#from the current batman run

[asparkinhereyes]

one of my fav headcanons for damian is that he's one of those kids who graduates high school early, and i just think it'd be funny if he was going to college at around the same time tim is, for the sole reason that it would drive tim batshit insane.

[aingeal98]

More Jason and Cass thoughts (sorry but also not sorry) but if I was magically given full control over DC and could write what I'd want obviously I'd make Cass Batman but I've been thinking of what sort of reaction and role Jason would have in response. I think I'd write his version of "Congrats on the new job!" as a test, involving the Joker and civilians and gangs and Red Hood and a ton of explosives. Bruce failed me, and now he's given up. You're his successor, let's see how you handle this dilemma that freaked him out so badly he threw a batarang into my throat rather than let me avenge my own death in front of him.

So obviously Cass will overcome the traps and the puzzles. That's the fun part to show how competent both of them are and sprinkle in little character moments as we go. But then we reach the emotional crux of the matter, probably laid out as some sort of saw trap because it's Jason. Here I am, a victim of murder. You say nobody dies tonight but I did, and I want the man who did it dead. Not only did Batman fail to avenge me but he failed to stop the Joker from going on to create even more victims. What right do you have to stop me from getting justice for myself? What right does this man have to life after what he's taken from me and from countless others? I'm not trying to kill a random stranger, I'm specifically demanding justice for my own death that I never got while I was gone.

There are two ways this could go. The straightforward route if I knew my time on this run was limited would probably be a pyrrhic victory like the ones Cass's og series was so fond of. Just like Bruce in utrh, she acts on instinct and saves the Joker (and Jason this time) . A win technically, but she fails the test. Jason is once again vindicated but with nothing to show for it. The story ends with Cass sending the Joker back to jail and going back to the batcave, where the old Robin costume looms judgementally, highlighting her failure. It would be the most fitting end given their character molds, all tragedy and conviction and unstoppable force meets immovable object etc.

However... I think the option I prefer would be a little different. Cass levelling with Jason, a killer talking to a murder victim. She has no right to stop Jason from getting justice, she has no love for the Joker but she knows any death she allows to happen like this would devastate her, just like that death row inmate long ago she tried to break out but ended up letting go once the family of the victim talked to her and demanded justice. I think... In this specific situation, she'd just be honest. Morally she has no right sure. Personally she just really really doesn't want anyone to die. Give her one chance, please. Let her try it her way. Not demanding, not lecturing or insisting, just... Please. Don't do this. Let me try another way.

And then what? Jason asks.

In the end a deal is struck. Cass will take the Joker and lock him up, ensuring he never harms anyone again while also trying to rehabilitate him. But the second she fails and he gets free, Jason kills him and she won't stand in his way. It's the kind of deal that leaves both of them mildly disgusted and dissatisfied with themselves, neither of them naturally creatures of compromise when it comes to this specific topic. But Cass is willing to do anything to avoid death and Jason did not expect the new Bat to be so... Flexible? Kind of? Of course maybe she won't actually hold up her end of the deal and when the Joker gets loose she'll try and stop Jason from killing him and he'll get his miserable vindication, but right now this is something strange and new and he's mildly confused and curious about where it will go. He doesn't believe in her ability to contain the Joker forever but he's willing to let her try because her reaction to that future failure interests him. She's given him a sword of damocles to hang above her head and he didn't ask for it or expect it. It's the type of power he never thought the Bat would just... Hand to him.

The conflict ends with neither of them fully winning or losing. They both don't really know what to feel about this.

The thing is, the second Cass let's Jason kill the Joker she's hanging up the mantle. She's staking the Bat on this, because it's always go big or go home with her when it comes to saving others, even someone like the Joker. In this magical universe where I have unlimited power, Cass would lock the Joker in a secret bunker and have Leslie Thompkins talk to him daily, mostly because I think her pacifism speeches and debates in the comics would make a fun contrast to the Joker's evil sadism. (But what about his rights? Doesn't he deserve a trial and to be held in a regular prison? I'm going to be honest I think Cass would be very comfortable bending the rules on this specific situation. Morally questionable but I'd have fun with it. She's going to let Leslie treat Joker like her personal pet project to save his soul because yes she wants him to change but also she's got a city to save every night so go crazy Leslie, have fun.)

And the Batman series would continue with Cass as the lead, new challenges and new antagonists and every twenty issues or so for the first hundred we'll cut back to the Joker briefly if his chats with Leslie can help highlight some thematic element of the current arc. But bit by bit he'd slowly fade away onto oblivion, maybe getting referenced every hundred issues or so until eventually no one remembers or cares about him because there's so much else going on. Meanwhile Jason's got a good thing going as Red Hood, primarily based in Park Row and a tentative ally on the occasion when their vigilante work aligns. Unlike Joker he's a much more frequent character in the comics, and after say 10 years (this is my magical fantasy universe Cass's batman run is going to last for a very long time alright) when people think of DC characters they think of Red Hood long before they think of the Joker.

Is any of this realistic? Right now of course not. It's why I'd go with the pyrrhic victory if I actually got the chance, because it would be the best way to tell the story in the larger context of the Bat narrative. But it's my fantasy DC editor and writer daydream and I'm going to dream big. They're never going to be normal happy siblings, their personal demons will never fully let them be free and the looming possibility of losing everything they currently have narrative wise if Bruce comes back as Batman will always be there. But it's maybe the closest to peace they'll ever get. Unsatisfying and tame compromise that probably violates several laws and ethical codes but whatever. Cass has never read the Geneva convention and Jason's not going to shed tears over the Joker. Let him die relevancy wise if not physically.

[kirbytuna]

not a single member of the batfamily had a dry eye at the end of meet the robinsons.

[stressedjester]

they gotta give the artists for this comic a raise on the basis of making plas such a cutie patootie

[damianbugs]

i am so late to the party but how did gotham war end up finishing? was bruce really being controlled by zur?

well, the actual gotham war story ended with us discovering vandal savage bought the wayne manor because there's a (once assumed to be lazarus) pit that is the source of his immortal-ness, and then he stole all of selina's criminal gang, and was trying to attract a magical meteor, or something. the rest of the batfam join forces to defeat every other gotham rogue who were out causing problems as usual (duke knocks out two-face, it was funny). jason takes the batwing and flies into the meteor to save the east coast, bruce thinks he's dead (he's not), selina falls into the explosion, bruce thinks she's dead (she's not). bruce realises he's like, kind of fucking up a lot, and decides to leave the family (unclear motive) to work on that, having a really underwhelming conversation with dick about it before he drives off into the sunset. literally. to really add the nail to the coffin, a random thug finds out bruce is batman!

so it was all in all a useless story! thank god it is over.

except. the big issue. zur is still very much around and despite bruce's stupid belief, very much in control. we know this for certain now because this stupid story is now back in the main batman run and the basis for the next arc "Mindbomb":

in Gotham War: Scorched Earth (the gotham war finale) jason tries to tell bruce (AGAIN) that zur is literally driving him insane, but bruce deflects and passes the blame onto dick. again at the end, bruce insists to dick that he is in control and zur is not the issue.

then, in batman #139, which takes place immediately after gotham war:

zur pushes bruce back and takes full control because he wants to kill the joker because that's what the mission needs (what the FUCK is the mission at this point), also revealing that bruce was never actually in control. to make matters worse, as people theorised, it wasn't just main continuity zur controlling him, but zur from every universe bruce had travelled through.

who fucking knows what will happen now. as far as i know, no one is enjoying this stupid overarching arc anymore. everyone should read the current detective comics run (by ram v) for much better mentally unstable batman story and a far more compelling plot.

