#is it because of bruce not contacting him about jason...?

[littlefankingdom]

I need to talk about the ways Bruce has tried to or has dreamed of killing Joker, because there is a pattern.

For starting, yes, Bruce has tried, dreamed and hallucinated killing the Joker multiple times. It started before Jason's death, but the lost of his son did aggravate the fantasy (and yes, it is a fantasy for Bruce).

If Bruce tries to kill the Joker, he never does it from a distance. He never uses a gun, he doesn't even trust a crashing helicopter to be enough (see: Death In The Family), he needs to see and feel the life living the man. I did write a fic where he uses a gun, but the gun in question is supposed to be the same one that killed his parents (because Bruce has stolen this gun from the GCPD and has contemplated killing himself with it). Bruce can view his life at time as a tragedy, a play, so things being poetic, connected in a dramatic way, is something he enjoys (he likes the idea of dying in the same alley his parents did, to end the story where it started). Killing the man that took his son from him with the gun that took his family from him in the past is the kind of dramatics Bruce would pull. But apart from that, not the way he would kill the Joker. In total, there are 2.5 ways that Bruce considers when trying or imagining killing the Joker.

The one he has actually used, without going all the way, is using his fists. Simply, beating the shit out of the man until he is 100% death. Or, as he did in Batman: Hush, strangling him until he dies. (the 0.5) For these, there is a physical contact between Batman and Joker, and when he is strangling him, there is even eyes contact. This mean that Bruce would be able to feel, and see, as the life leaves the Joker's body. It's more "intimate" than just killing him from far away, but this way, Bruce would know for certain that the Joker is dead.

There is also a lot of violence in the act, which can be also found in the other way Bruce uses, mostly in his dreams and hallucinations, where he beats up the Joker with an object alike a bat or an axe (As seen in Batman: the Cult). Here, the physical contact is absent, which demonstrate that the physical contact is a way to ground Bruce in reality. But the death is violent and bloody. He goes at it again and again, until there's nothing but a sea of blood and guts.

When Bruce tries to kill the Joker, his rage at the man's actions takes over. In true crimes, it has been observed that if a victim has more impact wounds than necessary to kill them, it means the act was an act of extreme hate. This is the same with Bruce, he would beat the Joker until there is nothing left of the man or his anger has calmed down. And the thing is, Bruce knows that, which is why he is so afraid of killing and how that would make him a monster. Because he knows that he would not give the Joker a clean death, it would be violent, animalistic, he would shred the man like a beast. Bruce (and the Joker) knows that, which is why he is so afraid of himself, of letting himself cross that line. If Bruce was a killer, he would not be a clean one, even though he has the weapons and knowledge of how to do it, he would shred his victims in pieces.

However, even if he cannot kill him, letting his children kill the Joker is also out of the question. This is HIS burden, not theirs, and he refuses to watch his kids become murderers (normal feeling for a parent), which is also why he refused to let Jason kill the Joker in Under The Red Hood.

[bluesredhoodsideblog]

I’ve been having thoughts about a universe where Jason (during his Robin era) had to do medical power of attorney (POA) paperwork. (Medical/healthcare power of attorney basically gives certain people the ability to make medical decisions for you if you are unable to because you are incapacitated in some way) 

Now, kids don’t have to do this because their parent/legal guardian is the one who automatically gets to make those decisions, but let’s just say that Gotham has stupid laws where kids who get adopted have to do this or something like that. Anyways, Jason does it, but to spite Bruce for whatever reason he lists Dick as his first choice/contact for POA. 

Then Ethiopia happens. Jason still dies, but the Waynes instead tell the public that he’s missing. Sure, there’s much more publicity in the short term, but there’s less conspiracy theories around the family later on. 

(Plus, they’ve all seen some crazy stuff as heroes; some small part of them wants to make it easier for Jason to come back in the off-chance that some sort of miracle occurs)

So a couple of years down the line, Dick gets a call from a Gotham hospital. He’s immediately concerned (what did the others get into this time??) but is completely shocked when the caller says they need him to come to the hospital to exercise POA duties for Jason???? His dead brother is in the hospital??? HIS DEAD BROTHER IS IN THE HOSPITAL IN A SERIOUS ENOUGH STATE THAT HE NEEDS TO BE CALLED IN???? HIS DEAD BROTHER IS ALIVE BUT MIGHT NOT BE AGAIN VERY SOON?????

So he speeds to the hospital immediately and is met with the sight of Jason, in a really really bad state, and promptly freaks out a bit because yeah that’s actually him. WHAT. 

He’s then faced with all of the DNR orders (do not revive: don’t attempt cpr or other lifesaving measures when the patients heart stops) and general requests to not prolong life if it seems he won’t get better (signed and ordered by younger Jason) which just breaks his heart all over again. Thankfully, Jason’s prognosis is positive, so he should get better. 

Jason wakes up in the hospital to a teary Dick and is monumentally confused, resigned to the ordeal of being known, and a little pissed. 

Jason: Damn. Did Bruce not care enough to be my POA?

Dick, panicking: OH SHIT I FORGOT TO TELL BRUCE

Cue Dick having to explain to the whole family where he’s been for the last few days and that Jason is miraculously alive but was in a very dangerous state for a while. 

[vintagerobin]

Where does the idea that Dick and Bruce stopped talking for years come from...? I swear I can't find a single instance of them just not talking to each other for more than a month at most? Even when Dick was living with the Titans and they'd had an argument recently he'd be back on the phone chatting with Bruce within a week or two, as far as I can remember. Like if either of them goes radio silent for too long they'll literally track each other down in most cases, there's plenty of instances of that. Their communication issues have more to do with leaving important personal things out rather than just not talking at all.

[leajoyrambles]

sorry to get angsty on main but I really wanna see a crossover fic where Five Hargreeves meets Bruce Wayne and the topic of, y’know, what would you do for your family, the morality of killing in a given context, etcetera comes up. And a bit of dialogue just going like

Bruce: But once you cross that line, where does it stop?

Five: It doesn’t have to stop — they just have to live.

[frogaroundandfindout]

Bruce you make me so ill (Batman #416)

[abcdfghjklmpqrobin]

The Batfam doesn't realize they got pretty privilege.

Like sure, they know they're attractive because duh, they're basically celebrities, their looks is all people talk about. But the small stuff? The opened doors, the free gifts, the extra smiles and good attitude? That, they're completely clueless to.

It doesn't help that it happens to all of them and most their friends, so nobody notices it's out of the ordinary.

Clark goes "The lady at the cafeteria gifted me this cake" and Bruce is like "Oh yeah, she does that"... She doesn't.

Kory gets offered to cut in line to the front at a concert and tells Dick "People here are so nice!", and instead of noticing the favoritism, Dick holds out three STAFF passes and goes "I know right! Look that lady over there is going to take us backstage!", and they laugh while Wally's eye twiches.

Tim goes undercover wearing cheap loose clothes, contacts and a fake nose, and people are just so mean to him, like no manners at all. They bump into him, ignore him, he says 'Good morning' to an old lady, and she doesn't even say it back! ... He comes back ranting about rude people and what not. And Jason is like "Really? But they're so nice in that neighborhood, that old lady is always giving me candy!". Barbara doesn't know how to tell them the nose simply made Tim look average for once.

