#seeing Batman frightened is one thing

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Instead of Dick or Tim, Red Hood straight up goes for kidnapping Bruce Wayne and keeping him hostage just to see how desperate the birds get in trying to find him.

It’s a foolproof plan. Batman won’t blow his cover unless absolutely necessary, and “Brucie” would never know how to slip away from a crime lord of Red Hood’s caliber. It’s foolproof. It’s perfect. Jason can keep dropping hints and make threats towards the birds and watch Bruce squirm without consequences if he plays this right.

But then “Brucie” keeps begging him not to hurt his kids…

[l0vergirls]

just a little something that's been on my mind for a while now, like it's actually rotting my brain.

cw: stalking, a bit nsfw near the end, just general yandere stuff, not proof-read!!!!! so sorry if its a bit messy !!!!

★ (romantic) yandere!batfam x reader

imagine being the shared darling of the batfam.

it only takes one of them for the rest to fall in love with you, too.

let's say you meet tim during one of the days he actually decides to go to class, and he's thanking the heavens he did.

slowly, he starts to integrate himself into your daily life, and into your friend group. they all love him, of course. who wouldn't love the kind, funny, and handsome tim drake?

during all of this, he'd already told his brothers about you, and because they can't hide anything from bruce, he finds out about you too. unsurprisingly, they come to appreciate you as much as tim has.

and suddenly, you get a particularly handsome new neighbour in the apartment across from you (which you didn't know was even up for rent) and somehow always seems to be in the middle of stripping when you're home. almost as if he can feel your eyes on him. of course, you make sure not to get caught, and avert your eyes as soon as the cloth leaves his waist.

later, you find out his name is jason, and make a good friend out of him. he smokes on his balcony, while you drink coffee on yours.

barely a week after that, you get a new regular at the café you work at. his name's dick grayson. he says it's probably best for you to yell out his last name for his orders too. he's a detective, which explains the late nights he comes into the café. he's always got a stupidly handsome smile on his face, which only adds onto his neverending charm.

and during the occasion that you're walking home alone, you always seem to run into one of the many vigilantes that guard gotham.

you meet both batman and robin during one of your walks home. you're not scared of them, as most people are; you're merely fascinated at the tall figure that towers over you, and his more colourful counterpart that is also taller than you. robin seems to be just a couple years younger than you. and batman... you can't seem to get a read on the man.

you greet them both as calmly as you can, a small smile on your lips. you get nods of acknowledgment from both of them, which you suppose is the most you're getting.

batman doesn't seem to like that you're walking alone, so he sends robin to walk you home. you don't understand why, and you tell them you've walked this route many times already, that they probably have worse things to take care of.

he tells you that you can never be too sure in gotham. with the way he says it, in that gravelly tone, you can't find yourself to disagree.

on your walk, now with robin's company, you feel safer. you also find out this robin is a man of few words, very unlike the last few robins yet much like batman.

the next night, you run into red robin, who has an air of familiarity around him. he's real friendly— in fact, it's almost like talking to a friend. you think you've seen his smile before.

the night after that, you meet nightwing in all of his spandex-clad glory. he's charming, almost flirty.

and for a week, you don't bump into any of the vigilantes, but you do feel watched. you should be frightened, by all means, but you have a feeling deep in your stomach that tells you they won't hurt you. whoever they are.

you see red hood after that week. he's the more intimidating one of the bunch, you reckon. you've nothing to be scared of, knowing he (along with all the others) only goes after the real awful people. you're not guilty of anything, as far as you know.

his voice is almost robotic, as if being run through a voice changer. it doesn't do much to help his image, though you suppose that's the point. he asks what a little thing like you is doing walking around these parts. you say you're just heading home, like all the times you've met one of them.

he lets you on his motorcycle. if you were paying enough attention, maybe you would've felt his heart beating a mile a minute.

your days go on like this for a while. class, work, walk home with one of gotham's protectors. rinse and repeat.

unbeknownst to you, cameras have been planted all around your apartment. in many angles of your bedroom too, save for your bathroom. they've decided to give you privacy in there. no matter how much dick begged.

though they do have clips saved of you walking around in just a towel, or your underwear. god knows what they're doing with those.

but truly, can you blame them? you've invaded the deepest crevices of their minds, your smell lingering on their noses, and the shape of your lips following them in their dreams.

oh, they can vividly see— almost feel your lips on theirs, and they wonder what you look like when your face is scrunched up from pleasure, as their fingers enter you.

but they'll have to wait a little longer. and they'll be damned if they lose you, when you're playing right into their hands.

this got so long !!!! i had to let this all out somewhere <//3 definitely gonna add more but i needed to cut it off at this 😭😭😭😭

[sonnyaavce]

DP x DC prompt # 6

There’s a kid crying, a blue skinned white headed kid that was just sitting there crying his eyes out in a panic as he was covered in a very large and dark cloak that was dwarfing him… that was cute to see but, the thing wouldn’t be an issue if there weren’t for the clusterfuck of dead cultist surrounding a green ominous portal under him while the poor kiddo shed luminescent tears nonstop.

“Why is there a kid?” ‘dumb question to ask Captain but sure let’s go with that yeah?’ scoffed annoyed Constantine after eyeing the magic champion while some of the members of the Justice League finished some of the goons that were still alive and resisting, Constantine just watched in dumbfounded stupor the crying baby eldritch abomination still wailing over there.

“I’ll go check on him first” said Wonder Woman, being the first to react after finishing her part, slowly walking forward with gentle steps and humming tunes to make the small baby calm down a bit and refocus on her. Dianna never went too closer to grab the small kid, but she slowly crouched in front of him, palms out and leveling her face in a calm expression, so the kid wouldn’t freak out while she still hummed songs and cooed calming words.

The poor kid wails gradually subsided and ‘oh my god, why are those eyes way too green!’ His eyes were completely black except his irises being a bright neon green shine, his small body trembled when only small hiccups stayed, in his small crying fit the lad had ended up sucking his thumb in a desperate attempt to calm down while looking for any non-frightening competent adult and after only seeing Dianna in front of him he tried to raise his small arms towards her but immediately cried as his arms wouldn’t move at all.

“I think the little boy is injured…” said Wonder Woman, breaking the silence once all suspects were aprehended and tied down “explain what you can see Wonder Woman” chastised Batman as he tried to walk towards her to check on the small boy only to be stopped by Superman, who had his eyes shinning red as he looked at the kid “For what I can see, the small child seems to have some broken bones and some internal bleeding… also there’s seems to be a sphere in the middle of his chest?”

“The demon baby is hurt?” Constantine blurted out incredulous, Zatanna wacked him furiously for that comment “if you haven’t heard what Superman said, he said he saw a sphere so it’s not a demon John! it’s a tuttelagé you idiot!”

“How the fuck would you know that isn’t a démonos, Z?!” cussed the magician as he moved a bit back while Zatanna then moved towards Wonder Woman, with spells already healing the poor baby body “tuttelagés are known to be protective spirits of kids that died wishing to protect their loved ones, their wish is then concentrated in their chest as a sphere so to see a young one hurt like this…” Wonder Woman looks grimm at the implications while Zatanna finish healing the young spirit and allows Dianna to pick him up once he’s done healing and calmed down bit.

“Someone must have hurt his protegué so bad that his body is getting affected by it” sentenced Batman as he glared with concern at the small baby who now is now resting his head in Wonder Woman arms and falling asleep.

MEANWHILE

Danny is soo scared and hurt all around his tiny body, the wounds he had while being subjected to the examine table makes him tear up in pain while also making his chest feels funny once the weird forced summoning spell stops pulling his being into existing; green stops flooding his vision only to be meet by a dark and open space full of dead people dressed in weird costumes, so the only answer he has to this is to wail.

Because thats all he can do now, cry. He cries and cries after all what had occurred to him; he cries for his parents betrayal and rejection of his being, he cries for the cruelty they subjected him into, the torture he had to endure and almost making his core break, he cries for his friends deaths when they tried to free him from all his pain but failed.

He cries and cries until the pain into his core is unbearable because he just lost his fright, his connection to the living, his reason of being here. He’s still crying when his senses tenses the moment something changed in his surroundings, he hears fighting and grunting and something falling down and he cries harder; because he’s scared and tired and he just wants Jazz to carry him and…

There’s someone humming, nice humming, calm humming, steps coming closer and then he looks up, scared and hurt and just tired only to find a beautiful black headed and blue eyes woman dressed in a nice outfit crouching in front of him, she’s humming something to him and just looking at him with calm and such gentleness that it makes him croon at her because he feels his core sing ‘she’s nice and pretty and safeSAFEsafeSAFE’ he tries to reach out to her but his arms fell numb and ouchie and he looks up to her, in a silent plea for her so she would carry him but she’s not moving, just looking at him gently.

Until he sees another woman coming closer to them and he tenses up again, afraid and cautious, still a bit frightened by her aura but her hands are starting to glow and he immediately feels his body swaying and feeling a lot better, so he relaxes his body and let’s the pretty woman carry him so he can rest his head and nuzzle asleep.

His core sings pleased ‘I’m safe… she’s nice and safeSAFEsafeSAFE’

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC Prompt: Damian's Friend

I feel like this has been done before so if it has please let me know!

-----

Damian is still learning to make friends. Sure, he has Superboy but according to his brothers and teachers he needed more friends. But why should he bother with new friends when one was already such a pain to keep up with? Social cues were hard to understand, jokes didn't make sense, and most civilians were far too squishy. He could end up hurting them accidentally and that would endanger his secret identity.

Though he quickly learned that meeting people as Robin made it considerably easier. That's how he ended up meeting Phantom, a 15-Year-Old boy who seemed rather lost. His only explanation for why he was in Gotham had been, "Listen, my mentor told me to come here and to stick with the birds and the bats. I don't know what that is or why I'm here but considering I don't seem to be able to go home yet I can only assume that I haven't found what I was looking for yet."

Phantom was strange, even for a meta. He didn't know what Gotham was, who Superman or Batman were, he had never heard of the Justice League, or even heard of 'metas' until Robin explained it to him. The kid seemed honest and he was staying out of the way of patrols and stuff which was more than most meta's did.

The only time he interfered with any fight was when Robin was cornered in a fight. In theory Robin would have been able to handle it but in the moment he had - admittedly - been a little in over his head. Phantom showed up and not only got Robin to safety but had managed to take down all of the enemies without killing anybody.

From that moment on Robin considered Phantom a friend and had given Phantom the number to one of the burner phones he kept on him during patrols. Phantom never called but would answer any time Robin checked in.

Which came in handy one day when the entirety of the team got trapped when a building came down, including one very frightened Superboy. The team was arguing loudly among themselves as they tried to figure out how to get out while Batman sat to one side with a headwound.

None of them were in good shape.

They were running out of air.

And the team were fighting and wasting even more air.

"We need more help." Nightwing said, "But I don't think Superman could hear us from here and nobody else in the city will be able to reach us before we run out of air."

"I could call my friend." Robin suggested, leaning against the wall.

"Uh..." Everybody looked at Superboy then each other.

"Your what?" Red Hood questioned.

"Is he saying friends?" Whispered Signal.

"Did you hit your head?" Spoiler asked, walking over as Robin stepped away from her.

"No, this is delirium. The air is too thin in here for him." Red Robin said.

"Robin, all your friends are right here." Superboy said.

Robin scoffed. "I have other friends. You guys told me I needed more friends, so I made friends. It was a task which I completed." He said, pulling out his phone as he silently muttered a 'please work' under his breath.

"Aw! I'm so proud of you!" Nightwing doted as Robin rolled his eyes and hit the call button.

"Yo, Robin, you see the collapse?" Phantom's voice said, sounding weirdly echoed on the line, not that it was unusual for Phantom's voice to do such a thing on calls.

"Bigger problems. I was inside the building during the collapse. Batman is down. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan, Signal, Spoiler, and Superboy are all in here with me. We need exfil."

"Oh shit, on my way. I can get all of you out at once but you guys will have to forget what personal space is for a minute." Phantom said as Robin ignored the looks from the others.

"Whatever it takes, but hurry we're running out of air."

"What floor are you on?"

"Basement."

