy cuz she never really interacted with them and doesn't know how to approach them which leads to misunderstandings and angsty setbacks in bonding time. But for whatever reason, she gets along great with Damian and Stephanie as if they've been friends for years. Which causes everyone else to feel left out and a bit jealous when they see the trio hanging out having a good time.

𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗔 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗪𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡

pairing. Batfamily x batsis!reader, slight Dick Grayson x reader

summary. Reader looks startling alike to Bruce’s deceased mother, Martha Wayne.

warnings. swearing, platonic jealousy, mentions of death, horrible parenting (its Bruce), reader is like crazy rich, reader is also 22 and dick is 26. NOT PROOFREAD

authors notes. hope this is what you envisioned. no part 2 so don’t ask

wc. 1.4k

It was Alfred who made the mistake first. Accidently calling you Martha first. He couldn’t help it, you just look so much like her.

Of course he apologised right after and then nearly had a heart attack when you smiled reassuringly, “its fine Alfred.”

A kind heart to match the face of a woman long gone. The elderly man just nodded in response, deciding too keep his mouth shut from then on.

Then it was Bruce. He completely froze the day he met you, froze and stared like a creep. “Holy shit—“ He was immediately cut off by your mother’s glare at him swearing in front of you. “Sorry.”

That day went on with you being shy and awkward around him and Dick —his newly adopted son— who didn’t seem to have any interest in you at all.

“Bruce Wayne,” the man kneels in the get to eye level with a twelve year old you.

“Uh—“ you found yourself string at your mother nervously, only deciding to utter your name after she nods.

Bruce tries to smile —could you see the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes?— at you, “pretty name.”

That was the first time he had seen you, and the last — unless you count the little run ins you’ve had over the years— until ten years later. You were twenty-two, and looked even more like his deceased mother than before.

Bruce found himself watching as you gave Damian tips on the perfect brush stroke to get a texture that would look more like a cloud on canvas.

You nod and smile —one of those encouraging smiles his mother (Martha) used to give him when he got something right— “that’s it. Just try to get lighter towards the end, gives it that fluffy feeling.”

When you had decided to contact Bruce yourself ten years later it had caught him off guard but he agreed. He watched as Damian took to you immediately, the ten year old boy milking you for that motherly affection he never got from his own mother.

The validation when you pat his head and smile at him proudly at his minor achievements, something was child's play to him and yet you were so proud because of it.

The warmth you gave when you smiled in encouragement, or when you’d chuckle softly at his annoyance about one of his brothers. His brothers, not yours as well. You didn’t Bruce’s other wards as siblings, they hadn’t tried to reach out to you so you decided not to bother them with trying as well.

You were nice not stupid.

Stephanie walked into the art room you and Damian had filled with art pieces. You chuckled when the younger girl groaned and draped her arms around you, whining about some inconvenience she had been victim to earlier in the day.

You patted her head and chuckled when Damian scowled at the blonde girl, “get off her you mongrel.”

“Damian,” you say sternly and the young boy huffs before going back to painting clouds. You dragged both yourself and Stephanie towards the couch in the corner of the art filled room and listened as she whined about her day. How Bruce had scolded her about a mistake she made on the field, a minor mistake that even who would make from time to time.

You saw the tears of frustration brimming in the girls eyes and you sigh. “It’s alright Steph,” you hum softly as the girl presses her face into your shoulder.

If Damian hears the blondes sniffles he ignores it, leaving the comforting to you.

None of you speak of Stephanie’s breakdown after it happened. Opting to ignore it afterwards and move on.

Dinner later is chattier than usual, both Damian and Stephanie sitting on either side of you, giving the other member of the family zero chance to gain your attention.

Across from you sat Dick Grayson, who tried to gain your attention but continuously failed so decided to annoy his other brothers. You’re attention is finally somewhere else when Jason growls in annoyance at something Bruce had said.

“It’s for kids Bruce,” Jason seems to be seething. “Children who don’t have the luxury of getting a meal everyday.”

“I can’t trust that the money will actually go into that cause Jason,” Bruce simply sighs. You frown at that, for the first time you speak up.

“Sorry to intrude, but what are you arguing about?” Your voice isn’t timid or soft, it’s stern and had an authority quality that has Jason looking at you in shock before replying.

“Charity thing I’m tryna do,” he begins to explain. “Wanted some money to buy an empty warehouse and build a place that serves food on a daily basis to homeless people.”

You hum in response, “it’s a good idea.”

Jason beams at the praise, “thank you.” And you smile in response, “how much do you need?”

The question catches everyone off guard, “sorry?”

“How much, it’s a good idea and I’d like to help.” You ask and Jason nods.

“Well i wanted it in a good area in Gotham, might help relocate people and stuff.” You nod taking in his words. “$300,000. I need that much.”

Jason shrugs nervously as you think it through, “done.” You smile slightly, “call me if you need anymore though. I’d be happy to help.”

Jason stares at you like you’re some kind of saint, “where are you going to even get that kind of money?” He asks nervously, surely this was too good to be true. You barely knew him, why would you give up that much money so easily.

You chuckle in response, “my dad’s rich.” You pause before adding, “the man my Ma married I mean.”

“So is my Ma,” you shrug. “I inherited it all when they retired.” Jason blinks a few times, as if trying to determine if you’re actually real.

“So would you say you’re richer than Bruce?” Tim asks and you glance over at him before shrugging. “Maybe? I dunno.”

Bruce watches from the head of the table, “she is.”

You raise a brow at that, “stalking my bank account or something?”

Bruce chuckles and shakes his head, “no. But I know your father and he’s been years ahead of me for a long time.” You snort in response, “sounds like him alright.”

The rest of dinner passes and you go back to talking to Damian and Stephanie. Jason watches you three from his seat beside Dick. “Why does she only talk to them?”

Dick pauses to look at Jason and puts his fork back down onto the plate, before glancing over at you who seemed to be nodding along to whatever Damian was saying.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “To be fair we haven’t tried to exactly reach out to her as much either.”

Jason hummed in response, “demon brats a bit attached to her though.. don’t you think?”

“Guess so, pretty sure he looks up to her.” Dick says to Jason before moving his fork towards his mouth. “Like a motherly figure or something.”

Jason snorts and Tim looks over at them, “funny. He’s got two of his siblings substituting as parental figures.”

Tim chokes on his food before laughing, “now that you’ve said it.”

Dick rolls his eyes and chuckles, “leave the kid alone. He got a shitty deal of parents.” Jason snickers but he doesn’t deny it.

Dinner finishes quickly after that, and they watch as you let Damian drag you away, Stephanie following closely behind. “You must meet batcow.” Damian says before leaning in closer to you, to whisper in your ear, “Don’t tell father but there are ducks in my room.”

You wink at him and nod, “our secret then.”

The rest of the night passes and Damian is asleep by the end of it. You find yourself back at the front door, slipping your coat on deciding to go home. “Leaving?”

You turn around quickly to see Dick Grayson, an amused look on his face and a small smile playing on his lips. “I am too,” he shrugs approaching you and reaching for his jacket. “I’ll walk you,” he offers and when you nod he grins outstretching his hand.

Nervously you take his hand in yours and let him pull you along towards the front door, “I know a great view.. I could take you?”

You smile and shrug, leaving the decision to him, “guess we’re going then. I’ll warn you though it high up and its Gotham so don’t expect it to be too pretty.”

You chuckle and he keens at the sound, he finds himself wanting to hear it again, and again, and again.

“I won’t get my hopes up then,” you smile up at him.

He grins and leads you out of the manor and onto the streets of Gotham, that coincidently happened to quite peaceful that night. He silently thanked Bruce for fucking up again, he wouldn’t get this chance if he hadn’t.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[sicariodechinchulines]

Damijon headcanon: Dami doesn't flirt, he COURTS.

•We tend to forgot WHERE and HOW Damian was raised. He just doesn't get the concept "Highschool sweetheart". when he first mentioned that, they were at a gala.

"-Im not interested on playdates, that's a waste of time.-" and they nodded because that's SOOO him, but then... "-If someone is interested on my being and dare to ask for my hand, I expect them to be ready for marriage. If not, then is just to be mean a ephemeral game that I won't even bother to remember, they shouldn't either."

Unnecessary to say that reporters we're so fucking excited with that response, so much that they didn't notice Dick Grayson hanging from a chandelier.

• and yes, he had a girlfriend before, even shared some kisses with other ladies and acted like a gentleman for them, but the truth is: he didn't take them seriously.

• Dami was ready for living alone and single, that's not the big deal, but Jon appeared again, and things started to get weird... in an amusing and warming way. Jon was now a mature good looking man, strong and good-natured as always. The little naive and childish boy was gone, and now was a man; a man worthy of his attention, in any areas.

• Without saying ANYTHING about his feels, he started to court Jon in the way he learned was appropriate, the problem is: Jon Kent is not a lady.

AND IS NEITHER SINGLE.

• Flowers, luxurious gifts and expensive jewelry. People started to suspect if Jon became some type of sugar baby for Damian, but when is questioned, Jon unsuspecting, answer "I don't know, rich people are weird"

• yes, people, Damian does HOLD the doors open for Jon, while ignoring the people behind, usually ending on them smashing their faces with the door.

• They rarely travel on cars, but when they do, Dami open the door for him; the bats are BEWILDERED by that.

• Needless to say that Jay DOES want to beat the shit out of him. (I don't blame him, if a sort of Arabic prince- heir of one of the biggest fortune in the world- a fucking Robin is trying to conquer MY boyfriend, I would love to beat the shit out of him too.)

Even if he's mad at him, don't see the point on competing with a child, because after all he's not even 15.

• Everyone knows that this boy is weird in SOOO many ways, but waiting 4 years until the object of your courtship is legally able to touch you, is little to much... even for Superman, who lost his virginity in his late twenties.

• Clark never say anything about that matter, first because he doesn't want to feed rumors, and second..

Because if he ADMIT that he would be okay with Damian marrying his son, Batman will KILL HIM.

•Even if he is worried about the future that Damian and Jon hold as best friends or partners, he can't denied that Damian devotion to Jon is cute.

Sorry but Clark is a hopeless romantic who loves his wife DEEPLY

(and he doesn't like Jay at all, he doesn't knows him as much he would like, neither is happy with the amount of info about his son that is on internet now thanks to jay's activism... but this ray of sunshine don't talk about that because, wHAT IF HE IS BEING HOMOPHOBIC OR SOMETHING?? Don't want to stress his boy with that.)

• after the SHOW Damian Wayne gave at that gala talking about his expectations on a partner and the PROPER way of courtship, the rumors about the younger Wayne being a heartbreaker like his father were over. NOW, they love to talk about how amazing and romantic Damian would be as a boyfriend.

