#out of any robin discussion

[collectivecloseness]

I need to write some big fruity four angst, like I am just absolutely foaming at the mouth for some good f4 angst, and I wanna write it with a hunger. Please fill my inbox with fruity four angst I need to talk about it with everyone so bad

[prlssprfctn]

Alfred, who tries to punish little Jason for something he messed up with by using the same methods he used on Dick — aka. ground him, make him wash dishes and clean the house, or just watching some old reality shows with him — expect... it never works. Jason is actually fucking excited about all of these things.

Alfred: To my attention was brought a fact that you smoked with Commissioner Gordon again. Jason, stuttering: I mean- I- Alfred: Thus, you are punished. I expect all dishes to be cleaned by the time I return home. Jason, confused: Really? Alfred: Yes. Jason, beaming, because cleaning makes him feel better and helps to distract himself: Cool! Thanks, Alfie. Alfred: Excuse me?

Cut to Alfred, who stares in shock as he finds Jason actually enthusiastically washing dishes, while singing along with Whitney Houston.

Alfred: For this punishment, you will... be grounded. Jason: Oh, thank god, guys from school invited me to the cinema, but I didn't want to go, anyway. Alfred: ...And clean up the whole cave. Jason: I actually did this morning! But I can do another round of quick cleaning session if you want, Alfie. Alfred: ...And then you will watch another soap opera with me, lad. Jason, squealing: Cool!

Bruce, staring amusedly on Alfred and Jason, who sew Batman's and Robin's suits, while discussing the new episode of their favourite show: Al, I don't think that's a punishment for a kid... Alfred, frowning: Of course not. I am just spending time with my grandson. Bruce: Mhm-m. What about the punishment for your favourite broken vase? Alfred, who promised to punish anyone who did it this morning, because he thought it was Bruce, and not Jason, who accidentally knocked it off with the tip of his cape: ... Alfred: What vase? Jason: *beaming*

Alfred, solemnly: My boy. I am afraid, this time you truly need to serve your punishment in the order to understand your mistake. Alfred: No Jane Austen adaptations marathon for this Sunday. Jason, in horror: Alfred, no. Please. Alfred: Even more, you are obligated to go out on Sunday, and stay away from doing any additional homework. Jason: NO-O. Dick, who came for holidays, witnessing this for the first time: ... Dick: I think this kid is broken or something.

[cupcakedieabetes]

Shitposter Danny gets too real

Another 'League did not get the message after people tried talking to them about the ghost situation. '

So what does Danny do best if he does not want attention on him, but activate the flame? Conspiracy Theories and Shitposting.

He started arguing with people online that the Bruce-Man ship would never happen because Bruce and Batman are one and the same. When he left Gotham, it was to disguise the fact that Bruce accidentally split into two.

Batman got the more gruffer personality, while Bruce had his pleasant guy personality. Especially if you consider that Bruce Wayne used to be the guy who picked fights and bit people AND was moody in the past. But suddenly, he came back and had a personality change? And seemed a lot more dumber than before.

He must have been hit with the Gotham beam that should have made him into a crazy villain, but the world decided to be nice for once and just split them up so they wouldn't be like Two-Face and retained his sanity. Bruce is the one who restrains Batman, especially since now that they've split, their personalities are more prominent. That is why Bruce is not Batman's Sugar Daddy, but is BRUCE HIMSELF!!

The war that sparked within the fandom was massive, especially since it's not just a long string of text of evidence and facts; Danny put it in a separate post, as it kept on exceeding the word limit. Danny also considered his own situation when he and his ghost self were split up.

Some people tried to defend this ship by saying 'Self-cest exists, so why couldn't the BruceMan ship still live?'

They tried to argue like "What about their kids, then?"

Danny, of course, went, "The Robins are the boys, and possibly some girls, as evidenced by Orphan and Spoiler, that Batman rescued from a cult of assassins! And bc Bruce and Batman are one and the same, they decide to raise them together! But of course, you can't just throw people from the cult to the world without any therapy and adaptation, which is why Batman brings them out at night for their mentality! They must have been in a really bad situation, that vigilantism for Gotham must have been for their mental health, bc now they can do good things!

And since Nightwing could do acrobatic, we do not know if he might even be sometimes substituted by Dick Grayson! It's their bonding activity! Doing acrobats!" Danny laughed at the pun.

Then people started pondering whether the Waynes ever substituted for the Bats occasionally, even as body doubles, or vice versa. The others conspired about the cult of assassins.

But pretty much everyone was in agreement that Dick Grayson and Nightwing bonded through Acrobats, that Dick probably thought Nightwing a lot of his tricks too. The cult of assassins was even more outlandish, but Danny brought up that Damian Wayne seemed very sheltered. It may be just because he was of a different culture, but some Arabs said that some of his habits did NOT fit in their culture. Probably an old one, but nobody really goes THAT old unless they're in a cult.

This brought up the discussion of the differences of cults in different countries and which cults could possibly be the cult of assassins.

Danny laughed as people sent death threats and threatened to doxx him, but he was already halfway dead.

Then, he got a visitor from the Justice League

[dat1angel]

DP x DC Prompt

Demon Twin AU

Growing up in the League of Assassins, Damian and Danyal were aware of the possibility of encountering clones of themselves or each other. They even encountered a few League made clones during training so that they could learn how to identify and take down these threats if an enemy ever tried to use them. The solution they came up with was a series of codes. Simple phrases and gestures that would seem innocuous to anyone else but would tell them that the person standing beside them was, infact, who they claimed they were. They never let anyone know what these codes were either, so that the clones couldn't have knowledge of the codes artificially implanted. If there was any concern of a code being cracked they stopped using it. The system worked perfectly. Then Danyal died.

Damian didn't need a code to tell him that he would never fight side by side with his brother again.

Damian never forgot about the codes though. So when the League started sending clones of himself to infiltrate his family, he told them about this method and created new codes for them to use to tell if it was really him. He never reused the codes he made with Danyal, those were theirs no matter the fact that nobody would ever do them back.

Danny knew he was adopted. He knew that the Fentons had found him while on a ghost hunt and that he was in incredibly bad shape when they did. They had tried to find his parents, but when they were unsuccessful they decided they couldn't leave him alone and took him home with them. He didn't remember anything before that and while he always wondered what had happened, why he was all alone and injured with no family to be found, he was happy with the Fentons. He knew that he had two adopted parents and a sister who loved him and decided that he didn't care about whatever came before that. Then Danny died.

Well- half died, and doing so returned all the memories that were locked away by his amnesia. He remembered the League of Assassins and the mission that went wrong leaving him presumed dead and his twin. He was no idiot, he recognized his twin no matter what traffic light costume he wore, so he immediately realized that Damian had become Robin and that Batman must be their father. He wanted to go find them, tell Damian that he was alive, but with all the ghost craziness that ensued following the portal opening, as well as learning to control his new ghost powers, he just didn't have time.

The opportunity presented itself one day when he was ambushed by the GIW. They caught him off guard and managed to get some critical shots on him. He fled to a secluded alley to assess his wounds and make a plan but didn't account for the Fentons to have caught sight of the interaction and have followed him. Danny decided to enter his human form and try to sneak around the GIW agents crawling the town until he got home, then lay low until he figured something out. The Fentons entered the alley right as he transformed. They were shocked, but were willing to listen to his explanation before resorting to weapons. They were horrified by what they learned and reassured Danny that they would never have hunted him if they knew.

Before they could discuss it further, they were interrupted by the sounds of GIW agents closing in on their location. The Fentons told Danny to run, to find somewhere safe. Said that they would work on de-establishing the GIW from the inside out and repealing the Anti Ecto Acts and would find him again when it was safe. With the promise that they would keep everyone safe, Danny gave the Fentons a quick hug, transformed, and took flight. All he had to do now was make the trip to Gotham and find his brother.

Damian was in disbelief. How cruel of Mother, how desperate she must be, to resort to this. Sending a clone claiming to be Danyal? That he had survived and was now seeking asylum? He would make her regret toying with him like this. But first, he must put this clone business to rest. How simple it is to prove this deceit.