"Got it, I'll be there in just a second." The call turned to static for a moment before Phantom phased through the ceiling and looked at them. "Wow, a party." Phantom said, ending the call and slipping the phone into a bag on his back.

"No time, get us out of here." Robin pushed.

Phantom nodded, "You and you put Batman between you." He ordered Nightwing and Red Hood who after a moment did as they were told, supporting Batman between them. "Now use your free hands and hug me. The rest of you guys hug them and no matter what do not let go of each other or me. If you do you'll die."

"Great, trust the weird glowing kid not to drop us and kill us or die here. This will only go well." Red Hood growled but didn't question it further as they all held onto Phantom.

Robin could feel the ground vanish from under them as they flew upwards through the building and then out into open air. Phantom then took then a safe distance from the building near where the police were and made sure they were all on the ground before he stopped flying.

"There you go. Thanks for riding Phantom-Air." Phantom said, sounding exhausted as he leaned against Robin who frowned up at the taller teen.

"You okay?"

"All good. Been a minute. You guys get checked out. See you around Robin." Phantom said, then flew away as Superboy grabbed Robin's arm.

"Are we going to talk about the fact that your new friend doesn't have a heartbeat?" He said anxiously.

"He... doesn't?" Robin tilted his head.

"No!" Superboy squeaked, "Where did you even meet that kid?!"

"He saved me from being shot. It's no big deal."

"Does B know he exists?" Red Robin asked.

"No."

"Then it's a big deal." The others sighed.

Nightwing shrugged. "Next time introduce us to him properly though, when we're not suffocating in a hole."

"I suppose I will consider it."

Orphan was quiet for a moment, "New brother?"

"NO!" They all said together as she chuckled.

[letoasai]

dp x dc Chronos part 2

Part 1  and Part 3 

The Justice League sat in the Watchtower, some of them at least. The meeting was meant to be a quick one, only certain members in attendance to make sure they were all on the same page after the debrief of the last mission. Not all of them were necessary and most were usually busy. 

Today Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Flash and Green Lantern were in the middle of wrapping things up when the alert sounded. The siren blared twice before the red lights in the corner of each room flashed in an emergency.

“What in the world…” Flash grumbled but was obviously the first to the controls to look for the problem. None of the main alarms had been triggered, none of the doors messed with. No unusual motion noted in parts of the station that were currently vacant. “Weird.” 

“What is it?” Batman was next beside him, arms crossed as he peered at the screen with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s the sensors.” Flash said. “We’re picking up some kind of  interference.” 

“Way up here? What kind?” Green Lantern asked, he’d moved to one of the wide windows of the viewing deck as if he would be able to see something approaching. As things were, there was nothing but the normal vastness of space with Earth to one side.

“No idea.” Flash said. “Never seen something like this before.” 

“Any idea on a location?” Superman asked, appearing by Green Lantern’s side. 

Flash just clucked his tongue, hitting buttons much faster than a normal person. It was almost an irritation that he had to wait for the computer to keep up with him. “I mean, there’s nothing exactly to track yet.” 

“An anomaly then.” Wonder Woman said, leaning back against the conference table they’d all just been sitting around. “Something natural?” 

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Batman said, tone skeptical as he gazed at the screens. 

“Gonna side with that bat on this one.” Flash said, “It’s more like a warning before anything happens. Something setting off the sensors but nothing else? Feels like it was on purpose.” 

Green Lantern rolled his eyes. “What, like something’s knocking before they make themselves known?” 

Before anyone could even offer their opinion on what they thought of something so ridiculous, a spark of green ripped through the air like lightning. Just as quickly it spread out into an obvious portal. Every member of the Justice League sprang into position, circling the phenomenon to block it in from every direction. Things like this shouldn’t have been possible, but it wasn’t the first time an intruder had gotten creative to get inside the Watchtower. 

Without any fanfare, a man stepped out. They presumed it was a man anyway. He was dressed in mostly shades of purple other than his leather boots and gloves. He was covered by a cloak and hood, but when he looked up, it was hard to say what about him was the most unsettling. The red eyes. The blue skin. The pendulum clock that set back into his chest so far that he could only be missing crucial organs. 

“Who are you?” Superman demanded, quickly trying to assess if there would be a fight or not. 

“How did you get here?” Batman said right after, gravel tone somehow more frightening because he was calm. 

The intruder just gestured with his thumb at the portal behind him. “Thought it was rather obvious.” 

“Your purpose?” Wonder Woman asked, looking relaxed but her body was tense and ready to react in a moments notice. 

“My purpose?” He chuckled quietly. In his hand was a staff they’d almost missed before, the top of it cradling a clock. It seemed to be a theme given the number of watches and clocks he wore. “I’ve come to call in a favor. The Justice League owes me several.” 

“We owe you? Ppfff. Yeah right. We don’t even know who you are.” Flash rolled his eyes.

The intruder turned to the Flash, his brow raised. “Speedster, with the amount of times you’ve dabbled in the time stream, you alone owe me your life a fair few times.” 

“Time, huh?” Green Lantern looked him over. There were a lot of clocks... “Guess that’s your schtick.” 

He chuckled again. “I go by many names, only one will be relevant to you today.” He turned his attention onto Wonder Woman who squared up under his gaze. If she was going to be his focus then she’d take him head on. 

“And?” She arched a brow at him. “What name may we call you?” 

He looked amused, red eyes filled with mirth. “You, Diana, may call me grandfather.” 

The room stilled, the others looking around in varying degrees of confusion while Wonder Woman just paled. 

“Chronos. God of time…” she muttered, making it very clear to the team what they were dealing with. A God. 

“I go by master of time these days, but yes. I am that Chronos. I have a task for you, Diana. One i do not think you will turn down but i’ll give you the illusion of choice.” Chronos said, the minute and hour hands on his staff moving strangely. 

“You’re a god, and you come to us for help?” Batman asked, unimpressed no matter the glowers he was being sent by the others. 

“You are the Justice League, aren’t you?” Chronos looked pleased. “Righting wrongs. Defending Earth. Justice is in the name and everything.” 

He didn’t talk like a god. He didn’t even talk as formally as Wonder Woman herself tended to occasionally. 

“Doing tasks for you is asking for trouble.” Wonder Woman muttered. She’d heard stories, so many stories. 

Chronos shrugged. “Time is messy. Keeping it in line is difficult. Especially when there are those who mess with it who should not.” He was not above verbally throwing speedsters under the bus.

“What do you want?” Green Lantern asked, obviously suspicious but paying very close attention. 

“Simple.” Chronos answered, still looking at his granddaughter. “You will take custody of your uncle for a time. He needs a safe place to rest and live.” 

The silence that followed was loud, no one knowing what to make of that. Wonder Woman herself looked puzzled. 

“Are you claiming a sibling of Zeus needs a babysitter?” 

Chronos hummed. “He is my son though he holds no biological relation to your father, i suppose.” 

“Then how is he her uncle?” Flash asked, with a hint of sass. 

“You can ask Batman how it works.” Chronos mused, saying all he would say on the matter but that was enough. 

Wonder Woman couldn’t fathom what kind of person her grandfather would see fit to adopt. ��Are you going to tell me more?” 

“Telling you more would imply you were agreeing to the task.” 

She tsked. “None of your word games. I want to know what i could be walking into.” 

Chronos never once looked threatened or put out, he did however, appear to look a few years older than he had when he’d first appeared. “He recently needed to be removed from his home for his safety. He can easily visit me but staying with me long term at this time is not beneficial to him for health reasons.” 

Superman frowned. “Removed from his home? How old is he?” 

“Sixteen. If that is all you need to know, i will fetch him. It may take some time for him to regain consciousness.”  Chronos said. 

“He’s been hurt?” Batman was frowning at the thought, looking more and more unhappy as the conversation progressed. 

“I did say he was removed from his home.” Chronos said, almost flippantly as he stepped back into his glowing green portal. It remained open, everyone exchanging looks. 

“Diana, is this a good idea?” Superman asked, willing to accept her judgment. Greek gods were more her wheelhouse. 

“Chronos was a titan. Is a titan?” She frowned. “His power is immense for a being thought to be killed.” 

“Something about him is off.” Batman agreed. “He was not worried at all. That is someone aware they have the upper hand.” 

Wonder Woman just nodded her agreement. Chronos was the god of time. There was no telling what he knew. “I’ve never met him before.” 

“Hell of a time for family reunions.” Flash snarked, heading back to the controls to see what readings they could get on the floating portal. It was obvious each of them wanted to study it in their own way. Scans and samples were first on their minds but it was clearly some kind of magic they weren’t familiar with. 

It was almost a shame there wasn’t a single member from JLD currently in the Watchtower. They might have been able to provide answers. 

Before much of anything could be done, Chronos returned, somehow looking several years younger than when he first appeared. In his arms was a lanky teen, cradled carefully as if he were fragile. He was equally a sight that left the League speechless. He wasn’t blue, in fact he looked more or less human other that the freckles that shined. 

Superman was the one to immediately note they were constellation patterned. 

His hair was a stark white that wisped and flowed as if he were under water. His clothes were strange, a detailed variation of an old hazmat suit, all done in black and white. Floating above his head was a crown that didn’t seem to know if it wanted to be on fire or covered in ice. It bobbed back and forth and even did a slow flip in the air but never left the area about the boy’s head. 

When no one uttered a word, Chronos took that as permission to begin the introductions. “Diana, this is your uncle. Danny Phantom. Son of the Stars. The Personification of Balance. The Ghost King. High King of the Infinite Realm.” 

“He’s a king?” Batman frowned. “He’s a boy.” 

“He could be both, Bats. He’s got a crown.” Flash chuckled softly. 

Chronos shared his amusement. “I did say he was only sixteen.” The god paused for a moment as the teen twisted in his arms, his face pressed against Chronos’ shoulder and a hand lightly pressed against the door of the clock embedded into the man’s chest. 

The fact that, even asleep, the boy was comfortable in the gods arms didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Is he injured?” Wonder Woman asked. They’d gone over this already but he didn’t look actively wounded. He seemed to be sleeping only. 

Chronos grunted once. “One form heals faster than the other. He needs rest, ambient ectoplasm which he knows how to get on his own, and food. He can answer your questions if he feels like it.” 

“If he feels like it?” Green Lantern frowned. 

“He’s the King.” Chronos’ lips twitched in amusement again. “If he decides to tell you more, or seek help, that is his decision.” 

“Seek help?” Batman’s eyes were narrowed. “Seek help for what?” 

Chronos approached and shifted the teenager into Wonder Woman’s arms. His crown shifted back and forth but never left the teen. The grip he had on the god wasn’t noticed until he tried to pull away and Chronos needed to carefully extract the boy’s hand. 

Ignoring Batman, he pressed on. “He’ll need to follow up with his doctor by the end of the week. He’ll know how to do that. If he doesn’t, his doctor will come to him. That should be incentive enough.” 

“Does he know you’re dropping him off here?” Superman asked, brows knitted together in concern. The heroes had been expecting a fight, not to be handed a royal teen. 

“He has a fondness for for space, so you might want to let him wake up here.” Chronos said instead, ignoring that question too. He was growing older again, a short, white beard starting to form.

“How long will he need to be in my care?” Wonder Woman asked, noting the boy weighed very little in her arms. In sleep his features were soft, hopefully he was as sweet as he looked. 

“Good luck.” Chronos said, staff reappearing in his hand now, turning back to the portal without giving her an answer. 

“Hey! Wait!” Flash yelled but for once, he was too slow, the god and the portal disappeared. 

Five members of the Justice League just stood in a mild stupor, their attention shifting to the sleeping teen. 

“Well…” Superman muttered. 

Wonder Woman looked at the boy, floating hair and crown moving in tandem. “I’ll set him down. We’ll see if he can answer any of our questions when he wakes up.” 

“You gonna call him Uncle Danny?” Flash asked, not bothering to hide his smile. 

Wonder Woman just ignored him and turned to stride off towards the med-station. -------------------------

------------------------- No idea at all if i’ll continue this. If anyone else wants too, go for it. ^_^

@markus209

[dcxdpdabbles]

Heya! I love your works! You always manage to turn tropes on their heads and make them anew! I was wondering, are you going to continue The Audit? I loved the dynamics of the Bats interacting with Danny, and Damian and Danny's relationship was downright delightful!