Damian. Hits. It. Off. At the pediatric unit of the hospital he's volunteering at. Kids love him, and he thinks it's because Jon was right about the 'Always greet them with a smile' thing, but in reality it's because half the kids got a puppy-love crush on him. Jon, just as oblivious is like "Told you sooo".

Stephanie thinks it's the good karma. She gets a whole ass perfume bottle for free at the mall and is like "See Cass? It's that robbery we stopped last week, the universe is giving it back". Cass, with a perfume of her own, knows better but nods anyway.

Duke thinks they're all dumb and unaware, and he's making fun of them when Alfred goes "And I suppose you think Miss Carrington has saved you a seat at the bus for the last three weeks just because". Duke doesn't say anything after that.

[fromdove]

THINGS YOU DO THAT THE BATBOYS FIND ATTRACTIVE ! batboys x reader

“God, you’re impossible. And I’m so screwed, because I think I’d let you ruin me.”

— fem!reader, suggestive thoughts in jasons & bruces part (maybe dick too??)

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

JASON TODD

the way you hold eye contact when you're angry

It started as a slow simmer—your voice, low and clipped, each word deliberate, sharp enough to slice through the heavy Gotham air. Jason wasn’t even sure what the hell you were mad about anymore. The way your eyes were locked on his, unwavering, lit from within by something electric—it drowned out everything else.

You stood across the room, spine straight, chest rising with each measured breath. Not yelling. Not crying. Just...burning. And looking at him.

There was something about that. The way you didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Like you could take every jagged, bloodstained part of him and still meet him dead-on, like you’d never blink first. It made his heart twist in his chest, something old and animal uncoiling inside him. He’d faced down murderers, monsters, lowlife scumbags—but the fury in your gaze made his throat go dry. Not because he feared it. Because he wanted to touch it. touch you.

You took a step forward, the kind that didn’t echo but reverberated, and that subtle movement—how your hands stayed relaxed at your sides, how your mouth didn’t tremble when you spoke—undid him.

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Jason.”

There was a beat. One taut, blistering moment where the only thing louder than your breath was the pounding in his ears.

And then he laughed. Just a breath of it, almost involuntary. The kind of laugh you get when something hurts and turns you on at the same time. He didn’t even mean to. It just escaped him.

You frowned, and that only made it worse. He wanted to bite your lip just to see if your mouth would still taste like fire when it was pressed against his. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you so hard it left bruises.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful when you’re pissed,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse, almost reverent.

You blinked at that—but didn’t back down. And the way your stare softened just a fraction, that flicker of confusion folding into resolve again... yeah. That did it. That almost ended him right then and there.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, like approaching a lit fuse. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch, to pull, to anchor.

“You gonna hit me?” he asked, tone dark and dangerous and barely hanging on.

You tilted your chin up. “Wouldn’t waste the energy.”

God. That. That right there. The grit in your voice. He could live off that kind of defiance. He wanted to.

Jason had never been good at softness. He didn’t know what to do with people who crumbled. But you—? You held his gaze like a storm, like a girl who could kill him with her silence, and suddenly, all he wanted to do was beg for a second chance to make you smile again.

Not because he deserved it. Because he’d die trying to.

DICK GRAYSON

the way you reach for him in your sleep

It starts small. Always does. You shift once, twice—barely there. Then your hand moves, unthinking. Across sheets warm with your shared heat, it searches.

You don’t know you're doing it. That’s what makes it criminal. You’re not asking to be loved in that moment. You’re assuming it. Trusting the world to place him where he belongs: next to you.

And Dick—poor, cursed Dick—is already awake.

He lies still, pretending. Letting you find him. Every nerve is alight, tuned to the sound of your breath, the whisper of cotton as your wrist brushes the inside of his arm. Then—finally—your hand finds his chest, right over the scar where a blade once tried to make him quiet forever.

Your fingers twitch. Then still. Then curl.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

He’s not thinking about villains or masks or the weight of his last name. He’s not worried about who’s watching, or whether he’s enough. He’s just a man now.

A man undone by the way you, unconscious and vulnerable, reach for him like he’s home. Like your body knows him, wants him, chooses him—without performance, without pride.

And it’s just so fucking sweet. The sweetness that life had never thought him deserving of—never bothered to offer, as if the universe had forgotten him in some quiet corner—was suddenly there, in you. And only then did he realize what he had been starved of.

There’s something maddening about your vulnerability—how you press against him in sleep, skin warm and scent-heavy, mouth parted just slightly. Innocent, yes. But not harmless.

Not to him.

He could write an entire religion based on the way your breath hitches when his hand covers yours. He could burn entire cities if someone tried to pull you away while you sleep.

Because this—this secret, sacred moment where you choose him without knowing— is the kind of thing he’s never let himself want.

But now that he’s had it, he knows.

He’ll want it forever.

BRUCE WAYNE

the way you tilt your chin when you're defiant

It is the tiniest gesture—a tilt of the chin, so slight it might pass for nothing at all. But to him? It is semaphore, a flare in the dusk, a gauntlet tossed with exquisite subtlety.

You do it when you disagree. Not with loud words or theatrics. No. You just raise your chin. Barely. As if your body is saying, “I’m not afraid of you.”“I’ll meet you there, if you push.”

And God help him, he wants to push.

You do this thing where your jaw tightens just slightly, where your eyes go sharp and patient at the same time—like you’ve already calculated the cost of standing your ground and decided to pay it anyway.

You look… royal. As though Gotham’s grime never dared graze your skin. Like tragedy tried and failed. Like you’d walk into fire if it meant protecting what’s yours.

And that infuriates him.

Because Bruce—Bruce—knows what defiance costs. He’s worn it like armor. Bled for it. Buried people because of it.

But when you do it?

It doesn’t look like self-destruction. It looks like purpose. Power. Something beautiful he was never allowed to have.

He wants to touch your face when you tilt your chin like that. Wants to grab your wrist and pull you into him—not to overpower, but to understand. To memorize the blueprint of that defiance. To feel it against his mouth.

You make silence feel like war. And he’s losing.

Because there is something deeply, dangerously erotic about a woman who doesn’t flinch when she should. Who doesn’t soften to make him comfortable. Who looks at the darkest thing in him—and doesn’t look away.

He’s not used to being watched like that. He’s not used to wanting to be watched like that.

And every time you lift that chin, he’s reminded of exactly how easy it would be to give up the act, the mask, the fiction of the untouchable man—

—all for one person who sees him and doesn't look away.

[ditzybat]

just imagining a teeny tiny tim being absolutely devastated about jason’s death, that he manages to get on to dark forums to contact a mercenary for a hit on the joker’s life.

and who happens to be that mercenary? deathstroke.

tim wires money from his (admittedly very high) allowance to slade, who finishes the job within the week — news outlets are going crazy as nobody knows who pulled off such a stunt — bruce is confused, and dick is both grateful, that someone took the bastard who killed his baby brothers life, and angry, because bruce wasn’t the one to do it.

slade however? wants to investigate, someone finally had the gall to order a hit on the joker and he’s a little curious to see who it is.

only come to find a little boy all alone in a big house who spends his nights following around a vigilante in a furry suit.

and, well, slade hasn’t been the best parent, and probably doesn’t know how to deal with an average kid, but who can blame him when he begins to train tim into becoming a mercenary just like him — after all, how else is he gonna defend himself on the streets of gotham when he gallivants around with an expensive camera, a sign basically saying ‘kidnap me!’ strapped to his chest?

so what if the kid becomes robin and uses those skills in the cape? that’s batman’s problem to figure out.