Damian clenched his right hand into a fist. Once, twice, pause for a second, a third time. To anyone else it would look like an anxious tic or an expression of anger but to Danyal it would elicit a certain response. The clone's eyes widened at the gesture, then a soft look came over their face. They lifted their right hand to rub at the back of their neck, then brought it up their head to ruffle their hair twice before finally letting it drop to the side. Damian was in disbelief for a different reason now. There was no way- It couldn't be. The boy across from him then raised their left hand to their mouth, cleared their throat, then patted their chest twice. With shaky hands, Damian sneezed into his left elbow then rubbed his nose three times. Damian was unable to keep the emotion out of his voice when he finally spoke.

"Brother."

[batsandbirdbrains]

I posted a few angsty ideas today so let’s have a silly one before bed

The one where everyone is confused by Batman and Robin’s utility belts

So like yj season 1 team & setting. I just cannot get this ridiculous idea out of my head where they keep having weirder and weirder shit in their utility belts but act completely unfazed. No one else can make any sense of it.

“Wait, do you keep kryptonite in your utility belt?” Conner asks Robin one day during training. Robin had whipped it out to win a spar. Conner is a cross between dazed and completely scandalized.

“Duh.”

“How much?”

“Normal amount.”

Conner is gaping at him, but Robin has already moved on to the next phase of their training.

Then a few weeks later, a few members of the Justice League are fixing up some equipment in Mount Justice when Robin appears next to Batman’s side, digging through his belt. He grunts, not wanting to move his focus from the tool he’s using.

“I need an eraser to throw at Wally’s head.”

Batman hums. Robin holds a bat-shaped eraser up victoriously, it’s the kind you stick on the end of a pencil, and then he races out of the room.

“You keep erasers in your belt?” Flash asks.

“Of course.”

Robin comes back in, startling Flash who hadn’t even seen him, and digs out another eraser. This one is also bat-shaped, but red. He leaves again.

“How many do you have in there?”

“Normal amount.”

They’re quiet for a moment, just the hum of the power tools, until Flash looks back at him.

“Can I have one?”

“No.”

Forty-five seconds later, something bounces off the side of Flash’s head. He looks down and sees a yellow bat-shaped eraser next to his foot. Robin’s laugh can be heard echoing from around the door.

A few days later, Batman and Robin are standing staring at each other in the mission room. They both have their arms crossed. Neither is saying a word. Everyone else is holding their breath, unsure of what’s happening.

Batman holds his hands out. Robin doesn’t react.

Batman flicks his fingers, as if saying “give it here.” Robin frowns.

Batman does it again. Slower.

Robin stares at him.

Robin groans and flings his head back dramatically, then shoves a hand in one of his belt pouches and deposits a lizard in Batman’s waiting palm. The lizard blinks.

“What the fuck, dude,” Wally asks. He can’t even laugh, he’s so confused.

Batman’s palm remains open between them. Robin frowns more dramatically.

Then puts another lizard in Batman’s hand.

Dick can’t see it, but he can feel the way Bruce’s left eyebrow raises under the cowl.

He puts a third lizard in Batman’s hand.

“I was gonna put them in an enclosure!”

“No.”

“Did you just - was that - how many lizards did you have in your belt?” Wally asks, tripping over the words.

“Normal amount,” Robin says, pouting.

“No more lizards,” is all Batman says before turning back to the mission board. Robin looks like he wants to stomp his foot and is barely holding back the urge to throw a fit.

Wally just wants to know where he found the lizards in he first place.

A couple weeks after that, Batman walks by a frustrated looking Robin who just finished a rough training simulation. Batman pulls a blue lollipop out from his utility belt and hands it to Robin.

Robin looks at it. Then looks at Batman. Then pouts at him.

Batman takes off the wrapper and holds it back out. Robin takes it.

“There’s lollipops in there too?” Green Arrow, who was walking with him to go discuss an upcoming mission, asks.

“Along with gummy worms. Sour and normal.”

“How much candy do you have in there?”

“Normal amount.”

Green Arrow shakes his head a couple times, then hurries after Batman when he sees he fell a few paces behind.

Is it a game Bruce and Dick have? Are they trying to get someone to snap? Or are they both just funky little guys who keep odd shit in their utility belts? The world may never know.

[sakuravalenp]

Phantom letters - DPXDC PROMPT

The bats wake up one day to the internet going crazy; people around the world were getting letters from they're diseased loved ones. The reactions are mixed, from people being outraged for the "prank" to people crying in melancholy at getting closure.

All the letters have something in common: They're closed with a green sealing wax that had an stylize DP and the name Phantom beneath it. Posts about the cards were using the # Phantom Letters.

The bats are discussing the viral posts in the cave when Alfred comes holding a basket filled with letters, announcing they were left at the doors. The letters had the sealing wax that they recognize from the posts. Checking the cameras they can see how they glitch before the basket appears.

Alfred starts to distribute the letters that had only one destinatary. Letters from each Thomas and Martha to both Bruce and Alfred. Letters from each John and Mary to Dick. A letter from Catherine to Jason. A letter from the Drake's to Tim, and another one to Bruce.

Once they had calmed down enough from the shock, Alfred proceeded to read the shared recipients. From Thomas and Martha to "The grandchildren we never got to meet." From John and Mary to "the family that took our little Robin in." Letters from Catherine to "My little boys family." The letters were directed to people the deceased didn't get to meet.

As much as the mere existence of the letters tugged at their hearts, they decided to not read them until they verified that the handwriting actually belong to the ones it claimed. They checked each letter, and in the end confirmed the letters were in fact from they're lost love ones.

After much discussion, each person makes the decision to read they're own letters later in private, and they proceed to read the ones that shared recipients out loud. The letter mentioned specifics like names and events that the deceased shouldn't have been able to know, including they're vigilante abilities, which had them pause each time to panic a bit. But what was more interested were certain pieces of the letters that mentioned a Prince Phantom.

"Prince Phantom said to don't mention things past our death, but it wasn't a command, so we're hoping this won't be much of a problem." - John and Mary

"I still can't believe Prince Phantom is letting us do this, but I'm so glad." - Catherine

It finally paints the mystery in a more concerning light when at the end of Thomas and Martha's letter there is a call for help.

"We're sorry for ending the letter on a serious tone, but seeing the kind of job you all get involved in, we wanted to ask: Could you please help Prince Phantom? Phantom had asked us to not give information about this, but he's so young, and has already been hurt so much. Please, check on Amity Park, Illinois."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, team Phantom has decided that they needed to get the news about the GIW out of Amity and ask for help. Two problems:

the GIW blocks any technological attempt made.

People might be afraid to learn that ghosts exist and side with the GIW.

As a way to deal with the public image, Phantom opens a possibility that the death have never had:

"All afterlives are open to write letters to their love ones that are still alive today. Nothing that includes threats, and don't go talking about the anti-ecto acts or Amity Park yet, we're trying to ease people into our existence first. Also, I know you all check on your love ones when the veil is thin, but please keep the things you shouldn't know out of the letters if possible. If you want your letter to be sent in the first batch, make sure to deliver your letter before the week ends."

Letters are a good way to reconnect people with the death, they aren't digital, and the GIW won't be able to intercept letters if they're send through inter-dimensional portals. Two birds in one shot.

[mostly-imagines]

Damian was unwilling to even consider accepting your presence. He’d been sure that you were a passing source of entertainment for his older brother, who couldn’t possibly hold positive regard towards anyone other than himself.

Jason had brought you to the manor with him while he dropped in to discuss some things with the old man. You’d told him you’d be fine to hang out with Damian until he was done, to which he scoffed and wished you luck.

So you approach the couch tentatively and smile despite the lack of attention on you, “Hi Damian.”

He merely side eyes you and says nothing.

Having expected this from him, you continue, “What are you watching?”

“The Discovery channel.” He says shortly.

You frown, furrowing your eyebrows.

He glances at you, unamused. “What?”

“Why are you watching the Discovery channel?” you ask him.

“It’s educational.” He tells you, like it’s obvious.