Damian rarely got nervous because of the tension in the room. It wasn't in his nature, having been born with Father's ability to keep a cool head.

But watching the stare-down between his Father and Uncle Daniel was very nerve-wracking. He was still determining who was winning at this point. Father had retreated fully into Batman, locking away all and any emotions behind his persona, which was bizarre to see on his maskless face.

Meanwhile, Uncle Daniel's emotions are displayed for the world to see in the heavy set of his jaw, the down pull of his lips, and the ice in his gaze.

Between the two men sat a pile of paper with various red markings. Damian hadn't gotten the chance to review the documents, but he knew there was a lot, and most of it had not been good. He likely failed the audit.

His uncle had stayed at Wayne Manor for three days, despite the many attempts by the Bats besides Damian to get him out. He had been silently observing everything that happened within the manor's walls. Uncle Daniel took his position as an observer in the literal sense.

He did not speak or interact with anyone besides Damian and often ended up scaring his adoptive siblings since they didn't notice him in the room. Damian personally thinks it was their own fault for being frightened. Obviously, they needed more training if they were unable to detect his uncle.

It's not like the man was hiding; he is good at entering rooms as silent as a ghost. Damian knew all other league-raised children could sense when Uncle Daniel was about, so really, people trained by Batman should have caught him miles away.

Todd and Cain were an honest disgrace for failing to notice Uncle Daniel until his pen clicked to write down what he observed. Damian attempted to improve things by presenting the best of Wayne Manor, but he knew the more he tried, the more Uncle Daniel used the red pen.

He only thought he did well on the audit by showing off his various animal friends. Uncle Daniel seemed very taken with Batcow the most, and after helping Damian milk her, he had finally switched the color on his multi-pen to green.

"I will not repeat myself again, Mr. Wayne," Uncle Daniel hissed, snapping Damian from his thoughts. Father's eyes narrowed.

"You deemed me unfit for my son."

"I deem you unfit for all your children."

Father's face remained impassive, but Damian knew him well enough to see the displeasure rolling off his body in waves. "I try my best for my children."

"Not nearly enough." Uncle Daniel reached for the papers, flipping through the handwritten notes to a page, taking on three lines. When Damian leaned over to read, Uncle Daniel's hand shot out and he pushed his head away.

"No, Little One. These are your sibling's personal files. You can not read them." It's mostly because he respects his uncle greatly that he did not throw a fit for being excluded from the conversation. And the fact that his uncle switched over to their native tongue.

It had been startling to realize how much he missed hearing his language. And how warm it made him feel to use it here in Gotham.

Father pulled the paperwork to him. His blue eyes rapidly moved over the words before he flipped to the next page, the next, and the next. Each time, his actions became more frantic until he reached the end.

Then he just stared at the audit his uncle had written with a strange blank look in his eyes. Damian felt very unnerved.

"Damian, go wait in your room," Father said softly, gaze still not lifting from the report.

"What? Father-"

"Now, Damian."

The boy turned to his uncle for help, but the other man merely smiled. "It's alright, Little One. Your father and I will settle this."

It was ludicrous to remove him from the room to discuss his future. Still, Damian knew he would not be able to convince the two most important men in his life of this, and while Uncle Daniel was a pacifist, it didn't mean he was weak in any way.

He would have Damian removed, and walking out with dignity was better. The young ninja huffed, strutting out of the room, down the hall, and up the main stairway to his bedroom. He ignored the various Wayne-adopted dolts that were trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

None of them had learned that if Uncle Daniel did not want anyone hearing his conversations, then no one would hear a thing. This was one of the many mysteries surrounding Uncle Daniel.

No one in the current League of Assiaians knew much about the First Son, mainly because no one had lived as long as he and Grandfather, but they all knew he had extraordinary powers.

Drake is a fool who thinks he can record all of Uncle's abilities when he hasn't even scraped the suffering of everything Uncle Daniel could do.

And he never will. A nasty voice whispers in his mind. Damian opens his bedroom door, taking one final look around, trying to fight off the wave of sadness. He can not say his stay here had been easy, but he had grown attached to his life at Wayne Manor.

It's a foolish attachment. It didn't matter.

He had failed the audit, and Uncle Daniel would have him moved. Damian's eyes burned slightly, making him blink rapidly as he began packing his room.

He had been able to adjust to the sudden move from the league to Gotham; Damian could do it again. He was halfway done getting everything of value stored in his suitcases when his Father appeared at his door.

"Damian? What are you doing?" The man's voice sounds crushed, and Damian refuses to meet his gaze. He needs to leave through the Wayne Manor doors with his dignity.

"I am sure it's quite clear what I am doing, Father." He says, folding his shirts in the military style Pennyworth had shown him. It saved the most space, and the idea that he will never learn more little tricks from the age bullet makes the burn in his eyes stronger.

A few traitorous tears fall, landing on his blue-gry shirt and turning a few spots into a dark blue.

"I won't let him take you," Father promises, strutting towards Damian and hugging him. The child stiffens at once before more tears silently fall down his face.

"You can not stop Uncle. He can take all of us away."

"I know," Father admits. "That's why I have agreed to his terms."

"Terms?"

"Mr. Wayne and I have agreed on a trial period. He will go to therapy to improve his behavior and communication skills with his children. I will be living here and monitoring the progress. It will be one year." Uncle Daniel says suddenly, right next to their hug, his cold arms warping around Damian and overlapping Father's.

Father's face was spammed at the contact, but Damian had never felt so warm or protected.

He sinks into the hug, watching Uncle Daniel's warm, soft gaze stare down at him. Then, his gaze hardens into disgust as Father leans on Damian's hair. Uncle Daniel quickly leans onto the other side of Damian's skull, trying to comfort him.

Relief crashes into Damian. The audit was not over; he still had a year to prove to Uncle that he should live here with Father. He will not be moved.

But it will take a miracle for his father to change that drastically. His uncle would remove him unless Damian could show him that there was something here worth staying for.

He needed a plan, a goal, an appeal to Uncle Daniel's more gentle, idealistic views. But what? He could try to become more brotherly with his adoptive siblings. That could buy him a few more months.

I need something more. Something more binding. Damian thinks, pressing his face into the two men's arms. He does not need comfort like a child, but being held like this is.... pleasant.

"Oh! Family Group Hug!" Richard screams from the hallway before the man is sprinting into the room. Father makes a face but Uncle Daniel opens the hug, leaving a gap for Richard.

The man barrels in with a shout of glee, squeezing the three almost desperately. Damian would make a face, but he understands just how great Uncle Daniel's hugs can be, and added to the fact Father is not one to show displays of affection, this is Richard's best chance to-.

Wait.

That's it! Uncle's one weakness is being there for children who need him. Damian realizes, a plan forming in his mind, as Brown, Drake, and Cain run into the room. They pause at the sight before all three are invited into Uncle's hug. Brown leaps in for her hug, and Cain hesitantly approaches while Drake stays safely away, eyeing the group with distaste.

Uncle Daniel locks eyes with the teenager by the door, offering a sad smile, and Damian can see that he genuinely wants Drake in this hug but will not force him.

He respects Drake's boundaries because, to Uncle Daniel, adoption means family. He considers Drake to be Damian's brother, so he would treat him with the same care and love as he does for Damian.

Usually, that would bother him greatly, but Damian is too proud of himself for thinking of such a great plan.

There was no way Father would change enough in one year to satisfy Uncle into thinking he was a good fit for raising children. That's fine.

All Damian had to do in that year was convince Uncle to stay at Wayne Manor to do the child-raising himself. This way Damian could remain in Gotham, no matter the audit's results.

How does one trap a man in child-raising when none of the children are his biological? Simple. They get them married to someone with children, and Father just so happens to be without a paramour.

Damian has to get two men to fall in love in one year. It should be simple. With Uncle Daniel's protective core and Father's determination to save Gotham, there may be enough common ground between them to spark romance!

"I love you guys!" Richard crows, squeezing everyone he can reach.

"Hn," Father grunts, while Brown and Cain both inform Richard they care for him as well. Damian softly mutters, "I care for you too," which is much better than Father's.

Uncle's snaps.

"Your son said he loves you, but you don't even respond? You are a brute, Mr. Wayne."

"And you are a leech." Father hisses.

Damian winces. This will take a lot of work. Good thing he's never cowered from a challenge.

[sassylittlecanary]

PAUL DINI’S BATMAN SAVE ME

SAVE ME PAUL DINI’S BATMAN

All memes aside, THIS is Batman. The classic, most ideal, most altruistic version of the character. He struggles with darkness within the world and himself, but he cares. His actions are driven by his heart. He’s a hero.

HE CARES. He’s not the Punisher. He doesn’t fight crime because he loves violence or because he’s Mr. Law & Order. He understands that crime hurts people, and that’s why he fights it. Not just because it’s The Right Thing, but because he cares about improving people’s lives. He’s not driven by vengeance. He’s driven by compassion.

This is the man who invests in new jobs and better infrastructure, because he understands that rebuilding communities is crucial to helping the people of Gotham. He understands that the poor aren’t lazy or criminal but instead being taken advantage of by a system that doesn’t care about them, so he uses his wealth and resources to help his city, not caring what profit he makes, because it’s about helping people. It’s always about how much he cares for humanity. He sees light in people, even misguided ones. He believes no one is ever past redemption. Batman doesn’t exist to punish, enforce, or frighten — he exists to help and redeem and persevere in his quest to find goodness in the world and other people.

Just, PAUL DINI’S BATMAN!!!

Batman: War on Crime by Paul Dini and Alex Ross

[nelkcats]

Monster (or not?)

It was a normal day for the Justice League, nothing special had happened, but Batman seemed to have a bad feeling. So when the alarm went off, he was prepared for almost anything.

Unfortunately, not much can prepare you for a 10-foot ice-covered, invincible Eldritch in the middle of Gotham. As much as the League tried, they didn't seem to do any damage to it (Jason was the first to notice that the creature wasn't attacking, just defending itself; he frowned at the observation).

From there, many strange things began to happen. First: A group of people dressed in white (which, frankly, they had never seen before in their lives) fanned out around the League, giving them weapons capable of harming the "creature" and pointing out to them that it was a "ghost", giving information about it.

Second, a pair of colorful scientists stood at the center of all the agents in white, though they seemed to be arguing with each other. One looked murderous, while the other looked... tired, almost guilty.

Third and last, a group of students kept trying to get closer. Jason thought they were suicidal until he heard the girl in purple tell them to leave "Danny" alone. She seemed to be silenced quickly, but the detail stuck in his head.

With a bad feeling, Jason turned to the college kids. A red-haired girl stood in the center of them, holding a chunk of ice? and watching the creature at the center of it all. While the League dealt with the agents in white, Jason decided to listen to them.

"He's my brother," the redhead said as soon as she saw him, "he's not a monster, they broke his core, please, you need to understand"

Jason looked at the creature again, although its body was mostly black, he could see ice covering a crystal in the center, it looked broken, he suspected that was his "core". At the same moment, Bruce finished talking to the men in white and accepted the weapons.

Danny was frightened and panicked. His form changed when his core broke in the middle of a fight, the GIW had shot him, and he didn't know how to retreat to his original form. His words came out only in Ghost speak, and the heroes around him looked ready to kill him, which didn't help his ice control.

[samstersv]

EMBARRASSED; batfam x sis!reader, barry allen x reader

•the justice league walks in on the batsiblings arguing in the batcave and they watch bruce discipline his children while barry allen catches a glance at y/n wayne

•y/n is barry’s age, it goes damian, tim, y/n, jason, dick

“i didn’t go into your things y/n i promise!” dick yelled as you grabbed one of his escrima sticks, ready to hit your brother with it.