[nikovraskol]

crack baby ; three

wc ; 3745 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ?

tw ; brief mention of death, cursing, neglect

prologue, one, two, three, four, tbc..

Sometimes it feels like there is someone puppeteering you into the worst scenarios possible.

It started when finally, after days of contacting every single landlord in Gotham and Bludhaven, one kind old man reached back. The house he was willing to rent you wasn’t half bad either, certainly no Wayne Manor but a small apartment about a convenience store would suffice.

After regressing, you were stuck in a loop of tears and anger and whatever strange, uncomfortable feeling you got whenever you were reminded of your weird interaction with Dick.

But finally, light at the end of the rainbow! You could cry (of joy this time), but you’ve no time for tears. Not when you’re faced with a big, overpowering problem. Leaving the Manor.

Now, in the past, you could just get up and leave, however after your run-in with Damian and Dick, you’re apprehensive to leave your room. What if you’re ambushed again? By Tim? Or Jason? Or heaven forbid, Dick again? Terrifying! You don’t have time to dilly dally, not when Mr. Kim is waiting in your future home.

So, you’re very on edge, looking around every corner with apprehension, bracing yourself for anything and everything. When you finally reach the door, unharmed, you let out a deep sigh, only to hear a voice behind you.

“Master (Name).”

What now? You whip your head around, a sense of deja vu hitting you, oh, it’s just Alfred. You let out a sigh, glad it’s not Dick with his strange shenanigans. “Alfred, is everything alright?” You smile, out of everyone, Alfred is the one you love most, the one who cradled you close in those agonizingly lonely nights, when you’d call out for your mother, for your father, for anyone.

He was there.

“You’re heading out?” He asks, assessing you with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. A few days ago, Dick had informed him that you were acting strange, you had run away from your older brother. His mind raced, the implications of what that might mean has been weighing on the butler’s mind for days. It was uncharacteristic of you, up until about a week ago you would jump for joy if any of your family would glance at you.

But after that day, that day where you had skipped breakfast .. What changed? Why are you suddenly so uninterested in your family? It’s unnatural. Your whole life had always been dedicated to them, you’d do anything to be apart of them, to be seen. So why? When you finally had the chance to be centre stage, were you walking away? Something about your demeanour was off and he didn’t like it.

“Yes, I’ve–” You pause, should you tell Alfred? I’m going to move out and never speak to anyone from this house again! No, you’ll wait until you’ve secured a place before letting him know. You’re not prepared for that conversation. “I’m going to– for a walk.” The lie is stale on your tongue, you’ve never lied to Alfred, not besides petty ones to get out of trouble. But this feels different, a heavy knot tying in your shoulders as you watch the butler’s confused expression.

“Is that so? Because a few days ago, Master Dick–” You were out the door before he could finish his damn sentence. You are not in the mood to discuss Dick right now! It’s going to ruin your chipper mood.

The click of the door had Alfred’s eyes narrowing, his eyes trained on where you once stood. He believed that the small push he gave Bruce would be enough, but it’s just driving you further away. How troublesome, he doesn’t want for you to end up hurt.

“Wow! This is a really great place? And I get the first month free?” You are convinced whatever deity sent you back in time is responsible for the saint before you. The small, chubby old man who speaks to you in such a paternal voice it makes you want to cry.

“Of course, it’s no problem, I just need to speak to your guardian to agree on your emancipation, plus they’ll need to sign some consent forms.”

“What?” You blink dumbly, your heart momentarily stopping before the damn organ speeds up so quickly it could power a small village, you try to convey your thoughts but all you can manage is a few dumb noises. “Are– Are you sure?”

“Apologies, since you’re only sixteen – you must have a guardian’s consent, this is a legal rental after all,” he smiles apologetically, before adding, “if you want to live somewhere without your parent’s consent, it’ll have to be illegally – which can be dangerous, ‘specially for a youngling such as yourself.”

Oh, right. You’re sixteen. The fact slipped your mind once more, you’re so foolish. So damn foolish, nothing will ever be so easy, nothing in your life will ever be handed to you like this. “Right, I’ll– let you know.” You smile, your eyes scanning over the small apartment once more. It reminds you of the place you stayed with your mother, the small space encapsulating those memories you hold dear so perfectly that if you light a few ciggerattes and close your eyes, you'll go back in time.

“I’ll keep this off-sale for you, please let me know as soon as possible.” Mr. Kim, so nicely adds, his small face – wrinkled with age, softening at your disheartened expression. You so desperately want to beg for him to rethink, to make an exception, but you don't want to get him in trouble, not since he’s been so kind.

And so, with a heavy heart, you walk out, walking with effort since your feet don’t want to leave. Don’t want to leave a future that could be, that should’ve been. Ugh, how disgustingly sentimental.

You don’t feel like returning to the Manor, not yet. The air outside is nice, it’s nice to breathe in a taste of something other than the suffocating walls around you, even if it’s just some dingy back alley. It’s nice to see what could’ve been, that is until a large hand clamps down on your shoulder.

Oh, great. So the one time you leave the Manor you die again. Maybe you’ll regress to when you’re eleven next, you muse.

“What the hell are you doing around here?” You recognise that voice and immediately you don’t want to turn around. What is he doing out? During the day? You thought vigilantes only patrol during the lunar hours, so why? Your heart squeezes in your throat, desperate to claw its way out, to escape your pitiful body.

After a tense moment of silence, you turn around, there he stands. Red Hood, your older brother. Well, older brother is a stretch, you’ve never really interacted with him – much like the rest of your family. You were brought in when he was still Robin, but he died shortly after. A small, vengeful part of you blamed him for your neglect. That was until Bruce brought in Tim, and you watched bitterly how Tim was embraced immediately, he didn’t have to fight for any attention, he was accepted by everyone and you were forced to swallow the thought that it wasn't Jason's fault -- but your own.

When Jason was somehow brought back, you selfishly hoped you would be able to bond with him, that he’d be the one to look back at you, to get to your level and hold you close.

No such thing happened, the only time you saw him was when he was walking through the Manor to the Batcave, and even then, he gave you a bone-chilling glare. You didn’t think of him so optimistically after that. Now, with his hand clutching your shoulder, his expression covered by his menacing red helmet..

You’re ready to be shot 5 times again.

“I asked you a question.” He says, his hand tightening on your shoulder, you snap out of your stupor immediately, your fear morphing into frustration. You shove his hand off of you with more effort than you’re comfortable with, and even then you’re sure he’s the one who dropped his hand to not embarrass you any further.

“I’m allowed to go outside.” You huff, your nerves practically fighting against the restraints of your skin, a cold, overbearing feeling rushing over you. This was..– Everything was wrong, this is not how this is supposed to go, not at all.