[lilydvoratrelundar]

dc is doing a little mini relaunch after the current crossover finishes and honestly thank god because literally only two of their current ongoings interest me but there's a bunch of fun looking stuff happening in november that i might actually look at. and also it's starting series for several guys who should have had ongoings this whole time like the fucking JUSTICE LEAGUE

[plainclothesdisaster]

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[batsandbirdbrains]

This idea just popped in my head so not super elaborate. But let’s have the Batfam out apprehending a rogue magic user when Nightwing gets de-aged to when he was in his first few months as Robin. And they’re all expecting a sweet little sunshine kid, a smaller version of how their brother currently acts.

Instead, they see the itsy bitsiest little kid imaginable in the original Robin uniform, and they’re all instantly so mad at Bruce for ever letting Dick go out and fight when he was literally a tiny little child. He looks like a strong wind will blow him over.

But then they see him in action and they realize oh no, their brother was actually a little monster. He actually growls at them at one point. They get back to the batcave and they see him just become an animal. He bites Damian’s arm so hard when he hears someone call Damian Robin, then screams and yells about how he’s the only Robin.

Then he tells off Bruce with the intensity of a pissed off teenager, except he’s not even four feet tall and he’s standing on a table so he can shout in Batman’s face. And Bruce just looks so exhausted.

“I’m in charge here,” Bruce starts to tell him, but Dick just puts his hands on his hips and huffs.

“It’s cute you think so,” he says in a snotty voice.

“Alright, time for bed,” Bruce says quickly, because he remembers very well how things worked back when Dick really was eight and a snot nosed little menace. And he knows all of Dick’s tells, and he can see that he’s getting overwhelmed and upset and it’s going to soon turn into a total meltdown.

“No!” Dick argues, but Bruce has already picked him up, and he’s flailing and biting Bruce’s arm. “Pumme down! You’re not my dad, put me down, you’re not my daddy!”

He’s screaming and sobbing before they’re even halfway up the stairs. It’s the tantrum of the century, and it’s making Jason’s ears ring.

“What the fuck,” Jason gasps once the door leading upstairs closes, “was that?”

“Was Dick possessed or something?” Stephanie asks, rubbing at her ears.

“I can’t believe he bit me,” Damian mumbles, watching as Alfred cleans the very detailed bite mark on his arm. Tim snorts from where he’s watching.

“I think you’re all forgetting a very crucial detail,” Alfred tells them all, his voice very patient but strained, “that Master Richard came into Master Bruce’s care during a very traumatic period in his life. While his behavior might shock you, I assure you this was all quite normal compared to when he was actually eight years old.”

And it’s true. Because they do all often forget that the only reason Dick came to live with Bruce was because he’d just watched his parents get murdered and fall to their deaths in front of him. Most of them don’t even know about the couple months he spent in juvie while Bruce fought to get custody of him.

So when they go upstairs and hear Dick still screaming at Bruce, they try to have a little more empathy. Especially when they hear him start sobbing I want my mommy over and over again, and they have to listen as Bruce whispers I know, I’m sorry, I’m here to try and soothe him.

They try to be patient when he gets so angry the next day that he screams and flings Zitka across the room to hit one of them in the head, only to start sobbing when he realizes a couple stitches popped on the leg he held to throw her and now the stuffing is coming out, and they try to calm him down while looking for Alfred to help stitch her back together.

They try not to get frustrated when he’s yelling at them, only to fumble over his words in the middle of his tirade because he can’t remember the words in English, and now he’s upset and tugging at his hair and hitting his head while they try desperately to hold his wrists and make him stop, to help him find the words he was looking for, but he’s speaking like three different languages at once and no one can follow and it just makes Dick so much more frustrated until he runs away to hide in his room.

They try not to get annoyed when he’s in the batcave and actually beating them when they spar (because he’s fighting way dirtier than he ever would if he was his normal age), only to have him taunt them and stick his tongue out at them.

They try to understand how the little brat that was just screaming in Bruce’s face is now clinging to his leg, sitting on his foot, and begging Bruce to let him sleep in his bed tonight. You have to keep the monsters out, he tells Bruce, and they all see the way that makes Bruce melt, makes him do anything Dick asks because somehow this menace has Bruce wrapped around his little finger.

They watch Dick swing from a chandelier one day, looking down and calling everyone some very colorful names in all sorts of languages, but especially Bruce. Then he’ll hop down and pretend like nothing happened, instead clinging to Bruce and making him carry him around all day long, acting as if he’ll be burned if his feet to touch the floor.

He goes from wild to sweet in the blink of an eye, and it’s a total mind fuck.

Then he turns back to normal and acts as if none of that was even out of the ordinary.

[enby-mori]

Modern!Batman @ robin(s): This is MY case, you are FAR too young and INEXPERIENCED to do this ALONE!!

1940s!Batman who's known Dick for less than a year: I trust you to work this case while I take care of something else, but just in case you need anything, I'll swing by once I'm done with my thing. I know you can do it, Robin.

[neellscapsule]

the sunshine gentleman

summary | after discovering batman's identity, you continue your work as a secretary for bruce, keeping the secret; then, some days before christmas, your brother visits you. 

pairing | bruce wayne x kent!reader ; platonic clark kent x reader

warnings / tags | fluffy, jealous bruce, clark being the best big brother ever, mentions of drunk sad bruce

word count | 4.5k

authors note | hi there!! english is not my first languaje so there might be some mistakes, or not, it can depend :)

this is part of the kent!batmom!reader series. you don't need to read the other parts to understand this since this is about bruce and batmom's past.  this can be read as wayne's secretary part 2.

taglist | @maolen @joonunivrs @c4ssi4-luv @fanfics4ever @inejskywalker @radenxd @resting-confused-face @fionnalopez @stargirl9911 @idek101-01

YOU WENT BACK TO WORK LIKE NOTHING HAD HAPPENED.

Well… almost like nothing had happened.

Because things had changed, and even if neither of you said a word, you could feel the shift humming beneath the surface like a quiet electrical current. You knew he knew that you knew. And Bruce Wayne—professional, stone-faced, emotionally constipated Bruce Wayne—wasn’t exactly the type to bring up rooftop vigilante confessions or bloody couch collapses during your Monday morning coffee run.