When in an interview, a reporter mentioned Tim Drake-Wayne the titular "The teens dream: A prince like Damian Wayne. His thoughts about dating and how court a lady" he dissociated for 1 whole minute.

• the worst-best come now. Still hanging from that titular a journalist did DARE to ask about PRE-MARITAL SEX. (yes, Bruce demanded that journalist, yes, Bruce won.)

"- Isn't obvious? I'm against it, at least for myself. I don't find shame on waiting the proper person to lost your virginity with... even if I fall in love with SOMEONE who isn't virgin anymore, I'll wait anyway."

And yes, that was a hint for Jon. Jon didn't get it, but the press did.

It was funny how teen boys were so spiteful towards him and how teen girls were so delighted. Damian set the bar so high for Gotham boys.

• even with all the gifts and flowers and food, Jon is the ONLY ONE who don't notice. His mother did, his father did, Batman, Redhood, RedRobin and Nightwing DID, even StARFIRE AND THAT'S A LOT. a night after a mission she just said "Correct me if I'm wrong... but the little Robin is courting Superman according his culture standards, isn't?" And the whole Bat Boys just stared.

"That's adorable... a little gentleman!"

• They usually cuddle. It was hard for Jon getting used to it after YEARS gone, but Damian was weirdly okay with it, even pleased Jon can say.

But there was something unsettling. He don't cuddle him as before, instead he do it in a way that makes Jon feel incredibly conscious about himself, but safe anyway.

Damian does it on purpose, holding Jon head close to his chest when they are on the couch, caressing the side of Jon's jaw and lightly touching his temple.

If Jon is being lucky and Damian too tired, he will press his nose against his curls and close his eyes, answering anything with a lazy "mmh"

• Bruce is worried. He's not Clark, he's not tHAT optimistic. He knows his son and how unhinged and dangerous he can be, and see this said devotion as a time bomb. What if Jon is not that good??? Or Damian manage to CONQUER the teen's heart and decide to guide him into a darker path???? Jon probed that he can DIE for him in most of one occasion, Damian is starting to act the same and is unsettling.

Sorry if isn't readable, my mother language is Spanish and i learned English from comics, translator and weirdly poetic AO3 p0rn. If you're that kind, please point out my mistakes or care to give me an advice so I can better my grammar, ty so much!!!!

[reebmiester]

So idk if this is what you meant and I’m sorry it’s so short but:

Bruce Wayne was padding silently through his palatial manor at 4am again. He’d been down in the cave for days, despite Alfred’s disapproval and the kids’ protests, and was now in a daze wandering the vast halls. A vague thought popped in his head to get some tea to help him sleep so he turned toward what he was sure was the shortcut to the kitchens. What seemed like only a second later Bruce blinked his eyes open to find himself not in the kitchen as he’d expected, but instead in front of Alfred’s quarters.

No matter what room in the Manor Bruce offered to him Alfred refused to move from his rooms in the servants’ quarters, he must have asked the older man dozens of times when he was in his twenties. Bruce stopped asking when the butler finally revealed the reason for his refusal. Thomas Wayne had picked out and decorated these rooms in the servants’ quarters himself when Alfred had first come to the manor (Martha had come in after him to fix it of course, Thomas had no sense of interior design), to move rooms would feel like letting go of the last physical reminder of their affection. Bruce certainly couldn’t fault his adoptive father for that.

The next time Bruce opened his eyes he found himself burrowed under starched sheets, the cool metal of a familiar Browning High Power brushing against the arm he had curled under the stiff pillow his head was resting on. The curtains had been pulled all the way shut to block out as much sun as possible which meant Alfred had let him sleep in, something he rarely let anyone in the family do. At first he couldn’t place why he had woken from the best sleep he’d had in months, but as he came more alive he could hear his children yelling on the other side of the wall in the kitchen.

“He’s not in the cave or his room Alfred!”

“Where could he have gone?!”

“We have to start a search party!”

“Everyone calm down.” Alfred didn’t need to raise his voice to silence a room. “Master Bruce is safe I assure you. And even if you did start a search party I doubt you would find him.” Bruce allowed himself a small grin into the pillow at that. After all, who would guess any grown man, let alone The Batman, would be found sleeping in his Father’s bed like a child? Feeling safe for once Bruce allowed himself to sink back into the warm embrace of sleep, content in the knowledge his Dad would take care of everything until he was ready to brave the world again.

That is EXACTLY what I meant!!! (anon is talking about this post)

This is where the fic is! That is his DAD. His FATHER. Bruce completely out of it from a lack of sleep + far too many layers of trauma and finding himself in Alfred's room!! Alfred not saying anything about it, not questioning it, and then letting him hide away for as long as he needs

You're my new favourite anon this is incredible

[bluejaysandblackbats]

You're Just Like Quicksand

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Batman Beyond

Summary: Jason Todd is ready to go into semi-retirement after fifteen years working with troubled youth, but one case in particular forces him to confront the sins of his youth and painful memories from his past.

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Terry McGinnis, Warren McGinnis, Mary McGinnis, Matt McGinnis, Bruce Wayne, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): TBA

Additional Tags: Protective Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Retired Jason Todd, Multiple POV, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, Angst, Mourning Jason Todd

Chapter Ten: Responsibility (Terry McGinnis' POV)

Jason picked me up from school with his granddaughter in the backseat. “Want cookies?” she asked as she passed me a bag. 

“Thanks,” I replied as I took it from her. “I’m Terry. What’s your name?” 

“Avery-Marie Todd,” she answered. 

“Avery-Marie Prescott Todd. Two first names. One middle,” Jason explained, “How was school?” 

“It was alright,” I replied, glancing out the window. Dana waved at me. I raised a hand and smiled. 

“Friend of yours?” Jason asked. 

“Something like that,” I smiled. Jason chuckled. 

“Pretty lady,” Avery-Marie replied. 

“Avie,” Jason laughed. I covered my mouth. “Terry, I have a meeting on Friday, so I won’t be able to pick you up from school… I haven’t had the chance to talk to your parents. If they can’t work something out, I can ask to do it over the phone.”

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble—.” 

“Nuh-uh. No one’s any trouble. If you can—. Actually, I can work something out if you can help me with something. Do you have a test or something on Friday?” Jason questioned. I checked my phone and shook my head. “Call your dad. I want to run something by him.” 

I obeyed, calling my dad while Avery-Marie made horse noises with her lips. “Avie, Grandpa has to call Terry’s dad… Can you whisper all the shapes you remember?” Jason asked. Avery-Marie gasped. “I’ll give you a hint. The first shape has three sides and is shaped like a pizza slice.” 

“Triangle… Square…” Avery-Marie whispered while my dad answered the phone. 

“Terry, what’s wrong?” Dad asked. 

“Oh no, sorry, Warren. I wanted to run something by you. Terry has no tests on Friday, and I have a meeting with the mayor about the program. Would it be alright with you if I picked Terry up an hour early to get there on time? And it’ll save me the trouble of looking for someone to watch my granddaughter for me,” Jason suggested. 

“Well, Terry’s grades are much better than they’ve been in a while… So, I guess it’s okay. I’ll let the office know you’ll be there on Friday,” Dad replied. I grinned. “And Terry… Keep up the good work. I’ll see you later on.”

“Alright, Dad. Thanks,” I smiled. Dad hung up, and Jason drove to his house. I turned around to see why Avery-Marie was so quiet, and she lay fast asleep in the backseat. 

“It puts her to sleep every time,” Jason chuckled, “And don’t worry, Terry. I’ll pay you for watching Avery. She always naps at three no matter what. You don’t have to do any wind-down, Avie’s gonna drop within twenty minutes, and the only thing that can wake her up is if you move her.” 

“Jason? Why didn’t you tell me you had a grandkid?” I questioned. Jason chewed his lip.

“I don’t see her often. We had a family emergency, so she’ll be with me for the foreseeable future… How’re you doing? Any pain?” Jason asked. 

“I’m alright… I’m sore, but I’ll live,” I answered. Jason glanced at me. “What?” 

“Terry, I’m not your parents. I’m not a social worker or a PO. I’m your mentor. Being concerned for you is my job. I was there… I saw,” Jason replied. 

“I had an honest conversation with my dad. He told me he was scared… And I told him I wasn’t. I can’t explain, but I know I’m not afraid. I got slagged, but it was the best thing ever for my dad and me. I love my dad, and I—. Jason, my mom asked if I was gonna die… I told her no… And I meant it,” I confessed. 

“Hm… It’s the adrenaline. When I was your age, I was a thrillseeker, too… The problem was deeper than that, though. I was depressed and didn’t care if I lived or died. That’s how it was for me. Maybe, you miss the thrill of being in a gang. I don’t know… You have to find out why you feel like that,” Jason whispered. I felt a lump in my throat. It was the first time I ever felt scared of myself. 

“Am I killing my parents?” I mumbled as tears streamed down my cheeks. Jason pulled over. 

“Hey… Hey, Terry. Your parents love you so much. This is why—. Terry, therapy can help you unpack some of these issues. It might help you figure out what’s ticking inside you, so you don’t self-destruct. Your parents raised good kids. I wouldn’t trust you with my granddaughter if I thought otherwise,” Jason reassured me. He gave me a tissue. “I know I keep harping on therapy, but it could help you.”

“Why did you stop going?” I asked. I didn’t want to hurt him like I did last time. I was curious.

“I couldn’t unpack everything yet. I wasn’t ready… I’m getting there, but I’m scared. You want help. I can recommend someone. I know her personally, and I know she cares,” Jason whispered, “Your dad thinks it’s a good idea, but I told him not to force it. What do you think? Should I float you her information?” I nodded. 

**

I fell asleep while I waited for my dad to pick me up, and I woke up to Avery-Marie curled up under my arm, reading a book. “Hey,” I mumbled. Avery-Marie glanced up at me. 

“I not finished,” Avery-Marie replied.  Jason chuckled. I ran a hand over my face and laughed. 

“Sorry, continue,” I replied. She finished the book and patted my knee.

“Okay,” Jason smiled, “Avie, get ready to tell Terry bye-bye. We’ll see him tomorrow.” 

“Aww!” Avery-Marie frowned. “Terry stay.” 

I dug through my backpack and gave Avery-Marie a toy from the bottom. “Avery, can you—?”

“Avery is Daddy,” Avery-Marie interrupted, “I’m Avie.” 

“Okay, Avie… Can you hold onto this for me until tomorrow?” I asked. She pressed the buttons on it, watching as it lit up. “Oh wait…” I pulled another out of my bag. “I have this one. So, if you push a button on that one, I can see it on this one.” 

Avery-Marie lit up and nodded. “What do we say, Sweetpea?” Jason asked. 

“Thank you!” Avery-Marie smiled. 

