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spicyhamsamson · 1 year

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I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.

I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.

But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.

Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.

Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.

Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.

Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.

Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”

For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?

And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?

That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?

That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?

Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.

Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.

DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.

The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.

That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.

I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 2 months

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Okay, so might have been asked before, but Bruce Wayne.

Not Batman. Just Bruce Wayne, little to no tech, Brucie persona in full swing...maybe he's there for some really weird gala or something and is now stuck and doesn't want to blow his cover.

@beabaseball asked:

Would Bruce Wayne (Batman) survive Count Dracula? He's scared of bats!! :(

@goldenzingy46 asked:

could batman survive castle dracula? (either in costume or out of it)

@major-knighton asked:

Could Batman survive Castle Dracula?

Anonymous asked:

I'm sure this has probably been asked, but I couldn't find it via blog search. Could Batman survive Castle Dracula? (Any iteration, with or without Batfam members.)

Ahahahahaha Brucie Wayne, billionaire playboy and Gotham's favoritest darling himbo. Yes good!

I gotta tag @unpretty in this. We all know tumblr batman is the best batman.

As to beabaseball's concern: poor Brucie! He is so afraid of bats! Fortunately for him, Dracula does all his bad batting about in England - he doesn't actually shapeshift at any point in the Castle, presumably for the same reasons he's presenting as Old AF and climbing his own walls like a lizard. Maybe some exceptionally rich blood will help him out with that actually. And for what it's worth, Jonathan does not describe any natural bats frequenting Castle Dracula either. There's nothing alive in the Castle (the wolves, of course, being Outside the Castle). Now would he count things like bats and vermin? He describes the womens' quarters as moth-eaten, so there must be like...moths. (Unless Dracula Did That I suppose). But I am not sure whether that tells us there could be bats and they just weren't worth mentioning, or that there aren't bats because if there were they would have eaten the moths.

I am going to say that there are no bats of any kind at Castle Dracula, so poor Brucie won't have his childhood trauma triggered in that way. I'm sure watching a mother get devoured by wolves won't- yeah.... he's not gonna like this. Sorry Bruce buddy you're in the Dying Parents novel. Whoopsie daisy.

Look there are reasons why Brucie is Gotham's favorite idiot son. He's a good boy. Of course he accepts the crucifix - it's for his mother's sake! Being given a lot of flowers is nothing unusual for him but he accepts them graciously as well. He tips the coachman handsomely (the coachman turns a little green at accepting his money, but Mr Wayne is just so earnest and, he rationalizes it later, it's not like the doomed young man is going to have any further use for it...), and Dracula's Calèche driver as well. He's so sloshed on Slivovitz by the time they get to the Castle (impressive since the bottle appears not to have been opened) that he tries to tip him in real silver (lol classic Brucie having no idea of the value of things - where did he even get that?). He even tries to tip Dracula when he answers the door, presuming him to be the butler. (No, it is late and my servants have all gone to bed. Really? My butler keeps such consistent round-the-clock hours that the tabloids keep asking me if he's a vampire, haha, but I guess he's something special).

On that note, this strange nighttime existence is nothing that out of the ordinary for the billionaire playboy lifestyle. Brucie frequently sleeps in till 2 under normal circumstances - it's not like he needs to get up early to drive his kids to school, he has drivers for that (no one is really sure if Brucie even knows how to drive). Dracula actually finds it a little off-putting how blithely cheerful he remains, almost as if he too is a creature of the night who cares little for the bright voluptuousness of youth ... or maybe he's just that dumb. When Dracula tried to sneak up on him making his toilet he found him actually trying to put his trousers on backwards (and turning around so much in the effort that the sneaking up was harder than Dracula anticipated - Brucie awkwardly explains that his butler usually dresses him, leaving Dracula morbidly fascinated about how he's even alive still).