Still, he was watching you differently now.

You’d catch it sometimes—those moments when your head was bent over your keyboard, fingers flying across the calendar updates, only to glance up and find his eyes already on you. Not in that fleeting, distracted way he used to. No. This was different. Intentional. Like he was studying you, trying to memorize something he didn’t realize he’d forgotten.

You never mentioned it.

You didn’t mention the fact that your salary had mysteriously doubled, either. One morning you just… opened your paystub and blinked at the number for a solid five minutes.

You almost choked on your coffee.

Then you laughed—alone, startled, dryly amused.

Not because you weren��t grateful, but because part of you worried what it might look like. You hadn’t told anyone about Bruce’s second identity. Not even Clark. And yet, here you were, getting a suspiciously generous raise right after patching up Gotham’s most elusive vigilante on your couch.

Still, you didn’t say anything to him about the money. Just like he didn’t say anything about the fact that you’d seen him half-dressed and bleeding.

Silence was your shared language now.

Christmas crept closer on the calendar, your week-long vacation to Smallville already approved—and then extended by Mr. Wayne himself without warning or comment. You noticed it on the scheduling software one quiet Wednesday morning and blinked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Two weeks,” you said under your breath, squinting at the screen. “Did I… request two?”

You hadn’t.

He couldn’t say he wanted you to rest. Couldn’t say he wanted you safe, far from rooftops and broken ribs and the kind of darkness Gotham swallowed people in.

You could’ve marched into his office and asked—but you didn’t. You figured this was Bruce’s way of doing something nice without ever being seen doing it.

You let it go.

Instead, you buried yourself in your task list: confirming board meetings, answering endless phone calls, redirecting holiday invitations, scheduling the year-end Wayne Foundation charity appearances, finalizing travel logistics, fixing one of Mr. Wayne’s glaring calendar conflicts that would’ve had him at two galas and a board retreat on the same night.

Currently, you were typing out an email to the Metropolis city hall offices—following up on a donation Wayne Enterprises had pledged—when the phone rang.

You didn’t even glance at the caller ID.

Your hand reached for the receiver automatically, tucking it between your ear and shoulder as you continued typing.

“Mr. Wayne’s office,” you said brightly. “This is Y/N.”

There was a slight crackle on the line, followed by Eloise’s chipper voice from the front desk. “Hi, sweetie. Sorry to bother—there’s a man here—”

“Oh, go ahead and send him up,” you said, not really listening, half-focused on the typo correction blinking at you on screen. “He’s probably here for Mr. Wayne.”

“Wait—”

You hung up.

Exactly three seconds later, Bruce’s office door opened.

You didn’t even turn at first.

“Who was it?” he asked, his voice low and casual, but there was something in the tone—something tense, like a wire pulled too tight.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t know. I told Eloise to send him up.”

He stared at you.

You blinked. “What?”

The tension crackled between you like static. Like the moment before lightning splits the sky. And you hated how you couldn’t stop remembering the look on his face when you asked if he wanted to stay. The way he’d looked at you when you called him complicated. The way he hadn’t denied it.

You opened your mouth to ask if he wanted you to bring water or coffee or a distraction, but then—

“Y/N?”

Your head whipped toward the elevator. The voice was warm. Familiar. Deep and smooth and impossibly safe.

Your heart leapt.

“Clark?” you gasped.

And then you were running—faster than you could remember moving in heels—across the office floor, the thick plush carpet muffling the sound of your footsteps.

Your brother stood in the doorway, tall and broad and unmistakable in that sweet, dorky way only he could manage. Thick-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and his soft dark hair flopped gently against his forehead, a few strands damp from the misty Gotham air. He wore a gray pea coat and a warm smile so wide it nearly broke your heart in two.

You threw yourself at him.

He caught you with one arm like you weighed nothing, like you were still six years old and couldn’t reach the cookie jar, spinning you around as you clung to his neck and laughed, genuine and warm and glowing from somewhere deep in your chest.

“Oh my God, you’re here!” you squealed.

“I’m here,” he laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. “You didn’t think I’d miss seeing my baby sister before Christmas, did you?”

You beamed, still in his arms, eyes damp with happiness. “You never come to Gotham.”

“Well,” he said with a sheepish grin, “someone had a pretty rough week.”

You pulled back just enough to frown at him, though your eyes sparkled with amusement. “Ma called you.”

He raised his brows in mock innocence.

“Clark.”

“What? She was worried!”

You snorted, finally sliding down to your feet, still holding his forearms as if to make sure he didn’t disappear again. “Unbelievable. She ratted me out.”

“She said you cried.”

You groaned. “I did not cry. I got champagne on my dress.”

“She said you sobbed.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh my God, I’m never telling her anything again.”

Clark just pulled you into another one-armed hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I came to check on you,” he murmured. “Because you’re my girl.”

You blinked back something wet in your lashes.

You’d always been his. His first little sibling. His shadow. His anchor. His soft spot.

“You still have the same glasses,” you muttered.

“They’re iconic.”

“They’re huge.”

Clark laughed again, his smile wide and impossibly bright behind those dorky glasses. His hair was messier than usual, curling faintly from the cold, and his eyes—those soft, sea-colored eyes—shimmered like safety itself.

“You look good,” you said, brushing invisible lint off his jacket. “You’ve been flying more, huh?”

“Trying to,” he admitted, sheepish. “Kara says I’m too slow. Which is offensive.”

You snorted. “You’re a blur. I’ve seen it. Remember when you caught that meteor? Like. Mid-air?”

He grinned. “What, this old thing?” He mimed catching something, flexing obnoxiously. You slapped his arm.

“I missed you,” you said, more softly now.

He smiled at that, the kind of smile that reached all the way into your chest and stayed there.

“I missed you more, bug.”

There was a quiet cough behind you.

You turned and—

Oh.

Right.

Bruce.

You’d forgotten he was standing there. Your boss. Who was watching all of this with an expression so perfectly neutral you would’ve missed the sharp tension in his jaw if you didn’t know exactly where to look.

Oh.

He thought—

You stepped back slightly, placing a hand on Clark’s arm. “Oh! Sorry. Uh. Mr. Wayne—this is my brother.”

Bruce’s shoulders shifted almost imperceptibly.

“Clark Kent,” Clark offered warmly, stepping forward and extending his hand. “Reporter. From Metropolis.”

There was the barest flicker in Bruce’s eyes—recognition, maybe?—but it was gone just as fast.

“Bruce Wayne,” he replied coolly, clasping Clark’s hand.

“Pleasure, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce took his hand, shook it once.

“Likewise.”

You didn’t notice how tight Bruce’s jaw was, how his eyes narrowed for just half a second when Clark touched your shoulder again in that brotherly, protective way.

Didn’t notice the split-second flash of relief that flickered across Bruce’s face when you’d said the word brother.