My dad called and I went to the door. Avery-Marie grabbed my hand. “Bye-bye,” Avery-Marie smiled.

“Bye-bye, Avie. Thanks for reading to me today,” I answered. 

Jason’s advice weighed on me. So, I talked to my dad about it when we got home. “What do you think?” I asked. 

“I didn’t think you’d be open to it. I can call and get you an appointment… Are you okay?” Dad asked. I nodded. 

“I just—. I don’t want you and Mom worrying about me. I wanna stay out of trouble… And I want you to believe me when I tell you I’m done with all that,” I answered. 

“I do… I believe you, Terry,” Dad replied, “I’m glad you wanted to talk to me. I don’t worry as much when you take the time to explain your feelings to me.” We went silent for an uncomfortably long time, and Dad cleared his throat.

“Did you um—? Did you—? What kind of grandparent is Jason? Am I the only person who can’t imagine him as a grandpa?” Dad asked. I chuckled.

“It’s weird how he’s still schway with a grandkid. It doesn’t take away from anything. I knew he had kids, but I couldn’t imagine him with a toddler,” I replied, “Oh, and thanks for being cool about Friday.” 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s whatever. It’s Friday. That’s no big deal,” Dad answered, “And I talked to Jason a few days ago about giving you more responsibility and taking a step back.” It felt like everything took a turn for the better.

[the-arkhamwolf]

Batfam Trope Fusion

Tropes-Wings and none vigilantes

Request by @moosieart

.

Almost twenty percent of Earth's population is blessed with the gift of flight. Thanks to a gene mutation that allows them to develop wings. Bruce Wayne has five children that carry this gene.

"I'm home" Dick the oldest of Bruce's children chirped walking into the house.

"What got tired of twirling around aimlessly" Jason teased from the couch.

"You're just jealous" he retorted. Dick Grayson child of the flying Grayson had followed in their footsteps and became a stunt flyer.

"Yes a Job where I fly around in circles for the amusement in others" Jason teased. Dick shook his head knowing it was all in good nature.

"You should have come out today there was a good wind in the air I even performed a Quadruple twirl while diving" he bragged lifting up his wings.

"I don't think my attending would want me skipping rounds" Jason scuffed stretching out his wings.

"Oh yes, the great doctor Todd" Dick called out in mock praise.

"I can't help I'm so gifted" he smirked leaning back. Jason was an intern at Gotham gernal a feild thanks to his great knowledge of treating wing injuries.

"And humble" They're were instructed by the opening door.

"Tim!" Dick greeted warmly.

"Hey" Tim replied putting down his book bag.

"Where's Dami?"

"Apparently the blood son is to good for cars so he had to fly home"

"Alfred wouldn't let his drive?"

"Yep" Tim confirmed "I'm going upstairs to work please keep the brat down here"

"No promises" Jason waved him off. Within a few seconds said Brat walked in the door.

"Where is that fool?"

"Dami" Dick ran up to his little brother going in for a hug.

"The other fool" Damian sidestepped him cause Dick to crash other ground and Jason to laugh

"Why are you so cruel?"

Timeskip

"Whatcha doing" Jason asked walking over to Dick.

"Trying to plan a vacation"

"Isn't that Bruce's job"

"Do you want to go ice fishing again?" Jason flahed back to a memory of tiny shards of ice hanging off his wings.

"Never mind"

"Here's a good one" Dick pulled up the listing "Beach front hotel ofcourse we have to fly to get to it"

"Sounds good to me" Jason shrugged.

"So that's me you tim-"

"Why bother with someone who can't ever fly?" Damian scuffed from where he was perched.

"Tim? He can fly" Jason raised an eyebrow.

"Drake can't fly he doesn't even have wings" Damian argued.

"Why would you say that?"

"He never goes to the wing exams at school and he always wears hoodies"

"He use to fly a lot before..." The last time Dick could remember Tim going out for a fly was around a mouth before before his parents died.

It wasn't unusual for those with wings to go into a morning period where they wouldn't fly, so Dick never thought much about it. Come to thank of it he hasn't even seen Tim's wings.

"Those hoodies have to be cramping his wings Jason frowned.

"So why would he wear them?"

Timeskip

Tim walked into the kitchen to get a few snacks instead he had three brothers staring him down like he just took the last slice of pizza.

"Can I help you?"

"Tim can we see your wings" Dick approached him carefully.

"What?" The younger boy stiffened.

"Is there something wrong?" Dick frowned.

"No its nothing" Tim responded moving away.

"Come on Timbers yoh can tell us" Jason stepped in.

"I told you it's nothing"

"Oh for goodness sakes Drake spit it out unless you want Grayson to worry himself to death"

"Fine" Tim sighed. He turned around slowly taking off his sweat shirt.

"Oh Timmy" his wings or what was left of them were jagged and pale. Like someone had chopped them up.

"I know " Tim sighed looking down at the floor.

"What happened?"

"My parents got them clipped"

"What?!"

"Kids with wings cause more trouble so they thought they'd save some hassle and get mine clipped" he frowned putting the sweatshirt back on "the guys messed up and they got infected"

"You should have told us" Dick frowned.

"It's no big deal" Tim responded curling up his wings.

"Baby bird it is a big deal" Jason responded "You could have died"

"I'm fine" Tim reassured them "I go to star city every month for antibiotics"

"Tim"

"After all it not like plenty off people don't have normal lives without wings"

"Tim"

"I mean it was so long ago"

"Tim!" Somthing wet started running down Tim cheek.

"Sorry he whipped aways any tears"

"It's okay" Dick gently held his shoulder.

"What?"

"It's okay to cry" Tim finally turned around to face them.

"We can sit here and you can talk about it" Jason joined in.

"I have nothing better to do" Damian replied. Which was the closest to 'I care about you' you could get from the boy.

"Would you like to do that?" Would he?

"Yes" Tim sniffled.

"Okay" Dick said as they all sat down "You're safe here so say whatever you feel like"

"Thank you"

Batfam Trope fusion list here I'm still taking requests

[jakascoo]

A JayKara Christmas Scene

T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house… 

Well, a lot of creatures were stirring. This was the El - Todd house we are talking about, which has a very compelling argument to suggest that there is always someone awake within its walls. 

But first, we start our tale with Boo. After all, it is nice to work in alphabetical order. Our darling lady was attempting to sneak out of the house, which really should have been her first clue that something would go wrong. When you have a Kryptonian in the house, and a man raised by Bruce Wayne, the idea of sneaking out just should never occur to you. 

And yet, here we find Boo, at nine o’clock on Christmas Eve, attempting to whisper down the stairs. 

What was going through her mind? Well, we may never know, because she only made it halfway down before the lights turned on, illuminating the aforementioned Kryptonian and member of the Batfam at the bottom of the stairs. 

Neither of whom looked particularly impressed. 

“Uh… I forgot to put my presents under the tree?” Boo tried, straightening her back and walking down the stairs with all of the confidence that she did not have. 

Jason snorted at that, before shaking his head. “Nice try, child, but you have had your presents under the tree for a month.”

It was true- Boo had put the tree up on November Twenty Fifth, and immediately populated it with presents.

“Alright, fine,” Boo sighed, dropping down onto the staircase in far too dramatic a fashion. “Erik and Rori invited me over for a movie.”

“And you thought you had to sneak out?” Kara asked, tilting her head in that way that just screamed I am not mad, I am just disappointed.

Boo had never been able to stand up to that look, so it was a good thing that she was currently sitting. “Maybe?”

“Do you want a lift?” Jason asked. 

At this, Boo’s face lit up. “I am allowed to go?”

“Again, why would you think that we would say no?” Jason asked, before gesturing between himself and Kara. “Not prison wardens.”

Boo jumped up off of the stairs, and put an arm around each of the adults that had let her into their home. “Rori is swinging by to pick me up. You two are the best!”

And with that, Boo soon made her escape, to see how her evening would take shape.

Which left Jason and Kara at the foot of the stairs, the next sight not catching them unawares.

Scott had always been far less stealthy than his twin sister, and was walking down the stairs without a care in the world.

“And where are you off to?” Kara asked, a sweet smile on her face.

“The library,” Scott answered, readjusting the strap of his backpack. A backpack which looked far too packed for a trip to the library.

“Try again,” Jason said, his voice brooking no argument.

Scott sighed. “Spending the night with a friend, I hope?”

Kara looked up at Jason, before looking back at Scott with that same sweet smile that had brought down so many villains and bakery owners. “Be safe.”

Scott took the opening, and left without a backward glance, not wanting to leave his evening up to chance.

This left Jason and Kara alone once again, at the bottom of their stairs when

Jason swept Kara up into his arms, putting on all of his charms. 

“A house all to ourselves,” Jason said with a smile.

Kara shook her head, placing a hand on her stomach. “I am afraid, not for a while.”

Jason’s step faltered, but was swiftly recovered, for this news that he had just discovered

Was enough to have him asking, “Really?”

“You understand me, darling,” Kara said, putting a hand on Jason’s cheek, “do not be silly.”

So with laughter and mirth, the two retired to their room, the activities which followed easy to assume.

So with this Christmas tale, make sure to sleep tight, and Merry Christmas to all- and to all a good night.

[arbiterlexultionis]

Bruce Wayne’s True Colors

By: Clark Kent

Bruce Wayne. We’ve all heard the name. All heard the stories of his various escapades, diving into public fountains, buying out entire hotels whenever he feels like it to get away with his and his children’s misbehavior, spending more time out of the city he “Loves” then in it and inevitably getting an assortment of injuries in the process, the historical bills alone of which would bankrupt nearly every hard working American in this country. He’s had nine different “skiing accidents” in the last six months alone. While a bit clumsy, with a tendency to throw a bit more of his pocket change than most at charities, he nonetheless seems like the stereotypical greedy American billionaire, just one that is a bit more air-headed and kind then most. But is he really? I think not, and I have proof, in the form of a recorded conversation provided by none other than billionaire philanthropist Oliver Queen.

“All right Bruce, you’ve been lost in your head trying to plan for Something for weeks and clearly haven’t gotten very far. What’s going on? Do you need backup from the REDACTED?” Bruce waves his hand through air as if to show the possibility away.

“No, no, it’s nothing work related, a personal matter. I’ll be fine, I’m sure I’ll find a solution in time.”

“You’ll be fine? How many times have you said you’ll be fine on your own and then been very much not fine?”

“Less then the alternative.”

“Fair. I’m not letting this go though.” Bruce sits in a chair and lays back, one hand coming up to stroke his chin while his shoulders slumped in a near imperceptible sign of exhaustion.

“I have to much money.”

Oliver glances around the opulent mansion, swirling the glass of alcohol in his hand before shooting a look at the bottle of the stuff sitting on the table beside him. White text and an arrow pointing to it appear labeling the bottle as worth around fifteen thousand USD. “To much money, you say?”