You nod slowly, “Yes, but…what else do you watch?”

“The Discovery channel has many different series’,” he tells you with discernable disinterest.

You tilt your head at him, “Don’t you watch shows for kids?”

He glowers hearing that, “Why would I do that?”

“…Because you’re a kid.”

He shakes his head, basically waving you off. “I wouldn’t waste my time.”

You’re not really sure why Damian is the way he is just yet. You know he only came to live with Bruce relatively recently and before that lived with his mother somewhere far. Jason’s mentioned in passing that his upbringing was a bit unorthodox and his mother is a sore subject. You don’t know Bruce well but you can take a guess that his parenting priorities don’t necessarily lie with letting kids be kids.

You shake your head, “It’s not a waste of time. Not if you enjoy it.” You pause. “It’s okay for you to be a kid, Damian.”

He looks at you like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

You sit up more, turning to face him completely. “I can’t imagine pushing yourself so hard all the time is good for your brain. Or your body.”

That gets his attention. “…What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I mean a part of normal human development involves fostering happiness through recreation and leisure. Entertainment like that functions as a stress reliever which is necessary for you to operate at your highest capacity. It’s like recharging your body and it’s important to do, especially when you’re young and can burn out quickly.”

He frowns deeply, furrowing his eyebrows, “Oh.”

You nod, thinking. “I can’t imagine your diet is any different than your dads, then.”

His posture straightens, “I eat to make me stronger. That is good for my body.” He says it like it has to be.

Your brow furrows at that as you nod, “Yeah, it is, but do you like it?”

He grimaces, “What does that matter?”

You pull back a bit, blinking at him. “Do you eat snacks, Damian?”

“Snacks are for—” he cuts himself off. “No I do not.”

“What if we watched a movie and made popcorn or something?”

He considers this with an obvious great hesitance, looking you up and down like he’s expecting you to pull out a knife any second.

“You could be wrong,” he says eventually, quiet.

You nod for a moment. “But what if I’m not?”

He eyes the rug on the floor, chin still held up. “What…do you suggest?”

You pucker your lower lip and shake your head, grabbing the remote. “Anything you want,” You flip the screen to the children’s movies, scrolling through the options. “You might like The Rescuers. Or Robin Hood. It’s about someone who steals from the rich and gives the money to the poor.”

You hand him the remote and he slowly moves through the list. You watch him look over the selection, eyes slightly wider than usual.

“What about “Bambi”? It has small animals in the picture.” He points to the little icon on the left of the screen displaying the baby deer and friends.

Your movements stutter. “Oh, uh…I don’t think that’s the movie for you.”

He tilts his head at you, “Why not?”

You take a deep breath and turn your head over your shoulder towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make popcorn, yeah?”

“Okay.”

You smile and nod encouragingly and stand before making your way to the kitchen.

Damian watches you go before thoughtlessly standing himself and trailing slowly after you. By the time he gets to the kitchen door frame you’ve already opened up a packet and are placing it into the microwave. You don’t stop at that, opening up the fridge to pour out a small glass of coke.

The popcorn is nearly done when Jason approaches from the hall, stopping next to Damian and peering into the doorway to see what’s so interesting.

He’s surprised to find that the thing Damian had been staring wide-eyed at was you, making snacks.

He looks again at his little brother, heeding how his gaze was somehow closer to fear than skepticism. But he’d seen that look before, when he’d first come to live at the manor it was the only expression he conveyed for at least two months. That look of shock that he was being treated so kindly, with such thought behind it. Jason hadn’t seen that look in a while, but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised that it was you who brought it back out.

For someone as trained as he is, it takes Damian an embarrassingly long time to register his brother's presence. He tries to play it off as though he’d always known, adjusting his posture to stand taller, chin up. He turns to face Jason, suddenly somber. “She is an adequate choice of a partner.”

Jason’s face contorts, looking him up and down, “…Thanks?”

[kizzer55555]

Do You Feel That?

Idea. So imagine the bats are going to Amity (or a place nearby) to investigate something. A building that had very strange readings, maybe even investigating a case. Probbaly starting in a forest. So this place is haunted naturally, and the ghosts can’t be perceived by the human eye. In this universe, Danny can technically become visible in his ghost form if he concentrates, along with many powerful ghosts, but their default is intangibility and invisibility and it’s just inefficient to use a that much power just to be seen. So most things that happen in Amity are not seen by normal people. Those infected by ectoplasm (the pits and ectoplasm being two separate things in this) are able to see ghosts after enough exposure. So if a hero were to come to Amity, they would see the destruction happening but it would look like some kind of invisible force, and then if they ask why others aren’t panicking, they just say Phantom is taking care of it.

Anyways, so the bats do not know about ghosts and are investigating this house and basically every kind of malevolent spirit you can think of is there and trying to mess with them. After all, even if they can’t see a ghost, that ghost can still affect them. And Phantom sees these idiots getting closer to one of the designated danger zones in his territory. (Or he was visiting a nearby haunted area due to the rising danger level and sees the bats right in the middle of it) The place all natives know to avoid at all costs. So the bats go anyways, completly oblivious to the danger. Danny arrives just in time to stop a ghost who was inches away from digging their claws into Red Robin.

And it goes on with Danny desperately keeping the ghosts back, tackling them, shooting them, growling and hissing and doing everything in his power to shield the oblivious heroes and keep them safe. He can’t even warn them because he’s spending too much power just keeping them alive in the woods. Because of course they decide to investigate the most haunted woods near Amity. Most of these spirits are old, angry, and wild.

And the bats are just casually going about their buisness, discussing the case and the evidence they found.

Danny tackles a ghost wolf to keep them from biting their fangs into Red Hood’s neck.

They follow some tracks.

Danny grabbing the shadowing tendrils attempting to strangle Nightwing.

They even joke around and push each other.

Someone temporarily possessed Red Robin and he starts reaching for a batarang with bloodlust in his eyes, before Danny digs his hands into the bat’s chest and rips out the foreign entity.

There is screaming, snarling, screeches, and lots of punches thrown, all unheard by the bats.

By the end, Danny is panting as they finally made it out of the forest. The bats are tracking a signal, and heading towards an abandoned house. Danny looks up and sees the place absolutly overflowing with spirits. They are crawling up the sides, eyes and teeth and tentacles moving through the wooden boards. Banshees and wraiths, eyeing them through the windows. Skinny limbs with barely any form creaking as their claws try to escape the house and reach towards the group below. Hundreds upon hundreds of spirits all confined to this small hut and ready to tear apart any who enter.

Danny takes one look at them, overhears the bats say that they have to head inside, and decide that he’s not dealing with this today. So he shoots a small laser to cut their power. No signal? No lights? No search.

He can hear the bats complaining but eventually, they have to turn back as they lost the signal and they are unable to continue. And hears them talk about how the place was so weird. Almost like something was watching them.

Phantom sags in relief once they are finally gone.

While they leave, Danny squares his shoulders because he needs to deal with all these ghosts before they get back.

Later, after not finding anything strange about the house or forest or the cause of their case (possibly a death? Or maybe just trying to find information connecting to something else?) and all the previous evidence and traces were gone. So they call in the magic users to use a spell to show the past and figure out what happened. And they can see the group in a sort of 3D holographic image as they investigated. But the spell doesn’t just show them, it shows every being from that time….so the group gets to see just exactly how close they all came to dying.

[flamingpudding]

Code: GHOST

It all started when a number code flashed across the screen of the Batcomputer while Tim was working on a case.

7 8 15 19 20

Flashed across the screen several times to the point it made Tim think that someone somehow managed to hack into the Batcomputer. It was also a number code he was not familiar with at all. So Tim reported it back over their comms in hopes that maybe one of the others knew what the numbers meant. Because all he managed to figure out from it was that the number code was an alert on the Batcomputer, one that came with coordinates that lead into the middle of nowhere.

Tim was about to join the discussion Dick and Jason were having on it when Bruce silenced them all apruptly speaking up.

"Answer code 2 1 20, sent them to the coordinates attached. I will be in the cave in ETA3 and take over from there."

