that1emowitch

[that1emowitch]

I am SO getting in on this it's an amazing idea

Post Red Robin AU -

All Bat relationships are completely platonic in this AU, fyi

Tim, in this AU, is on the verge of leaving the Waynes/Bats/Gotham behind. He's tired and done. Maybe he's even planning to get out of the vigilante life altogether.

Near the end, however, some villain hits him with a spell. Dazzled and confused, the villain escapes while a game screen pops up for Tim.

Welcome, New Player!

Tim sighs. Another game screen pops up.

Favorability is now visible. Would you like to view their current statuses?

Confused but ultimately playing along, Tim nods his head. What pops up is a list of all of the Bats with a percentage next to their name (Barbara, Bruce, Dick, Jason, Steph, Cass, Damian, Alfred, and Duke).

"What is this?"

The current Favorability of each target. The Player must rise Favorability to 100% for each target in order to complete the game.

"And if I refuse?"

Any target not at 100% Favorability at the end of the game will die. The Player will also face penalties.

"Right."

Successful completions of arcs will result in prizes.

"So my options are to cooperate and be rewarded or refuse and watch everyone die. Fantastic. When does the first arc begin?"

00:21:46:07

---

Basically, a magic/game thing forces Tim to repair his relationships with everyone on threat of death :)

It's platonic favorability with everyone, and yes those percentages can decrease.

No, Tim does not tell anyone about the messages, percentages, or the impending death. He can handle it by himself. It'll be fine.

[that1emowitch]

The Bats Get Therapy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63535225/chapters/162812806

I wrote a new fic!

Basically I was thinking, what if the Bats got the therapy they so desperately need? Then I was like, WAIT! I CAN WRITE THAT!

Bruce and his kids made a deal. All of them, Steph included, would get therapy, but only if Bruce did it too. Leslie and Alfred already had a psychologist in mind. A person they'd been pushing Bruce to set up an appointment with for years. Ex-navy and Leslie's old friend, Dr Kathryn Jenna.

This work is gonna basically be me doing a character study for all the Bats, but in a therapy kinda way. It's gonna be kinda serious, kinda fun. A mix. I may or may not update regularly, because I'm mostly just doing this for fun. Hope y'all enjoy!

[that1emowitch]

PJO Fic Requests!

I know i usually write for batfam and dc, but i've been thinking of getting into pjo more (i just reread the books lmao), so if yall have any requests do lmk!

i'm probably gonna do oneshots, maybe some ships? i don't rlly mind writing any ship except for reyna/apollo and lukabeth. if i have enough motivation and ideas i might even write a dc/pjo crossover? idk it depends

but pls comment below with ideas you'd like to see and i'll try my best to write them! (i'll also tag u if u want)

[that1emowitch]

Another JayRoy sketch cuz I'm obsessed :D

[that1emowitch]

thought i'd try making a gif of a little idea i had, so, here's cass being pet on the head! <3

[that1emowitch]

Wish my parents would do this with me but if not at least Jay will get Dad kissies <3

[that1emowitch]

SO uh a lot has happened and i probably wont be able to post regularly until i figure some things out (RANT) My parents looked through my phone and found out a lot of things, including my online friends, me being queer, etc. And as you can imagine, im in DEEP shit now. They literally made me delete all the "woke" apps and block all my online friends (Yuki if ur reading this im sorry i didnt wanna unfriend u i had to) but luckily i managed to hide my tumblr from them. i cant use my phone much anymore cuz they're keeping constant tabs on it, and ive been trying to work around all this but idk if i can do much without letting them find out. like, they haven't figured out that i might do shit on my computer and i CANNOT let them near this, if they take my computer i'll literally be stranded so i just wanted to let yall know what happened in case i dont post for a long time or if my account gets deleted or something (i PROMISE if anything happens i'll orphan my ao3 works not delete them) if yall have any advice for this id rlly appreciate it i love yall <3<3<3

[that1emowitch]

Not a Batfam post like my usual ones, but I made a little something!

Basically I had one of those tag thingies on bread packets and I realized it looked kinda like a face and horns, and then I thought, BLITZØ!

[that1emowitch]

OBSESSED WITH YOUR FIC OMFGGGG

🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜 🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

(I'm not completely sure which fic ur talking about cuz I have quite a few WIPs I've been meaning to update and I PROMISE I'll get around to doing it I swear comments like these are the sweet brain juice I need to keep me writing I love yall so much)

[that1emowitch]

I had to break it into small pieces cuz the quality was getting fucked lmao

Also i actually got the idea for this while watching a video by Johnnie Guilibert (I think I fucked up his name) idr the name of it but I can find and link it if anyone asks

(Prev - - - Next)

Taglist: @millie-with-a-y @eldritchdemonfox @somniphobicfox @halfdeadjasontodd @playingwithwater @kai-antreas @cas-edspace @nevermoreraven1 @azulserszzp @thedeadandthedecaying @heyyallitssatan @nightmarearian (lmk in the comments of you'd like to be added to the taglist for Batfam twitter posts!)