“Hoarding money like a dragon is the past time of beast. Amassing wealth and doing absolutely nothing with it when innocent people can barely afford to eat, if they can at all, is immoral. I’ve been trying to get rid of all the money I don’t need to maintain my life style and watch over Gotham for decades. Decades Ollie. Every rich asshole in the country have been going on and on about how treating employees like actual human beings with mouths to feed and lives to live is unsustainable and unprofitable, so that was the first thing I tried. $75,000 a year is the absolute least anyone in Wayne Enterprises makes a year with a single exception, the benefits package is worth even more than that, paternity and maternity leave of a year with a twenty percent raise with every child birthed and reduced workload for however long they need after, an entire month of PTO for all employees. It should have slashed WE’s profits. Should have. It didn’t. Employees are working harder then ever, using there extra time and the company scholarships I set up to pursue higher education and learn more skills which make them more productive. So I decided to make WE more environmentally conscious, because that’s supposed to be to expensive to be profitable. Overhauled nearly the entire company, redesigned machinery, invested tens of millions into recycling technologies, renewable power sources, the whole nine yards. But apparently, using less power to do more, producing zero waste products and no pollution also results in extremely high efficiency and rising profits. I made my own annual salary as CEO 1 dollar a month and apparently word about it got around fast. Half the company’s HQ went on strike and when I rushed down to find out who managed to treat them poorly enough for a strike to be neccisary without me noticing I found out that their “demands” were for me to give myself a raise and take better care of myself. Apparently they thought it was “immoral” and “mildly disturbing” for me to be giving them 25 hour work weeks, high pay and good benefits while working 60 hours a week. I’d barely managed to negotiate them down to $150,000 a year when Clark just so happened to publish an article proving that when ever I go on vacation I’m just doing more work outside of Gotham or trying to get some charity work done without the media breathing down my neck. Days of compromise and negations, gone in an instant.

So, investing in WE doesn’t work. After that I decided to invest in Gotham itself. Hospitals, schools, homeless shelters, high quality apartments with cheap rents, buying up thousands of houses to rent at low rates and sell at cheap prices to drive down the cost of housing, modernizing and improving infrastructure related to water and electrify to be cheaper for end users and more resistant to rouge attacks. Anything and everything that I could throw money at and get my lobbying groups to make happen. But WE was the only company that wasn’t corrupt, incompetent and/or treating its employees like crap. So all that work and business went to WE. And I couldn’t just leave all those corrupt businesses to their own devices. And sometimes WE wasn’t involved in the industries that I needed work done in. I wound up adding entire devisions to the company. I founded 19 new businesses and became the owner of 37 more. And no matter what I do none of them will stop growing and becoming more profitable!

After that I started trying to just give money away, mostly through free college. For the first 5 years it was going great, I was losing money. Not enough to counteract all my other forms of income, but for the first time I was putting more money into something than I was getting out, and if I scaled it up enough it might just work. But after five years the first people that I put through college had been in the workforce for a year. And the system I set up to find jobs for them that wouldn’t result in them being treated poorly by employers or working for supervillains resulted in all of them working for me, where they would all have large amounts of disposable income to give back to the charity. Once they started getting their doctorates it was a lost cause, they were giving so much to the charity that any money that I put in would just sit there instead of bettering the lives of those in need, defeating the point of giving it away. I tried to tell them that they don’t have to, I’ll just find it all myself, but like a week later I caught Dick in a zoom meeting with half the highest donators trying to figure out how to make a trust fund with me as the trustee because I accidentally revealed that I had been the only one funding the project for years and it “wasn’t fair to put such a burden on a single man” and “will be absolutely hilarious to see the look on his face when he winds up with even more money again”.

I assembled an entire team to go through my taxes to make sure I was paying as much as I possibly could, but apparently my dad intentionally fucked up his taxes so he would pay even more than he was supposed to and I inherited his systems, so if the IRS ever dig into my finances they realize they owe me money! Enough to raise my net worth by several percent!

Nothing works! Every time I try and use my money to make the world a better place and help people I just wind up with more money!”

Over the course of his rant Bruce had risen to his feet and started pacing, become more and more exasperated and raising in volume, before finally whirling around to stare at Oliver clearly expecting some type of response or advice. The blond billionaire took a long sip of his drink. “Well that sucks, but good luck with it I guess.”

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.

[scvcnmore]

Was that [ODETTE ANNABLE]? Oh no no, that was just [HELENA KYLE], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [WB'S BIRDS OF PREY/DC COMICS]. They are [TWENTY-SEVEN] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long

Helena Kyle, was born Helena Martha Wayne-Kyle to a meta-human, Selina Kyle. She was delivered in Wayne Manor on a night that Bruce was out -which was many given his nightly activities- with the help of Alfred Pennyworth, but her birth would be the last time he would see her for many years

Immediately following her birth, Selina had Alfred help her leave the Manor before Bruce's return. Knowing exactly what the father of her child was doing while away, she had decided quite a while back that she would not be allowing her child to grow up in this city and with a target on her back if her relation to either Catwoman or Batman was ever figured out

Leaving her own life of crime behind, Selina became an accomplished art dealer and raised her daughter as a single mother. As far as Helena was concerned, there just wasn't a 'dad' in the picture, but life with her doting mother as they traveled around Europe and the UK during her early formative years was more than enough for her

Helen will never really know what really drew her mother to move them back to the city, now known as New Gotham, shortly after her sixth birthday. And given how things played out, she often finds herself indulging the idea of 'what if we hadn't?'

That train of thought stops almost immediately because the first thing that would've happened, is that she wouldn't have met her best friend, Barbara Gordon

When she was only seventeen, Helena was witness as Clayface -under Joker's orders- stabbed her mother to death, while Joker himself sought out and shot Barbara, leaving her paralyzed (I have a headcanon that Helena ran off to find Barbara after her mother died only to find her shot and was the one to call 911 but that is obviously something that can be discussed with any potential Babs player)

After petitioning the courts, Barbara became Helena's legal guardian for the remainder of the year before she became of age. It was during her time with Barbara that she learned her father was not only Bruce Wayne, but also Batman. She learned her mother had been Catwoman, and that Barbara had herself once been Batgirl

The loss of her mother and the seeming abandonment of a father she never knew -Bruce left New Gotham still mourning for Selina- along with the revelation the two people she cared about the most had been keeping massive secrets, made for Helena becoming a very difficult person to deal with

Through patience, both women eventually began to use physical training to as both a way to help Helena hone her meta-human powers and a way to heal. After seven years, Helena and Barbara would take on the identities of Huntress and Oracle, respectively. Huntress would patrol the streets of the city, and Oracle would be her eyes and ears from her Delphi console

Dinah Lance, the daughter of Carolyn Lance, former Black Canary, would soon join them and the three would become the Birds of Prey

Helena would unknowingly find herself at the mercy of Harley Quinn as she posed as her therapist Harleen Quinzel, and in one final act of revenge for Batman having put the Joker away, Harley would manage to gain control of Helena's mind and use her to do her bidding

Barbara and Dinah were able to put a stop to it, and all three women eventually took Harley down, but not before Helena was made to kill Barbara's then fiancé

Finding herself in D.C. not soon after, was a welcome respite. She can live with her guilt over the matter without having to face Barbara and knowing nothing she does will make it right

Though she prefers to make her own living as a bartender, she is the de facto CEO of Wayne Enterprises within D.C. It's an aspect she keeps to herself, though she does have a knack for it and managed to keep the rest of the board on their toes. It's not unlike what her father used to do with his playboy persona, but don't tell her that

Helena still goes out on nightly patrols after work, finding that once you get into the habit of helping people, it's one you never really break

Her wiki(mainly linked for the list of her powers and abilities): https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Helena_Kyle_(Birds_of_Prey)

[shortdalee]

2024 WIP List

A list of wip that I hope to finish in 2024, and I am desperately trying not to think about how unrealistic it is that I can finish even half the wip on this list in the… three-ish months that we have left in the year (jesus fucking christ, there’s only three months left in 2024).

✅ PokéPod Fills

Assigned pokémon: Seadra and Tauros

turn this up on the radio #Duck Duck Moose Verse | AO3

At twenty-six, Dean thought he was done raising his dad’s kids. Turns out, no, he’s not done because turns out, he’s got a half-brother.

The Hand That Feeds #AI!Bucky’s Arm AU

In 1991, Hydra recovered one of their past experiments, and though it’d lost an arm during the recovery, through SHIELD, they had access to Howard Stark. With his genius, their experiment could still be made into a useful asset. As it turned out, it wasn’t his genius they got.

if ever I held this word #Cordelia Movie Poster Verse

The human world has never held any interest to Artemis, but she has to admit, if only to herself and Akila, that there’s something appealing about seeing the little one on his knees.

bring me to life #Built-In Dom Verse

After Juno, Desmond and Clay fall into a Dom/sub relationship.

OJTW2023 Fill

Day 1: Courting

Jason wasn’t surprised when people starting chumming up to him after Bruce adopted him. He was surprised, however, when Bruce asked when he’d planned on telling him about his boyfriend.

Day 2: Unplanned/triggered heat/rut

Ma Gunn ran one of the best, cleanest omega group homes in the East End, so it made sense that Batman would drop him off here. Too bad the group home was a front for a heat auction.

Day 3: Collars

The day Batman—Bruce Wayne—brought him home as his foster kid, he offered him a collar.

Day 4: Free Day

With Jason showing no signs of regaining his consciousness, Talia assigned him a caretaker-bodyguard.

Day 5: Nesting

Unfortunately, while suppressants had come a long way, people still needed to cycle the hormones out of their systems at least once a year. Which meant having their ruts or heats. Which… was perhaps not the most ideal of situations to be happening when living with a child with multiple bitemarks on the back of his neck.

Day 6: Late presentation

After years of chronic stress and starvation, Jason had yet to have a real heat at fifteen. Trust his fucking luck that it’d finally happen in school.

Day 7: Paparazzi get photos of the Wayne omega that go viral

Jason had dealt with bullying fine on his own in the past, but none of them had tried taking his collar before. None of them had taken pictures before.

Day 7+1: First heat

Jason was eleven years old and living on the streets when he had his first heat.

#Death(less) Verse

Death and the deathless.

#Human Monsters Verse

While preparing to take on the newborn army, a new variable enters the fray. And of course, of course, she’s an imprint.

#PokéResearcher Verse

Haru was just a pokémon researcher, traveling the Kanto region for field research. Yet somehow, she ended up the companion of an ambitious pokémon trainer and an aspiring pokémon breeder.