“dick, i always keep my room nice and clean and put together when i’m gone. nothing is out of place. i kept my papers here purposely for that reason, so i wouldn’t lose it!” your heels clicked against the floor as you walked towards dick. you were currently dressed in formal attire and a professional amount of makeup on your face.

minutes ago, you were very excited to be heading over to wayne enterprises in around 35 minutes time; you had a speech today and had prepared for this moment for weeks now. when you had finished getting ready, you walked over to a drawer in your dresser to pull out your pile of papers for the speech but it was gone. you knew alfred wouldn’t have taken your papers and automatically took damian out of the equation, not only was he your blood but he wouldn’t have done it either way, you hope at least. when you headed down to interrogate your brothers all you saw was dick with a smug look on his face, tim getting ready for patrol and damian looking at things on the bat-computer, jason was nowhere to be found so you automatically accused dick.

“look, maybe you left your papers at your actual apartment or maybe someone else took them! why don’t you ask damian or tim or jason?” he pointed fingers at his two younger siblings “damian has no reason to do this at all, jason is god knows where and tim— wait tim what if you took my papers..” you slowed down your sentence.

“i didn’t take your papers! why would i? i know this speech is important and honestly i didn’t even know where you hid them.” tim automatically defended himself. “maybe damian us just trying to be smug or something.”

“don’t go accusing me drake, i had nothing to do with this. i promise.” he turned to y/n for the last part of his sentence.

y/n sighed and turned back to dick “you’re the only one who could’ve done it!”

steps were heard from behind the group and you all slowly turned to see batman, superman, wonder woman, aquaman, cyborg and the flash walking towards you guys. the wayne siblings all looked at their father. “you all should’ve left by now.” bruce spoke, his voice strict but not angry. “what held you all up?”

“dick took my papers for my speech today!” you automatically accused your older brother. you were embarrassed but still upset.

dick tried to take a step toward “i didn’t take your papers y/n!” he spoke, you poined his escrima stick right at him and hit the taser so it would scare him (dick wasn’t too frightened). at this action, aquaman let out a quiet chuckle and wonder woman, superman and cyborg smiled. barry was currently mouth agape as he watched you in a trance.

“careful there barry, that’s bruce’s daughter.” diana smiled at the younger male. he straightened his posture but never took his eyes off you “she’s so pretty” he whispered.

“y/n put the escrima stick down.” bruce told his 25 year old daughter. she of course listened but still put up the middle finger to dick once it was placed on the table. “are you sure you didn’t leave it at your apartment?” bruce asked patiently.

y/n nodded and told bruce exactly where she left her papers the day they were done. bruce nodded and looked at damian and tim “tim go on patrol, damian, excuse us?” his two sons nodded and walked by y/n and dick. tim patted dick’s back as a sign of good luck and damian glanced at his older sister before the two left.

“i’m sorry for interrupting you all.” y/n pursed her lips as she looked behind bruce at the group of heroes. everyone shook their heads and smiled, to be honest they were all finding this slightly amusing. on the other hand, barry’s smile widened and he shook his head “it’s okay.” he said out loud, admiring the shorter girl.

y/n smiled at the boy before her and blushed as she directed her attention back to her dad. “uhm, i’ll reschedule the speech for tomorrow so you have time to find your papers or make up something else.” he compromised. y/n looked down at her feet and slowly nodded, clearly upset. dick bit his lip in sympathy for his sister but knew nothing could be done.

“it was nice seeing you all.” y/n smiled sadly at the justice league “dick and i are going to let you all get to your business though.” y/n looked over at barry “bye flash.” her beautiful smile made barry blush. he waved at y/n as a goodbye.

dick and y/n began to walk past the group when a whistle was heard from above. y/n looked up to see her other older brother, jason fucking todd, with her stapled group of papers in his hand, dangling from the top of the batcave.

y/n’s sad face automagically turned into anger as she looked up through her glasses at the real smug and cleaver look jason had on his face “oh i don’t care if you’re my brother, i’m about to murder you.” you cursed under your breath as you grabbed one of the grappling hooks and pointed it upwards to the wall so you could climb up.

this is when aquaman started snorting from how funny this was, and wonder woman was heard chuckling at the antics of the batsiblings. barry was too laughing at the pretty girl in front of him who seemed to have a not so secret badass side to her.

“i fear that won’t be necessary master y/n.” alfred called. he walked up behind jason. if you were near alfred in that moment, you’d be able to see the faint smile that dawned on his face in this moment. “master bruce, it may be fit to make master jason take his sister to wayne enterprises today as punishment for taking something important from her.

bruce now smiled and nodded “c’mon jason.” jason groaned and hopped down from the top to now be standing next to his sister. y/n took the papers from jason and slapped his head with her hand. “ow.” he winced.

“whyd you take my papers, asshole?” you asked your older brother. jason rolled his eyes “you trashed my apartment a few days ago.” he said like it was obvious.

“oh.” dick snorted from behind you two “that would’ve been me.” both you and jason glared at dick, you a little harder. he put his hands up in defense “i promise you i didn’t know he took your papers.”

you rolled your eyes at your two older brothers “i hate you both” you told them. then you turned to your dad and the justice league “bye dad, bye everyone.” you looked at everyone but kept your eyes on barry a little longer.

“i’m barry by the way.” he blabbed out. bruce turned towards barry with an angry father look. “oh i know.” you winked at him and dragged your two bothers out the batcave by their hands.

“oh my god.” barry whispered. clark swore he could see a little drool dripping out the speedsters mouth. “barry allen.” bruce sternly said, his batman voice was back. harry quickly straightened up and itched his nose nervously, but for the rest of the day he was thinking about y/n wayne.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps Interlude

Warnings: stalking, implied violence, obsession, manipulation, written through yandere’s pov, delusion.

I’ve decided to do a short interlude for Gaps! All of the interludes will be told from one of the Batfam’s prespective, so enjoy!

Dick meets you in one of Gotham’s many coffee shops in the tourist section. The place is homey and warm, a personal favorite of his since it always seemed to lull Tim into a relaxed enough state that his little brother could be cajoled or bribed into sleeping when he got home, and the people are the same. Which is why you catch his eye so quickly.

You look exhausted. The sort of exhaustion that causes droopy eyes and a tired slump to the shoulders, that made your face seem dull and listless. You were pushing through it, though, staring at the laptop in front of you with a tired focus that reminds him of Tim on the days when his little brother simply had to finish a project. It’s barely even a brief thought, that flickers in the back of his mind.

(Later, Dick will wonder if that thought is what started all of this. Later, he will card his fingers through your hair as you sleep peacefully in your bed, unaware. Later, he will wait as Jason and Bruce bring home his newest sibling.)

But at the time, he doesn’t think much of the concern blooming in his chest. He approaches you, an easy smile on his lips, carefully keeping his body language open, so that he didn’t frighten you.

“Hey. You look a little out of it, everything alright?” He calls gently, and tired eyes glance up at him, lips pulling down into a frown. Now that he was closer, he could see your ragged appearance, more than just the lack of sleep.

Your clothes weren’t threadbare, but they were definitely old, the fabric of the joints stretched and worn. A grey hoodie, jeans, common wear for just about anyone in Gotham. If it wasn’t for the way you were clearly struggling, Dick doesn’t think he would’ve noticed you.

(Later, the thought feels impossible. Of course he’d notice you, you were his little sibling, even if neither of you knew it yet.)

“Oh, um.. working on a paper for my classes. I’m supposed to do an informative paper on how vigilantes have influenced measure of force laws.”

“Are you taking criminal justice? I had to write something similar when I was in college for my degree. Mind if I sit?”

“Nah, sure, go ahead. And no, it was a randomly assigned topic. I think she picked something so specific to see how good our research skills are.”

“Would you like some help?”

The offer surprises you. It surprises him, really. He doesn’t mean to say it, it sort of just slips out, which should alarm him because he hadn’t been this impulsive around new people since he got B’s training. It doesn’t.

You accept, even with your surprise.

And Dick helps you.

He keeps helping you, helping you when you needed to do a paper, when you needed to do just about anything.

(Later, he will continue to help you, even if you think you don’t need his help anymore. That’s okay. You were his little sibling, and he would help you whether you wanted him to or not.)

Over time, he notices things. He doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but there’s only so much you can ignore when you’ve been trained by Batman and been through all the things he has. And it’s not like you do a very good job hiding it.

The first time he visits your apartment, there are meds in your bedside drawer, which is cracked open. He makes a note to read the scripts, later, so at the very least he could help you in the ways you needed him to. He waits until you are out of the room, sliding the drawer open silently, and looking them over. Meds for anxiety, depression, ADHD. A planner full of notes and reminders, a checklist of all the tasks you had to do to take care of yourself.

A journal, hidden in the back.

He slides it into his jacket without a thought, putting all the other items back.

Every word from the journal just makes the overwhelming need to protect you grow. You wrote about your memories, your struggles. You wrote about how hard it was to stay alive and sane in a city that so often turned out criminals and murderers. You wrote about how much it hurt, sometimes, being alone. You wrote about how you couldn’t trust anyone, even though you wanted to.

And you write about Dick.

The first time he sees an entry about him, he feels something curl in his chest, pleased and content. You had called him caring, had called him nice. You had called him sweet. Had admitted to wanting to be able to trust him, to appreciating his calls and his texts and his reminders.

And even Dick can admit that it makes him worse.

He calls you more often, talking about anything and everything. He reminds you to eat, or drink water, and even though you don’t like it, you listen, often complaining you were an adult even as he could hear you filling a glass.

(Later, Dick would look back on it fondly. You’d acted exactly like an irritated little sibling.)

He doesn’t start to follow you until later, and he’s amazed how quickly it becomes routine.

He just.. can’t help it. You’re all alone, in an apartment in Gotham, struggling and on your own. Any instance where a threat gets too close to you, it’s quickly dealt with.

He introduces you to his family. Damian first, of course, because he wouldn’t have it any other way, and it goes amazingly. You’re involved, treating his little brother kindly but without pity, and it makes him so happy to see his little siblings getting along. You tell Damian about a kitten you had, a Maine Coone named Momo, talk to him about past and current pets. By the time the conversation is over, he can tell Damian must adore you as much as him and the thought makes his heart soar.

He introduces you to Bruce, next. His adoptive father takes one look at you and he can practically see the man filling out the adoption appears already. He doesn’t think he expected anything less.

Jason introduces himself by breaking into your apartment, making you food, and having a two hour long conversation with you about literature.

And every sibling that meets you falls in love with you, and every one of them adore you, and it just makes Dick want to take you home even more because they’ve never all agreed on anything but they all agree you should be at home with them.

So when Bruce sends Damian to steal your ID, he doesn’t protest. When Bruce changes your meds from an anti-anxiety med for sleeping to a mild sedative, he says nothing. They had a plan after all. And a part of that plan was to make it so that you wanted to go home with them.

When Jason and Bruce bring you home, slumped in Bruce’s arms as the man watched you with a gentle expression, he can’t help the rush of joy in his heart.

He had never really been a patient guy, anyways.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 1

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader

Warnings: Some violence, Batman level of violence

Summary: Everyone sees the world in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Jason Todd assumed Gothamites didn't have souls let alone soulmates, so when he as Robin saves a girl from thugs attacking her school he is shocked when their eyes meet and the world is suddenly a vibrant rainbow. Before they can speak she passes out and he decides to keep her safe he has to watch from afar. Until he dies.

You saw Robin and you saw color. You knew it must be dangerous to be Robin so you let him stay away, hoping someday you could meet and at least hear his voice. Then, it's all black and white again and you mourn the loss of a soulmate you never knew.

A year later you wake up and the world is back in color. You are confused and frightened, not sure what is happening, but you know one thing, you accepted your soulmate hiding before, but now you would find him.

Notes: Hello! This Jason Todd fic is brought to you by the people see in black and white until they meet their soulmate. I thought how crazy it would drive someone to first know their soulmate is a masked vigilante, then they die and everything is back to black and white, and then its color again. That person would probably be obsessed with finding out what happened, why it happened, and who exactly their soulmate was to go off and die and then come back to life. I hope you enjoy! Comments/critiques always appreciated! PS. once again, my Jason Todd fancast is Lewis Tan (but also this GIF of baby Jason Todd brings a sweet tear to my eye)

The first day of high school could be a lot of things. The day you met a new friend, the day you get a lunch tray dropped on you, the day you have a mortifying wardrobe malfunction. What it shouldn't be was the day you almost die AND meet your soulmate. One or the other, not both. However, your life always seemed unnecessarily complicated so when a pair of armed thugs arrived, taking teachers hostage and diligently searching lockers and bags it shouldn't have surprised you. Honestly, it didn't surprise you when they found what they were looking for inside your backpack. You knew your foster dad was shady, shady enough to try and steal money from Two-Face and hide it in your bag like the coward he was. The minions took you, kicking and screaming, out a side door, dragging you by your hair. You tried to fight, swinging wildly and trying to pull away, yelping when you were yanked back easily.