“You were talking to Mr. Kim, why?” He asks bluntly, your heart stops beating for a moment, the only thing you can hear is the ringing in your ears, your brain trying to block this all out, trying to block out everything. “Actually, nevermind, I think I know why.”

You want to cry, why was this happening? You were so happy, so content. Why do you bump into them every time you leave your room, can’t you have one good day? Will you need to become a hermit? Will that get them off your back?

“I can drive you back to the Manor–”

“No, I’m fine.” You cut him off, your voice not masking any of your fear, it has Jason blinking under his mask. Why were you so on edge? What’s going on with you?

“I insist– Gotham isn’t safe for you to just be–..” He watches the downright terrified expression on your face before sighing and signalling for you to go, his stomach churns in an unfamiliar way as you scurry away.

Why were you so nervous? Could it be that you're scared of him?

That’s understandable, you’re not a vigilante, you’re just some average kid. But when he saw you walking alone, he detests himself for the way his heart swelled with happiness. In his Robin days, he loved watching the normalcy of your life, the way you would live free of any strings to the ghastly occupation he had.

He was scared to get closer, scared to shatter that illusion you had.

The fear amplified when he came back to life, he was relieved to see that you were still unaffiliated with Batman, but fuck, he was too cowardly to reach out, that day when you looked at him with gladness, he was hit with a paralysing fear of you getting too close, of you getting hurt. He replays the crushed expression that dawned your face like a damn broken stereo.

So when he saw you sulking about a few moments ago, he saw his chance to reach out, to get a taste of your normalcy, he took it, however selfish it may be.

“Whatever.” He grits, climbing up the roof to tail you, he’s content with watching from afar, for now.

The whole way back to the Manor felt like a fever dream, you can’t brush these oddities off as coincidences, why the hell did Red Hood approach you. Was he trying to pull a Damian? Was that a simple reminder of how pathetic you are? Why did he do that?!

Why was everyone acting so strangely?

The Manor offered you no comfort, it’s looming walls did nothing but remind you of your own shortcomings, you were afraid, you were perplexed but above all you were furious. Why now? When you’ve finally accepted your position in this family, why are they all turning their heads. Well damn them! You’re sick of this whole stupid charade, you won’t be that small child anymore, a child who knew only loneliness. You’re going to become your own person outside of the surname which has held you back for so long.

“We need to talk.” A voice calls out as you reach your room, what now? You’re sick of these damn conversations. You just want to move out, why is it so damn hard?

Oh, it’s Bruce again. Your lips press into a thin line as he stands before you, you can hear the soft humming running through the Manor walls. When you were younger, that sound brought you so much comfort, yet now it’s different. Like a warning.

“Talk? About what?” You try to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. You’re distinctly aware of the way his brows furrow at your pitiful expression. Oh hell, you hope this won’t be another walk down the Manor where you awkwardly fumble in silence.

You don’t say anything as he leads you away from your room, a sullen quilt draped over the Manor, a strange foreboding sense that something’s going to happen. Something bad. You’re utterly perplexed as your father guides you to a part of the Manor you’re somewhat familiar with.

As a child, you used to lurk around the corners of these very walls, watching your family, itching to reach out and join in but fearing ruining the delicate painting they created. Fearing rejection, the cold glares and sneers as they pushed you away. So you trailed silently, waiting, hoping that someone would look back, smile at you and maybe hold out their hand. But it only ever happened in your dreams, a pale illusion of a reality that should've been true.

“Where did you go?” He asks, his eyes boring onto you with such intensity you can distinctly feel the way your blood begins furiously to pump through your veins, why did he care? “Alfred said you went out.”

“I just wanted some fresh air.” You’re not sure why you’re lying, it’d be easier to tell Bruce that you went to go see a house, the consent forms are folded in your pocket, waiting for his signature. It’d be so simple, so easy. Just a dip of pen on paper and you’ll be out.

So why do you feel such dread? A dread unlike anything you’ve ever felt. When you were in that alley, bleeding out helplessly, even then this oppressive feeling, which tightens your ribcage, forcing your organs into a tight space until you couldn’t breathe, until you couldn’t comprehend if it was your heart pounding so heavily or your lungs, wasn't as scary.

“You’re only sixteen, you need to let someone know where you’re going.” His voice is so unbelievably despotic that it made your very core tremble with anxiety, with a looming sense of doom.

“It’s never been a problem before.” You mumble, your voice a lot quieter than you would’ve liked, your vocal chords burning with each word passing through it, your nerves invading each of your senses, as if warning you to stay quiet.

Bruce says nothing, and the moment the air grows stale you wish you could take your words back. You can see the way his brows crease, the way he looks at you as though you’re some sort of criminal and not his own flesh and blood, the soft humming in the walls has disappeared, left behind in your area of the Manor. Though it’s odd, when you would lurk around the Manor as a youthling, there was always some sort of background noise in this area, where everyone hung out. The silence unnerved you, another thing that’s changed, another thing you couldn’t have predicted.

“If you’re going out, make sure to let me know.” He sighs, his expression softening as he looks down at you with what you interpret as belittlement, a burning hot rage boils in your stomach, and once more, you’re hit with the knowledge this isn’t how things are supposed to go, Bruce isn’t supposed to care that you go out without telling anyone, he’s not supposed to care about you.

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do!’ you want to say, you want to scream, to ask what rights he has to treat you like a child? How dare he? It makes your very being tremble with frustration, your hands clenching with barely contained anger.

But you don’t. Why? Is it the natural response from your mind? The fear of disappointing him? The fear that if you speak up, you’ll be kicked out and left to rot? Or perhaps it’s the fear of confrontation you gained through his negligence, the weakness he moulded. But still, you’re not sixteen anymore, not really. Mentally, you’re twenty-one, you’ve been through each stage of your life, and maybe, sure, the day you died, you were content for them to walk all over you in exchange for a single glance at your direction.

But you’ve died and come back (in time)! You shouldn’t let them walk all over you anymore, shouldn’t be content as an afterthought. So– you open your mouth and–

“What’s going on?” Another voice speaks out, great, because this is exactly what you needed, another clown to join the circus. Oh.

Is this a joke? Is the person responsible for your misfortune giggling at your despair, is it amusing to see you suffer?

Damian, Dick, Jason and now Tim.

Why is Tim walking up to you? Why is he looking at you? A rush of dread, a sensation you’ve grown familiar with in the past few days, washes over you. You’ve never had his eyes on you, never for so long. It’s unnerving. You thought the calculating look in Bruce and Damian’s eyes was scary, but the way Tim looks at you now? His eyes zeroed in on you? It has your insides melting into liquid, the urge to cover your face, to hide in the corner and bury your face in your knees is overwhelming.

You don’t want his eyes on you, you decide. Years of clawing at your own shortcomings, of desperately trying to appeal to him, to have him look back – you would do anything at that time for him to look at you the way he is now.

But now? You don’t like it, he wears a neutral expression, but the look in his eyes makes you feel vulnerable, like he’s picking you apart one by one, each twitch, each mannerism.

“It’s about what we talked about.” Bruce says, his tone completely natural, like he’s discussing the weather, you don’t know the specifics but you have a nagging feeling that you know what he’s speaking of.