[ragingbookdragon]

The camera flipped around, revealing Bruce and he smiled. “So, I recently saw something on Twitter, and I don’t remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of, ‘The Wayne’s are the hottest couple alive, why haven’t they had a baby together yet? Haven’t they been married for like twenty years now?’, and I felt like it would be a good time to show all of you the exact reasoning why my wife and I have never had babies.”

He shifted the camera around, revealing the stairs and called out, “Darling!”

From somewhere in the manor, her voice echoed, “What!”

“Do you want to have a baby with me?”

“Sure!”

“Really?” he held up his hand in front of the camera in a ‘wait’ motion, and then,

“SIKE!” she shouted. “I HAVE ALREADY RAISED SIX CHILDREN! I DO NOT WANT TO RAISE A BABY! AND GETTING PREGNANT SOUNDS LIKE A SHITTY IDEA! SQUEEZING A CHILD OUT OF MY VAGINA WITH AND WITHOUT AN EPIDURAL SOUNDS LIKE A SHITTY IDEA! HAVING MY STOMACH CUT OPEN SOUNDS LIKE A SHITTY IDEA! HAVING A BABY IS A SHITTY IDEA!”

Her laughter echoed through the halls, boisterous and hysterical. “I DON’T WANT A BABY! IF YOU WANT A BABY, YOU FIND SOME WOMAN TO GIVE YOU A BABY! ‘CAUSE I’M SURE AS HELL NOT GETTING PREGNANT! HELL NO! THAT SHIP HAS SAILED! NO SEAMEN ALLOWED! THE UTERUS IS CLOSED FOREVER!”

Bruce merely turned the camera around and chirped, “And that everyone, is why my wife and I have never had a baby together.” He bent down, catching Ace around the neck. “But that’s okay. We have fur-babies!”

A crash sounded from the living room followed by a bellow from one of the children and he griped, “And those big babies too.”

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

“Ready?” Tim asked. He took a last look over the microphone on the desk in front of him, then sideways at Dick and Damian, arranged on either side of him, a few feet away, with their own microphones.

Dick held up a sheet of paper. “I have the question list.” 

“I think that’s it, then.”

“Are we supposed to do some kind of intro?”

“Uh, unclear.” Tim snapped his fingers and leaned into his microphone.

“This is a podcast-interview thing,” he said. “We’re answering questions. Okay, I nailed the intro, so let’s hear the first one on the list.”

“Can somebody please explain Bruce Wayne’s family?” Dick read. “I know he has a bunch of kids, but I can’t figure out how many or where he got them from.”

“Interesting phrasing on the back half of that,” said Tim. “I feel like something expensive that went on sale.”

He clutched a hand to an imaginary necklace in feigned admiration. “Why Bruce! You must tell me where you got those!”

“You were never expensive,” said Damian. “Perhaps a grocery check-out display?”

Tim sighed and turned sideways, so he could look Damian in the face. “Being honest, I didn’t think you knew enough about shopping to make that joke.”

“Understandable.”

“I would never set you up on purpose.”

“I know.”

“Let’s get back to the question,” Dick suggested. “Can somebody please explain Bruce Wayne’s family?”

“I don’t know,” said Tim. He swung back towards the microphone, grimacing. “Maybe? It’s complicated.” 

“Complicated,” Dick repeated, flatly.

“Yeah, complicated.”

“It’s your own family.”

“That doesn’t make it simple,” said Damian.

“Do we get time to make an outline?” Tim asked, emboldened by the unexpected support. “Before we do our presentation?”

Damian half-smiled at that, while Dick looked the two of them over with a skeptical expression. 

“Are you telling me you don’t understand our own timeline?”

Tim waved a hand in a why-are-you-looking-at-me kind of gesture. “What, does anybody?”

“I do.”

“You experienced it linearly! We came in partway through, it’s different.”

“Unbelievable.”

“You take the question then.”

“If the two of you can’t manage it,” said Dick, with a distinctly sarcastic shrug.

“Obviously I can do it,” said Tim, suddenly defensive. He knew Dick was trying to get a rise, but Dick was good at that, and it was working. “I’m just saying it’s a confusing story.”

Tim pointed in Damian’s direction. “Back me up.”

“Absolutely not.”

“We can take turns,” said Dick, apparently satisfied with his victory. “Okay. Thomas and Martha Wayne died when Bruce was eight years old. Nineteen years after that, when Bruce was twenty-seven, he attended Haly’s Circus the night two acrobats fell to their deaths during a trapeze routine. Bruce took in their surviving son, me.”

Dick held up a finger. “My name is Dick Grayson, and I was Bruce’s ward from age twelve until the day I turned eighteen.”

“Which is different that being adopted,” Tim put in, “so bear that in mind for later.”

“Right. At eighteen, I became an adult, so Bruce wasn’t my guardian anymore. A year after that, Bruce met and adopted Jason Todd.”

“The second child he took in,” said Tim.

“But the first child he adopted,” said Damian.

“Exactly,” said Dick. “In that moment, Bruce was thirty-four with one former ward and one adopted son— which again, are distinct concepts.”

Tim nodded. “Jason Todd passed away three years after his adoption, when he was fifteen.”

“I never met him,” said Damian, straight-faced.

“Me neither,” said Tim, like he hadn’t spoken to Jason that morning. “I did meet Bruce though, at around that time.”

“The next few years are… harder to explain, I guess,” said Dick.

Tim raised an eyebrow in Damian’s direction, shaking his head in mock disgust. “See? Now he admits it.”

“Unbelievable.”

“The nerve.” Tim grinned as smugly as he could manage, so that Dick could see. Was Tim being difficult on purpose? Absolutely. Was he going to change that? Absolutely not. 

“Right, it can be my turn. I’m Tim Drake, and I met Bruce when I was thirteen years old.”

“I was…” Dick glanced upwards, like he was trying to remember— or, failing that, calculate. “Right now you’re…?”

“Do you not know my age?”

“I probably do.” Dick tapped a finger against the desk a few times, looking pensive. Eventually, he gave up.

“I’m blanking.” 

“Congratulations, Damian,” said Tim. “You are no longer my least favorite sibling.”

“I was your least favorite?” Damian asked, with such innocence that Tim couldn’t stop himself from bursting out laughing.

It took him a few moments to regain control. “You looks so proud of yourself,” he told Damian, as soon as he could.

“Thank you, I am.”

“I’m writing you both out of my will,” muttered Dick, “as soon as we get home.” 

“Shame.” Tim swiped a sweatshirt sleeve over his eyes, still grinning. “I had my eye on your terrible CD collection.”

“The estate in its entirety, I believe,” said Damian. 

“Shut up,” said Dick. “Keep answering the question.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute.” Tim held up a hand to count on his fingers. “We did circus, Jason, Jason’s death— oh right, me. I met Bruce when I was thirteen and Dick was twenty-two, which would make Bruce thirty-seven.”

“I would have gotten there eventually.”

“Go to hell. Two years after that, when Bruce was thirty-nine, he met our sister, Cassandra Cain.”

“She was seventeen then,” said Damian.

Dick nodded. “Simplifying, we met her through a family friend. That same year, Bruce adopted me.”

“Which puts Father at thirty-nine with two sons—”

“One deceased,” added Tim.

“Having already met Tim and Cass,” Dick finished. 

“Now if you think that’s confusing,” said Tim, gesturing broadly, “you’re right, it is.”

Damian nodded. “It gets even worse.”

“Yeah. For another two years we were— again, simplifying— in roughly the same place. After that, Bruce adopted me—”

“—making my life even worse.”

“Shut up, you weren’t even around yet. At forty-one, Bruce had three sons, one deceased.”

“That’s Todd.”

“And then came—”

“Me.” Damian raised his own hand. “My name is Damian Wayne, and I am my father’s genetic son. We met for the first time when Father was forty-one, and I was ten.”

“Four sons,” said Dick. “By age it’s me, Jason, Tim, Damian.”

“But from Bruce’s perspective,” said Tim, “Jason, then Dick, then me, then Damian.”

“I’d note,” said Damian, “that I was born several years before Todd’s adoption, and since I have been a Wayne from the beginning, I am both my father’s youngest child and his first child, whether he was aware of me or not.”

“But wait!” Tim interjected. “There’s more!”

“We’re almost done,” said Dick. “We already mentioned meeting our sister Cassandra. Bruce adopted her formally after Damian arrived, while Bruce was still forty-one.”

“Which means,” said Tim, “that we can do a final tally. Damian?”

“Yes?”

“Assist me. We have Dick—”

“Alive,” said Damian.

“Jason—”

“Not alive.”

“Cass—”

“Alive.”

“Me—”

“Alive, regrettably.”

“And you.”

“Yes.” Damian sat back in his chair. Tim leaned forwards in his, so he could put his elbows down on the desk. 

“That’s pretty much it,” he said. “I won’t say how old we are right now, because it turns out Dick doesn’t know, and I don’t want to help him.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I barely know my own age.”

“You’re eighty. One thousand, nine hundred, and forty. Some other number. I don’t know, why would I remember a very basic fact about my own family member?”

“To be fair to him,” Damian put in, “you are very forgettable.”

“And you’re my least favorite again.”

“Shame. As a last fact, I’d also note that Martha and Thomas Wayne died when Father was very young, so he was primarily raised by the butler.”

“That’s Alfred,” Tim agreed, “and his formal title is butler, but he’s also, you know, our grandfather.” 

“Can we move to another question now?”

“I guess?” Tim looked over at Dick for confirmation. 

“I don’t know,” Dick sighed. “Maybe.” 

-----------

Merry Christmas, my loves

timeline post / google doc

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 5

Chapter 1     Chapter 4

“Not quite the child you expected to be on the front page today, was it?” Lucius commented, falling into step with Bruce as soon as he exited the elevator on their offices’ floor.

Bruce shot him a slight glare.  He heavily suspected the receptionist at the front of letting Lucius know he was on his way up so he could stage this ambush.  “No, no it was not,” he gritted out.  He loved Lucius.  He did.  But he was not looking forward to discussing this with anyone right now.  He needed to talk to Sabine and figure out his next steps.  He didn’t have time for teasing or hurt feelings, unless they were Marinette’s or his other children’s.

“Don’t think she expected it either.  She was quite distraught when the reporters found her this morning,” Lucius noted calmly.

Bruce stopped and glared full force at him. “Why were you with her this morning?”

Lucius raised an unamused eyebrow at him. “Early morning meeting with her and her friend, Max Kante, the one who actually invented the fabric Ms. Cole tried to take credit for.”  He continued walking toward Bruce’s office, not caring whether he caught up or not. If he wanted to be an overbearing ass, they could have a meeting with that tone and Bruce definitely wouldn’t be the one to win.

“Sorry,” Bruce grumbled, catching up to him.