"What are we taking her for? She's just some snot-nosed kid," one of the thugs said, looking around warily. "We don't have time to take a hostage, the Batman's out early today." The other minion scoffed, yanking again on your hair.

"I'm not scared of that psycho, and I want a new plaything, this one looks fun," he said. "A little young normally but she's filling out well." You felt sick rise in your throat at what he had planned for you. He pulled you ahead of the other attacker, letting him fall back to watch his back. You were rounding the side of the school towards the alley, certain you were going to horribly mutilated and murdered, when you swore you saw a shadow amidst the dumpsters.

Then you heard the other thug collapse, grunting. You tried to turn and look, worried that some other gang was coming to join the fun, but the one holding your hair threw you. Your head rocked against the brick wall of the school. You muttered out a curse as you sat down, starting to see black engulfing you, when you made contact with Robin. Before you lost consciousness you saw it, his eyes suddenly in full color, then you succumbed.

Gotham wasn't the place Jason thought he would find a soulmate. He didn't he'd ever see color in the world. Between the rich trying to buy, sell, or steal anything and everything their sick hearts' desired and the criminals who would kill you on sight just for fun he was surprised anyone, including himself, has a soul to begin with. So when black and white suddenly became color he froze, almost missing the fist coming for him face. Almost. His dodge was late, the thugs punch grazing his cheek, not enough to knock him down but enough that he felt pain in his jaw. He still recovered before the attack, throwing his own punch that was reinforced with black brass knuckles, landing true right to side of the thug's head, knocking the man down and out.

Batman looked at him, gaze dark. He dropped the other attacker on top of the first, grabbing the backpack and getting the money from it. They had been tracking this cash, needing it collected before the toxin that it was doused in caused anyone to start laughing. He promptly lit the stack on fire, making sure it burned to ash, while Jason picked up the girl and took her out of the alley, nearer to the school. He waved down the GCPD that was there and saw two officers come running, waving for an ambulance to follow them down the street. He took one more glance at her, his soulmate, before going back to the alley. Batman motioned to the building next to them and Jason followed, grappling to the roof and landing just after Batman, knowing he was going to get chewed out for at least two things.

"Brass knuckles Robin?" Batman asked. "Those are something you aren't able to use properly yet." Jason glared, but bit his tongue. Better a tongue lashing now than extra training drills in the evening. "And what happened back there? You hesitated, that isn't like you." Jason didn't answer again. The last thing he needed was Batman knowing that the world wasn't in shades of gray for Jason anymore. He could see the red of the bricks of the school, he had seen the brown in your eyes, and the auburn of your hair. He had no idea what these colors were actually called, he would have to borrow the flashcards Dick had bought when he'd met Barbara. "Start talking Robin."

"The brass knuckles are helpful, I didn't need to use more energy to take out that guy who is literally twice my size," he said. He hated to remember that while Batman was fully grown, in his mid-30s, and the peak of his physical self, Jason was still just 16, a little scrawny despite his weight training, and maybe had some growing to do. "And I don't know why I hesitated, maybe it was seeing a kid my own age almost getting her head smashed in." He was watching the EMTs carting her to the ambulance. He felt the need to follow them, make sure she was safe. He wanted to find her tomorrow and talk to her, hear what she sounded like when she wasn't screaming. Batman watched Jason as he watched the girl they saved. Something was up, but he wasn't sure what. They weren't in an area of town that Jason had ever lived, nor did he go there when he wasn't Robin so he didn't know the girl. He would have to keep an eye on his sidekick. For now he just told him to go home. He would do one last sweep of the city and make sure the tainted cash was all collected and destroyed.

Jason should have gone back to the manor, but instead he followed the ambulance to Gotham General, perching on the roof. He watched them drive inside and wished he had a change of clothes, he could at least sneak in easier. He moved to the access stairs and headed down, keeping to the quieter hallways and stairwells until he was able to find her. She was still unconscious, though it looked medicinal now. He stared at her, memorizing her face, counting every freckle, watching her chest go up and down as she slept. He heard voices in the hallway and looked back at her for a moment, silently promising her that she would safe from now on, he would make sure of it. He disappeared into a vent, heading back outside and starting back towards the manor. After about three blocks he knew that Nightwing had found him, so he stopped, waiting for his big brother to catch up.

"Batman wanted me to keep track of you little bird," Nightwing said. Jason rolled his eyes at the name but didn't say anything. It secretly made him feel special, hearing his brother call him a nickname. "So who was the girl?" It figures he had seen him in the hospital room.

"We just saved her from some of Two-Faces bitches at Gotham North high school," he said. "The asshole threw her into a wall, I looked at her and her eyes, they're the most beautiful color I've ever seen." Nightwing's eyebrows got high enough that Jason saw them peeking out of his mask.

"Going to need those flashcards, did you tell Batman?" Nightwing asked. Jason shook his head. "I get it, but he should know..."

"No Dick," Jason said. He knew that Batman would have him running laps around the grounds until he collapsed if he heard Jason calling Dick by his mortal name, but right now he needed his brother to understand how serious he was. Jason didn't want Batman to know, didn't need Batman or Bruce Wayne worrying about him, about what finding his soulmate might do to him. He would be considered a liability, too young to handle the responsibility, balance the need to see her, to protect her, with the need to keep Gotham safe. Dick had already been Nightwing when Barbara had come along, Bruce had simply told him to not let the soulmate urges distract him, and that had been enough. Jason was younger, more reckless, more unpredictable and Bruce would be waiting for him to screw up, another thing to add to the list of things Jason didn't do as well as Dick with.

"He will figure it out," Dick said. Jason stood up and shook his head, grappling away, wanting to get back home and get a shower before patrol tonight. He needed to think.

You started learning the names of colors as soon as you got home. It was amazing, seeing everything the world had to offer, so much beauty and so bright. But nothing could drive the image of Robin's eyes out of your mind. You knew that he probably hadn't come back to see you again because he was Robin. No one knew who Batman, Robin, or Nightwing were and despite being soulmates its not like he knew you, knew he could trust you. So you went about your life, telling only your closest friends that you had a soulmate. They of course questioned you on who it was but you said that it was a quick glance, no names exchanged, no phone numbers, nothing, so you weren't sure how to find him. They had plenty of suggestions that you pretended to entertain but you knew it was useless, if Robin didn't want you to know him then you wouldn't. You would gaze at every boy with dark hair and brown eyes you came across, at school, at the arcade, the library, your job at Big Belly Burger, everywhere, just trying to find someone who's eyes matched his. You never found him. Then everything changed.

It was evening, you were sitting in your room, watching a movie, once again marveling about the colors in the mountains as the camera swept over the scenery. Your new foster parents didn't understand your fascination with nature documentaries but you didn't want to tell about Robin, they would be worried you were crazy and send you back to the group home and you didn't want to be there ever again. The documentary was just changing to the ocean, your favorite part, when suddenly the world went back to black and white. Your breath stopped, eyes getting wide. You blinked once, twice, three times, but it stayed black and white. You stood, wanting to run out the door, find Robin, but you couldn't, you had no idea where he might be. You knew what had happened, the world only went back to black and white when your soulmate died. You couldn't believe this. You'd never even heard his voice and now you never would. You collapsed on your floor, tears streaming down at the future you had been imagining, all of it crashing down around you. Your parents found you like this, inconsolable, and despite not wanting to go back to the group home that's where you were taken a few days later, the world still dull and gray.

You spent the next year in gray, unable to bring yourself back to the person you had been before. You bounced around homes, therapy seeming useless for you, new parents not sure how to draw you out of your depression. Your friends told you about support groups for people who lost their soulmates, people who could help you recover, but you didn't want to. You wanted to hear his voice, feels his hand, know what his name was. It wasn't fair, nothing in your life seemed fair. You went to bed every night with dried tears on your cheeks.

Until, one day, you woke up, and the color was back.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Duke To The Rescue 💈

⚣💈A/N → Usually, I write my reader characters as general as possible in all manors of looks and traits so as many people as possible can relate (whether male or g/n). But, I wanted to give some special attention since I rarely see any content like this being an African-American writer and reader myself. Hope you all like it! Plus, this is triggering some dark memories of when I used to get my hair cut so enjoy my pain lol.

⚣💈 Summary → You're the newly adopted Wayne kid after your parents are caught in the crossfire of one of Batman's battles. Bruce, trying to prove himself a better father, attempts to do your hair but since he knows nothing about African-American haircare, you're in for a painful ride. Your poor hairline...

⚣💈 Words → 2.0k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please!💛

⚣ ENJOY 💈

“Okay, so how do I do this?” Your dear old dad asks.

“I don’t know! I’m just a kid! Aren’t you supposed to be the parent and know these things?” You asked with your hands waving around animatedly as you sat on a stool chair taken from the dining room into one of the many bathrooms.

Bruce gave you his signature frown while looking at the assortment of combs and hair products on the sink.

After your parents had gotten caught in the crossfire between Batman and one of his notable nemeses, the billionaire decided to take you in, making you an official Wayne kid.

For a 7-year-old, you were very knowledgeable. Something your new legal guardian immediately noticed after adopting you, and because of your age, you were now officially the youngest kid Bruce had taken in. 

You were also the only other African-American kid Bruce decided to take in outside of Duke. And that didn’t even really technically count since Duke was already a teenager by the time Bruce officially adopted him.

So, your adopted father was at a loss for words while staring in the mirror at your hair while you played games on his phone. Your hair had grown to a considerable length, and you’d been asking your adoptive father for a while now to help you get this new style that was becoming more popular called ‘twists.’ Well, new to you since you hadn’t seen it before.

‘I thought that was a dance move.’ Bruce thought to himself.

When you showed him the video you saw, the Dark Knight persona immediately decided he was taking you to a professional barber who knew more about your hair texture and maintenance to give you what you needed.

At least until Jason ran his big mouth.

“Wow, old man. Can’t even take care of your own kid’s hair. Shameful.”

He was really just patronizing the older man, always enjoying the moments when he got a reaction from him now and then. But, he’d begun to regret that decision when he along with your other siblings saw Bruce carrying an armful of hair products and tools to the upstairs bathroom while holding your hand in his other hand leading you upstairs.

It was quite comical seeing the frightened look you threw at your second oldest brother as he along with your other siblings watched Bruce’s towering frame lead your tinier one up the grand staircase with you looking like you were heading for your doom.

In hindsight, you might have been, and Jason could only smile sheepishly at you as Bruce led you toward the bathroom.

Now, they all stood outside the bathroom watching their shared father struggle as he read over the ingredients from the different hair products.

“How bad do you think this is gonna go?” Steph asked.

“Oh, I’m betting on a full shit show within the first 10 minutes,” Dick said while munching on some popcorn.

“10? You’re too graceful dickhead. I’m betting 3 and half minutes tops.” Jason threw out while reaching to grab some popcorn before having his hand slapped by the acrobat. “Hey!” He yelled in offense before getting into a sorta-ish fight with Dick, trying to tug the bag of popcorn from him.

“Cut it out, you two! You act like wild children throwing tantrums.” Damian snapped at the two vigilantes.

“Says the actual child who throws ninja stars and daggers during a tantrum when daddy grounds him from patrol,” The Red Hood persona remarked, stuffing his mouth with a handful of buttery popcorn after nabbing the bag from his older brother who was now mean-muggin' the shit of him.

Damian growled at Jason, rolling up his sleeves before Steph grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him back to his place. The second Robin laughed while taunting the young assassin, throwing kernels at his face.

While that was going on, you sat and watched Bruce read label after label on the various hair-care product bottles.

“Uh, Bruce, are you sure we can’t just go to a barber?” You asked, a fearful tone evident in your voice which did not do well for Bruce’s confidence. Even as a 7-year-old, you could tell when a situation was about to go left without the side comments from your adoptive siblings.