[that1emowitch]

“The sun shines in the bedroom/When we play/The raining always starts/When you go away”

(AO3 link)

- - -

Roy eased the door to Lian's room shut, the soft click barely audible over the thrum of his heartbeat. He lingered for a moment, hand still on the doorknob, his eyes scanning the grain of the wood as if he could see through it. She was fine. She was safe. He knew that. He’d tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and even double-checked the stuffed bunny she clung to for any frayed stitching.

The apartment was a fortress—Batman-grade security, outfitted with contingencies crafted by everyone from Tim Drake to Oliver Queen. Jason had added his own deadly traps and redundancies, ensuring not even a ghost could get in uninvited. Lian was protected. She was home. Safe. Yet Roy's chest felt like it was caving in under a weight that he couldn’t explain, not entirely.

His knees buckled slightly as he stepped away from the door. He caught himself against the wall, his palm pressing hard into the cold plaster as his breath came shallow and ragged. It wasn’t just the shooting earlier today. It wasn’t just seeing a gunman walking into Lian’s school like a specter of every parent’s worst nightmare. It was how close she’d been to danger, how quickly it all could’ve gone wrong.

He was too familiar with school shootings, having experienced them and stopped them many times over the years. But this, knowing his baby girl was so close to—

It was the familiar itch beneath his skin, the gnawing whisper in the back of his mind. One hit. Just one. One to quiet the storm, to push everything down and make it bearable. His nails bit into his palm as he staggered to the couch, collapsing onto it with a weight he couldn’t shake.

Heroin made everything better, just for a while, but he knew he’d regret it. That didn’t stop the craving.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Jason’s heavy boots thudded softly against the hardwood floor. His lover carried two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, the scent of cinnamon and dark chocolate wafting into the room. Jason paused, immediately clocking the way Roy sat slumped forward, his hands trembling slightly as they fidgeted with a loose thread on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” Jason said softly, setting the mugs down on the coffee table. He moved with an ease that belied the tension in his shoulders, slipping a fleece blanket off the armrest and wrapping it gently around Roy's shoulders. The sensation of warmth and Jason’s solid presence made Roy's throat tighten. He didn’t deserve this—this care, this love—but Jason never gave him the chance to argue otherwise.

Roy leaned back instinctively, letting Jason’s arms encircle him. The warmth of the blanket and Jason’s familiar scent—gunpowder, leather, and something faintly woodsy—washed over him like a balm. He turned his face up, and Jason met him halfway in a soft kiss that lingered for just a moment before morphing into a tender press of their foreheads.

Jason pulled back just enough to sit beside him on the couch, taking Roy’s hand and rubbing soothing circles into the back of it. He didn’t push, didn’t press for words, but Roy could feel Jason waiting, his patience infinite and steady.

“Fuck, I— I’m feeling like shooting up,” Roy murmured, the words a low confession that barely broke the silence. His free hand went to his pocket, his fingers unconsciously tracing the outline of where a syringe might’ve been, if he hadn’t already emptied his stash of heroin years ago. He clenched his fist, trying to banish the phantom weight of the addiction he’d carried for so long.

He could still see faint lines where track marks used to be. Some small, scary part of him wanted to see those scarring his arms again.

Jason’s grip on his other hand tightened, grounding him. “Okay,” Jason said simply, his voice calm, steady, like a lifeline thrown into dark waters. “Talk to me.”

Roy exhaled shakily, his gaze darting to the coffee table, then back to Jason. “It’s just... today. Seeing that guy walk into Lian’s school, knowing what could’ve happened if we’d been even a second slower.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “I keep thinking, what if it happens again? What if I can’t save her next time? What if—”

“Hey,” Jason interrupted softly, scooting closer until their thighs were pressed together. “She’s safe. You made sure of that. We made sure of that.”

Roy nodded, but the reassurance didn’t reach the knot in his chest. His fingers trembled again, and Jason caught the movement, holding Roy's hand tightly and pressing it against his own chest. Roy could feel the steady thump of Jason’s heartbeat beneath his palm, anchoring him.

“You’re not alone in this,” Jason said firmly. “I’ve got you. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever you’re thinking, I’m here.”

The dam broke then, a flood of tears spilling down Roy’s cheeks as he let himself fall into Jason’s arms. Jason held him close, one hand threading through Roy’s hair while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. He murmured soft, nonsensical things—comforting sounds that didn’t need to be words—until Roy’s sobs began to subside.