Lucius nodded to let him know he accepted the apology. “She takes after you, you know.  I could see how upset she was with the reporters’ questions but she masked it expertly.  Seemed to completely shut down those emotions.  If I didn’t know you, I might not have known it was all an act.  Shut the reporter down without admitting anything too, or lying.  Quite smart, that daughter of yours.”  Lucius turned toward Bruce as they passed through Bruce’s office doors.  “Must get that from her mother,” he teased.

Bruce let out a long breath.  “Without a doubt.  How was she at the meeting?”

Lucius raised both eyebrows at that question, otherwise not reacting at all.  “You haven’t spoken with her yet?”

Bruce focused on his desk as he sat behind it. “I haven’t had the opportunity yet,” he hedged.

Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly but answered the question.  “She was brilliant.  She is brilliant.  She was calm and collected.  Engaging and polite.  Very insightful.  You would never know she had been accosted and almost assaulted a few moments before. Completely professional.”

“What do you mean ‘almost assaulted’?” Bruce growled.

“Particularly aggressive reporter.  I gave PR and security his name and picture.  We’ll have a restraining order put out and he won’t be allowed at any Wayne events,” he answered calmly.

Bruce squeezed the arm rest on his chair until it fell off in his hand.  He let out an annoyed growl and threw it in the garbage.  He pushed the intercom on his desk phone, more aggressively than necessary.  “I’m going to need a new chair, David.”  

He slammed the button again before he had the chance to respond and let out a long deep breath to calm himself.  “It’s already started.  It hasn’t even been a day.”  He shook his head and looked up at Lucius.  “Can you see about getting a restraining order for her personally as well, please?  And how was the meeting?” Bruce asked.

“It was successful.  Mr. Kante seems extremely excited about our contract.  He’s looking over it today, but I expect he’ll begin working for us as of next week.  I’m still working on your daughter though,” he mused.

Bruce choked and looked back at him.  “Excuse me!”

“To work for us,” Lucius tried to disguise the amused glint in his eyes, but not too hard.  It was interesting seeing Bruce acting so disconcerted, and not pretending for an audience, actually feeling it.  “She helped Mr. Kante develop the fabric and understands how best to show it off.  She would be invaluable to have on the project.  Hell, she’d be invaluable to have in the company.”

Bruce furrowed his brow in confusion.  “I thought Mr. Kante developed the fabric.”

“He did.  He definitely figured out how to make it work, but she was a significant help.  Her insights and advice were key.  She tried to deny it but he kept insisting.  Without both of them, there wouldn’t be any fabric. Not to mention she’s the one that discovered Rabler and Cole were stealing ideas.  She created the trap and presented the evidence.”  Lucius couldn’t keep the proud tone out of his voice.  

Bruce’s lips turned up in a wide, proud smile.  “Yeah?”  Lucius nodded with a proud smile of his own, albeit smaller than Bruce’s.  Bruce just stopped himself from saying ‘that’s my girl’ because he wasn’t sure he got to make a statement like that.  Not when he hadn’t been involved in bringing her up in any way.  But it didn’t stop his chest from puffing up with pride at the knowledge.  

She was smart.  She was caring.  She was creative.  She was insightful and brilliant.  She was healthy and unscarred.  She was everything he hoped she would get to be growing up away from him.  He must have done something right.  But the idea of having her work next to him like Tim did, getting to see her every day… He smiled at the thought.  “How successful do you think you were getting her to agree?”

Lucius hesitated.  “Not very,” he admitted slowly.  “I don't know the nature of your relationship…” He watched Bruce carefully as he spoke.  “… but she seemed to respond positively when I stressed that I wanted her because of her skill, not because of any association with you.”

Bruce looked down and nodded.  “There is no relationship. She didn't know.”

“So her being your daughter isn't the reason if you manipulated Candice into looking into her and offer her to the rest of us as a possible designer for the product like it was her own idea?” Lucius raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“I knew.  She didn't,” Bruce admitted.

Lucius nodded in understanding.  “Until when?”

“This morning, I imagine,” Bruce sighed.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at him, vividly recalling her behavior at the gala.  The way she’d balked at meeting him in his office at WE.  The way she’d frozen immediately upon seeing Bruce, all her fire and confidence falling instantaneously.  The way she’d been almost begging for a way out from having to spend time with Bruce.  “You think she didn’t know before the gala?”

Bruce scrunched his face in indignation. “No.  Sabine would have told me if she’d told her.”

Lucius shook his head incredulously. “Alright.”  If Bruce wanted to believe that, he wasn’t going to correct him. “So you were going to stay out of it and manipulate everything from behind the scenes?  Only exposing your relationship when you felt comfortable with it?”  Bruce looked down and nodded.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at him, his gaze suddenly sharp.  He tossed the file in his hand onto Bruce’s desk.  “I didn’t take you for a coward, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce sighed as he watched him walk out of the room. His gaze fell on the file Lucius had left behind on his desk, the file on DCD with Marinette’s picture on the front. He pulled the picture off of the file to look closer.  He smiled as his mind flashed back to innocent baby eyes blinking back at him. Her eyes hadn’t changed in twenty years. Still the same bright, brilliant, hopeful eyes.  His mother’s eyes.  He could see it almost as soon as she was born.  He could never allow those eyes to be hurt, could never bear to see them in pain, which is all his life seemed to be.

“Then you don’t really know me,” he mumbled as he put the picture back and turned away, his eyes landing on the phone.  He took a deep breath and got ready for the conversation he had to have next.  He picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.  He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration realizing he had memorized it not because he’d actually dialed it enough to have the muscle memory, but because he’d intentionally committed it to memory.

“That took longer than expected,” Sabine answered on the second ring, annoyance clear in her voice.

Bruce let out a deep sigh.  He wasn’t expecting this call to go well, but he needed her help. “I was handling the rest of my family. They didn’t take to the news that they had a sister I never told them about too well.”

“Shocking,” Sabine deadpanned.  “And how did Marinette take it?”

Bruce hesitated unsure of how to answer that. “You haven’t spoken with her yet.” The disappointment in her voice was almost palpable.  Bruce could almost feel it slapping him across the face and pulling him down to her level.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted more honestly than he had intended.  “More than I have already.  I don’t want to drive her away by saying the wrong thing,” he chuckled mirthlessly at himself again, “and we both know that’s absolutely something I would do.  I need to know the best way to approach her.  What do I need to do?”

Sabine sighed and Bruce could hear her shuffling around until letting out a lighter sigh like she was sitting down.  “Well, everything’s going to be pretty raw for her. That’s the first thing.  She hasn’t had time to process this.  She needs to process in order to know how she wants to respond.  If you approach her before she’d had time to process, she’s going to freak out on you or just shut down completely, cold, detached.  Did I mention she sometimes takes after you, especially since Hawkmoth?

“But, she tends towards anxiety and overreaction spirals that she has to be brought out of.  Her friends are there, so see if she wants them with her whenever you meet. They’ll know how to bring her out of it and calm her down.  She might need a few more days before she can meet in person, but don’t wait until then to contact her.”

Bruce nodded, fighting the urge to take notes. That would be inappropriate right? To write down psychological insights into his own daughter?  “Yeah, a few hours isn’t all that much time to process,” he agreed absentmindedly, still trying to figure out how many notes would be acceptable.  He almost jumped in his seat when Sabine started cackling.  He did accidentally ram his arm hard enough to bruise on the point sticking up from the remnants of the broken armrest.

He sputtered until she took pity on him. “You think she’s only known for an hour?”

Bruce paused and stared at the phone, trying to process her words.  “You told her?” he was too shocked to be upset yet.

“No,” she answered quickly.  “I don’t know how she found out but she knew before today.”

“You think she knew when she planned to come here,” he said incredulously.

“No, definitely not when she first planned it,” she corrected him.

“How can you be so certain?”

Sabine chuckled ruefully.  “She's not like us Bruce.  She can't lie to save her life.  She's terrible at it.  She wears her heart on her sleeve.  If she knew she was going to see her biological father for the first time, without him expecting it, she would’ve been anxious, fidgety when she told me the plan to go to Gotham.  She wasn't.  This was all about Max.  

“I have no idea what point between last Monday and today she figured it out.  But, I can say that she's not answering my calls now.  I expected her to call and laugh about it or get anxiety about it because she felt bad for causing you trouble.  She didn’t.  She asked Adrien to let us know she needs space.  So she knew.”

Bruce let out a frustrated groan.  “She's upset.”

Sabine took a beat before responding.  “I'm not sure since I haven’t gotten to speak to her about it.  But, knowing her I’d bet on confused rather than upset.  Hurt.  Betrayed. Can you blame her?”  There was an extended pause while they both tried to process what they knew and how to respond.

After a minute of silence, Sabine spoke up a wry tone to her voice.  “You know, she’s always been an extremely cheery child.   Wouldn't know she was related to you at all when she was younger,” she laughed lightly, “well, people who bought into your socialite persona might, but nobody that knows you, really knows you and your brooding nature.  She always tries to see the best in everyone and bring it out.  

“She used to come into the bakery when we had customers and no matter what mood they were in, they would leave smiling.  Even the ones in the worst mood would be laughing by the time they left.  She just had that effect on people.

“But the one thing she could never stand, that drove her crazy, was a liar.  She can’t stand lying and liars.”  Her voice suddenly turned sharp and serious.  “And she just found out, and not from us,” she emphasized, “that we lied to her about this her whole life and that you never wanted her around but did want other kids around.”

“That is absolutely not the case and you know it,” Bruce roared instantly.

Sabine made a few placating noises.  “You know that.  And I know that… on some level.  But she doesn't.”  She stressed.  “I have no idea how you’re going to prove it to her now.  Because all she sees is that you walked away when she was one and never turned back.  Not until the media got involved and forced you to.  And she doesn’t even know that much actually.  Really all she knows is you walked away.  That's what you're going to be up against; her thinking that she is a burden, a prop for you, that all your interest is feigned.”

“Inadequacy issues,” Bruce nodded.  Memories of Damian’s first years in the manor flashed through his mind.  He shuddered at the memory of Damian trying to kill Dick his first night and trying to kill Tim the first time he saw him, believing he was interfering with his birthright.  “But not violent, right?” he asked cautiously.  Because if she was anything like Damian, they were going to have to take some precautions, not that Sabine had given him any reason to suspect that. But then again, it would mean she wanted to be part of their family, so that was at least a starting point.

Sabine laughed.  “Marinette violent?  She’ll rip you to shreds if you touch one of her friends, but verbally.  She couldn’t fight her way out of a paper bag.”

Her reassurance made Bruce frown more.  That was good… kind of.  He didn’t have to worry about her attacking the other kids, not that he was worried about that, really.  Nothing he had ever heard about her or seen so far would indicate that was something he needed to be concerned about.  But that also mean she had no way of protecting herself if she ever got kidnapped or caught in a rogue attack.  