The sudden silence on their communication line spoke volumes especially when Tim new the numbers was a simply code for Bat. He still did what Bruce asked him to do but that didn't stop the questions running through Tim's mind. He watched on the screen of the Batcomputer how the moment he sent the code in return, Programs started like on autopilot. A map opening that contained nothing at first but then changed into a map of a whole good damn city. Tim could only gap at what was happening on the Batcomputer before Bruce appeared and pulled him away from his seat to take over himself.

Bruce without a beat of delay started to input more codes and apparently access codes too as more and more windows opened on the Batcomputer. Tim did not realise that with time Dick, Cass and Damian had joined him as they watched Bruce work away on the Batcomputer. At some point an audiotrack opened but all they could hear was only static. They thought Bruce was going to run it through one of the noise filtering programs.

But to the shock of them, Bruce suddenly triggered a hidden compartment on the console, causing it to flip over and reveal communication link build in a way non of them had ever seen before. It was silver with green accents and looked far... older and less sleek than any of the ones they used. It was clearly not designed to stay completely hidden if put into your ear.

They watched how he simply put that earpiece on and then replayed the audiotrack.

The batkids shared a look of confusion. Non of them sure what to make of the situation until suddenly Bruce stood up from the Batcomputer.

"Prepare for a rescue mission. Nightwing, Orphan and Robin will come with me, the rest of you will stay in Gotham." Was all the man said before storming of towards the Batplane.

"Bruce what is going on?!" Dick instead of going to prepare asked stoping the man before he could get away from them. "What is the meaning of that code? Aside from the fact that simply translated it means ghost."

Bruce eyed the batkids present for a moment before letting out a grunt. "Ghost is finally ready to join the family."

"Ghost?" Tim echoed confused, never having heard that alias for any of them.

"Father what do you mean, 'join the family'?" Damian chimed in clearly frowning with suspicion.

The man eyed them once more his eyes going over each of his children, it looked like he was contemplating telling them more for a moment before he stood to fully face them and let out a sigh. "Like Clark, I too have clone child."

There was a stunned silence. No one speaking up until Dick did. "How long...?"

"14 years ago"

The silence continued as they all did the mental math. Once more it was Dick who spoke up first, clearly stunned. "You had a clone since I was eleven and now is the first time I hear of that?! You never bothered telling any of us?!"

There was a long suffering sigh. "We got to Danny before he was aged up, he was a normal baby even if created in a laboratory, so it was best for him to grow up normally, with the league we arranged for him to be sent to selected family since I had my hands full with you and-"

"Danny?!" Dick cut in. "His name is Danny? Does he even know about us?"

"Dick." Bruce called out his tone warning. "Of course I kept an eye on Danny's life. And I did made contact with him when the time was appropriated considering some of the things that were happening for the boy as he grew up, however he is not aware that he is a clone and it will stay that way. He will get to know all of you once we finished this rescue mission."

Before Dick or any of the others could say anything more Bruce spoke up firmly again. "Get ready now, we do not have any more time. Anything else will be handled later."

[timmydraker]

Tim Drake who was raised to not be allowed to ask questions at home and so he just assumes that he’s not allowed to anywhere.

It wasn’t like he was told he couldn’t, it was just that he was often ignored when he did or made to feel like a burden or even straight up stupid when he did. They were too busy to answer questions that could be easily answered if he just thought about it.

It doesn’t help that he’s a naturally curious child and can rattle off a dozen questions in a single minute.

So, when he starts being around and eventually living in the manner he sort of just assumes he’s not allowed to and naturally, this leaves him with a lot of internal turmoil. He does ask questions, but not things that are either able for him to figure by himself or something that he thinks could be a bother for others, things like how to use the new tech that came into the ace or where the fresh linen was.

Bruce at first is impressed by the way Tim adjusted to things so independently and with so little need for guidance, but even when he’s at his lowest he’s able to see how strange it is that Tim seems to put so much stress on himself for things he can get others to do. He assumes Tim is like him and just wants to figure things out himself, determined to solve things on his own.

It comes to a head one day when he watches Tim storm up the stairs while a confused Dick is standing below looking utterly bewildered.

Upon questioning him, Dick explains that he had just been asking Tim if he needed any assistance with his ongoing case as it seemed to be bothering him only for Tim to instantly snap at him about hypocrisy and double standards.

Bruce tells Dick to just give him some space to calm down and instead goes to see Tim himself.

His ongoing my theories since he started to get a clearly head and had talks with Dinah.

Standing next to the door to very clearly show that Tim can leave the conversation whenever he wants, he doesn’t bother trying to hide what he’s doing because no matter how he does it Tim will notice, instead he just stands there a moment until Tim looks up from where he is angrily rearranging his clothes… on the floor… to other parts of the floor.

Bruce holds back a sigh and instead speaks in as steady of a voice as he can, “Ducky, I want us to have a talk, not just about you. Can we please try?”

Maybe it’s the earnest wording and the way he’s invoking himself in the discussion, or the old nickname that Bruce hasn’t actually used for a while, or perhaps both, but Tim deflates like a balloon and goes to sit down on his bed and gives a single nod.

Bruce smiles and something it is so clearly Bruce the person, the parent, the guy whose just trying and not Batman or Brucie.

Bruce sits as well, parallel to him and with as reflex posture he can have with such a tense body, “Tim, why do you feel you can ask for help?”

It’s such an open ended question and Tim can’t help but scoff, his own internal perception making him feel angry at the question and so he snaps, “Because I can’t! You guys never offer help and even when I want to it doesn’t matter because it’s always about what Damian wants for dinner and what times are better for Dick for lunch or- or work! It’s only me doing Wayne Enterprise stuff and I also have to do Drake Industries stuff now and none of you guys help me because I have to do everything on my own-“

Bruce doesn’t want to cut him off but this confirms some things and if so, he needs to do fix some things quickly.

“Ducky, why do you have to do everything on your own? I don’t mean as Robin or Red Robin, but as you, as Tim.”

Bruce can only hope he’s doing this right and that he isn’t pushing in a way that’s going to hurt Tim.

Nothing can stop the way Bruce startles when Tim lets out a guttural scream of pure frustration, standing up and looking so genuinely past it as he shouts, “BECAUSE I ALWAYS HAVE TO! IF I ASK FOR HELP I’LL JUST BE IGNORED OR TOLD IM STUPID OR- OR-“

Tim starts to huff, choking on air as he lets out several years of frustration out only to collapse under Joe helpless he feels.

Staying as still as he can, not showing his concern or his growing heart ache, Bruce leaves a hand palm out out for Tim to take and asks as carefully as he can, “By who, Ducky?”

And Tim, he looks so angry at first and yet when he opens his mouth he sputters and hesitates, trying to say something before thinking better of it a couple times and then… then he just looks defeated as he can’t bring himself to give an example of this because in reality, it hasn’t really happened. Sure there have been times when people have had to deny him, but how rare has that been?

And when has he actually been denied for no reason?

Tim sputters again and this time he actually speaks and says, “But mum-“

Bruce has to hold everything in him back from giving the most heartbroken look because it will definitely be misinterpreted as pity.

Never has Tim look more like a kid even though he’s almost eighteen, he looks like he’s lost in a supermarket and the front counter has called for his parents several times and still he’s alone.

He gives an encouraging nod when Tim goes to speak again and stops, still holding out his hand even as his arm beg isn’t to ache.

Tim manages to say, “If I ask for help then-then I’m being childish.”, right before falling into a ball of himself while also reaching a hand out to grasp Bruce’s.

Bruce himself brings himself to the floor and squeezes Tim’s hand, getting as close as he dares without checking in first but Tim just falls into him.

He can’t deny it’s a bit awkward at first, but eventually he just does what feels natural and cradles Tim to his chest.

A moment passes before either speaks again and it’s Bruce, “Ducky, I want you to know this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have just let you take on so much by yourself and assumed you were okay, I shouldn’t have offered help and shown you that you can ask for it.”