“No, no, Y/N! I got this. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t take care of my own child’s hair.” Bruce said while reading the red bottle. He was holding his phone in the other hand, reading a review online under his breath, “...mixed with a high amount of sulfates to help cleanse build-up of oils and other products in the hair.”

“You realize Jason was joking, right? Right?! Jason, tell him you were joking!” You frantically shouted, turning in your seat towards the vigilante who held a sheepish smile while his mouth was full of popcorn.

“I was joking.” He tried to say, words muffled by his chewing.

“Y/N, calm down. If Bruce can handle taking down crazy madmen and women at night as Batman, how hard could it be to do a simple hairstyle?” Tim spoke trying to reassure you.

And it almost worked…until you felt Bruce try to brush your hair with what you were sure was Stephanie’s hair brush.

“Is that my hairbrush?” Steph asked.

“It says I’m supposed to pick his hair out before washing? Is brushing not the same as picking?” Bruce asked, looking at his kids with the most confused face.

“I’ll pray for you at your funeral, Y/N.”

The desperate and confused face on Bruce's face was actually so adorable that if you weren’t terrified for your scalp (and life) at that moment, you would’ve hugged him just to help him feel better.

Cass had walked into the bathroom before grabbing a larger comb off the counter and switching it with the hairbrush in Bruce’s hands before returning the purple hair tool to its rightful owner.

“Thanks, Cass,” Steph said.

‘You’re welcome.’ She signed back.

“Alright, here we go,” Bruce uttered before grabbing your shoulder and placing the comb at the base of your scalp, pulling back to ‘pick’ through your hair.

“Ow, OW, OOOWWWWWW!” You shouted in pain while holding on to the counter for dear life, feeling like your face would tear in half.

“Bruce, you’re going to rip his head off!” Dick yelled, coming to your rescue, “You gotta comb from the sides.”

He pulled the comb to the side of your hair causing your head to yank in that direction.

“OW!”

“Whoops, okay, maybe that was wrong,” Dick said, smiling in apology at you.

“Alright, you idiots, get out of the way. Looks like another issue I have to take care of for you.” Jason stated, placing the popcorn down before cracking his knuckles which really did not help ease the nerves and fear you were feeling in your stomach. He pulled up his sleeves and licked the butter off his fingers, which, gross by the way, “You gotta pull with some strength.”

“OOOWWW!” You yelled, glaring hard at your older brother who once again just smiled sheepishly at you.

“You guys are hopeless,” Tim sighed, grabbing the comb only to make it worse by tangling more into your hair.

“TIM!” You screamed.

“Maybe I’m hopeless too.” He said, a confused expression taking over his face as he tried to figure out how to solve this.

“Okay, simpletons. Move over.” Damian said.

Your eyes went wide at that.

“UH UH, back away gremlin!” You grabbed the nearest thing that could be considered a weapon which turned out to be another hairbrush. Not even caring, you decided you would make it work. 

Damian was not allowed anywhere near your hair.

“What the- I’m older than you!”

“So?!”

“Fair point, brother.”

Stephanie tried to help but only managed to get the comb fully lost in your hair. You could feel yourself getting dizzy and a headache coming on as your head had been yanked back and forth in different directions. 

As your family was busy yelling back and forth at each other while playing tug-of-war with your scalp, none of them even noticed when Duke came up the stairs, confused by all the chaos.

“What’s going on?” The Signal persona asked Cassandra.

‘They’re trying to do Y/N’s hair,” She signed.

Duke’s eyes went wide as he heard your cries of pain before rushing into the bathroom.

The tears forming in your eyes were clear as day as your tiny hands gripped the counter with everything you had, feeling like if you’d let go at any moment, you’d be yanked out of the chair and swung back and forth like a yo-yo. Duke also saw Damian creeping through the mess to grab at the tangled comb in your hair, giving it a yank causing another cry of pain from you making him smirk in cruel enjoyment.

“Hey!” Duke screamed at the top of his lungs, effectively shutting everyone up and turning their attention toward him. “Everyone out!” He pointed his thumb behind him. They all quickly shuffled out of the bathroom, mumbling to themselves while Bruce remained behind, looking quite beside himself.

Duke picked up the bottle the older man was holding in his hand before turning it over, seeing the ingredients and what he had pulled up on his phone.

“Really, Bruce? Sulfate?” Duke said.

The billionaire only groaned before his forehead fell into this palm, “I should’ve just taken him to a barber.” He grumbled,

Duke looked towards you, seeing how tense you were and the fresh tears in your eyes from the amount of pain your scalp was in.