He’d been bracing himself.

You’d never know that.

You didn’t see the look that passed between them—brief, measured, masculine.

Your smile widened, the tension in the room bleeding out like a pulled thread. “I was just finishing an email. Clark, you wanna sit while I wrap it up?”

He nodded, then threw a glance at Bruce. “Unless I’m interrupting?”

Bruce’s face didn’t move, but his eyes—those eyes—lingered on you.

“No,” he said finally. “Not at all.”

You turned toward your desk again, heart beating a little faster.

You didn’t miss the way Bruce looked at you then.

Not as a secretary. Not as an employee.

But as the girl who knew his secret. The girl who’d wrapped gauze around his ribs with shaking hands. The girl who hadn’t said a word—because she didn’t need to.

 “Do I get a secretary badge too?”

 “No, it's mine only.”

Bruce watched you go—your arm looped with Clark’s, relaxed, the sounds trailing like music behind you.

He stood there, quiet, still, gaze unreadable.

But inside?

Jealousy had come and gone in a blink. And now, it left something softer behind.

He’d seen the way your eyes lit up. He’d watched it all.

And for one agonizing second—before the word brother—he’d hated the thought that someone else could pull that joy from you.

Not because he didn’t want you to have it but because he wanted to be the reason you smiled like that.

And maybe—just maybe—he already was.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a warm blur.

Clark hung around your desk, alternating between leaning on it, teasing you about how fast your typing was, and wandering through the executive suite like it was a museum exhibit. He made small talk with a few assistants from legal—charming as ever, harmlessly polite, somehow looking both like a bumbling reporter and a walking supernova at once.

You finished wrapping up the weekly emails, flagged three reports for follow-up, and cleaned your desk like you always did before a long break. Clark had taken your swivel chair hostage, legs folded in like a grasshopper as he spun slow, lazy circles, absolutely unbothered.

“Clark, people work here,” you said for the third time, nudging his shoulder as you reached to log out of your terminal.

“And I’m helping morale,” he offered brightly, spinning again. “Look at you. All cheered up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because watching my older brother act like a caffeinated toddler is exactly what my coworkers needed.”

“You’re just mad I didn’t bring you cookies from Ma.”

You stared at him.

His mouth dropped open. “I knew I forgot something.”

You gasped. “Clark Joseph Kent. You monster.”

He laughed, shoulders shaking, your favorite kind of sound in the whole world. That laugh could turn a whole day around. Could mend a broken afternoon in three seconds flat. It’d been that way since you were little.

“Pa had eaten half of them,” he said between chuckles. “Said something about quality control.”

“Ugh.” You folded your arms. “I bet it was the molasses crinkles.”

“Yup.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I would’ve killed for those.”

Clark smiled as he leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head. “Well. Guess you’ll just have to come home for the rest of them.”

“I am going home. You knew that. You just didn’t want to share.”

“I’m not denying that.”

You kicked the base of the chair lightly, and he spun again, grinning wide.

The sun had dipped low over Gotham, tinting the skyline in shades of copper and soot. Snow hadn’t started falling yet, but you could feel it in the air—the crisp weight of it just waiting for nightfall. It was almost six. You’d already told Mr. Wayne his schedule was cleared. Everyone else in the suite had trickled out.

You closed your laptop slowly, dragging your fingers along the cool edge. “That’s it,” you murmured. “Last one for the year.”

Clark leaned against your chair, his warm hand tousling the top of your hair like he always did. You swatted him, but not with much force.

“You made it,” he said, all soft pride.

You beamed. “And with minimal trauma.”

That’s how Bruce found you.

You didn’t hear his office door open, but you felt it. That soft shift in the air, that weight of a presence even before a single word was spoken. You looked up instinctively—knew without knowing.

Bruce stood at the threshold of his office, silent and sharp in the dim light of the evening, his expression unreadable as ever. He didn’t look at Clark right away. His eyes were already on you.

And for a breath—just a breath—it was like the room quieted.

Clark noticed it too. The sudden stillness. He sat up straighter, adjusted his glasses, and gave a small, polite smile.

Bruce’s gaze didn’t move for a beat longer. Then, finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Y/N.”

You blinked. “Yes, Mr. Wayne?”

He paused.

Clark stood up beside you, suddenly less playful, picking up on something unspoken in your voice.

“I need a moment,” Bruce said.

You glanced at Clark. He gave you a tiny nod and turned toward the hallway, very obviously not listening. 

You stepped over quietly, hands loose at your sides. It felt like stepping into a conversation that neither of you had planned. One that had been waiting in the shadows since that night on your couch.

Bruce’s jaw was set. His eyes flicked to yours, then away again. You waited, patient as ever.

This time, you noticed.

The persona was slipping.

There was no flirty billionaire here. No polished playboy with a champagne flute and a model on his arm. No clever, offhand remarks. No perfectly rehearsed charm.

And he wasn’t Batman either.

This wasn’t the man who bled on your hardwood floors and let you bandage the hidden parts of him.

This was just Bruce.

And somehow, that was even harder to look at. Because he was the one you wanted. Not the mask. Not the myth. The man who looked like he’d spent the last days thinking about something he didn’t know how to say.

You kept your voice soft. “Something wrong?”

He shook his head once. “No.”

You nodded, waiting.

He studied you like a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Something tightened behind his eyes.

“I just…” He hesitated. “I realized I hadn’t said anything.”

You tilted your head. “About what?”

“About Christmas. Your time off.”

You blinked, surprised.

“Oh.”

Another pause. His voice was gentler this time. “I hope you enjoy the break.”

You smiled slowly. “Thank you.”

He glanced down for a moment, then back up. “You deserve it.”

Your heart twisted.

The words were simple—but coming from him? They struck deep. Like a hand brushing the side of your cheek that never quite touched, but left warmth anyway.

“I wanted to… thank you. For your work this year.”

That caught you a little off guard.

You softened, lips quirking gently. “Thank you for not firing me after I spilled coffee on the Q3 reports.”

That pulled a flicker of a smile from him. The briefest upturn at the corner of his mouth. It made your chest ache.

“You’ve been… indispensable,” he said finally.

You blinked again.

You could count on one hand how many times Bruce Wayne had complimented you. And it had never sounded like that before.

“Wow,” you said softly. “That almost sounded like praise.”

He glanced up at you now. There was something in his eyes. Not softness, exactly. But… honesty. A peeling-back, quiet and raw.

“I’ll be with my family,” you said quietly, watching him. “My Ma and Pa. Clark, obviously. My . . . cousin, Kara. And all the pets in there.”

His eyes softened at that. “Good.”

You hesitated, then added, “There’ll be snow. And pie.”

“You like pie?”

You gave him a look. “Everyone likes pie.”

That earned you the smallest hint of a smile. “Then I hope there’s a lot of it,” he said.

You smiled back, not sure what else to say. A knot sat heavy in your throat.