Tim goes to speak and Bruce gives a small squeeze to ask him to wait, luckily Tim understands and lets him continue, “I don’t know everything, I have an idea but I think assuming things is what’s put us in this position in the first place. What I do know is that some things need to change, including how much pressure has been put on you and at the same time, I need you to do something for me. It’s not going to be easy but I know you can do it, Ducky.”

With a sniffle, Tim pulls away from him and looks at him with red eyes, “What is it?”

Bruce smiles, “I want you to try to not assume how we’re going to react to things. More specifically, I want you to do your best to give us a chance to respond to you better or even just differently to how your parents would.”

Tim look ashamed for a second and Bruce knows that expression, it’s the one Tim gets what he feels confused or stupid and so Bruce pulls him close again and says, “You haven’t done anything wrong, Tim. You haven’t made a mistake, it just… you were raised in different way to how we do things, right or wrong. Because Tim, and I’m saying this as clearly and plainly as I can,”

This time he nods along to his words and prays he’s doing the right thing and says, “You are allowed to ask questions.”

Tim starts to sniffle again and Bruce knows he’s done right, “you can ask anything, Ducky, even something small and pointless or something huge and personal or even just something without a definite answer. We’re here to help you, not hinder you.”

This time Tim cries and by all definitions it’s a wail, a heartbreaking and tragic wail of pure emotion as he sobs into his father’s arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought- god I was so angry and it was all my fault and I-I’ll

Bruce shuts that down immediately, “no it wasn’t, we should have done better to show you it was okay before hand. Yes, you did put more power to this than you should have but by all accounts it makes sense, and at the same time-“ because two truths are possible and important, win for Dialectic Behavioural Therapy “-we had a duty to you to notice and act on it. I knew something was up and I didn’t do anything even though I’m a detective and your carer, and that is on me. I admit that.”

Tim just cried harder and tries to shake his head no but then Bruce holds him tighter and he can’t.

He does feel stupid, like he made a big deal out of something small, but it was so big to him growing up and he wanted better but just… couldn’t take the chance.

But Bruce seems to want to understand and in a lot of ways already does, so…

“Okay. Okay, I believe you.”

Bruce smiles and kisses his head, “Thank you, Ducky.”

Dick and Alfred, standing by the doorway, both give each other a nod and start working out how to explain this to the Damian ‘Change Is My Worst Enemy’ Wayne.

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.

[yourlocallgothamite]

"Rest Now, Beloved." - D.W.

Damian Wayne x Reader Oneshot

Summary: Can't sleep? It's okay, let Damian soothe you. In other words: the one in which Damian leaves patrol early to comfort his beloved who needs him.

a.n.: first time writing a drabble/one-shot

word count: 1,034 words

⸻

The clock on your nightstand glows 2:03 AM. You lie still beneath the weight of your blanket, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as your mind refuses to quiet down. The familiar pull to open your phone tugs at you—no, you shouldn’t bother Damian. He’s probably deep into patrol, or worse, fighting crime in the dead of night.

But the silence is too loud. You find yourself typing anyway.

You: Are you still on patrol?

Almost instantly, a new message pops up.

Dami💖: Yes

Dami💖: Beloved, it’s 2 AM. Why aren’t you asleep?

You bite your lip, fingers trembling as you try to reply despite the rising tears blurring your vision.

You: Ican’t sleep.

Then the waiting starts.

Seconds drag into minutes.

No reply.

Left on read.

Your thumb hovers over the screen, heart unexpectedly heavier in the quiet.

You turn off your phone screen and turn around, facing the wall, as you hugged your pillow, letting the tears fall freely down your face.

You don't know what's wrong. You just feel so sad. All the pent up stress and sadness that had been piling up in your heart suddenly bursting out in the form of unrelenting sobs and tears.

⸻

Damian moved silently through the shadows of Gotham’s rooftops, the cool night air sharp against his skin. His phone buzzed softly in one of the many pockets on his Robin suit—a notification lighting up the screen. He took it out of his pocket and glanced down just to see a message from his beloved.

Beloved: Are you still on patrol?

He typed out his response.

You(D.W.): Yes.

You(D.W.): Beloved, it’s 2 AM. Why aren’t you asleep?

He furrowed his brows, waiting for a reply.

Beloved: I can’t sleep.

...

Oh.

'I can’t sleep.'

His beloved can't fall asleep.

The flicker of something soft stirred inside him. He turned the phone off, sliding it into his utility belt with deliberate care. Tonight, he hadn't wanted any distractions. But this—the quiet vulnerability in your text—was different.

His beloved needed him. He knew what he had to do.

He pressed his gloved hand to his ear, activating the commlink. “Am I still needed?” His voice was calm, almost unusually measured. “Because I’m logging off patrol early. I am not answering any questions at the moment. We shall discuss whatever you want at a later time.”

Over the comms, voices from multiple different lovations across the city filtered in—his brothers and father. A chorus of surprise and mild suspicion.

“Are you sure, Damian?” Tim’s voice was cautious.

But Bruce simply said, “If that’s what you want. Just be careful.”

With that, Damian cut the connection. No one could argue with the tone in his voice tonight.

He took a deep breath and vanished into the night, heading home—not the one made of walls and a roof, but the one made of your arms and your hair and your scent. Because nothing mattered to him more than his beloved.

⸻

The window slides open silently, and Damian slips into your room like a shadow—still clad in his Robin suit, every piece a reminder of the night’s dangers. But none of it matters now.

You’re curled on your bed, trembling, your tears soaking into your pillow. The sight shatters something deep inside him—like the sharp crack of glass breaking in the stillness of the night.

His chest tightens painfully, a weight heavier than any armor he’s worn. Seeing you so vulnerable, so broken, tears at his soul, twisting his heart in ways words cannot reach. The silent sobs you try to stifle echo in his mind like a haunting melody, a raw ache that settles under his skin.

He steps closer, wanting to comfort you, breath caught in his throat, but he suddenly remembered the way you didn't find the material of his suit comfortable to lean on.

Without a word, Damian moves to the small dresser where he keeps a spare set of clothes—soft fabrics meant for moments like this. He strips off his suit with quiet urgency, the armor falling away to reveal the boy beneath, the one who aches for you.

Dressed now in a black T-shirt and sweatpants, he slides onto the bed beside you. Carefully, he reaches out, guiding you gently until you’re resting against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear a balm for the storm inside you.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as if holding you could mend the fractures in your soul.

“I’m here,” his voice whispers in the darkness, low and steady, a promise unspoken but fiercely felt.

And for the first time that night, the quiet is no longer empty—it is filled with the warmth of his presence, a fragile shield against the sadness that tried to claim you.

⸻

Your body trembles against him, every shudder a silent scream you don’t have the strength to voice. But his arms around you are steady, unwavering—an anchor in the swirling chaos inside your chest.

You feel the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, a gentle thrum that begins to unravel the tight coil of anxiety twisting inside you. His breath is soft against your hair, warm and steady, a quiet reassurance that you’re not alone.

At first, you cling to him with a mix of desperation and fear. Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt, nails digging in like lifelines.

But slowly, the tension begins to ease. Your muscles relax, the sobs quiet into soft breaths. You stop cringing from the contact, letting yourself simply be held.

You feel his hands brush lightly over your back in soothing, almost reverent strokes—as if afraid to break you further, but determined to comfort every shattered piece.

Your eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion from months of silent battles finally catching up. The world outside your window dims, your mind surrendering to the warmth and safety held in his embrace.

Before sleep claims you fully, you feel the gentlest pressure—his lips brushing softly against your forehead. It’s a quiet kiss, full of unspoken promises: of protection, of love, of always being there.

His whispered breath hums against your skin. “Rest now, beloved.”

And as your eyes close, you finally let go—cradled by him, held safe from the night.

⸻

[prlssprfctn]

I know we love discussing Jason being hater in Internet (which is very true, and I think he simultaneously does it from both his own name and Red Hood, depending on who/what he hates at the given moment), but I suggest you this: Jason has an anonymous account to defend his favs on internet. Specifically, vigilantes and superheroes. Specifically, his family members or friends.