Maybe that was something Damian could help her with. He was an excellent fighter and it was something he greatly enjoyed.  He felt at ease when he was practicing or sparring.  Maybe that was a way they could bond, Damian sharing something important to him.  Bruce immediately grimaced at the idea.  There was no way Damian teaching someone with no fighting experience how to fight ended well for either of them.  It was more likely to result in a frustrated Damian and a bloodied, bruised, and scared Marinette.

Dick!  Dick could teach her, or Tim.  Both also excellent fighters and both much more likely to go slowly, easing her into something her body had never been used to.  Bruce nodded to himself.  Dick would jump at the chance to work with her.  And Tim, although less enthusiastic, would be more than willing to help make sure she could protect herself.

Bruce took a breath and focused back on the conversation at hand.  “So… go slowly.  Ask if she would be okay with meeting first.  Give her time to adjust before the meeting.  Try to figure out how to reassure her my interest in a relationship with her has nothing to do with the media.”  He nodded with a grimace.  “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

He could hear Sabine’s reassuring smile through the phone.  “As long as she’s had time to process, it should be okay.  She’s helped friends go through the same thing.  It shouldn’t be too hard once you get past the initial part.”

“Right.  I can do this.” Bruce said, more to himself than Sabine.

“And Bruce?”  Bruce was immediately tense from the edge in her seemingly sweet voice. “Protect our girl.  This is a lot for her all at once.”

Bruce breathed out a relieved sigh.  “I will.”

“Because if you don’t, not even Batman will be able to protect you.”

Bruce blinked a few times and opened his mouth only to snap it shut quickly, unsure if he even wanted to figure out if that was a veiled reference or not.  After a few seconds he nodded resolutely, deciding it didn’t matter.  “I understand.”

“Good day, Bruce,” Sabine said sweetly.

“Good night, Sabine,” Bruce answered with a smile, wondering just how much of her mother Marinette had replicated.

Chapter 6

Tags:

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[novaviis]

sick!dick au. Bruce's POV. read in order here.

For most everyone else, it starts at the Gala.

For Bruce, it starts in a grey little office, with a stack of papers and a glitter pen.

Dick will confess after the fact to the fainting spell in the apartment he shares with Wally, and the months of progressively worse migraines, including an incident on patrol with Jason – and Bruce is none-too-pleased with that information being kept silent, but he picks his battles and this isn’t one of them. Still, looking back nearly everyone will unanimously agree that the night it really “began” was the Gala.

For Bruce, it begins when the social worker hands him a creased manila envelope. Inside is a birth certificate, a social security number, and an immunization record. Bruce looks through the contents of the envelope. Is this really it? Yes, he’s never exactly done this before, but he feels like there should be more. Guardianship of a child shouldn’t be reduced to three pieces of flimsy paper in an envelope. There’s a coffee stain on the corner. The social worker doesn’t really know what to say to that; this is just the way it is. She slides the rest of the paperwork across the table. Everything’s already been looked over by his lawyers, all he needs to do is sign. She pats her pockets, muttering to herself before bringing out a red glitter pen and sheepishly offering it to him.

Bruce is in his twenties. He’s impulsive with his compassion and he just witnessed another little boy watching his parents die. He knows he can give this boy what he needs. Or he’s going to try. But between the drive to bring this boy’s family justice and the need to heal a part of himself in the process, he’s somehow skipped over just how huge this is. He’s thought about it, of course, but always with the under current of doing whatever it takes to make it work. He was going to give the boy a home, give him the closure that Bruce never got, and maybe he’d save him from turning out like… well, like Bruce. Only now he’s staring down at Guardianship written in big block letters across the top of the stack, and it’s sinking in now that he’s not just taking the boy in. He’s going to be his family. And it doesn’t change a thing, his resolve doesn’t waver, because he knows he can give him a good life, but it’s that one word. Family. His family is starting out with a coffee stain, a stack of papers, and a glitter pen.

He signs the papers. Dick is already waiting outside with Alfred, who’s taken him to the small cafeteria down the hall. The boy hasn’t spoken much, in the days Bruce has taken to get to know him. Bruce had asked Alfred if he was like that – after. And Alfred had looked at him sympathetically, answered carefully. Yes, he was, in a sense. Bruce had been quiet. Shellshocked. Traumatized. But Bruce needs to remember that he had him, at least one steady presence in his life. Dick has no one. It’s going to take time.

It shouldn’t be so easy, Bruce find himself thinking over and over as they finish up. He tucks everything away into his briefcase, bears with the social worker smiling and shaking his hand and thanking him for doing such a good deed as if this is a charity stunt for publicity and she doesn’t seem to care either way. He asks again, just before he closes his briefcase, if she’s sure that there’s nothing else he needs. Report cards, keepsakes, family medical history, he doesn’t know. She shakes her head, all pleasant smiles. No, that’s all he came with – as if he’s a shelter dog. Bruce latches his suitcase shut.

Back then, it was just a passing thought. He doesn’t spare it another over the years, because he doesn’t need to. Time went on, Dick becomes an inseparable part of his life. Bruce will always silently maintain that Dick was the one to save him in the end. He’s not a perfect guardian, not a perfect father, and he makes more mistakes than he can count. They argue, they have fallings out, and still they always work through it – because they’re family.

And the issue of the family medical history does not resurface until that champagne gold night. Until he catches Selena watching him from across the ballroom, smiling behind the rim of her wine glass and cocking her head to tease him. Until, he’s distracted between secretively searching the crowds for her and forcing himself to smile and laugh with Gotham’s elite, so he doesn’t notice the commotion rising up on the other side of the room. Until his youngest son comes racing toward him through the crowd looking more scared and shaken than Bruce has ever seen him. Until he breaks through the ring of bystanders and sees Dick passed out on the floor, Wally kneeling over him beside himself with panic. Until the ambulance and the fury of the waiting room (making a mental not to raise absolute hell with the Hospital’s board of directors) and the doctor pulling him to a side room, a little grey office, to ask the dreaded question. All at once, it comes back to that moment, and Bruce sighs, scrubs his palm over his tired eyes. No, he doesn’t have Dick’s family medical history. It doesn’t exist. Realistically, it isn’t Bruce’s fault, but that has never stopped him from shouldering blame.

Selena reaches out in the following days it ask in on how Dick’s doing. Bruce is cordial, tells her that her concern is appreciated but Dick seems to be doing fine. And on the other side of the phone, he can hear her moving around her penthouse, maybe standing at the window – she’s glad to hear it. Let her know if he needs anything, if she can do anything to help. It’s early days then, and none of them know just how bad it’s going to get.

It’s a slow progression at first, and then it’s not. It’s months between seizures, a steady increase in migraines – but life goes on. It’s not as if Bruce is hovering every Dick at every second. He’s a grown man now, with a career and a home and a partner. Bruce supports him in any way he can, until it gets to the point that he has to make the hard call. The argument he has with Dick that night, in the study of Wayne Manor, is something he’ll never wash from his memory. He’s used to making the tough decisions. He’ll be the asshole if he has to, he can handle Dick’s anger, but he’s not going to allow him to take this much risk into the field. Benching Nightwing until they have a handle on this is a necessary call, but Dick is stubborn (who on earth did he learn that from), and unwilling to step down so easily. And as the argument reaches its fever pitch, Bruce pacing and ranting, listing off his rational, he hears Dick call his name in a wavering voice and it cuts through the background noise. Dick, the colour drained from his face, eyes unfocused, conceding that he’s about to lose this argument, will haunt him in the same way as the worst things he’s seen in the life he’s chosen. That’s the moment he knows that this isn’t just going to pass, the moment he bolts to catch Dick before he can topple forward and hit his head. This isn’t something they can wait out. He’ll never regret making the call, but he will always regret the way he put the pressure on Dick, as if he’d just made things worse.

The thing is, this lasts years. It becomes a part of all their lives – because it’s Dick. It isn’t all consuming, it doesn’t eat away at their thoughts every minute of the day, but it’s a resurfacing concern that’s rarely spoken about aloud. And Bruce sees how this changes his family. No one can say that the Wayne clan is the most well adjusted and healthy family, but Bruce does his best. He realises and appreciates now more than ever just how much work Dick put into keeping them all functioning. Keeping them together. He never thought he’d taken it for granted until then. It shouldn’t have taken this to bring the family closer together, but it does, and as much as Bruce hates that, he’s not going to fight it.

Time goes on. Still. It’s a slow progression at first, and then it’s not. Bruce is in a meeting with his chief executive officers when his secretary buzzes in over the speaker saying there’s a call for him on the line. He thanks her for letting him know and tells her to take a message. She says the young man is telling her it’s an emergency. One of the CEOs is about to launch into a presentation and Bruce doesn’t spare him a second thought. Picks up the phone, pushes away from the board table, and paces to the window. Wally’s voice comes through saying his name, shaken and urgent, rambling out sentences too fast for Bruce to hear.

Wally. Slow down. What happened?

He stopped breathing. Fuck, Bruce, he called me at work – sounded like a seizure so I ran home, but he – it didn’t stop, he wasn’t breathing.

That first night, after Bruce has sent his reluctant children home with Alfred, it’s just him and Wally left with Dick. The end of visiting hours is fast approaching. Bruce steps out to let Wally have his time with Dick, allows him some privacy. He eventually makes his way up to the terrace balcony on the upper floors, a green space with massive glass walls and an open ceiling. Fresh air for the first time in hours does wonders.

Selena is there. She approaches him from the other side of a low hedge, bundled up in a cashmere sweater and scarf – ones he bought her ages ago. When he asks how she knew, she smiles. She has her ways. Tim called her, didn’t he. Yeah, he did. They stand in silence for a while, staring out at the mosaic of lights against the persistent dark of Gotham, before she puts a hand on his arm. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, Bruce, she says, and the coy smile fades into sincerity. Come to me when you need to.

Three days after Dick is admitted to the ICU, Bruce calls Damian into the study. It’s late, they just got home from visiting an hour ago. They’ve been arguing a lot lately, before Dick went downhill. Mostly regular thirteen-year-old boy versus father arguing, but a few too many frustrated shouting matches in the Cave. Bruce can’t help but wonder if it’s in part because Dick hasn’t been there to act as a mediator. Still, the past few days have been quiet, if not tense. Damian complies when Bruce calls him down. He’s wearing a sweater he stole from Dick months ago, the bulk of it swallowing his smaller frame like a blanket. He has the sleeves rolled up, his hands in the front pocket, when he pauses in the doorway. Bruce gestures for him to sit across from him at the desk. He can see the way Damian is bracing himself for a lecture, wondering whatever it is he did wrong this time, as he takes his seat. Bruce, in his chair on the other side, watches him for a moment before deciding this won’t do. He stands, and pulls his chair next to Damian’s and pulls a file over from the other side of the desk.