When Roy finally pulled back, his face was blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed, but the tension in his shoulders had eased slightly. Jason cupped his cheek, wiping away the last stray tear with his thumb.

“Do you want to stay out here tonight?” Jason asked after a moment. “We can make it a living room campout. Or,” he added with a small, mischievous grin, “we could ask Lian if she wants her Papa and Daddy to have a sleepover in her room.”

Roy huffed a laugh, the sound watery but genuine. “She’d never let us leave if we did that.”

“True,” Jason admitted, leaning back against the couch. “But if it’d make you feel better, we can stay close. Whatever you need, Roy.”

Roy considered the offer for a moment before shaking his head. “No. I don’t want her to see me like this. She shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

“She’s a tough kid,” Jason said, “but I get it.” He reached for the mugs of hot chocolate he’d placed aside, and handed one to Roy, the warmth seeping through the ceramic into Roy’s hands. “How about we stay out here, then? Just us. I’ll put on some music, and we’ll hang out. No pressure. No expectations.”

Roy nodded, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. The rich, slightly bitter taste was comforting in its own way, grounding him further. Jason got up briefly to grab his phone, queuing up a playlist of Nirvana—Roy’s favorite—and setting it to play at a low volume.

As the familiar chords of Son of a Gun filled the room, Jason returned to the couch, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed. “You know,” he said after a moment, his tone light, “This hot chocolate. It's Alfred’s recipe, which was apparently his grandma's recipe. Top secret. That's why Lian always tells me to make her cocoa, not you.”

Roy snorted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. “Oh, please. Lain loves my ready mix hot chocolate just as well. She just asks you to do it ‘cause it makes you happy.”

Jason gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “You did not just compare Alfred's grandma's hot chocolate to powder mixes.”

Roy chuckled, the sound soft but genuine. The heaviness in his chest hadn’t disappeared entirely—he still felt like he craved drugs to soothe the pain—but it felt more manageable now, like something he could carry with Jason by his side.

They sat like that for a while, trading quiet jokes and sipping their hot chocolate as the music played on. Eventually, Roy rested his head on Jason’s shoulder, letting the rhythm of the songs and the steady warmth of Jason’s presence lull him into a sense of peace.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t a cure. But it was enough. For now, it was enough.

As long as Jason was there, Roy could get through anything. He knew that. He loved that.

[that1emowitch]

"You'll Be Fine, Jaylad"

(AO3)

.

.

Bruce Wayne had finally succumbed to exhaustion. The glow of the Batcomputer still hummed softly in the depths of the Batcave, but its master had retired hours ago. Bruce rarely allowed himself such indulgence—sleep—but even he couldn’t defy biology forever. The heavy weight of the day’s patrols, the case files, and Gotham’s relentless darkness had dragged him under.

It was quiet in Wayne Manor, save for the faint creak of old floorboards and the distant rustle of the wind outside. The house had a way of amplifying loneliness and memory, Bruce thought distantly as he drifted into a rare, dreamless sleep.

But quiet rarely lasted in a home that housed wounded hearts and restless minds.

At 2:13 a.m., the faintest shuffle broke the silence in Bruce’s room. He didn’t stir at first—years of training meant his subconscious registered the sound without alarm. But the gentle dip of the mattress and the hesitant tug on his blanket brought him fully awake.

Bruce blinked into the darkness, his instincts flickering to life, but the sight beside him doused any sense of threat. A small, trembling form, hunched and vulnerable, was easing itself into bed next to him. Jason.

The boy didn’t speak at first, and Bruce didn’t rush him. Jason was thirteen—still so young, though sometimes it was easy to forget given his sharp tongue and defiance. But right now, he wasn’t Robin-in-training. He was just a child, pale and shivering, seeking solace.

Bruce could feel bony ribs under his touch, and he tried to ignore them—even after so many months of being well-fed, Jason still looked slight. A lifetime of starvation and trauma couldn't be washed away so quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispered, his voice raw, cracking on the syllables. His hand clutched at the fabric of Bruce’s shirt, tight and desperate, as though the mere act of touching him could anchor him. “I didn’t mean to wake you…”

Bruce’s throat tightened. Jason’s nightmares had become more frequent lately. He didn’t talk about them much—Jason never did—but Bruce knew the signs. His sudden silences during the day, the unspoken tension in his shoulders, the restless way he’d pick at the edges of his gloves during patrol. Tonight, it seemed, the storm in his head had overwhelmed him.

Bruce placed a heavy, warm hand over Jason’s smaller one. He felt the tremors running through the boy and gave his hand a soft squeeze. “It’s okay, Jason,” he murmured, his voice gravelly from sleep. “I was awake anyway.”