And no one needs to know that.

Jason, from his fake account: I think Batman fumbled the case, tbh. But we gotta give some respect to Robin, he did great.

Someone replying to him: Right??? Batman is getting old and predictable, lmao

Jason, in the instant: Lol, what would YOU know about Batman. Watch your goddamn mouth. Idiots like you are alive because Batman is in this town.

Random on internet: Uhh, Arsenal? Lol. Isn't that one Arrow's boy that became a junkie, lolol.

Jason, appearing out of nowhere: *five thousand word essay about Arsenal, his merits, and how insensitive society that ends up with passive-agressive "hope it helps!" sentence*

Random hater: Red Robin is easily the most useless bird in Bats, idc.

Jason, spawning in comments: Say that again

Of course, if you try to question Jason about that matter, he will never admit it. In fact, he often switches accounts if he feels like any of Bats are close to finding out who is writing these furious reddit posts, but. But Barbara knows. And every time Jason tries to bully someone in the family in real life, she can't help but tease him subtly.

Jason: Urgh, man, you suck. How could you miss these idiots?

Tim, frustruated: Fuck off

Barbara, in comms: User "WonderSon" would drag your ass for bullying Red, btw.

Tim: Yes, he fucking wouldddd

Jason: ...

Jason: *tired sigh*

[allsteddie]

Since his father won’t let him have any pets, Steve volunteers at the animal shelter.

He loves working there, even though it’s hard work. He helps out with cleaning duty, feeds the puppies and kittens, plays with them to keep them active and gives a hand to Dr. Miller when the patient she’s treating is more distressed than usual. Steve does a little bit of everything around the place, really.

Then, one day, Eddie Munson shows up at the shelter with a scrawny looking puppy in his arms. The poor thing is trembling in his hold, but doesn’t seem strong enough to do much else.

Steve’s at the front desk when Eddie arrives. The older boy looks surprised to see Steve there, but doesn’t mention it. Instead, he explains he rescued the puppy when he saw it almost get run by a car. Unfortunately, he can’t take it back home with him because his uncle is badly allergic to dogs and they also have very limited space in the trailer.

“It’s okay, man,” Steve says, in a placating tone. “That’s what we’re here for.”

He asks Eddie to bring the puppy with him and leads him to the back room, so he can explain to Dr. Miller what happened.

That’s the first time Steve and Eddie have anything close to a conversation, but it’s not the last. On the following months, Eddie becomes a frequent visitor to the shelter. He comes by at least twice a week to see the dog he rescued, always bringing some kind of treat for the puppy. They end up naming it Thorin after Eddie’s insistence.

In the end, Steve and Eddie become real friends. Not only Eddie is always visiting the shelter to see Thorin, he also comes back because, color him shocked, Steve Harrington is actually a really nice guy and hanging out with him is fun; who knew the King of Hawkins High could be such a dork? Eddie’s impressed.

(And if Steve also really likes to spend time with Eddie and develops a tiny little crush on him? Well, that’s something he still gotta discuss with Robin first, before taking any chances.)

[ochibrochi]

spontaneous magic manifestation was NOT mentioned in the parenting handbook 😬

I know this isn’t how magic in dc works, but the fact that Damian’s ancestry includes some pretty powerful magic users is… INTERESTING 🤔? Drabble under the cut!

I wanna preface that I'M NOT SAYIN' that Damian should/does have magic powers, but there’s still so much unexplored potential with Damian's character, and the thought that he has a dormant adeptness in magic is somewhat compelling to me. Most importantly it would FREAK! BRUCE! OUT!!!!! What is this, magic puberty 😭??

By DC laws, anyone has the ability to learn magic, but it is also possible to be an innate ability. The Al Ghuls are no strangers to the occult-- Ra's has had increasingly been portrayed as a magic user, and the recent establishment of his mother being a sorceress/witch?? Even Talia dabbled in a bit of magic, I think. There is a catch that their power is suggested to be due to Lazarus exposure, but for arguments sake let's say the Al Ghul lineage is inherently proficient in magic (and Lazarus exposure simply enhances it).

I can't recall "magic" being a part of Damian's training/upbringing (I'm still slowly catching-up on Damian comics so apologies if I miss any canon examples of magic use). Not sure why Talia wouldn't want her little "heir to an ancient assassin empire baby" to learn magic, but it would at least give reason to Damian not knowing about his magic potential, or lack of interest in it.

Through the power of pseudo storytelling, what if Damian's encounter with Mother Soul could have triggered a manifestation of magic that was once dormant; like a pressure cooker waiting to explode with energy when it hasn't been given a safe outlet.

I've yet to read a satisfying arc where Damian truly gets to contemplate his Al Ghul roots outside of "dad is good guy, mum is bad guy". Damian's initial character growth stems from him running away from, and renouncing his association with the League (i.e. "I'm nothing like you, mother and grandfather!").

The most recent thing I've read was Robin (2021), and whilst Damian is much more cordial with his mother, there's still an emotional distance and sense of distrust/resentment (for good reason, even if the context was some cartoonishly evil writing). But there is a silver-lining that they still appear to be fond of each other, in a melancholy kind of way.

Realizing he's "genetically" primed for magic would be especially confronting to Damian. There's no denying his Al Ghul blood, forcing him to confront a facet of himself he can no longer ignore or reject. A family that he likely has to approach for help/guidance.

Damian is put in a position of acknowledging this power could be used for good, to be stronger, to fight crime, balancing it with the implication that what he possesses could be rooted in dark magic (Lazarus enchantment).

If he decides to embrace it, would that be too much of an endorsement of the Al Ghul's dark occultism? Can he separate the two ideas? What if he can't control it? What if he accidentally hurts someone? What if has the ability to save someone where his other skills fall short?

Ideally, I'd love for this hypothetical story to lead into Damian exploring his Al Ghul heritage more intimately, historically, and spiritually (à la RSoB: Year of Redemption adventures). Another little coming-of-age self discovery journey.

I have my own little personal thoughts on what Damian decides to do with his magic powers, but I'd like to leave that open to interpretation... By the end of it I hope that he will at least find some forgiveness over resentment, and a balance between accepting that side of his family a little easier. It is finally a sense of inner peace :)

Any thoughts? Did I get any characterisation wrong? Let's talk over on my DC blog @arkhamochi! I'm currently trying to read all Damian-centric comics until I catch up with the current run. I'm hungry for discussion and analysis!!!!!!

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

ephemeral pt.2

Pairing: Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k words

A/N: I'm pretty sure I tagged everyone who asked, really sorry if I missed yours if I did

part 1

Six months ago, when you awoke in the hospital after an attack on Gotham by the Witch Boy, Klarion, the nurses informed you that you had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. The only problem was: you couldn’t remember ever being pregnant.

After multiple rigorous tests, you were told that you’d sustained amnesia from a head injury during the chaos. It sounded insane—you couldn’t even remember the baby’s father.

You carried your newborn through the hospital halls, lost and overwhelmed. You had no idea what was about to become of the two of you—you didn’t even know where you lived, and the building where you’d been found had been reduced to rubble.

On your way out, you had the misfortune of passing a specific corridor, clutching Thomas—you didn’t know why you picked that name, it just felt right—to your chest. You watched strangers cry over the loss of their children, their partners, their parents.

You soothed Thomas' soft whimpers into the wisps of hair on his head, covered by a cap one of the nurses had kindly lent you. You didn’t know who you were. You couldn’t remember anything. But Thomas was your son, and regardless of everything, you loved him. You were grateful for him.

At least… you didn’t have to know the pain of losing a child.

And yet—for some reason—you felt like you had lost a child...

That hollow ache in your chest returned as you stood frozen, watching the Bats fight on the rooftop across from you. Killer Moth and Firefly, wreaking havoc with their signature chaos and flames. You were stuck on the roof, having barely escaped with Thomas in your arms when the lobby of your building had caught fire, trapping you above the inferno.

You watched as Red Hood tried to subdue him, cowering at the edge of the rooftop, holding Thomas so tightly that he began to squirm in discomfort but you didn't yield your grip.