“Ah. Really? You’re still on that?” Tim tuts, his head tilting ever so slightly as he studies you. Just as you’re about to ask what the fuck does he mean by that, he turns his attention to Bruce. “I told you, they can’t do anything without your consent, they’re 16.”

How dare they? How dare they talk as though you’re not here? This is disgusting, what loathsome, egotistical dickheads! Your hands itch, the anxiety in you speeding all over your body like a livewire, mixing with your anger to create an overwhelming feeling of terror.

What was the point of Bruce bringing you here? To mock you? Show you how great they have it? What you’ve been missing out on? Well, screw him. You need to get away before you lash out, you’re better than that. Better than this.

The pair watches as you walk away, your whole body tense. For a moment, there’s a prolonged silence which is broken by Tim. “Did we do something wrong?” He asks, genuinely confused by your little display.

When he came back from a particularly tough mission, the last thing he was expecting was everybody collectively freaking out. Bruce, Damian, even Dick were all tense, looking around each corner – searching for something, someone. 

It was weird for a multitude of reasons, firstly – Dick was supposed to be gone by now, his stay at the Manor was for a few days only. Why is he here? And secondly, nothing particularly stressful was happening in Gotham, so what was with the gloom and doom?

When Bruce sighed, telling him about your plans to move out, well, to say Tim was confused was an understatement. That did not deserve such a reaction, but then he really thought about it, and, if this is how they react to you threatening to leave..

If you were to actually step out that door, to alienate away from them, to discard your last name. His head begins to throb at the implications, he’s acutely aware of how selfish it is for him to wish to keep you around, to keep you in this Manor all to keep himself happy.

But then the thought that, really, he’s doing this for you! If you thought it was so easy to just get up and leave, that at sixteen you’d just be able to pack up and go. Well, with that stupidity, you wouldn’t survive outside, in Gotham no less. He was able to placate Bruce’s stressing, thankfully, because the man looked three minutes away from a heart attack.

You wouldn’t be able to go without Bruce’s permission, so long as they had that – you’d stay with them. But that’s what led him to seeking you out now, if you had ideas about leaving that meant you were unhappy.

He was hoping to talk to you, to ask if you wanted to hang out – that’s what you want, right? When he thinks of you, his mind conjures up the slightly annoying, slightly endearing child that you were. He’ll hang out with you, destroy those silly notions and everything will go back to how it was.

So why did you stomp off? That’s not how you’re supposed to act. That’s not how you are.

“I don’t think so.” Bruce replies to his earlier question, his eyes still trained on the spot in which you were. How could you walk off?

Why were you so off during that conversation? He couldn’t…– This belies everything Alfred had told him about you, it's left Bruce conflicted. He had hoped that by bringing you here, he could ask which room you liked best. But you walked off, why? Why do you deny his affection? He was worried when he heard you left, a small, vulnerable part of him was afraid that you wouldn’t come back, that you had left for good, slipped through his fingers before he could hold you close.

So, when he saw you walk in – oh, he was elated. He just wanted to convey his worries, but you seemed to have gotten the wrong idea. He really doesn’t want that, you don't need anymore reasons to leave.

He doesn’t want the terrified expression on your face, he wants that dazzled look you used to carry around, he wants you – not this restless part of you, but the real you.

He'll get it back, he's sure he will.

ugh i hate the misunderstanding trope i say as i write the misunderstanding trope

tag list ;

@estreiiuh @beyondblissxoxo @jjsmeowthie @vanessa-boo @delias-stuff @d3nnji @wizzerreblogs s @lilyalone @strawbrysapphic @regulus-things s @iimichie @buckturd @eloriis @wassupbroski55555 @eyeless-kun @anakilusmos @peehall @bigeyedbaby @chaeugwi @snailpebbles @fandomly-obsessed @kitkatkitmeow @the-holy-pigeon @sheep-from-rad @mei-simp

[kitkatlovr]

Dp x dc prompt #2

Danny and Jason are best buds when Jason goes out of commission for a few weeks (due to an injury or something; his men can manage by themselves for a little bit) and asks Danny to patrol Crime Alley in his place. The rest of the Bats have no idea he exists, and Jason has been MIA for weeks with no contact; cue Oracle hacking the one tracker he didn't find/bug on Jason's comm, tuning into banter at a thug that sounds like a Robin but sure as hell isn't Jason's Alley accent, nor any accent from new jersey. It's Danny, making fun of someone's choice of colorful socks because their shoe went flying mid-fight.

Oracle, contacting Nightwing because the puns are suspiciously like him: "Nightwing, what are you doing in Hoods area? And why haven't you said anything about hearing from him?"

Dick, hasn't been to Gotham in a while because he's pissed at something Bruce said (again): "I'm literally not? I'm in Bludhaven right now"

Then the Bats get all paranoid that someone took out Hood and replaced him in Crime Alley. Now they're trying to confront this new guy about what he did with Jason. Except Danny's really bad at explaining things (and he's also trying to sound cool in front of THE Batman) so when he says he's covering for Red Hood for a while he says it in a way that absolutely does not clear up the misunderstanding lol.

- Also if anyone knows any fics like this I would appreciate the rec :)

[moratorya]

· ➳ [𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐏: 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓]

tim’s only the first to see it because he’s scrolling through all the family files—no, he’s not stalking, thank you very much, it’s called being up to date on very important things like current mission, location, and emergency contacts, stuff like that. it’s very important—someone’s got to check on the mandatory report updates once in a while.

although, honestly, bat files don’t get updated often, but look! jason’s report is bolded to signify that he’s got a new update, and—

huh. what’s that supposed to even mean?

“bruce!” tim hollers, because the man can’t be far, “jason’s fucked with his file again!”

there’s a moment of delay, before the unmistakable pits and pats of bruce’s bare feet on the cave floor draws closer, and soon the man is leaning over the back of tim’s seat in front of bat-computer, squinting at the screen. tim should probably get him booked in with an optometrist sometime soon—the guy’s getting old.

“what? what is it?”

tim frowns, and points at the screen, finger jamming against the surface. “b, do you not see this? what is this emergency contact? does she even exist?”

bruce squints again. tim reevaluates and decides to get an appointment as soon as possible.

the batman is never caught off guard, but bruce wayne is. tim can see the exact moment when bruce registers that jason’s emergency contact is no longer roy harper but some woman who neither of them have ever heard of before. her first name is there, last name blank, and there’s a mobile number for contact. that’s it. 

not that having minimal details isn’t typical—honestly, roy’s previous file had only been filled because everything about the man’s life including the minute and second he was born was already in the system. but. this not a name tim recognises.

a letter appears in the last name box. both tim and bruce lean in at the same time.

T.

“oh, shit,” tim breathes.

O.

bruce is fumbling for his phone, hissing quietly as he jigs an injury that he just got last night. 

D.

“i’ve never been on the system at the same time jason is,” tim muses, “hey, you think it’s a coincidence that he’s updating his file at nine a.m. in the morning when everyone should be sleeping post-patrol?”

bruce doesn’t answer him, too busy squinting at the screen of his phone. tim grins, pulling his wheelie chair even closer so he doesn’t miss a single thing. 