This felt like goodbye. Not just for Christmas. Like something deeper was trying to end itself before it could bloom into something neither of you could handle.

He took a slow breath.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Your name in his voice was a quiet thing. Almost reverent.

Your chest tightened.

“Merry Christmas, Bruce.”

It was the first time you’d said it like that. Just his name.

No title. No distance.

Just him.

He didn’t correct you. Didn’t move. Didn’t say another word.

You gave him a tiny nod and stepped back, walking down the hallway with your heart throbbing in your chest.

Clark waited by the elevator, arms crossed, his smile patient.

“You good?” he asked, stepping inside with you as the doors opened.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He watched you press the button. “That was not a professional goodbye.”

You elbowed him gently. “Shut up.”

The elevator ride up was filled with the familiar hum of holiday music through cheap speakers. You leaned against the wall, arms folded, mind still back in the office.

Specifically… in his office.

The words he’d said. The way he’d looked at you. Something unspoken itched at your ribs.

By the time you reached your apartment, the city had gone dark. Snow dusted the sidewalk in soft, fresh layers. The heater hummed as you kicked off your boots, Clark shrugging out of his coat like he lived there.

You gave him a look and then dropped your bag by the couch and flopped down with a sigh. Clark joined you a moment later, settling beside you with two mugs of cocoa he’d made in a blur of super-speed.

“You spoil me,” you muttered, sipping the top layer of whipped cream.

He smiled. “You’re easy to spoil.”

You curled your legs under yourself and leaned your head against the back of the couch.

Clark waited half a beat.

“So.”

You groaned.

“So what?”

He looked sideways at you with the kind of smirk only an older brother could perfect.

“You know what.”

You groaned. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting, I’m just observing.”

You turned your face just enough to look at him sideways. “Observing what, exactly?”

He tilted his head, mock-thoughtful. “Oh, you know. Just the way you turned into a blushing schoolgirl the second Mr. Billionaire said your name.”

“I did not blush.”

“You absolutely did.”

You sat up, grabbing the pillow and whacking him with it.

He took it like a champ. “That’s not denial!”

“I’m not blushing over Bruce Wayne,” you insisted.

Clark grinned. “Bruce Wayne. So we’re on a first-name basis now?”

You glared at him. “You’re infuriating.”

He laughed. “And you’re in love.”

You made a strangled noise and threw another pillow at his face. He caught it easily.

“I’m serious,” he laughed, ducking. “Y/N. You’re in love with your boss.”

“I am not—!” you started, then stopped.

“You’ve got a look,” he said. “You’re doing that pouty-lip, faraway-eyes thing.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I always look like that.”

He arched a brow.

You gave him a pointed glare. “Okay. Maybe.”

Clark grinned. “I knew it.”

You groaned. “Please don’t.”

“What?” he said, grinning wider. “I’m not judging. I think it’s cute.”

“Clark, seriously.”

“Hey, hey—look. I’m just saying. I know that look. You’re soft on him.”

You slumped onto the couch. “It doesn’t matter.”

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

You exhaled slowly, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. “Because he’s my boss,” you said quietly. “And because I’m just… me. A girl from a farm. He has models and CEOs on speed dial.”

Clark’s gaze softened.

You didn’t meet it.

“And besides,” you added after a beat, “even if he did know I care… it’d just be gratitude. Or, like, professional respect. Nothing more.”

Clark looked at you for a long, long moment.

You didn’t realize your fingers were twisting the blanket.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t press. Didn’t say the words hovering between your teeth—that you’d seen Bruce Wayne in another light, one only a handful of people would ever witness. That you’d bandaged his wounds. That you knew who he really was beneath all the masks.

Because you hadn’t told him.

And Clark didn’t need to hear it to know your heart was wrapped in something complicated.

“You’re one of the best people I know,” he said gently, nudging your shoulder. “If he doesn’t see that… he’s an idiot.”

The city stretched outside your window, still dark, still sprawling.

You thought about Bruce’s face. The look he’d given you tonight. Like he didn’t have the words. Like maybe, he wished he did.

You pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around your shoulders. Clark reached for the remote, flipping to some holiday cartoon you both knew by heart.

And for the first time all year, your heart didn’t feel so heavy.

The train pulled into Smallville just past dusk on the 22nd, the windows fogged with cold and lined with frost, and for a moment, it felt like the town hadn’t changed at all. As if the moment you stepped off the platform, time folded itself in half and brought you right back to being sixteen with a knit scarf and Clark’s oversized coat hanging off your shoulders.

The Kent Farm was still there. Still white and peeling in some spots, still crowned with snow like whipped cream on top of an apple pie. The big oak out front was bare now, wrapped in tinsel and glowing red-and-green lights Clark must have strung at super-speed. The porch swing creaked like it always had. And from the driveway, you could already smell pie.

The air was so clean it almost made your eyes water.

“Ma’s been baking for three days,” Clark said, tugging both your suitcases out of the car’s trunk like they weighed nothing. “You might have to fight me for the cherry one.”

“Yeah?” you challenged. “Bet she made me my own.”

He groaned. “Favoritism.”

“Younger child advantage.”

“Still unfair.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, racing up the porch. He let you win.

Ma opened the door before you could knock, her arms already out, smile breaking across her face like a sunrise. “My baby.”

“Hi, Ma,” you breathed, hugging her tight. She still smelled like cinnamon and sugar, soft and warm and a little like sunshine.

Behind her, Pa stood in his old flannel, leaning on the doorframe, his expression quiet but fond.

“Well now,” he said, arms open. “There’s our girl.”

You hugged him next, fitting into his arms like you never left. His beard scratched your cheek, and his callused hands were gentle on your back.

“Thought you weren’t showing up ‘til tomorrow,” he said, though you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Got lucky with the train,” you replied. “Clark met me in Gotham and drove me the rest of the way.”

“Mm,” Ma said, ushering you inside, “well, lucky us then.”

The house hadn’t changed much. The old quilt on the couch. The fireplace crackling with kindling and soft orange light. The tree in the corner—short, squat, and lovingly cluttered with handmade ornaments, some dating back to your first art class in kindergarten. Clark’s old stocking hung beside yours, both sagging a little under their own weight. The radio hummed with classic carols in the background.

It was perfect.

You spent the first evening in pajamas, curled up with your feet under Ma’s legs while she threaded popcorn garland. Clark lay on the floor with Krypto in his lap, absently petting it while you flipped through old photo albums and teased Pa about his seventies haircut.

You didn’t talk about Gotham.

Didn’t talk about Bruce.

Didn’t talk about the new pay bump or the way your hands had shaken when he said your name that last day. You just breathed.

And it felt like your lungs could finally fill.

Christmas morning broke with the smell of pancakes and the sound of Pa whistling “Jingle Bells” while frying bacon.

Snow had fallen overnight. Heavy, soft, glistening snow that blanketed the entire farm in silence. The barn roof sagged under it. The wind was still. Clark had cleared the driveway before anyone woke up.