The flames were slowly crawling up the building and you were beginning to sweat, feeling tears well in your eyes and a punch to your stomach every time you watched Red Hood receive a punch from Killer Moth.

And then—everything happened—all at once.

Red Robin landed on the rooftop in a blur of red and black, his voice sharp yet calm as he called out to you, “I’m here to get you both out of this. Stay with me.”

But before you could even process his words, Killer Moth lunged—his grotesque figure diving straight for you and Thomas.

It happened in slow motion.

A sharp intake of breath. The weight of Thomas in your trembling arms. The sickening realization that you couldn’t move fast enough.

But then, a streak of leather and metal crashed into Killer Moth mid-air. Red Hood tackled him with brutal force, the two of them colliding before tumbling over the edge of the building.

A scream left your mouth before you had any idea what was going on—

"JASON!"

You wanted to scream and cry in Red Robin's grasp as he carried you off to another building, grappling away. You needed to see if Red Hood was okay—you didn’t know why, but you had to make sure he was unhurt. You couldn't lose him—not again.

If it wasn’t for the crying baby in your arms, you would’ve kicked and wailed.

You don't know what happened in the next couple minutes, it felt like you had been blown in every direction by the wind until you found yourself in the Batcave surrounded by the remaining bats.

Even though they were trying to be subtle, you could still hear their whispered discussions. You weren’t supposed to—after all, they were the Bats, trained in the art of silent communication—but somehow, you could pick up on their words with ease. It was almost like you had been trained for it yourself.

Batman was asking Red Robin how he could bring you here, and Red Robin responded without hesitation, How could I not?

You clutched your baby closer to your chest, seeking comfort in his warmth as an odd sense of familiarity settled over you. The Batcave, with its cold metal and dim lighting, should have felt foreign, but instead, it gnawed at the edges of your mind like a memory just out of reach.

Your eyes flickered around the cavernous space, noting little details that made your stomach twist with unease.

Someone had moved the giant coin. It was supposed to be behind the dinosaur.

Wait.

How did you know there was a coin there?

You looked around, your gaze bouncing between faces, between artifacts, between things that all felt like pieces of a puzzle—except you had no idea what the completed picture was supposed to be. You could only sense when two pieces fit together.

Then, Robin stepped forward.

“Ummi?”

Your brows furrowed. That word—Ummi—why did it feel like you had heard it so recently? Your mind waded through the fog, and behind the haze, a vision emerged. A small figure in green, no taller than the boy standing before you. Sharp eyes. Determined stance.

Where had you seen him before?

Your gaze drifted again, sweeping over the others.

Nightwing. Red Hood. Red Robin. Robin.

Four boys.

Four Robins.

Why did that feel so familiar?

Robin hesitated, his usual sharp confidence laced with something vulnerable.

“Ummi… do you recognize me?”

Your mouth opened—then closed.

Your lips trembled as your heart pounded against your ribs.

You wanted to say yes.

But the words wouldn’t come.

"Ummi! It's me!" He stepped forward again, grabbing your hand and this time it was Red Hood that stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"Robin, stop it, we shouldn't force mo—her."

"Damian." You whispered and the cave fell silent. All of the boys—your boys—turned to you with expressions of shock. Damian had frozen in his place, watching you with stinging eyes that had widened behind the domino.

"You were—" You gasped, "You were the boy at the park."

He took a step closer to you and it was like all your memories had began to flow back into your brain, like something had finally been unlocked after so long.

Damian reached for you but stopped himself short, almost like he was afraid that you would evaporate into thin air if he touched you.

"I knew it," You gasped, choking on tears, "I knew I had known you from somewhere. My soul knew my baby's precious face anywhere."

His expression that had been so full of longing that day, looking painfully at the person that he wanted but could not have.

You remembered not that long ago, he had been staring up at you with a very different expression...

"Ummi!" Damian ran up to you, a photo frame clutched in his arms. Before you had gotten pregnant, he would have collided with you like a rocket, giggling if you managed to catch and lift him in time or breaking into peals of laughter if he ended up knocking you off your feet.

Since your bump had become noticeable, he had been extremely gentle, refusing even to hug you too tightly. As he neared you, he slowed his sprint in the last few feet, his smile bright with excitement as he clutched his gift to his chest.

"I have a gift for the baby." He announced.

You smiled down at him, gently running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He leaned into your touch, standing on his tiptoes as you bent down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Oh, really? May I see it?"

He handed you the picture frame, revealing a beautiful watercolor painting of a group of robins perched on a branch. At first glance, they looked nearly identical, but upon closer inspection, each one was unique. The largest of the four had a lone white feather on the top of its head. Another had soft yellow shading on its wings. A third, with a faint blue tint in its shadow, gazed at the others as if watching over them. And finally, the smallest robin, speckled with green, soared through the air, as if looking down on the remaining three.

Your fingers gently traced over each robin, and in them, you saw the faces of your sons superimposed. Turning to your youngest with a grin, you said, "It's beautiful, Dami."

His smile turned a little shy, "I was hoping you'd hang it in the nursery, so the baby always has his brothers looking over him."

Your eyes misted, and while Damian might have blamed it on the hormones, his thoughtful gesture was what truly moved you beyond words. You hugged and kissed him once again.

"Why don't we find the perfect place to hang it right now?" You suggested.

Hand in hand, he followed you to the nursery, his excitement matching your own.

It felt like you were underwater, body feeling weightless all of a sudden that you couldn't control your shaky legs and you tumbled to the ground.

Luckily, Jason was there to catch both you and Thomas, always there as a reliable shadow your you and your youngest to rely on. You looked up at him, realizing how painful it must have been for him to stand back and watch you walk away that day in the rain.

A memory trickled back to your head...

"I'm sorry I couldn't attend the baby shower, Ma." Jason apologized, sitting beside you on the couch. Your hands were neatly folded over your bump and you gave him a gentle smile, running your hands through the cute little white streak in his hair. Jason insisted he had them before the viral 'money pieces' began making waves on social media and that he was the 'OG'—whatever that meant.

"It's okay, baby. It was just for PR anyway. I know you wouldn't have had fun around all those fuddy-duddies."

Jason gave you a half-grimace, half-chuckle. Ever since you had found out you were pregnant, you had insisted on avoiding bad language, claiming that the baby could hear you—or at least pick up on the bad vibes. Alfred had taken to this with great pleasure, always the promoter of the idea that "swearing shows you have poor verbal skills."

"I'm just lucky I was able to play the pregnancy card and turn in early. Your poor father is still entertaining them."

"Oh, yeah I was wondering where he was; he's usually stuck to you like a barnacle unless he's on patrol."

You chuckled at this; he wasn't wrong. Ever since you found out you were expecting both father and sons have been following every single step of yours. You'd be heavily disturbed if you didn't know this was their way of showing you their love and devotion. In fact, the only reason Damian wasn't currently beside you was because it was past his bedtime.

"Anyway, I just came here to give you this." Jason placed his gift onto your lap and you glowed at the sight of the adorable baby blanket. It was grey and patterned with bats. You chuckled, looking it over and feeling the soft material, wondering if he had tried and failed to find one with his own logo on it.

"It's wonderful, Jace, thank you. We love it." You smiled, patting your belly. Jason returned your grin, pecking your forehead instead of reaching for a hug to prevent you from moving. He knew just how long it would've taken you to find a comfortable position.

"I monogrammed it too." He revealed, unfolding the blanket and showing you the corner of the blanket that had a neat 'T.W.' embroidered into it. Your fingers daintily traced over the letters. Currently, only family knew that you were having a yet another son and that you had already picked out his name. 'Thomas Wayne' after Bruce's father, of course.

"I did it myself." He admitted bashfully, scratching his hot cheeks and you simpered, holding it to your chest.

"I love it."

A fresh wave of tears came to your eyes as you realized the blanket was probably burned to ash along with your other belongings. Thomas began crying in your embrace but your hands were shaking too much for you to soothe him.

"I've got him, mom." Dick lulled, taking the baby from your arms. Usually, you wouldn't have handed over your baby to just anyone. But this was your son, your oldest.