D. the cursor blinks for a while, the red rhythmically flashing into existence and disappearing as jason stops editing the file. 

bruce’s call goes into voicemail. he tries again.

“todd,” tim reads aloud, because he’s a little shit and has to hold in a giggle as bruce chokes on thin air. “you think it’s a long-lost cousin or something? they reconnect recently?”

that is scenario six on tim’s list. scenario one includes secret wife, but hey, tim’s been told that he often jumps to conclusions without sufficient evidence, so he just waits patiently as bruce jabs at jason’s contact over and over.

it takes a total of six calls before jason is picking up, hissing, “aren’t you meant to be dead in your bed right now?”

“explain,” bruce demands, leaning in so close to the computer screen that he possibly can’t misread the text. “who is this…new emergency contact?”

there’s a beat. and then jason asks, incredulous, “are you live watching me update this right now?”

bruce grunts, because there’s no response to that. it’s rhetorical question, after all.

“it’s nine a.m.,” jason says, pitch rising, “why are you even up?”

“you’re updating your file for the first time in months,” tim points out. “it’s news worthy of staying up for.”

“you definitely should be in bed,” jason snipes. “what, decided you’d actually turn up to school today?”

“i dropped out,” tim replies, redundantly, because jason definitely knows. he’s just being a bastard.

“jason,” bruce says, very carefully, because bruce always manages to say the most useless stuff but set jason off at the same time, “we just need to know the credibility and background of your contact. it’s of paramount importance that we—”

“credibility? you think i’d put someone down who isn’t trustworthy? that’s how low you think of me?”

tim looks away. bruce’s said something wrong again.

“—know—wait, jason, please, that’s not what i meant and you know—”

“fuck you.” jason’s voice is quiet, and at first, time attributes it to bruce’s inability to put anything on speakerphone, but bruce’s expression has him pausing. typically, jason explodes when bruce does something or says something wrong, but this restraint is new. “fuck you.”

the dial tone rings. bruce clenches, and puts the phone down. he doesn’t try to call jason again.

tim’s pretty bad at shutting up, especially when it’s about stuff that interests him like jason’s new emergency contact, but he knows to shut up now. so instead, he just says, “uh, i’ll keep an eye on the file. you probably should go to bed?”

bruce shakes his head, reaching up to massage his temples. then he pauses, and stares at the screen.

“bruce?” tim prompts.

he points. tim looks back at the screen to see jason’s red cursor on a different part of the file, and his breath hitches when he sees the relationship title of the section. suddenly, both tim and bruce’s faces are plastered to the screen.

S. 

“oh, shit,” tim repeats, grin widening.

P.

O.

“master bruce and master tim, what on earth are the two of you doing? shall i call an optometrist to get the two of you checked?”

U.

S.

“yeah, this is a great fuck you,” tim agrees.

“tim,” bruce mutters.

E.

the cursor blinks. then, very deliberately, the file is saved—last manual save: 2s ago in the right corner—and jason’s cursor disappears. 

“what in the world is going on here?” alfred demands, heels clicking as he stalks over. “master bruce.”

bruce is buffering. tim just points.

alfred peers. for the first time in a very long time, tim sees his eyebrows raise at the word on the screen. 

SPOUSE. 

yeah. well. at least tim can say that he found out before dick did.

bonus:

“fucking nosy bastards,” jason grumbles to himself, slamming the laptop shut. “watching me live. what the actual fuck. it’s nine fucking a.m.! mandatory report updates my ass, these ungrateful little—”

“jay?”

jason’s entire demeanour changes. “yeah?”

“there’s a parcel out front,” you wander into the kitchen area, patting his shoulder in greeting as you pass where he’s hunched over the kitchen countertop, “do you mind go getting it?”

“no,” jason says automatically, already standing up. “just one?”

“just one,” you promise. “oh, what were you just talking about just now?”

jason’s eyes flit down to the golden band on your finger. small, discreet. it makes a smile flicker onto his face, and he just shakes his head. he darts around the counter to press a kiss to your temple. “nothing. g’morning, love.”

you laugh, batting him away as he grabs at you. “good morning, jay.”

[plethorawrites]

(A/N, I know this is absolutely stretching it, but a lot of you like the secret relationship trope as much as me and I can't get this idea out of my head so...)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Jason Todd who, despite fixing his relationship with his family to an extent, still maintains distance from them. He remains amicable, showing up when asked, never straying terribly far and always still including himself whenever someone mentions the 'family'.

But...he's still a bit of a loner around them, not always entirely honest all the time. He doesn't stick around very long unless asked and will make up obvious lies to get out of things he doesn't want to do. One of the ways he does this, is by claiming to have a date.

Yes, it was ridiculous to them. If he really wanted to get away from them, he could just say that. But hey, it was his life. And it was hilarious to see the lengths he would go to.

Unbeknownst to him, you were entirely real.

At first Jason worried that they would pry for more information, maybe insist on meeting you or try to run a background check. Bruce had done that on multiple girls Dick went out with and even made a file on Bernard when Tim got involved with him. He never mentioned your last name, usually calling you his girlfriend, or some nickname his had for you, in hopes of them keeping their distance. And they did.

He didn't realize it was because they didn't actually believe him when he said he was in a relationship. He never really gloated about it much, but he never hid it, either. He'd mention you moving in, mention you were working late so he could stay for dinner, or say you were sick so he had to leave early.

To them, it was all one elaborate lie that kept him away from the family.

Even when he introduced Alfred to you, legitimizing you in the butlers eyes, everyone just groaned, telling the man not to encourage Jason's charade.

When Jason said he had to leave patrol early because he planned to propose to you, they found it even funnier, honestly. He was really keeping up with this lie. It had lasted years. Sometimes, for months he didn't mention you, but then he'd casually say he got married to really cement that he was still putting up that wall between him and the family.

He even had very convenient reasons for all the things that didn't add up, like why he never wore a wedding ring (Which he would surely have if he had actually gotten married) or why he never went on a honeymoon (Which no one could live without, right?)

Truthfully, you didn't care about that, as long as he kept coming home in one piece with minimal bleeding. As for the ring? Well, he only wore it at home, otherwise he kept it on a chain under his suit.

At one point, he even claimed you were pregnant.

That one? That was a lie filled with meat to rip off the bone. Doctor appointments and sudden emergencies let him excuse himself from any meeting he didn't want to attend or leave early and come late for practically anything.

He would even purposely read baby books or pretend to be on the phone with you when he didn't want to talk to them or engage in conversation at hand/pay attention to a briefing.

In the middle of patrol he had disappeared, claiming you were in labor, when really, they just thought he wanted to go home and sleep. He had been acting awfully exhausted lately. He claimed it was from taking care of you.

Then, after that night, he oddly enough dropped all contact for a while. A long while, actually. No red hood activity, no returning phone calls, no one had heard from him. Except for Alfred who came over to bring you a care package and Roy who was there to see his goddaughter the second she came home from the hospital.

It was nearly two months later that they finally heard from him, after starting to truly worry. He had dropped off the map before when he got the urge to be alone, but never for this long. Now suddenly he was inviting the entire family over for dinner at his apartment?