A lie. And a poor one, at that. Bruce knew Jason was sharp enough to see through it, but the boy didn’t call him out. Instead, Jason shifted closer, his fingers still fisting the fabric of Bruce’s shirt. He buried his face in Bruce’s chest, his breaths ragged and uneven.

Bruce’s heart ached. He wasn’t good at this—comfort. He could throw a punch, solve impossible mysteries, and outwit Gotham’s most dangerous minds, but holding a scared child? That always felt impossibly fragile.

“Do you want to go downstairs?” Bruce asked after a moment, keeping his tone light. “Get some hot chocolate?”

Jason shook his head quickly, his hair brushing against Bruce’s chin. “No,” he mumbled, his voice muffled. “Don’t wanna move.”

“All right,” Bruce replied softly. “We’ll stay here, then.”

Jason’s grip on Bruce’s shirt didn’t loosen. He tugged the blankets tighter around himself, cocooning in their warmth, and nestled deeper into Bruce’s side. The boy’s breathing began to even out, though he still refused to let go.

Bruce resisted the urge to ask him what the nightmare was about. He already knew Jason wouldn’t want to talk—not now. Maybe not ever. Instead, he adjusted the comforter over both of them, pulling it snug around Jason’s shoulders.

“You’re safe,” Bruce said after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. The words felt clumsy on his tongue, but he meant them with every fiber of his being. “I’ve got you.”

Jason didn’t respond, but the way his tense frame slowly began to relax told Bruce he’d heard.

The seconds ticked by, stretching into minutes, the room falling silent once more save for their shared breathing. Bruce could feel Jason’s heartbeat against his own—a fragile, staccato rhythm that gradually steadied.

He let his own eyes drift shut again. His mind lingered briefly on the boy curled against him—the child he’d taken in, who had fought tooth and nail for a place in this unforgiving world. Jason carried more than any thirteen-year-old should ever have to bear, and Bruce wished, not for the first time, that he could shield him from the darkness. But he knew better. He couldn’t erase the past, couldn’t undo the scars, visible and invisible, that marked Jason’s life.

What he could do, though, was be here. Present. A constant in the chaos.

Jason shifted slightly, his hand finally loosening its grip on Bruce’s shirt to rest lightly against his chest. The boy was still awake—Bruce could tell by the way his breathing hitched every so often—but he wasn’t trembling anymore.

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, so quiet Bruce almost missed it.

Bruce’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. He placed a hand gently on Jason’s back, tracing slow, reassuring circles. “Always,” he said simply.

For the first time that night, Bruce allowed himself to exhale fully. He wasn’t sure how much sleep he’d get now—not with Jason tucked against him, warm and solid and reminding him of all the reasons he couldn’t afford to fail. But in this moment, it didn’t matter. Jason needed him, and that was enough.

“You'll be just fine, Jaylad,” Bruce whispered, his lips brushing into the sleeping boy's hair. “I've got you. Always.”

The room grew still again, and this time, Bruce let himself rest. His hand remained on Jason’s back, grounding him in turn, as sleep crept in once more.

Some battles couldn’t be fought in the shadows or on rooftops. Some victories came quietly, in the early hours of the morning, wrapped in blankets and whispered reassurances.

Bruce held his son close and let the night take them both.

[that1emowitch]

Part FIVE of my de-aged!Dami series!

Tim and Damian have ALWAYS had that sibling rivalry. It's even worse when Tim's forced to babysit an ACTUAL baby while being a sleep deprived genius baby himself

(Prev) - (Next)

(Also, bonus VERY messy sketch below the cut if u wanna see Dami using his baby privilege to cry and get Tim in trouble)

[that1emowitch]

Part four of my de-aged!Dami series! This time featuring Cass Wayne

She's gonna watch over him all night and protect the fuck outta him, this squishy little baby is her BROTHER and if anyone even steps near him while she's on guard she'll show them what it feels like to die for exactly [1] second

(Prev) - (Next)

[that1emowitch]

Part THREE of my de-aged!Damian series

With Bruce being such a sappy little mf

He hasn't got the chance to see any of his kids when they were born, and now his babiest child is an actual baby, and he's fucking crying look at those happy sappy dad tears

(Prev) - (Next)

[that1emowitch]

PART TWO OF MY DE-AGED!DAMI SERIES!

This time featuring Dick fucking Grayson

He was supposed to put Dami to bed, but ended up asleep himself <3

(Can u tell Dick's wearing a "World's Best Brother" shirt he bought for himself)

(Prev) - (Next)

[that1emowitch]

I've decided to do a little de-aged!Damian with various Bats series! Idk just for funsies

Here's Jason with baby Dami it was his turn to babysit, but he needed to patrol, so he made a little compromise

(Next)