“Don’t worry, little bud, I got ya.”

~~~

A few hours later, everyone was waiting in the kitchen while Alfred served refreshments before hearing your happy feet skipping down the hallway, Duke right on your trail. Your hair was done, washed and conditioned, and twisted right into the style you wanted.

“Ta-da!” You yelled upon entering the kitchen, opening your arms as if you were giving a grand finale. A mix of delightful reactions and cheers filled the room from your family members, everyone smiling at how excited you looked. Even JDamian, despite how small it was.

“Wow! Look at you, Y/N,” Dick said, biting into an apple.

“Hold still! I’ve got to get pictures for my feed.” Steph said while coming to take some pics of you.

“You look quite charming if I do say so myself, Master Y/N,” Alfred said, before handing you a cookie.

“Thanks, Alfred!” You said, happily munching on the treat, before climbing into one of the stools without any assistance. Okay, you had a little help from Jason to make sure you didn’t slip, but since he didn’t mention it, neither would you.

Bruce walked up to Duke, who was still standing by the entrance to the kitchen leaning against the wall.

“Thank you, Duke.” He said, patting his shoulder, which was weird for Bruce, but he was learning how to show more affection to his kids now that he had you so everyone was slowly getting used to it. 

They were also weirded out by it too.

“No problem. Just glad I got here when I did. By the way, why didn’t you just take him to a barber?” He asked.

Bruce looked reluctant to say, so the brown-skinned boy didn’t push it, “Don’t worry. I won’t ask. But, if you want me to teach you how to take care of it, just ask. I learned from watching my parents do my hair growing up. Then, when I kind of had to start taking care of myself in the foster system, I picked up some different tricks here and there.” He explained, answering Bruce’s questions before he could even ask.

“Thank you,” The older man said before their heads turned at the sound of you screaming.

They saw Damian next to you with another smirk as you rubbed the back of your still tender head with an irritated grimace at the youngest Robin.

“Damian!” Bruce shouted.

“What? That’s what he gets for calling me a gremlin.” Damian said before he felt a harsh tug on his own hair, looking back to see you with your own mischievous smile.

“Ow!”

“Now, we’re even, gremlin.”

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

interlude one

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: look I know I said I probably wasn't going to write Bruce's POV in this fic but I literally couldn't help it. But instead of splitting chapters with POV right now is to just throw in a few short interludes to give a peek inside Bruce's head!

Series Masterlist

word count: 1.4k

Bruce's POV

Bruce was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because, if there was one thing he’d learned in his life, it was that it was inevitable. 

He’d been living in a constant state of fear ever since y/n had come home. 

Serial killers, city floods, bombs, that kind of stuff was nowhere near as frightening as she was. 

She’d always, always been able to see straight through him in a way no one else ever could. Even three years ago, when he had purposefully broken her heart, he thought she would see straight through to the truth of the matter–that he was lying for her own good. 

And stupidly, there he’d been, interacting with her as the Batman, waiting for her to roll her eyes in that way of hers and say, “Take off the stupid fucking costume, Bruce.” 

Every time he had opened his mouth, he thought he was done for. And okay, maybe he was deepening his voice to try to throw her off, but that was more out of habit than anything. Everything he said, everything he did, felt like the smoking gun that would make her go “Aha!” He’d even made a joke as if everything were normal, for god’s sake. And all it had done was make her scared of him. 

That only made things worse. 

Now, he stared at the security footage in front of him with an ache in his chest. 

Y/n was asleep sitting up in his private elevator, the one that would lead her down to the abandoned subway station if she figured out how to put in the code. 

He was freshly back from another patrol and had just changed when he caught sight of her on the screen. His heart ached for her, to hold her, to comfort her. He’d been a bastard the past few days even after she had lost her grandmother. He knew it was because he was grieving too, something she normally would have understood. 

But not anymore. She had frozen him out as effectively as he had frozen her out. The chasm between them yawned wider and darker with every passing day, and he hated it. He hated every second of it, but he couldn’t stop, because it was better for her. When the other shoe inevitably dropped and the world found out who he really was, it was best if she was as distant from him as possible.

Even if he kept finding himself drawn inescapably back into her orbit. 

“You’re walking a very precarious line,” Alfred murmured from where he poured over some sort of paperwork. The pair of them had started hiding in the Wayne Terminus station since y/n had gotten into town. It wasn’t on purpose, really. It was simply easier to discuss all things Batman related away from her. 

“I know,” Bruce said. He leaned both palms against the table and stared at her. She looked so small on the screen, so…lonely and broken. His eyes stung just to look at her. And he knew it was his fault. The distance was killing him even though he was the one who had created it. 

“I mean, really, Bruce–interacting with her as the Batman? What are you going to do when she inevitably figures it out?” Alfred set down his pen and took his glasses off. Bruce’s thoughts again turned to y/n. She would call Alfred’s tone his tired dad voice.

Bruce held in a sigh. They had gone over every iteration of this argument in the past three years, only now it was more relevant since y/n had actually met Batman. Before, it was simpler. She refused to come to Gotham, refused to see him, refused to even hear details about him according to Dory. Now she was entirely enmeshed in both of his lives and it was a catastrophe waiting to happen. 

“Then she’ll know.” Bruce half-shrugged. 

“But you won’t outright tell her.” 

“I’m trying to–” 

“Keep her safe, I know. But Bruce, surely you’ve noticed–” 

That she was different now? That she was a shell of herself? That pushing her away had done irreparable damage that he couldn’t see the entire extent of? “Yes.” 

You’ve done enough, she’d said that night. Because he had. He had hurt her, on purpose, over and over again. He was still hurting her. Though it was in her best interests–of that he was certain–it was hurting her. 

“So you’ll just let her figure it out and let things fall as they may.” It wasn’t a question. “Even though it will come back to bite you. You know that, right?” 

Bruce rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “I can’t just–” 

“Tell the truth?” Alfred offered wryly. He twirled his pen then tapped it on a paper. 

Bruce was tired of arguing with him. “No, Alfred, I can’t just tell the truth. Knowing puts her in danger. Knowing–knowing means things will never be the same.” 

Alfred sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Things already aren’t the same and you know it.” He said it carefully, gently. But Bruce already knew. 

“You know what I mean,” he mumbled, eyes straying back to the security feeds again. 

“If she finds out, and you didn’t tell her…the longer this goes on, the worse it will be.” Again, Alfred’s voice was careful, almost gentle. It was born of his affection for y/n, Bruce knew. They both loved her in their own way. Alfred had helped raise her. Bruce’s decision had affected them all. 

Seeing her sleeping there, so obviously weighed down by her grief, Bruce wanted her to know. Then maybe they could stop hurting and work towards making things…maybe not what they used to be, but close. 

Fuck it, Bruce decided, and he heard the words in her voice. 

No time like the present. 

He strode over to the elevator and hit the button to call it down. Alfred stood and leaned on his cane. Bruce’s heart pounded loudly in the silence as the elevator slowly, slowly lowered. A million things went through his head at once. Would she be angry? Confused? Excited? She knew that he used the old station, but last time she had seen it it had been a slapped together garage. 

He glanced around the space right before the elevator rattled to a stop. 

No, it was obvious what it was used for now. The dummy that held his armor when it wasn’t in use or needed repairs was in full view of the doors opening. 

Bruce glanced down, a surge of adrenaline almost making him black out. 

But she was still asleep. 

He frowned then looked over his shoulder at Alfred. Alfred shrugged. 

She looked so peaceful, even in the cramped position she was in. 

He said her name softly but she didn’t stir. 

He guessed that was the universe’s way of telling him it was pointless. 

Bruce stepped inside, careful to be quiet even though she’d slept through the rattling elevator descending several stories and its gates creaking open. He exchanged one last look with Alfred then hit the button to take them back upstairs. 

Alfred’s expression mirrored the disappointment Bruce felt. Alfred was disappointed in Bruce though. He knew without the older man saying anything that Bruce should have woken her, should have finally had a conversation three years in the making. 

Bruce was disappointed that she hadn’t woken and made the choice easier for him. 

He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, his secret would finally be hers. That maybe he could explain. 

But like most things in his life, it was too good to be true. 

When the elevator stopped again, Bruce leaned down and carefully shifted her into his arms. 

His eyes stung again at the familiar scent of her. It was a balm to his soul to be so close to her after so long, even though she was asleep. He inhaled shakily and held the scent in his lungs. 

Her eyes fluttered open at the movement. He stared down at her, arms tightening instinctively, and waited for her to say something, anything. He expected her to shove away from him or maybe shout until he put her down. 

But all she did was nuzzle into his neck and inhale deeply with a hum. He almost dropped her at the mixture of intense pain and relief that washed over him. His heart cracked again. God, he missed her. 

“I miss you,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his neck. 

When he looked down at her again, smiling faintly, she was already asleep again. 

He very gently laid her in her bed. She immediately curled on her side with a little sigh. He tucked her in and hovered there, aching to hold her, aching to wake her up, just aching. 

“I miss you too,” he whispered around the lump in his throat. 

She didn’t wake.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 2/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,748 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 @tild3ath @iiirhiane-g

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Please consider reblogging if you enjoy the read ❤️ (Thanks for all the support you've given my lil story so far!)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You push yourself to your feet and hurry over to his kitchen, flipping on the recessed lighting overhead. The kitchen is as bare and spotless as the other rooms you’ve seen, its countertops clear of the usual clutter you’d expect. No rags nor paper towel roll. No knife block nor coffee maker nor toaster—the appliances are the ones that come standard with the unit. No stacks of unopened mail nor candles nor cookbooks nor a sink full of empty dishes. No signs of life except for the adorable houseplant and some liquid hand soap beside the sink (which is good—you need soap).

You pull open drawers and cabinets, feeling a twinge of guilt for invading his privacy like this but it can’t be helped. Even those are mostly empty, only containing the barest amount of necessities like cups, dishes, and flatware—run-of-the-mill kitchen items that were probably provided with the furnished unit. You do manage to find some clean rags and paper towels (and a coffee maker), but nothing like sandwich bags for the ice. On a whim, you check his freezer and bingo! No food or decapitated heads but plenty of ice packs along with an unopened bottle of vodka. You arch an eyebrow at the curious yet amusing stash. Perhaps coming home injured is a typical Friday night for him.

You turn on the sink faucet then tear off a few sheets of paper towels from the roll, wadding them up and wetting them before adding a few pumps of soap then working up a lather. You can’t get the sight of his bleeding face and swollen neck out of your head. It’s hard to imagine anyone doing that to him against his will. He’s an intimidating guy, to say the least. Over a head taller than you, powerfully built with broad shoulders and thick thighs (and a nice ass). Perhaps he got jumped on his walk home—an all too common occurrence on these crime-ridden streets—and his stubborn pride was too wounded to go to the ER. Or maybe it was a gang thing… some sort of hazing ritual? That could explain the bloody letter on his cheek, too, you suppose. But then you remember his shaking hands and fumbling fingers as he tried and failed to unlock his door, and how he jumped at the sound of your voice. He was scared, you realize, your heart swelling with sudden pity. He was more afraid of you than you were of him. Afraid, and probably hurting, too. That thought makes your heart swell even more. It also leaves you a bit shaken. What in God’s name could frighten him? You can only hope that whatever it is doesn’t plan to make a house call anytime soon.

With the items in hand—ice packs, wet and dry rags, soapy paper towel wads, paper towel roll—you return to his side. He still doesn’t appear to have stirred, which is troubling, you have to admit, but you put it out of your mind for now. You set the items down on the floor beside the corpse-like body before grabbing a throw pillow from his couch. (Yes, a throw pillow. There’s a throw blanket on the couch, too. It’s the strongest evidence yet supporting your furnished unit presumption, since he definitely doesn’t strike you as a throw pillow kind of guy.) You kneel down at his side, then, ever so gently, you slip an arm behind his neck and lift his head enough to pull back his hood and slide the pillow beneath him. Next you take off his cap, revealing a mop of sweat-damp black hair. You sweep the soft locks back from his forehead so that you can place a cold rag against that warm, sweat-slick skin.

That’s when you notice the scars. You’d never been close enough to him to see that his face is absolutely covered in them. Faint white lines that cut through his features: his dark brows, his full lips, his freckle-dusted cheeks, the bent bridge of his nose. The worst one (aside from the J on his cheek, that is) is a deep gash that slashes across his right cheek and his nose, all the way up to his forehead. Another knife wound? Is this guy a masochist with a knife fetish or is there some freak out there who gets off on slicing up this poor guy’s face? Those marks on his neck imply the latter—the more sinister of the two—and that sends a cold chill shuddering up your spine.

Almost magnetically your eyes are drawn back past the (cute) cleft in his chin to those sunken bands of red ringing his throat. A thin line of blood has surfaced along the outer edge of one of the bands, where whatever was used to strangle him had cut into his skin. As you wipe away the blood with one of the soapy paper towel wads you spot several scratches on his neck, and for a moment you wonder if the assailant also used his hands to choke him. But then you feel your own throat constrict as the horrible realization sets in: those are claw marks. Gouges from his own fingernails where he desperately struggled to pry the ligature away and free his windpipe so he could breathe. Defensive wounds where he fought for his life.

You set aside the wet wad, then, driven by some morbid curiosity, you find your fingers returning to his throat. Ever so delicately, as if trying not to wake a sleeping lion, you touch one of the raw indentations in his swollen flesh, tracing it with your fingertip, feeling how the abraded skin had folded inward around whatever had coiled around his neck and tried to choke the life out of him. His throat vibrates gently against your probing fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You lay one of the dry rags across his throat, hiding the hideous damage, then place the ice pack on top, as instructed by the health article you Googled. You do the same for the back of his neck as well.

Now you turn your attention back to his scarred, haggard face. After swiping away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth you press the soapy paper towel to his cheek, which gradually turns from white to pink as it soaks up the blood seeping from the J carved into his flesh. Once you staunch the bleeding, you lift the towel to replace it with a fresh one, and you get an unimpeded view of what was hiding beneath the cut and the blood, beneath his hat and hood all of those times you passed him in the hallway, all of those times he ducked his head between hunched shoulders to avoid eye contact with you. You pull in a sharp breath. It’s not a J-shaped scar; it’s the letter J branded into his cheek. You can tell by how the skin is puckered around the too-precise curve of the raised letter, by its faint red outline, by how it seems to tug uncomfortably at his cheek.

Your mind rewinds to a few weeks back when you accidentally burned your neck with your curling iron. You’d shrieked like a banshee then thrown the damn thing across your bathroom. The blistered patch of seared skin had throbbed for the rest of the night, and was still sensitive to the touch for the following week. That was the result of hot ceramic glancing against your skin for maybe half a second, if that long. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it would’ve hurt to have held the infernal thing against your neck for long enough to melt a fucking letter into the flesh. And not just any flesh. His cheek; that tender skin right below the orbital bone, less than an inch from his eye. It probably felt like his eyeball was boiling in his eye socket from the immense heat. And the smell! His own flesh barbecuing like meat to be served at a cannibal cook-out…

You don’t want to think about it anymore. You can’t think about it anymore or else you’re gonna be sick. And luckily you don’t have to because a low moan slips from his lips and his lashes begin to flutter. A rush of relief floods through you at the small signs of life, and you absently begin to stroke his soft hair with your hand. Heavy eyelids strain to lift then glassy blue eyes are peeking out from between the slits. You smile down at him, your fingers caringly combing through his tousled hair, easing his way back into consciousness. You expect him to groggily ask where he is or what happened to him.

Instead his eyes snap open, and the romantic portrait you’ve painted inside your mind of this moment is ripped to shreds.