You padded downstairs in fuzzy socks and a flannel shirt big enough to swallow you whole. Your hair was messy. Your eyes still carried sleep.

Ma greeted you with a kiss on the temple and a stack of warm flapjacks the size of your face.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas, Ma.”

Clark sat at the table, already halfway through a second plate. You plopped beside him and stole one of his pancakes with a fork. He glared. You beamed.

“I have super reflexes, you know.”

“You also have super generosity,” you said sweetly.

The day passed in a slow blur of joy.

You opened presents in the morning—socks and books and Clark’s idea of a joke gift (a Gotham travel mug that said “Bat-teries Not Included”). Pa gave you a new flannel, and Ma gave you a hand-knitted blanket in your favorite color.

Clark got a new camera. Ma teared up watching him unwrap it.

After that, there were pies. All kinds. Ma had made you a cherry one just for yourself. You offered Clark half a slice. He acted like you’d handed him gold.

Later, Clark flew out to visit Lois while you helped Ma with the dishes and watched a black-and-white Christmas movie on VHS. You curled up on the couch with the blanket she made you, sipping cider, belly full and warm.

It was the kind of day that didn’t need anything more.

The kind of quiet that healed something.

Even if you still felt the echo of Gotham under your skin. Even if your thoughts still kept wandering back to a cold tower and a lonely office with dark windows. Even if your heart still ached when you remembered the way Bruce had looked at you—soft, almost apologetic, and just a little too late.

It was past midnight when your phone rang.

You were in bed, tucked under layers, the room cold but your limbs warm. You blinked at the screen, expecting a message from Clark—maybe a picture of a food coma from Lois’s house.

But it wasn’t Clark.

The name on your screen just read: Mr. Wayne :p

Your heart stuttered. You answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

There was a pause. Then a low, familiar voice, quieter than you’d ever heard it.

“Y/N.”

You sat up slowly, fingers tightening around the phone.

“Hi,” you whispered.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. You listened to the background noise—nothing but silence. No city hum. No movement.

“Y/N.”

Your heart skipped. He exhaled through his nose, slowly.

“Mr. Wayne?” you said. 

Another silence. Then, quieter: “Bruce.”

You blinked. “Bruce. Right. No working hours.”

You could hear him breathing, the faintest rustle of fabric. Something slow, heavy. Like he was lying down.

“Did I wake you?” He asked.

Something in his voice made your throat tighten.

It wasn’t the voice of a billionaire. Not even Batman. It was just him.

Tired. Raw.

“No,” you said. “I… wasn’t sleeping.”

Another pause. You lay back down slowly, pulling the blanket higher.

“Are you alright?” you asked gently.

“I don’t know,” he said, so honestly it nearly knocked the breath out of you.

You swallowed.

“I wasn’t sure if I should call,” he said. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re not,” you whispered. “You’re not interrupting anything.”

A faint rustle, like he shifted onto his side.

“It’s quiet here,” he murmured. “Too quiet.”

You hesitated. “You’re alone?”

“…Yeah.”

You bit your lip, thumb brushing the edge of the phone.

“Are you… okay?” you asked again, softer this time.

“I think I drank too much,” he admitted.

There was no bravado to it. No self-deprecation. Just a quiet truth.

You exhaled slowly, curling tighter into the blanket. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

There was a pause.

“Yes.”

That one word felt like it cracked something open inside you.

“Okay,” you said gently. “I can do that.”

Neither of you spoke for a while. Just breathing. Just… there.

And then:

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice so low it was barely more than breath.

Your eyes burned. “Merry Christmas, Bruce.”

You didn’t ask what he’d done that day. You didn’t ask if he’d seen anyone or if he’d sat in that big house alone with all those ghosts and memories and shadows.

You didn’t need to.

He’d called you. And that was enough.

You heard him sigh quietly, the sound tugging something deep inside your chest.

“I think I’ll fall asleep,” he whispered.

“Then sleep,” you said. “I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” he breathed.

The line went quiet after that.

You didn’t hang up. You didn’t say a word. You just lay there, the phone pressed to your ear, the line still open, listening to Bruce Wayne fall asleep to the sound of your voice.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson:

*runs the titans*

*works for the league*

*has a day job*

*solo patrols bludhaven*

*solo patrols New York*

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

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

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

*monitoring drug pedaling in 3 cities*

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

* maintaining civilian cover*

*canonically does volunteer work*

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

Like Dick take a break what is this?

————

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

*phone rings* -it’s tim

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

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

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

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

—————

Jason: sooo I might be engaged to an alien princess

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

Jason: nope

Dick: …. Can it wait

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

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

————

Damian: hello Richard

Dick: what did you do.

Damian: I have been kidnapped by my mother

Dick: again

Damian: I feel it would be redundant to say anything

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

——————

Bruce: cult

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

Bruce: we need someone to infiltrate it

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

Bruce: hnnnn

——-

Babs: I have… acquired a child

Dick who is fighting deathstroke : …okayyyy

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

Dick, dodging a katana: preaching to the choir

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

Dick: ….

Babs: you owe me

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

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

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP fanfic Idea: Gotham Gossip

Meta-human rights are a touchy topic in Gotham. While the city is known for Batman's view on them, it's also known for Bruce Wayne's viewpoint.

The Dark Knight did not welcome Metas, while the Light Knight worked tirelessly to employ charities and programs to support Metas. Both men- if Batman was a man- influenced Gotham so intensely that their viewpoints became the face of the public.

Even people outside of Gothman learned what "Are you a Dark pawn or a Light pawn?" meant when it was spoken about during national debates.

Really, it was no surprise that Batman and Wayne got caught up in a rather explosive public argument over the subject. Or rather, Wayne yelled at Batman during a hostage situation when his party boat got taken by a group of masked men.

Thankfully, Batman was able to save everyone on board, and although he didn't stick around to argue with Wayne, it was noted that Batman seemed intrigued by a few of Wayne's passionate rants. A few reporters were excited to point out there may be a chance of growth within the vigilante, but it was overshadowed by gossip rags that used this incident to make up a wild rumor of Wayne being a bitter ex with Batman.

This rumor runs for months, with various people posting online proof of a relationship. It sparks debate and anger, with other people responding by fact-checking and countering the "proof." Eventually, the argument moves away from Meta-human rights and falls into celebrity gossip, which has Wayne steaming.

People ignore his passionate activism to better the lives of Metas, only watching his speeches, marches, protests, and donations to various charities to gain new proof of his nonexistent romance that may or may have been in his early twenties when he mysteriously vanished to see the world.

That's when the video comes out.

A young teenager wrote a song parody of what was happening. A soft acoustic guitar accompanied his short words, accusing the masses of caring more about a wealthy man's pants being on or not than the lives of his people.