He held him to his chest, rocking his baby brother in his arms, "Hi, Thomas. I'm Dick, your biggest brother. It's so great to finally meet you."

Dick released a shaky breath, pressing his nose to his chubby cheek. Thomas didn't fret or fuss, holding onto the pocket of Dick's shirt in a tight fist, staring up at his big brother with wide, curious eyes.

Your heart clenched at the sight of his muscles subtly flexing as he fought the instinct to hold Thomas too tightly. It saddened you that he was only meeting Thomas now, especially when you remembered just how excited he had been to meet his little brother...

Dick stared at you and Bruce apprehensively as you both gave him nervous grins.

“Dickie, we have something we want to tell you, and since you’re the oldest, we wanted to let you know first.”

Before you could get another word out, Dick was already interrupting.

“Oh my god, tell me you guys aren’t getting a divorce. I know I don’t live with either of you, but I couldn’t stand it.”

Your brows furrowed. What on earth gave him that impression?

“What? No, baby, we’re not getting a divorce.”

Dick let out a dramatic breath of relief, placing a hand over his chest—only for his expression to shift into horror a second later.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you’re inviting a third into your marriage. I know I don’t live with either of you, but I really couldn’t stand that either.”

“What on earth—no! Nothing of the sort is happening,” you said, exasperated.

Bruce sighed beside you, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Richard.”

You pointed at Dick before he could launch into another wild theory. “Richard Grayson Wayne, let us finish what we have to say.”

Bruce finally spoke up, “You’re getting another younger sibling.”

Dick blinked. His mouth opened, then closed as his brain processed the words.

“You’re adopting another kid?!”

“Not quite,” You replied.

His eyes narrowed as he turned to Bruce, suspicion laced in his voice, “Someone else stole your DNA and made another bio kid?”

Bruce gave him a flat look, but before he could answer, you smirked, “I wouldn’t say stole it… more like he gave it to me.”

You watched as the gears turned in Dick’s mind. His sharp blue eyes drifted downward, finally noticing the way your hand rested on your stomach.

The realization hit him like a truck.

His expression morphed from confusion to absolute bewilderment, “Ew! You both have sex?!”

You and Bruce gaped at him.

“Richard!”

Bruce groaned, running a hand down his face, while you sputtered out a laugh.

Dick’s horrified expression held for only a second longer before it cracked, melting into a wide grin. He let out a laugh, shoulders shaking.

“I’m just messing with you guys.” His voice softened as he stepped forward, pulling you into a hug, “I’m so happy for you! Congratulations, Mom.”

You hugged him tightly, your fingers running soothingly through his hair as you kissed the top of his head.

“You’re such a great big brother already. I just know this baby is going to love you.”

You caught a glance of Timmy standing beside him, waiting patiently for his turn with the newest member of the family and you sobbed into your hand recalling the way he watched you through the rear view mirror of your car that day at the grocery store.

He was always left on the sidelines, just waiting.

"Why didn't you tell me then, my baby? Why didn't you bring us home?" You cried, pulling him into your arms and running your hands through his hair.

"We thought you'd be safer this way." Tim explained, "Klarion was going to stop at nothing to get to us. We didn't want to push you away, but when you woke up with no your memory of us, we thought—we thought—"

Your poor baby, always thinking of others, always thinking of what was best for you...

You should have known.

The one day your husband and sons were given a rare, mandatory day off—to relax, take care of themselves, and maybe catch up on much-needed sleep—you should have known Tim would go the other way.

With the Batcave under strict lock and key for the night unless there was an emergency, it was only a matter of time before he got restless. Which was precisely why he stormed into the theater room, tablet in hand, while you were curled up against Bruce’s chest.

“Okay, so I did my research, and I’ve optimized the most optimal hospital bag for when you go into labor.”

You lifted your head off Bruce’s chest in surprise, barely registering the way he paused the movie. If you were being honest, you weren’t really watching it anyway. You had been too focused on the steady rhythm of your husband’s heartbeat, the warmth of his arms around you, and the quiet intimacy of just existing together.

“Tim, honey,” You said gently, “we don’t need a hospital bag yet. I’m only four months along.”

“You can never be too prepared,” He countered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Now, experts recommend having a detailed but brief birth plan so any emergency doctor can read it and get caught up quickly. We should probably discuss what we’re going to do.”

You shared a glance with Bruce, amusement flickering between you.

Then, turning back to your third son, you opened your arms invitingly, “Come here, Timmy. Let’s look at it together.”

Tim made no qualms about settling into your lap, angling the tablet toward you as he began scrolling through his meticulously compiled notes. You hummed softly, your fingers carding through his hair, rubbing gentle circles against his scalp.

At first, he kept talking, rattling off statistics, expert recommendations, and contingency plans—but soon, his words began to slow. His blinks stretched longer, and before you knew it, he had completely passed out, his breathing deep and even against you.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, looking at Bruce, whose lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“I hope the new baby is as easy as him,” You whispered.

Bruce pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice low and amused, “Not a chance.”

Tim swallowed painfully and you brought him back into the hug, patting his back gently as he inhaled deep breaths. Despite everything, you still wore the same perfume, even though your clothes and hair held onto the smell of smoke, underneath it all was the scent of his mother.

Damian joined you on your place on the floor, sliding to his knees in front of you to join in on the hug, the three of you enveloped by Jason's towering figure. You peppered kisses and apologies to their faces, wiping each of their tears dutifully but letting your own skate down your cheeks.

Finally, your gaze turned to the last man standing in the room.

Bruce.

Your breath hitched as you took a shaky step forward. Then another. And another.

You had missed him. You hadn’t even realized how much until this moment. Bruce, your boys—your family—had filled a hole inside you that you never knew was there. And now, standing before him, the father of your children, the love of your life, that emptiness was suddenly unbearable.

The second you reached him, your hand lifted to cup his face, desperate to feel his skin. Then, just as quickly, you smacked him.

Hard.

The sharp crack echoed through the room, snapping him out of his stupor.

“How could you?” You choked out, your voice thick with emotion, “How could you let our boys go without their mother? How could you let me have Thomas alone? How long were you planning to let this go on? You inconsiderate, horrible, stubborn oaf!”

Each word was punctuated by a fist against his chest—not truly meant to hurt him, just a desperate attempt to make him feel everything you had endured.

Bruce didn’t move. Didn’t defend himself. He only stared, his blue eyes wide, as if he was afraid that if he blinked, you would disappear.

You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward, crashing your lips against his. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, making the kiss taste of salt and sweet.

“I missed you.” You sobbed against his mouth, “I missed you so much.”

A broken sound rumbled deep in his chest as he kissed you back, fiercely, desperately. His arms wrapped around you like he was afraid to let go, like if he held you tightly enough, he could make up for all the lost time. You squeezed your eyes shut, reveling in the feeling of being held after so long.

Then Thomas’s babbles grew louder, turning into a full-blown whine. His tiny arms flailed as he struggled against Dick, demanding attention.

You pulled away, breathless, as you turned to your baby, scooping him up into your arms. He fussed, wriggling, still unsatisfied with even your touch.

With a teary laugh, you turned back to Bruce, your smile wobbly but bright.

“Bruce,” You whispered, voice full of love, “Meet your son. Thomas Wayne.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, and for the first time since you stepped into the room, his mask cracked. His hands trembled slightly as he reached forward, brushing his fingertips across Thomas’s chubby cheek.

Thomas grinned up at him, giving him a gummy smile as he began kicking his feet in joy. You were barely able to keep your hold steady on him when Bruce held out his arms and you readily passed his son to him.

He looked down at the baby in his arms, every bit his father's son and Bruce felt the dam break.

His family was whole again.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@el-hrts

ephemeral pt.2 taglist:

@jsprien213

@fanfics4ever

@anonomous-chick

@thegirlwiththeyarn

@kore-of-the-underworld

@sofiafantasies

@pansyitcanton

@hayleym1234

@mikajack9273

@of-poetry-and-dreams

@noone-here111

@jellystar-star

@randomnamedmira