I... am not sure how the shaving scene goes. I shouldn't think he would startle enough to cut himself. Or might he cut himself on purpose just to see how Dracula reacts? If Dracula makes a grab for his throat dies he blow him a kiss and say "buy me a drink first, darling" ? Did he pack extra shaving mirrors, making Dracula go :/ and consider stealing his stuff early?

Dracula retires muttering each morning "is he as stupid as he seems?? Nobody could be as stupid as he seems..." But he invites him to stay another month and write some fake letters and Brucie is like "who me?? My secretary writes my letters I wouldn't know how to begin" and Dracula has no idea what to do with that. Climbing the walls doesn't bother him, he's from Gotham, people climbing about on walls is your typical Tuesday. In fact, nothing Dracula does seems to get to him and it's getting really frustrating. At one point Dracula cautiously asks him why he's so chill and he's just like "oh you know it's not so different from home, only there we've got this evil clown that murders people. Well that's what they say at least. But my ward Dick, you know, he came from the circus? And apparently murdering people is against the Clown Code so, between you and me, I don't think he exists." And Dracula's just sitting there like "wait what" but also "that doesn't follow at all and I am fascinated by how your brain works" and because Dracula's a cocky SOB he's like "so you don't believe in evil clowns but do you believe in vampires?" And Brucie is like "well everyone says the Batman is a vampire but personally I think the news media made him up like Bigfoot and Armadillos." And Dracula's just like ...wat.

Brucie definitely ends up in the ladies' wing (it's amazing where that man randomly ends up. He gets lost on the way to the bathroom. Maybe he genuinely thought it was his own room). Is he sleeping... or only pretending to? Either way the Girlies aren't the first Femme Fatales to have him under their spell (he's been hypnotized so much...) - but on the other hand he's probably still wearing the crucifix. I don't think that will interrupt the trance though, which might before the best because child death is one of the things he's sensitive about. Dracula carries him back to his room and is like "dang is it just the fact that I've been fasting or is this soft socialite built like a brickhouse???"

So I think Bruce would know better than to remove the crucifix, as I've said, and I also think he'd figure out a way to set an hourly alarm on his watch to break him out of future trances - but does he have the data to figure out the sonic component based just on May 16th or does he need the barking dogs on June 24th as well. I would be willing to give him the possibility of actually being able to understand the Hetman, and also putting together that the people camped out in Dracula's courtyard are probably working for Dracula. Does this mean he won't try to send coded letters - or that he will try, to find out if they get passed to Dracula?

.......okay I don't think he's going to let Dracula get away with going into town with his babysnatching sack. I think when he sees that he's going to act. (Now obviously no one is going to mistake Dracula for him even wearing his suits because the butts don't match). So what does he do? Does he follow him?? Like, I am confident in his ability to make it down the wall even without a grappling hook. He's a whole ninja after all. The Girlies are like ....wait where'd he go? I actually don't know how Dracula effects his babysnatching. I think the funniest option I'd for Bruce (master of disguise) to dress up in Dracula's things (you know how he loves a good cape) and go frighten the villagers first so that they're on high alert when Dracula turns up and he can't find any babies to snatch. I don't know how he could get there first though. His best option is to tail Dracula and then sabotage his efforts by like... knocking over trashcans and things. I dunno. This has kinda gotten away from me.

Okay so assuming he succeeds... what does Dracula do if he can't get a baby? He's got some very opinionated mouths to feed. Maybe he's finally had enough and is like "fine, you can eat the himbo, I'm leaving in a week anyway" and the Girlies are like "so... about that... we tried while you were out (what!?) and he's not here" and Dracula is like "what do you mean he's not here there's nowhere for him to go" and they go and search and find him lounging on something reading the Bradshaw's Guide upside down. And he's like "oh yeah I'm thinking of buying a railroad" and Dracula's like ".......that's upside down" and Brucie is just like "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh that makes so much more sense thanks <3"

Regarding the wolves I... don't think Bruce would choose the Certain Death option. He's got all those kids. (Sadly I can't see a way for him to get Free Baby out of this - maybe it's for the best). And afterwards maybe he stows away in one of those dirt boxes... although if he follows Dracula on the 24th does he ever find the dirt boxes? Eh, he's a brilliant detective, of course he finds them.