This young teenager is Danny Fenton, a known meta from a small town in Illinois. This quickly turned into people attacking the boy, who released another song using the hateful comments as new lyrics.

Wayne reposts one of his sons, claiming it a masterpiece, which is when one fan notices the similarities between the two. She makes a post talking about how Wayne and Fenton could be father and son as a joke, expecting people to take it seriously.

Overnight, the internet finds out that Fenton was, in fact, adopted into his current family after being surrendered at a fire station anonymously. More and more people started to notice the similar features between the rich man and the small-town singer until a video of Fenton using his powers was leaked.

Fenton's power is invisibility. This resembles another well-known Gotham dweller who can appear and disappear through the city's shadows. It's not long before Fenton is being called the love child of Batman and Wayne.

It leads to so much media attention and harassment aimed towards Fenton that Wayne steps in. He offers to take a paternity test to finally put the rumors to rest and let the young boy vanish from the limelight (should he stop writing songs).

The only problem?

The test is positive. Wayne is Fenton's biological son. The whole nation loses their minds when it's leaked by a very regrettable intern at the clinic where the test was done. (To be fair, the intern's email was hacked, so when she scanned the papers for herself, they were able to steal them)

Worse, Joker thinks it would be hilarious to kidnap Wayne's newly discovered son and, on live TV, give him another paternity test against Batman. The clown is laughing hysterically while his men prepare the results, only to become more gleeful when it's a match again.

Fenton is the son of both the Dark Knight and the Light Knight. It matters little that Batman's DNA is slightly messed up, as various people already suspected him of not being human.

This just proves Fenton is not a meta-human but rather half-human and whatever the hell Batman is. Joker is having a ball reading out the results, proclaiming he would help Fenton meet his biological grandparents with his one guarantee.

His words are cut off when Fetnon- unknown to the viewing public- escapes his bonds and swings an axe from the emergency fire station inside the aged wearhouse at Joker's neck. The clown collapses to the ground dead, the boy bathed in his blood, and the half-finished joke is cut off by the sound of choking blood etching across every screen in Gotham.

The remaining goons and Fenton stare at each other in stun silence while one is brave enough to rasp. "But Batman doesn't kill."

"Do I look like my absent father to you? Besides, Joker venom is a war crime. I'm within my rights, and if I'm not, I would have killed him again anyway."

Fenton quickly outshines his fathers in the public's eye because no matter where one stood on the Meta Rights, everyone stood on the "Kill the Joker" debate.

[letoasai]

The Youngest Ancient

An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth. 

We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i don’t actually know if that’s within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too. 

Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and he’s not having it. 

~~

They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasn’t like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger. 

Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldn’t even know it had happened. 

“There’s always begging an Ancient for help.” Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far. 

Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. “You think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?” 

“Could be the only course of action.” Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it. 

“Nah, it’s a much crazier idea than that.” Constantine said flatly. “We’re not talking about any of those old hats we’re used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.” 

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to bring in a complete unknown.” 

“I want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.” Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. “Heard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.” 

“Baby Ancient.” Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. “How does that work?”

“Well they gotta come from somewhere, don’t they?” Constantine shrugged. He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask. 

“I’ve heard the same rumors.” Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantine’s claims. “Even if they can’t do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.” 

Flash clucked his tongue. “We literally have everything to lose if we don’t do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.” 

“How long do you need to prepare?” Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didn’t have a hand in.

Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. “Gimme an hour.” 

“I’ll help.” Zatanna said, already standing. 

“Forty minutes then.” 

~

The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it. 

When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes. 

He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed. 

“Um…” He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.

“Welcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.” Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. “We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.” 

“Oh. Okay.” He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. “You can call me Phantom. What do you want?” 

“You’re the new Ancient?” Constantine asked without as much tacked.

Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. “So they tell me. I didn’t know there was going to be a superhero test.” 

“We summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.” Batman said, taking over. “A threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we don’t have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?” 

“Besides souls.” Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot. 

“Destroy…Earth?” Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. “Why?”

Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. “I’m likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.” 

Phantom’s eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. “Previous planet destroyed? Where?” He paused, “And when? I have been feeling a little off.” 

No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. “A planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.” 

“Is it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?” Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted. 

He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didn’t seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up. 

He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didn’t show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly. 

The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored. 

When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. “It’s gone!” 

“Phantom…?” 

Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found. 

“T̢̜̞̮ͭ̓ͫͦh̨̻̼͓͓̜ͭ̈͆ȃ̴̩ͅtͯ̚͏͇̮̖̙ ̡̭͎̝̟͇͙̏ͣ̑͛m̵̭͉͈̳̟͎͈̲̋̋o͈̮̫͓̪͔͐͠t͉̬̉͒̈́ͪ͠h͉̠̭͓̞͎̺͓ͥͥ͘e̅͗̔̿҉̞̪̺̮̗̜r͙̪̼͈̐̉͞ ̫̥̳̿̾͒͑͞f͔̟͈͍ͯ̊̏́ù̶̯̬̫͈͕c̲ͣ̓̿͠ͅk̦̘̖̭͕͉̹̥̈̍̈́ͤ͘e͚̬͗͡ͅr̛̤̩̺͂̃̇̉ͅ.”

To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement. 

“Yeah, i’ll stop your threat.” Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care. 

Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what they’d done by summoning a baby Ancient. “So that happened.” Flash commented. “Are we still planning for doomsday?” 

“We’ll see…” Constantine muttered. “Though if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.” 

“Not what we wanted to hear, John.” Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her. 

~

In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as he’d been when he’d left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors. 

Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face. 

Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. “Phantom.” He greeted cautiously. “You’re back.”

“Uh huh.” Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. “I got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.” 

“Got…rid of.” Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice. 

“So we’re good?” Flash asked. “Good work, kid.” 

“Yeah, he deserved it.” Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm. 

Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. “Do i wanna know what you’re doin’?”

Phantom beamed. “I got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.” 

“Your planet?” Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. “The destroyed planet!?” 

“Yep.” Phantom looked pleased with himself. “Now i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.” 

“Put it…back.” Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.” 

It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. “May i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i don’t know much about them.” 

Phantom perked up. “I’m the Ancient of Space!” He ignored Constantine’s groan from across the room. “I’m really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.” 

“And you have time abilities?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination. 

“Nope! But Clockwork does.” Phantom said. “He’ll do it for me.” 

“Will he?” The Flash stared. 

Phantom didn’t seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. “Clockwork!” he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes. 

He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasn’t going to give one. 

This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower. 

Phantom didn’t seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. “Fix!” he asked cheerfully. 

Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. “You know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim." 

Phantom’s smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. “I’ll cry. Swear to the Ancients, i’ll start crying.” 

The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. “Do you think tears will alter the timeline?” 

Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp. 

“An asshole destroyed a piece of me.” Phantom said, lips wobbling. “I felt it. I didn’t feel good.” 

Clockwork’s form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, “If you start weeping you’ll summon the others.” 

Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath. 