He had NEVER in his life done that. Hell, they didn't even know where he lived. Probably because they would show up unannounced and he didn't want to deal with them sleeping on his couch.

Still, regardless of their hesitation they showed up.

Imagine their surprise when he opened the door and just past his shoulder they could see you, sitting on the floor, having tummy time with newborn baby girl who couldn't stop laughing.

Their eyes were wide, they couldn't stop staring, barely even moving.

Bruce probably seemed the most shocked. He was a grandfather after all and had not only missed his granddaughter's birth, but didn't even know he had a daughter-in-law.

The ring on Jason's finger was suddenly quite prominent, as was the matching one on your hand as you picked up the baby and carried her over to them, introducing yourself.

You had apparently heard a lot about them.

They had heard...well, enough about you that they shouldn't be surprised when you fit the exact description of who they thought had been Jason's imaginary escape wife for over two years.

It all came out in that moment and both Jason and your eyes were reflecting the same confusion and disbelief as they confessed to not believing you or the baby existed.

"You...thought I made up having a wife?" he repeated slowly, frowning as his arm wrapped around your waist. "AND I lied about her having a baby?"

He had always wondered why none of them seemed to really even care about the fact that they were going to be aunts and uncles. Bruce had barely even congratulated him at all, which stung a bit, but he brushed it off.

"Well...yeah?" Tim confessed, motioning to him. "It's you! You don't even like people."

Who would ever associate Jason Todd with domestic life? No one.

He shook his head in utter disbelief. "Unbelievable," he muttered, turning to you as you started to laugh uncontrollably. "What? You find that funny?"

You nodded, trying to stop chuckling. "It's so absurd," you chortled, your laugh making the baby coo in your arms. "And I get it, I do," you admitted. "You're all tough and brooding. Not exactly father material."

He frowned further. He liked to think he had been doing a pretty good job. Maybe not perfect, but he was trying his best for both of you.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, offended, taking the baby from you. "I know I'm not a professional or anything, I haven't dropped her yet."

Emphasis on the yet.

"Of course not," you agreed, kissing the baby's head and then his cheek. "You're a very father. Even if the baby isn't real," you added with another huff of amusement, running your hands through his hair as you walked past him into the kitchen. "Put her down for her nap, would you? I want to check on dinner."

He gave another confused, inquisitive glare to his family, especially his father before nodding. "Make yourselves at home," he muttered, still confused. "I'm going to put my fake daughter down in her fake nursery," he told them before walking off.

[drawnfromthedead]

It's a Terrible Cover Story, Really :/

DP x DC AU where, when trying to make a cover story for why Jason is suddenly legally alive again, Bruce (and the rest of the fam) come up with a story that they had found the body of a child that looked just like 15 year old Jason after he had gone missing and went straight into greif stricken panic and assumed to worst! Jason had come back to them later (let's say he's 22/23 here) after recovering from amnesia, and DNA tests confirmed it's him. They claim they exhumed the body and had the DNA tested and it came back (and they make this name up, completely believing that, since enough people have similar names, this won't come back to bite them) as Danny Fenton.

It's plastered all over the news and it makes it's way back to Jack and Maddie fast: who are now completely convinced their son died on a breif trip they took to Gotham 7 years ago and came back as a ghost who just didn't know he was dead. When they try to bring up the topic with Danny, as gently as they could, they wind up learning that he's Phantom and start to think it's a split personality type deal. One is their son trying to greave his own death and failing because he thinks he's still alive, and the other is their son trying to live up to them as ghost hunters and trying to be the hero his kid self must have thought they were. They're torn up and grief stricken and try contacting Bruce about retrieving their sons body.

Bruce is freaking out because he thinks he just convinced people who may have been looking for their son for years that their kid is dead (and maybe he is! Oh god!) And Amity Park nonsense is keeping him from finding anything about the (half) living Danny, now attending community college.

Jack and Maddie are freaking out because they don't want to let go of their son, but also this can't be healthy for any of them or for Danny's soul, he needs to move on and they need time to rethink everything they've ever thought about ghosts to grieve.

And Danny's freaking out because he thinks Brucie Wayne, ditz extraordinaire (unless his kids are involved), clueless to a fault, Brucie, somehow figured out he was a ghost and outed him to his parents???? Not cool man!

[athenalvss]

LEAVE US ALONE ( Wally west! )

summary: three moments when your family ruined your time with your boyfriend.

pairing: Wally west x batsis! reader

part one - part two

open request - wally west masterlist

The rain tapped softly against the bedroom windows. The storm was wreaking havoc in Gotham, leaving the weather windy and cold, but inside, everything was warm.

The dim lamplight cast soft shadows on the walls, while Wally was halfway on top of yours. His hand brushed against your waist beneath the fabric of the old tshirt he'd stolen that afternoon, while his lips descended down your neck in a slow, almost devotional sequence.

"Mmm… come on Wally"

The kisses became more demanding. The caresses, more daring. Your legs tangled with his under the sheets, seeking closer contact if possible, while the storm outside seemed to give rhythm to both of your accelerated pulses. Wally slid his fingers under the elastic of his shorts, just as

CLANK

The sound of something metallic hitting the balcony frame brought them out of their trance. Wally froze, his body still on top of yours, both of them gasping and paralyzed.

"It can't be..." you muttered, turning your head just in time to see a wet figure forcing the window.

"What the fuck—!" Wally began, pulling the sheet up to cover your both.

Jason Todd, soaked by the rain, casually slipped onto the balcony as if he weren't intruding on a moment that clearly wasn't meant for visitors. "Why is the door locked?" he said casually, shaking the water off his shoulders. "I told you he could stay here only if you left the door open."

"Jason, are you completely crazy?" you complained, covering yourself with the sheet. "Knock on the door like a normal person!"

"I knocked on the door, you know?" he replied, raising an eyebrow with a mocking smile. "But you were too busy with your soft porn session to listen."

Wally let out a strangled sound, burying his head under his pillow as if that would reverse the trauma.

—Jason. Out. Now. —you growled, gritting your teeth. —I'm not going to repeat this.

Jason ignored you completely and jerked his chin. "Is that your sleepwear? Because if that's sleepwear, I need to talk to Bruce about the new dress code in this house."

"Get out!" you shouted, red with embarrassment.

"Not until you swear to me that the idiot with super speed isn't going to try to get his hands on you" he paused for a second to think before continuing. " Nah, you know what? I'm staying until you both calm down." Jason slumped into the chair next to the desk as if it were his room.

"Are you kidding?" you muttered, your eyes narrowed.

"You're in bed with your boyfriend half naked and you're asking me if I'm joking? "

Wally sat up slowly, still wrapped in the sheet like a traumatized mummy. "Jason, brother, please don't make this any more awkward than it already is."

—Brother he calls me... Look how quickly he tries to gain approval, —Jason replied, giving him a sharp look.

Silence .

Wally took a deep breath. A very deep breath. "Do you think it's weird if I go live in another dimension for a couple of weeks?"

"No, take me with you please"

── .✦

The living room was silent, lit only by the blue glow of the television screen. The blankets wrapped around them, blanket-like warmth, and a tub of ice cream sat between them.