Anyway, yes, I do think Batman Brucie Wayne, himbo of Gotham can survive Castle Dracula

(Incidentally I personally believe that Batman does have a superpower and it's Environmental Empathy. Dracula's like ...wtf I didn't order these thunderstorms)

#batman #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #tumblr batman #superheroes #aristocrats #detectives #ninjas

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eyeheartboobiez · 4 months

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𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐜𝐬

-> warnings: smut mention

-> a/n: are you able to pick up other people’s tabs at a bar? what even is a tab? idk. here are some unnecessarily long bruce hcs that i wrote at 1am

(edit): fun fact, this was the first set of sugar daddy!bruce hcs i wrote but ended up “scrapping” bcs i didn’t like the direction it was going in👨🏿‍🦯

• honestly, you don't know how either of you ended up in this situation

The drink in your hands was starting to sweat.

One of your professors had given you the chance to attend a charity event of one of his more high society friends. Of course, while you were beyond grateful, you can easily say you'd much rather be at home binging your favorite series.

So here you were, sipping on your fourth glass of the evening without a single clue how you were gonna pay for them all. Your social battery was beyond drained as you were sitting by yourself at the bar, just about ready to call it a night.

All the other socialites in the room, however, seemed to be having a blast talking about politics or stocks or whatever it was that rich people talk about. Well, all except for one.

• on one hand hand there was you, a broke college student just looking for someone to pay for her drinks

• on the other, there was the rich billionaire who was searching for someone worthy enough of his time

• bruce had noticed you sitting alone at the bar, lightly sipping on an amethyst martini:

He takes the night off from his batman duties, and this is how he decides to spend it?

Bruce couldn't wrap his head around it either. Alfred was actually the one who talked him into going to this party. With him being one of the top donors, he was basically obligated to attend at this point.

While all the other party goers were standing around talking amongst each other, the billionaire found himself off in the corner, eyes sweeping the room to find all its nearest exits. In the midst off his mental scan though, he saw you.

The dress you wore was simple, yet it somehow made you glow against the warm lighting. Despite all the commotion in the room, your presence alone practically drew him in like a moth to a flame.

If Bruce was gonna be here all night, he might as well make things interesting, right?

• you hadn't noticed him approaching until the chair next to you was being pulled out

• you were hesitant to open up to him at first

• because why in the hell was one of the richest men in gotham talking to you of all people

• but after a while, the two of you practically sprung into conversation, talking about almost anything and everything.

• after talking for what felt like hours he asks you:

"Would you perhaps like to continue this conversation back at my place?"

• with the way his index finger was gently caressing your hand, you just knew that if you left with this man, you both would be doing anything but talking

• while you usually weren't one to sleep with strangers, one night of some fun couldn’t hurt, right?

• plus you still needed to get these drinks paid for

"Only if you offer to pick up my tab."

• one thing led to another and you found yourself lying in one of the biggest beds of your life, getting fucked by one of the richest men in the world

• you and bruce ended up spending a very long night together. by the end of it, you both were practically comatose from it all

• the next morning, you woke up fully prepared to sign some sort of NDA and head on home

• or at least you were. until you felt the hot trail of kisses leading down from your neck

"Last night was incredible," The billionaire grumbled, the low murmur of his morning voice making butterflies appear in your stomach. Open-mouthed kisses continued to trail down the valley of your breasts, "I don't suppose you wanna do that again sometime, hm?"

• you almost had to pinch yourself to make sure you weren't still dreaming

• it was over breakfast that you both went over some of the necessary details neither of you seemed to bring up the night before

• you told him things about yourself like your age and how you typically didn't go home with strangers. you also ended up confessing how you were only at the same event as him because one of your professors gave you an invitation

• which then led to him asking what your major was

• …which led him to ask what university you attended

• ….which then led to him offering to pay off your college expenses

• like hold on. pause for a second.