Wayne Men are at a higher risk of Prostate Cancer as they get older. I get tested every few years. He tells him. My Mother’s side of the family, the Kanes, have a history of Crohn’s Disease. It’s prevalent in people of Ashkenazi Jewish decent. I’ve never had it, or had symptoms, so it’s unlikely that I passed it on to you, but not impossible. And when Damian stares back at him, he leans forward, presses his hand to his son’s shoulder. I want you to know these things, Damian. It’s important that you know your history.

And with any other child, it may have not been a good idea to have this conversation right then. Any other child may have been scared. But this is his son, and Damian is as frank and pragmatic about these things as he is, and Bruce knows that he will appreciate the honesty, knows that those questions have likely been rattling around in Damian’s head for a while now. They spend another hour that night talking about their family, beyond just medical history, and Bruce answers any questions Damian has.

Dick gets worse. Wally leaves to find answers. Bruce is doing everything he can; medical bills are nothing to him, he checks in on his children, calls in favours from the league to keep watch of Gotham when he’s needed at the hospital. It’s the most he’s ever relied on others in his entire life.

It’s just him in Dick’s room one night. He’s at the window when he hears Dick rasping his name. It’s been rare lately that he’s been coherent enough to really speak without being prompted, so he has Bruce’s full attention immediately. He crosses over to the bed, braces a hand over Dick’s. And Dick doesn’t say anything for a long while. His eyes are half closed. Bruce is close to assuming he’s fallen asleep, when Dick’s unsteady hand slides out from under his, and rests on top with a barely there squeeze. Dick is staring up at him. His voice his so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the monitors, but Bruce hears it.

Take care of Wally.

Bruce doesn’t waste time on don’t talk like that sentiments. He doesn’t tell Dick that he won’t need to, that he’ll be fine, because Bruce does not make promises he knows he cannot keep. He nods. He will. Dick doesn’t need to ask him to take care of the family, that much is an unspoken understanding, but if this is a piece of mind he can give Dick, it’s without hesitation.

He ends up at Selena’s door after visiting hours. She buzzes him in, and when she opens the penthouse door neither of them say a word. She guides him over to the couch, pours two glasses of good wine, and when she returns, he’s already got his face in his hand – not sobbing, not breaking down, just… exhausted. She isn’t sure Bruce knows how to break down anymore. In the end, she just sits with him. Rubs his back, tentatively at first, not sure if he’ll let her. Bruce not only does, but he shudders under her hand, allows himself to breathe with her, and it’s enough to let the pressure ease and the ache to come in. He allows himself feel to it.

Because that’s his son. That’s his first son. And he’s failed him.

Years from then, when this is all in the past, he’ll let it slip. It’s over a late night coffee with Dick in the Cave as they wrap up a case, near to the anniversary of the Dick’s surgery. Maybe it’s the string of late nights and no sleep wrecking his inhibition, maybe it’s something he needs to get off his chest. But Dick stares at him, goes quiet, sets down his coffee mug.

You did everything for me, Bruce. He says. You never failed me.

And, someday, Bruce will believe it.

[ms-starflower]

Spook-tober Day 1 — Decorating

@maribat-october-rarepairs

So, technically, it’s October 2nd for almost two hour here, but it’s probably still the 1rst somewhere, right? Well, I don’t care anyway.

It’s my first time writing for an event (Maribat or otherwise) and I wanted to write both prompts for Spook-tober - Maribat Month and the Maribat Rare Pairs Month, but didn’t have time to start writing before 11pm.

This one's for Spook-tober, though it could also qualify as rarepair since it's a Stephinette (is that the correct shop name???), because Steph is my Queen (Cass too, but I wanted Steph today). Though they don't interact (yet) but I think I’ll write a follow up for other days' prompt, maybe (day 9 and 21, I’m looking at you,).

Anyway, let’s start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You sure you got the right address, miss?” The cab driver asked her with a skeptic expression. It would have been alright if the man hadn’t asked the same thing in at least twenty different ways during the ride.

“Yes, thank you Monsieur. I’m exactly where I wanted to be,” Marinette answered with a tight smile, like the twenty previous times. Giving him the money she owed him, she got out of the car to stand in front of the gigantic gate of Wayne’s Manor. The place was kind of intimidating.

Still hearing the car behind her when she reached the intercom, she turned toward it. The driver was shamelessly looking at her, probably waiting for her to get refused access.

“Are you waiting for something, sir?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“You’re gonna need a ride back, don’t ya? I’m already here, might as well,” he smiled at her with condescending amusement. Marinette was tempted to tell him that she would prefer to go back to the city on foot than to get into his car again. But her parents raised her better than that, so she only smiled politely.

“There is no need, sir, I really don’t know how long I’m going to stay here.”

“Yeah, right,” the man huffed, still staring at her.

Deciding to just ignore him, Marinette turned to push on the intercom’s only button. It took a minute before an elegant and accented voice responded.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Ah, hello sir. I’m Marinette, Jason asked me to come?”

“Indeed, Master Jason warned me to expect you.”

When the gate opened, Marinette made a point to turn around to smile and wave goodbye at the cab driver. She would cherish his dumbstruck expression for a long time.

Her victory was short lived, though, when she saw how long the march from the gate to the house was going to be. Jason better be on the brink of death. Or the world, she wasn’t picky.

When she finally got there, an old gentleman she thought might be Alfred was waiting for her.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m Alfred, the family’s butler, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alfred said with a kind smile and a nod.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir. And just Marinette is fine,” she told him kindly, walking into the house. “Jason is okay, right? He didn’t say why he wanted me here, and I have to admit that he got me worried.”

Jason had been determined to keep her as far away from his family as he could manage before, and the sudden change was really odd.

“I see,” Alfred said slowly, closing his eyes for a second. “Master Jason is alright, Miss Marinette, do not worry. He just… Well, why not let Master Jason explain the situation to you himself. If you would follow me.”

Marinette followed him for a couple minutes through a couple of corridors, before he opened the doors to… a battlefield.

She thought that, maybe, it was supposed to be a living room, but it was hard to say, under all those decorations. They were literally everywhere. Throwing on the couches, a couple of boxes were overturned in a corner, a couple of garlands of little cartoon ghosts hanging hazradly from the chandelier. It was a mess, but she could see that someone probably tried to… decorate? Maybe? It was a really bad job, though.

Jason and a man she assumed to be his brother were battling with a plastic pumpkin and a skeleton respectively, while two more men and a woman—probably also Jason’s siblings, she heard Bruce Wayne was kind of a serial adopter— were cheering on the sidelines and a brooding teenager was glaring at them. Everyone froze as soon as they realized that they weren’t alone anymore. Alfred only sighed, nodded at her before going back to where they came from.

“Hey! Pixie! Great, you’re here,” Jason exclaimed excitedly, letting go of the pumpkin he was shoving into his brother’s face and stauttered toward her.

“Jason, in the name of everything that’s holy, what the hell?” Marinette asked with a voice deceptively calm. She could see the woman and one of the men behind Jason wince at her tone. Good.

“Well, see, we wanna decorate the house for Halloween, now that it’s time—”

“Jason,” she interrupted incredulously. “We are in September!”

“Well, technically, it’s already October in Russia,” the man that had been fighting with Jason piped up.

“Yeah, what Timbers said,” Jason said with a serious nod while Marinette could only look at him in astonishment. “Anyway, Bruce said we can decorate all the room in the Manor like we wish if we can make this one presentable, without the help of Alfred. And I really want to make a cat theme for his bedroom, so I thought; hey, you know a designer…”

“I’m a fashion designer, Jason, not an interior designer!”

“Same difference, Pixie. You’re my only hope, all of them are hopeless in terms of good taste.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose, ignoring the various protests from Jason’s sibling, before taking out her phone.

“So you proceeded to send me ‘Hey Pix,” she said, reading the message he sent her earlier with a bad imitation of his voice. “‘Need you at the manor asap, urgence lvl 3’ before ignoring me, making me think that the world was probably ending—”

“World ending is at least a lvl 5, Pix, come on,” Jason interrupted with an offended expression. She ignored him.

“—Forcing me to take a cab with a absolute jerk driver—”

“Why did you take a cab? You have a car!”

“Adrien took the car, he is visiting Chloé in New York. But that’s not the point. The point, Jason, is that all of that was because you needed me to help you decorate for a day that is literally in a month?”

“Hey, Halloween is a very important celebration,” Jason’s brother, the one that had been cheering the loudest, told her with a solemn expression.

“I’m French, I don’t care about Halloween,” she deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, what?” The one Jason had called Timbers, probably Tim Drake, looked pained at the very idea that someone could not be obsessed by Halloween.

“I mean, we used to make speciales and sales at the bakery, and I’ve been to a couple of costume parties, but we don’t really pay attention to Halloween until around the 25 of October.”

“That’s sacrilegious,” Jason said, and almost all the others agreed in a way or another.

“Maybe for you, Americans,” she told him with amusement. “But it doesn't change the fact that I’m not going to help you.”

What? Why?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening.

“Because, one, I don’t have anything to gain from it,” she said, showing him one of her fingers before adding a second. “And two, do you know how long the walk between the cab and the door had been? And all of it just for decorations?”

“Aw, come on, Pix! Bruce is going to make Alfred judge, and I have projects for the cat theme!”

“There is nothing you can say that is going to make me change my—”

“Hey guys!” A cheerful voice suddenly interrupted her, the owner barging into the room like a whirlwind. The woman was slightly taller than her, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a beautiful smile that brightened the room and Marinette could feel the hearts that were making their way in her eyes. The girl was cute. Uh oh. “You are decorating already?! Cool! Be right back, let me just grab my stuff!”

Then she was gone, and Marinette could only blink slowly, before turning back toward Jason.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“What? Why— Oh, no, no, no! You’re not going to crush on Steph—”

“Oh, her name is Steph? What a lovely name,” she mumbled, looking back in the direction she disappeared. “But if you don’t want my help, I can just ask for her number and let you fend for yourself with the decorations, you know.”

“Pixie!” Jason complained, making his sibling laugh or snicker at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fun fact: when Marinette says that France doesn't care about Halloween until around October 25th, I’m talking from personal experience. I don’t know if it’s the same in all of France, but I grew up in Paris’ region (It’s not Paris Paris, but it’s like, the places all around and we call it régions parisienne) and they don’t care about it. Where I live, the shops don’t start selling Halloween themed candy before, like a week (maybe two?? when they start early) before Halloween and the children rarely go trick or treating. (I lived in this house for ~five/six years, and I’ve never got a child knocking for candy on Halloween.)

Again, I’m not saying it was like that for everyone in France, maybe it was only my city, but I thought it funny to have this opposition between Marinette and the Batkids.