Clockwork crossed his arms. “How far back do you want it?” 

“Yay!” Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. “Eight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. I’m sure the…Green Lantern…people… can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. That’ll be fine, right?” 

Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient. 

Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staff’s clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet weren’t on the floor. 

“Thank you, Clockwork!” Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly. 

“Hurry along home before the yeti’s start to look for you.” Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone. 

“Yes, yes.” Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted. 

No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. “Good! It’s back where it’s supposed to be!” 

“It’s back?” Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions. 

“Yep.” Phantom said. “It’s really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.” 

“Is that a map of the galaxy on your skin?” Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears. 

“No.” Phantom said. “It’s a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.” 

“Every…” Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him. 

“Come, Your Majesty.” Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. “You’ve had your fun.” 

“Okay, okay.” Phantom mumbled. 

“Majesty?” Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone. 

Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Ah, yeah. I’m the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.” 

The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing. 

“I take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?” Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower. 

~~

I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back. 

I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it. 

Feel free to take this idea, though i’m sure something like it exists already. ^__^

Master List

[dc-posting]

Young Tim who makes kandi/friendship bracelets for Robin and Batman (mostly Robin, he just doesn’t want Batman to feel left out) and leaves them in the Bats’ most common brooding/surveillance spots.

He does this for years, perfecting his craft. He makes bracelets with multiple chains, his beads get higher quality, his finishings improve (he learns that gluing the knot and trimming down the string is better than just tying it off and cutting it down.) and he loves to make bracelets for the two Robins, and for Nightwing, when Robin I eventually becomes his own hero.

When Jason dies, Tim sneaks over to leave kandi at his grave, nothing that would incriminate him as Robin, just things Tim thinks he would like. Kandi strung in his favourite colours, a cuff with a quote from his favourite book, intricate designs woven with pieces of Tim’s heart and his sorrow for his favourite Robin, his hero.

They’re cleared away often, but Tim replaces them with new kandi diligently.

He also turns Robin II’s favourite gargoyle into a mini shrine, bracelets and kandi chains decorating the stone high above Gotham’s streets, dedicated to his hero.

When Jason arrives to the tower, ready to break his replacement’s wings, he instead finds a sixteen year old boy sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by boxes of beads. He has a tray in front of him, a design laid out that he is carefully transferring one by one onto the elastic string.

“Stupid Bruce clearing the stupid grave.” He mutters angrily, tying off the bracelet. “Have to replace these every other week.” He adds a dollop of glue, ties the string again, adds another bit of glue, and then sets the piece down to dry. Jason watches as he carefully manoeuvres the glued knot to rest in one of the beads, ensuring that’s its secured to itself as well as to the bead.

He would be impressed by the attention to detail if he wasn’t currently processing that Tim fucking Drake is Robin’s stalker.

He thinks back to his room at the manor, at least fifty bracelets for Robin II found on rooftops (and once, on the passenger seat of the Batmobile. God, the look on Bruce’s face.) stored securely in a plastic box at the very back of his closet. His most prized possessions. He knows Dick has one just like it.

Whatever plans for revenge being enacted through the vessel of his replacement are immediately scrapped.

“Those for me?” He asks, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms.

Tim whips around, beads clattering off the bracelet he was carefully stringing together.

“Not unless you’re my neighbour’s dead son.” He shoots back, tone aiming for joking, scrambling for his staff. Play cool, play cool.

Jason barely thinks for a moment before he removes his helmet. He peels off the domino mask, wincing as it pulls slightly.

“Uh…” Tim stalls, staff at the ready.

“You left me bracelets, all around Gotham. For years. For Nightwing too, and the Bat.” Jason tilts his head. “You said those were for your dead neighbour. You make them for me out of the mask too?” Tim nods wordlessly, stepping aside so that Jason can rifle through the pile of bracelets waiting for their glue to fully dry.

He finally finds his words as Jason starts trying on various pieces.

“I started leaving them after you- after everything. At your… grave. B and A clear them away every few weeks, I don’t know if they keep them, but I replace them.” He sounds unsure, Jason thinks that’s reasonable.

“You don’t even know me.” He says, he knows why someone would leave gifts for Robin, but Jason Todd? No way.

“You were my hero. You are my hero.” Tim responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Guess we gotta break into the manor and see where he’s hiding those bracelets then, eh?” Jason pushes through the warm feeling in his chest. He doesn’t have time to analyse that now.

“Only if you agree to let me run tests in the cave.” Tim still holds his staff in an iron grip.

Jason would expect nothing less from his Robin.

It’s only a small price to pay for those kandi after all.

[blkbats]

hmmm

[emacrow]

It took the Justice League 5 months to catch the two kids who were stalking Flash.

After Batman has figured out why a little girl were stalking and air kicking flash in the middle of attempting a time run while the other one, a little boy beat the problem in like it a rabid animal.

Superman need 2 hour to physically calm himself the first time he caught the girl once as carefully as he could, only for her heart to stop completely, become inverted, going through his hands with her body literally melting like some sort elderitch horror film upon hearing that little girl blood curling scream if it weren't for the little boy flew by catching her at high speed and diving into a emerging green portal that disappeared.

Clark broke down right there and than, chokes with tears dripping heavy like a child in front of batman with his hands shakenly uncontrollable coated in blood and lararus pits goop. Batman and Diana comforted him as much as he could as he had lois and his adopted parents on sped dial.

Later Clark refused to let go as he kept hugging Jon for 5 hours straight with Conner petting his head and Lois comforting him after he went home. Ma kent making pies in the kitchen like there was annual pie competition.

Diana had tried to talk to them a couple times softly, only to end up fighting in the most impressive yet terrifying amazonian fight she has ever went through against two kids that made her mother talk of battle seem like childplay.

She was fully convinced on the theory they're demigods that Flash somehow erase their existence.

Surprising the one who has caught them long enough to actually convince them to come was J'onn.

Mainly due to the little boy rambling question with the pace of 60 mph with literally stars in his eyes wrapped, tightly wrapped to J'onn's arm like a snake and one little girl, stuffing her face with a bat burger on J'onn's left shoulder.

Apparently due to Flash's time running that he saved a wandering pilgrim man from falling off a cliff that would've led the discovery and making of their modern town. All their loves ones, friends and life were erased out of existence is what Elle, 3 and half now currently told them.

Danny, the sleepy 7 year old boy who still wrapped around J'onn's arm, is going through a crash after a obsession induce manic high because he is an Alien! A real life Alien!! There wasn't any in his timeline, but why did they get real living Alien in this one?! They're in space in a space station!!

Elle is very sorry for traumatizing the flying guy with her destabilizing a bit, she wasn't supposed to change into ghost form yet, but she did what she had to do to escape his grasped.

Frostbite and clockwork did fixed her up thankfully or else danny would've destroyed the world like a grape.

The Justice League concerned looks didn't help when she laughed a bit nervously about it.

Part 1 here <-