Wally had one arm around your shoulders, his other hand gently playing with your fingers. You were leaning against his chest, feeling the steady, steady beat of his heart as the movie slowed to a crawl.

"Did you know this scene was improvised?" Wally murmured, smiling mischievously, turning slightly to get a better look at you.

"Did you know I couldn't care less about the movie and I want you to kiss me?" you replied, raising an eyebrow with an equally daring smile.

He leaned toward you, his lips brushing yours with that slowness that makes the world disappear. The ignored movie. His fingers slipped under the blanket and caressed your waist gently, letting you feel the rough pads of his fingers, and just as his lips finally rested on yours

¡PLOP!

The sound of someone throwing themselves onto the couch with the entire weight of the universe suddenly separated them. The blanket shifted and the tub of ice cream almost fell to the floor. .

"Family movie night!" Dick announced with fake cheerfulness, a giant bucket of popcorn in his lap. "What are we watching?"

you both looked at him with a mixture of terror, shame and pure hatred.

"Dick... you're fucking kidding me, aren't you?" Wally muttered, his voice deep, visibly frustrated. "You're in my top three people I want to throw out a window right now!"

"How sensitive! Is this how you treat your best friend?" Dick replied, as if he didn't notice the mess he had just made.

"Clearly!" Wally sat up in the chair, still covered up to his waist by the blanket that now hung disastrously. "Do you know how hard it was to convince her to watch this movie with me?"

"A cheesy romantic comedy?" Dick said, looking at the screen with feigned interest. "Hmm, yeah, not your style. Weird. Almost... desperate i can tell."

"Because I am!" Wally exploded, pointing at you. "I want to spend time alone with my girlfriend!"

"Oh, how romantic," you said, rolling your eyes.

"I was trying!" Wally told you, pointing to the sky as if summoning the gods. "Until Dick the cock blocker came along."

Dick stood up from the chair with a firm slap on his thighs. "All right, I'll leave you two alone. But don't say I didn't warn you when Bruce checks the hallway cameras and sees Wally doing God knows what to his daughter."

"Don't come back," you growled, pointing the remote at him.

He walked away as if he hadn't caused a catastrophe.

Silence.

The glare from the screen was still there, the ice cream half-melted, the blanket badly placed, the atmosphere ruined.

Wally let out a long, defeated sigh and slumped back against the chair, his eyes closed and his heart split in two. "I can't take it anymore."

You turned to him, watched him for a second—his head thrown back, his arms crossed behind his neck, his legs spread—and in the calmest voice you could muster, you whispered, “That was so hot, Wallace.”

Wally opened one eye slowly, confused.

"what?"

── .✦

The Batcave hummed with life: console lights flickered, screens flashed with maps and data, and the distant echo of the elevator announced the imminent start of another night's patrol.

You had stayed in your usual spot, in front of the central monitor, adjusting the last lines of communication for the departure. You needed to have everyone's lines perfectly connected in case something happened.

Wally, on the other hand, already in his bright red suit, approached you in complete silence. As soon as he made sure you were out of sight, he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

"You're not going to miss me that much, are you?" he whispered, brushing his lips against your neck.

"Maybe," you replied, still staring at the screen, but still smiling. Wally was like a magnet. He always was.

"A goodbye kiss for your favorite hero?" he asked, pouting, trying to sound pitiful, as if you'd ever denied him a kiss.

You turned slightly in your chair to face him and, without thinking twice, gently took his face in your hands, letting your faces almost touch. What a beautiful man. "Only one."

It was a quick kiss at first, but as always with him, neither of you knew how to stop in time. Your fingers tangled in his red hair, his hands rested on the console behind you, and the hum of the device became a distant murmur. It wasn't anything too explicit, but it wasn't a chaste kiss either.

And right in the middle of that scene, something a bit more “affectionate” than recommended for a secret base of operations

"This is a workspace, not a motel.

you both suddenly separated as if someone had thrown a grenade.

Damian Wayne emerged from behind one of the side consoles, like a vengeful shadow, his arms crossed and the impassive expression of someone who had clearly been there for a while.

"How long have you been there?" you asked, putting a hand to your chest to keep your heart from leaping out of your mouth.

"Long enough to witness him try to merge with you, sister" she replied without flinching. "Frankly, I expected a little more discretion from you"

Wally protested, throwing up his hands, offended. “It was a kiss. A perfectly consensual and controlled one between two adults.”

"Aren't you a little old to have such raging hormones?" he said with a crooked smile. "I thought you were supposed to have control over those things by this age."

Wally looked at him, taking a deep breath as if mentally counting his patience. "Forgive me for having a functional love life."

"It's not functional if it interferes with work," Damian replied simply. "Even less so if you do it in the middle of the Batcave."

You settled into the chair, crossing your arms.

"And what were you doing back there, exactly?" you asked, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

Damian didn't hesitate. "A private investigation for our father, he wants to be aware of everything that happens here" he murmured in the same tone before turning around and going to sit in the Batmobile.

[batwithaknife]

In every fic where Danny is somehow related to the Batfam (via Bruce, Talia, Jason, Dick, etc.) While trying to avoid them he always thinks about hiding out in the ghost zone, but never actually does it. And I crave it. 

Imagine, family trying to find their long lost relative, and he’s fast but they’re faster and they’re catching up and soon /soon/ they will have a reunion and get to know him and he’ll see that they’re really not that bad and be part of the family where he belongs.

But then.

Nothing.

And they search and search, call up old contacts, travel far and wide but every lead is a dead end but they just keep trying because eventually-

And years go by, and occasionally they get an alert or see something in the corner of their eyes during patrol and they run because they can’t miss him what if this is their only chance-

And it’s not him, it’s NEVER HIM. He could be dead for all they know or he’s gone completely into hiding and that’s almost worse because are they really that bad? That awful?

(And Danny has been traveling in the ghost zone for maybe weeks, maybe years now, time is tricky where the laws of nature of different dimensions collide. He’s gone universe hoping and done the ghostly equivalent of a college students gap year to see the world but he’s ready to go home and surely they have given up by now? He’s not that important and he’s sure they’ve realized that after his time away so he leaves the ghost zone and-)

[noxcheshire]

I go absolutely FERAL for this trope with Danny and Vlad.

It’s just so SCRUMPTIOUS, and then adding in Jason Todd as having once been Dan BUT NOT EVEN REALIZING IT?!

He’s a mama’s boy and he WILL get vengeance.

Danny himself had been looking for Dan for such a long time, furious at Vlad for his actions and the results that came from it. Dan was lost Ancients KNEW where, as a helpless baby! He kept the missing person’s report as active as he could because Dan was still out there, he was alive in some way for his soul and ghost had not returned to the Infinite Realms.

Dan was still alive.

He had to be.

And then Danny is visited by Jason Todd, a young boy so painfully familiar that Danny feels his core shake.

Dan, bound to a clone body and experiencing a relatively calm life with the Fentons, gets de-aged by a jealous Vlad and is held hostage by the man, who wants to be involved with family things. Vlad, somehow, loses the baby.

14 years later, Jason Todd is desperately looking for his mother, only for the DNA test to match him with a 30-year-old transman and a billionaire over 60.

Oh, and his own missing person's report.