He bolts upright, sending rags and ice packs flying away from him, then that massive wall of muscular torso turns on you. Time seems to somehow speed up and slow down simultaneously as those large, dangerous hands of his are reaching for you, and in that terrible instant you know without a doubt that he means to strangle you. A tiny, panic-stricken sound—the choked cry of ensnared prey—comes from your mouth as you throw up your arms across your face and neck in an comically feeble attempt to defend yourself from certain death, and the thought that flashes through your mind—maybe the last thought you’ll ever have in this lifetime—is that you’ll never have the chance to open that bottle of merlot.

But his hands don’t wrap around your throat; they land on your shoulders, and then you’re sliding, falling backwards from the force of a violent shove, your vision flashing to black as your head bounces off the hardwood floor.

“Ow!” you squeal as a bright burst of pain rings through your skull, leaving you stunned for a split second until your fear takes over, clearing away the haze and stars. You push yourself up on your forearm, blood pounding through your ears as your eyes frantically search for your attacker, heart lurching as you find him.

The guy is scrambling backwards away from you on all fours like some frightened beast, slamming into a floor lamp in his haste to escape. The lamp reels drunkenly, throwing light madly around the room as it whirls, like a waving searchlight at a festival. Then he’s pressed into a corner, able to go no further, yet his hands and heels are gripping the floor for purchase, as if he’s trying to push himself into the walls. As the lamp settles, somehow still upright, its light illuminates the hulking figure backed into the corner behind it, and you notice for the first time that the front of his red hoodie is splattered with an even darker red.

You’re sitting up now, frozen like a deer in headlights, your fight or flight reflexes canceling each other out because you’ve realized that you’re the toothless predator, not the prey, and the guy you’re gaping at with his bloodless face and wild eyes is a cornered animal who’ll do anything to survive. Then, to your horror, that cornered animal seems to remember his claws and reaches for the gun that’s not there, and you thank the universe and every holy entity within it that you disarmed him.

His wide eyes narrow as they lock onto you, and the fear that had filled them only a heartbeat ago has vanished, replaced with a look so cold, so devoid of anything but shadows and darkness, that it turns the blood in your veins to ice. 

“Who are you? What’re you doing in my apartment? What the fuck did you do with my gun?” Some of the wildness returns to his eyes as he shouts at you with a scarred voice, wheezing between each sentence. You shrink back, shocked that the guy can speak louder than a mumble, then your attention is caught by something more unnerving than his shouting, something that clutches at your insides. His eyes… The little hairs on the back of your neck stir again as you study those pale blue irises flecked with green, barely visible beneath his blown-out pupils yet still trained on you like a sniper’s laser sights. There’s something wrong with his eyes… But before you can figure it out he roars: “Answer me!” and you can’t help but jump at the hateful ferocity, his deadly strength palpable in his tone.

Your heart’s in your throat again, and your mind is racing out his door, terrified all 200-something pounds of him are about to pounce on you, so you’re surprised when you not only find your words, but shout them back at him, just as vicious.

“Take it easy! I'm your neighbor, remember? You passed out. I was trying to help you. I thought you were fucking dying!”

You see a flicker of recognition flash over his face before a coughing fit takes him. Then it hits you, like a punch to the gut as you watch him clutching at his blood-splattered chest again as he gasps for a breath. His eyes… they’re red where they should be white. All of the binged episodes of Forensic Files come flooding back to you and you even remember the term for it: petechial hemorrhaging. Burst blood vessels from strangulation. His strangulation.

The rush of pity that wells up in your chest at the awful realization calms your fear enough that you crawl a tiny bit closer to him. “You’re hurt,” you say gently, trying to keep your nerves from shaking your voice. “Your neck…”

You trail off as his eyes snap back to you, pupils still blown wide. You try to hold onto his skittish gaze, praying he won’t notice his gun behind you and lunge, but his eyes fall away to the floor. He raises his free hand to his neck, as slowly as if his wrists were chained to the floor, and touches one of the red furrows there. Then his trembling fingers move to his brand, where fresh beads of blood have surfaced. You hear him mutter something so low and tremulous it’s barely audible, but you think it sounded like… “Plan J”?

“I cleaned it with soap and water,” you reply as he stares blankly at his bloody fingertips. “But it’s deep. You may need stitches. I can bring you some Band-Aids,” you pause, feeling really fucking stupid for suggesting Band-Aids for the guy who’s been strangled and cut and branded. You blurt out the rest: “If you need them… for the time being.”

His eyes have glazed over, as if he’s gone somewhere far away. Somewhere terrible, because his rasping breath quickens and his whole body starts to shake, as though he’s reliving something. His attack? His branding? All of the times that monster of a person cut his face? You desperately want to reach for his hand, to pull him back from whatever hell he’s been sucked into, but you’re too scared to wake that cornered wild animal again.

Finally he snaps out of it, and his eyes close as his hand drops limply to the floor. You watch helplessly as the tension drains from his body and he sags forward, like he’s been crushed by whatever was waiting for him in that flashback.

“You should go,” he mumbles to the floor, barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself agree. As you stand you remind yourself that you can finally have that glass of wine, but the notion isn’t as appealing as it was earlier in the night.

You gather up your phone and bag. You start to ask if you can get him anything before you go but you know his answer so you turn to leave. 

“Thank you.” His small voice cracks like a little boy’s when he speaks, and you know he’s started to cry.

“Yeah, sure,” you say softly as you turn the knob and push open his door. You glance over your shoulder at him one last time. The sight of the broken boy—the boy whose name you still don’t know—huddled in a corner with his knees pulled to his chest, weeping into his hands, wrings your heart out like a wet rag, and you feel your own throat tighten up with tears. You hang your head as you shut the door softly behind you.

[frownyalfred]

How much violence do you think Batman should be able to get away with and still remain a hero or vigilante while also not losing his characterization?

There are times where no lives are in immediate danger and he only needs to get information but then he just casually breaks bones, effectively torturing someone. Like in the videogames Telltale Batman or the Arkham games' verse or even the movies and comics where he dishes out way more violence than necessary. That scene where he threatens to crush a guy's head with the Batmobile and actually has the car start rolling over his head, cracking it slightly. Or the interrogation of Eli in the Telltale game where Batman can pretty much brutalize and torture an already frightened criminel if the player so chooses. Or the comics, where he sometimes says he enjoys hurting criminals and sends them to the ER without a second thought.

Also, do his kids know just how brutal Bruce can be on a Tuesday just cause he feels like a criminel deserves it? After a patrol, he'll reprimand them for breaking someone's collarbone or if he thinks they took it too far even though he does that all the time. It's not like the Batkids never do it themselves, but when they do, they're mostly in extremely emotional states and not a cold clinical mindset. One could argue Jason and Cass are exessively violent too but, well, Jason is an anti-hero (or villain) and Cass is still learning how far is too far.

And if the kids didn't know/realise, what would happen if they saw a recording of Batman absolutely dismantling a criminal in a detached sort of way (maybe a rogue maybe not, whatever would be worse ig) and then having to reconcile that that's the man who's like a father to them.

It's a very interesting question, and I suspect you'll get a different answer from everyone you ask.

My take is that it comes down to two things: intention and likelihood. Bruce's line for injury/torture/death sits somewhere between probably won't kill them or cause grievous injury and could cause death or grievous injury.

Throwing a guy off a high-up roof isn't just likely to kill someone, it was likely intended to do so. As we see in Batman Begins, you can throw someone off a (low) roof and not kill them, without the intention of killing them, and without the high likelihood of the act killing them.

Breaking a man's leg for information probably won't kill him, but it could! The break could be done wrong, or heal wrong, and cause a blood clot that killed the man. But was breaking the man's leg intended to kill him? Was it done with full knowledge that the break would likely result in death? Is that something a reasonable individual can even evaluate on their own?

The argument can be made that hitting someone in the head could result in death. So is Bruce risking his no-kill rule on a technicality when he punches people into walls? Does dying from a complicated TBI years later count?

I find the branding example in BVS a fascinating discussion of this point. Bruce doesn't kill the men he brands, but he effectively sets the men up to be killed in prison. Is it the same? Does he intend for the brand to kill the men? Does he have knowledge of the likelihood of death as a result of his brand? Does Lex's meddling actually change any of that when it's revealed later?

The third thing I haven't brought up but that you did is Bruce's enjoyment/active participation in all of this. Does he hurt people because it's effective? Is it ever gratuitous? Is he detached from the suffering he causes, viewing it as a means to an end? Does Gotham play by different rules -- i.e., is torture and grievous bodily injury ever acceptable in Gotham when it wouldn't be in other cities? Is Bruce a man willing to do what it takes at the end of his rope, or is he a man who resorts to violence when there are still other viable options? Somewhere in between?

I do agree that, with the addition of Robins and other family members, the violence likely tones down unless absolutely necessary. Hurting people shouldn't be enjoyable, but it is downright painful for some people (not Bruce) to witness firsthand.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Duke Thomas Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Stuck-On Sunshine by zodarii_dae - Rated G

The Signal tends to interact with kids a bit more than his nocturnal coworkers. Even in Gotham, there are more kids out at two pm than two am. Those kids want to show their appreciation for the hero keeping them safe. What better way to show that than with stickers?

A Special Expection? No, A Son by Raccoonwriter - Rated T

Duke was excited to meet the Justice League until they start to ask and talk about things Duke didn't want to here.

breathing down your neck by Batbirdies - Rated G

Duke gets sick on Friday. Joker breaks out of Arkham on Saturday. It’s radio silence, until it’s not. — When Duke is benched with the flu the Joker attacks a small Gotham neighborhood with Joker venom. Duke knows he’s not well enough to help, but with stinging memories of his parents still trapped in their own heads—he has to do something. Bruce has a few things to say about that.

Frightening, But Not Afraid by snackbaskets - Rated G

When the family is hit by a new strain of fear toxin, safety is in numbers. Unfortunately, three members of the flock are still out there, afraid and alone. Bruce may not be the best at comforting his children, but apparently, he can let his wings do the talking. ((aka, the classic fear toxin hurt/comfort but with a splash of the classic wings-make-u-feel-safe hurt/comfort))

birds and brothers and other assorted synonyms by hoebiwan - Rated T

Duke isn’t an idiot. He knows it’s a bad idea to go into the underground tunnels of Gotham where people disappear for years on end and occasionally (if they’re lucky) stumble out coated in cobwebs and madness and blood. So he takes a flashlight and a water bottle and a bag of trail mix and lots and lots of beef jerky whenever he goes. If he ends up trapped down there, wandering in hopeless circles (which Duke thinks is important to note having never happened), at least he’ll have food. Also, the weird little kid dressed up like a miniature Talon likes the M&M’s in Duke’s trail mix.

the scientific method by orphan_account - Rated G

5 stupid ways Duke's siblings discovered how his powers worked, and 1 time he figured it out for himself.

"You have no idea," Dick said. "I had to live through all of their teenage years. They were each independently obsessed with Mythbusters at separate points in their life. I'm pretty sure Cass and Tim have wanted a meta to experiment on since they were 14, but Bruce always said no."

Duke Thomas Hates Bullies by Gemini_00 - Not Rated

Everyone loves that Duke Thomas isn't like all those other crazy Waynes. Everyone loves that the Signal isn't trying to get himself killed. Duke may not see Bruce as his dad, but he is definitely part of the bat family. and nobody is going to bully his family. Or, Duke Thomas Kicks Ass.

Keep Your Head, Your Backbone, and Your Heart by MrMich - Rated T

The last thing that Duke expected on what was supposed to be just a regular patrol was being suddenly thrown five years into the past, coming face to face with a darker, more violent Batman than the one he knew, a broken family, and a Tim who was a foot shorter than Duke, and not even Robin yet.

A silent shadow flitted past him, just barely visible on the cave walls. He went rigid, tracking the shadow in the corner of his vision. And then he dropped to the floor, just in time, as a familiar black gloved fist passed overhead. He just barely missed being hit by the punishing blow that would have landed right on his temple for a sure concussion if he hadn’t dodged. “Batman?” Duke yelled. He somersaulted forward, just barely avoiding another strike. “B, what are you doing?!” “Who are you,” came the growled response. A shiver crawled down Duke’s spine at the grim hostility in Batman’s voice that promised violence, and something tightened in the back of his throat.

WHEN EARTH FINDS STARS. by orpheusaki - Rated G

"Let it be known that I completely detest the implications of what this situation is mirroring," Red Hood grumbles to himself and it's the longest string of words Duke has heard from any so-called Gotham vigilante, let alone the one who's known for shooting more than he is talking. "The fuck?" Duke mutters, because if he's already going to die, he might as well try and make sense of it. "I'm not going to care about whatever sob story you have," is what Red Hood replies with instead of explaining, "Where are your parents?" "Gone," is all Duke says, because it's really none of this guy's business. It's also the truth. Somehow, Red Hood sounds even more anguished about this information than Duke is, "Ah shit." (Duke steals the tires off Red Hood's bike and somehow gains a family.)

Leadership by PepperSoniRoni - Rated G

Nightwing offers Signal a chance to lead a small group for a mission. Duke is wary, but accepts the challenge. He proves to be a rather great leader.

Takes place after Season Two of Young Justice, and ignores Season Three (I still haven’t seen it, unfortunately).

You Would Not Believe Your Eyes by Tiptapricot - Rated G

No metas are allowed in Gotham, so what does that mean for Duke?

Dayshift Shadow Work by IzzyMRDB - Rated G

So, when he realised one day once he looked down that he was missing his shadow, the first thing he checked was to make sure he wasn’t also glowing. Can’t have a shadow if you’re the light source after all. Nope, not glowing. Weird. AKA Duke's shadow works like Peter Pan's and immediately chooses violence

Runs in the Family by motleyfam - Rated G

Duke has a migraine and just wants a bit of peace. Tim understands this better than most.

The League of Assassins: An Indepth Exploration of the World's Most Prolific Group of Assassins by Hint_of_Elation - Rated T

Duke Thomas presents a documentary about the League of Assassins. Warning: Bruce Wayne did not approve this film.

Tequila by Sohotthateveryonedied - Rated T

Bruce steps into Duke’s path, blocking him from venturing further into the house. It takes a moment for Duke to register the new obstacle before him. His mouth drags into a lopsided grin. “Bruce! Wha’s—wassup? How’s your night goin’?” “You’re drunk," Bruce accuses. “Me? No way. No way. I would never do that.” Duke hiccups. “Totally sober.”

Who, Me? by Listentothelittlebird - Rated T

People thought Duke was the responsible one. People often forgot Duke ran with a gang. A gang named after Robin, sure, but a gang nonetheless.

bathtub cookie crumbs by ghostellie - Rated G

Duke finds him in a bathtub on the third floor. It’s an old fashioned thing, a clawfoot porcelain tub settled in an otherwise empty room in a far, abandoned corner of the manor, dusty despite Alfred’s best efforts. Tim’s seated at an awkward angle, sideways in the tub with his head rested on one edge and his knees slung over the other, fully clothed and half covered in dust. A pink box of sugar cookies, no doubt stolen from Jason’s stash, rests on his chest. He meets Duke’s eyes as he enters, shoveling a bat-shaped cookie in his mouth.

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype by PepperSoniRoni - Rated T

5 Times Duke Tried To Prove To Bruce He Wasn't The Responsible One, and 1 Time His Siblings Knew Better (& used it to their advantage) Because Duke is relatively new, he hasn't opened up completely to the family. He tries to follow Bruce and Alfred's rules, but he doesn't always succeed (nor try to). It's during these times Bruce still manages to pin the blame on someone else. His siblings, of course, see this. And whatever are they supposed to think? Well, Duke's clearly doing it on purpose! (This is really just me being salty about fanon characterization, and an attempt to cram as much Crazy-Totally-Not-Sane-Duke as I can into a single fic)

that which you cannot bear by britishparty - Rated T

There is no backup for the Signal. Duke reminds himself of this regularly, like a prayer through gritted teeth: there's no one to catch him if he slips, to replace him if he stops. So the Signal can't give up. Just can't, like an immutable law, an undeniable truth. He has to win every fight. There isn't any other option. Duke Thomas makes himself invincible. Untouchable. Then he loses.