• did he fr just offer to pay your whole tuition?

• was the pussy that good???

• before you could think too much about it, bruce made sure to let you know that this would be a small dip into a very big bucket for him

• all he asked for in return was to spend another night with you

• of course he didn't expect you to come to a decision right away, so after exchanging numbers, he drove you home to think it over

• to be honest though, it didn't take you very long to consider things

• i mean you were practically swimming in student loans over here

• immediately after you called to give him a confirmation, your phone pinged with a notification

bruce w. sent over $860.

‘buy something nice for yourself and meet me tomorrow at seven. don’t worry about transportation, i’ll arrange a car for you.’

• and after that the rest was history

• being bruce’s sugar baby was honestly one of the best decisions you’ve ever made

• after your second night with him was when he wanted to make things official between you two

• “official” pretty much meant that he would volunteer to be your personal bank as long as you continued to keep him company

• even though it all sounded great, you weren’t stupid.

• if you were to really go through with this you would need it written on paper. you wanted this shit documented

• so that’s exactly what he did

• by the end of the day, bruce had his lawyers make a drafted copy of the terms and conditions your so called “relationship” would entail (a draft that you were free to make changes to, of course)

• now that everything had been officially set in stone, most days you found yourself either attending charity events or maxing out his company credit card

• now if only bruce could tell you about a certain night job of his…

-> a/n: when i tell you these have been in my drafts for a MINUTE😭 i think imma make a fic about how their relationship develops but first i wanna write the next part to my jason smau series

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neopuppy · 3 months

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“What’d you do today?”

Haechan blinks a few times, tilting his head to one side in deep thought.

Woke up. Jerked off in bed.

Ate breakfast.

Took a shower. Jerked off in the shower.

Got dressed. Logged on to play League. Took a break and jerked off.

Opened twitter and jerked off again.

Jaemin clears his throat, chomping on a piece of celery. “Dude? Are you listening?”

“Uh yeah, nothing man, gamed and shit.”

“Gooned all day as usual, didn’t you?”

Renjun shrugs, nudging Haechan’s shoulder. “I’m at six today so far.”

“Pretty sure Jeno was emptying his shit while we watched the new Batman last night.” Jaemin says annoyed.

“Dude, I told you I was tired!” Jeno explains, stealing a wing from his plate. “You wanted to watch that stupid movie so bad.”

“You guys act like we don’t all live together and jerk off around each other all of the time.” Renjun shrugs. “At this point I’d recognize Haechan by his dick alone.”

“Dude for real?” Haechan looks at him stunned, hand placed over his heart. “That’s so cute.”

“Of course man, that birthmark on your upper thigh is hard to forget.”

“I’ll have to get a better look at yours next time. I could probably only recognize Jeno’s.” Haechan mumbles that last part, clearing his throat and returning attention back to his food.

“Yeah, we know why.” Jaemin sneers, throwing a wing bone at him. “Just say you want him to fuck you.”

“I’m not opposed to it.” He shrugs, lifting an eyebrow at Jeno’s lost expression with his tongue shoved between a now cleaned off wing.

“Dude.” Jeno grimaces, side-eyeing his friend. “You know, none of us would ever survive no nut November. We’d end up fucking each other if pussy didn’t exist.”

“No nut November is a bunch of bullshit anyway. Life is too short for anything other than gooning.” Renjun nods, high-fiving Jaemin across the table.

“Exactly! If anything we should be maximizing our gooning.” Jaemin hums, dipping a carrot in ranch. “Goonmaxxing..”

“That sounds ridiculous.” Haechan shakes his head, slapping the table. “Where do I sign up?”

“What the fuck is goonmaxxing..” Jeno questions, sucking his fingers clean of sauce.

“Jeno, if you keep doing that I’m seriously gonna have to fuck you.” Haechan smirks, making his friend stop with a look of disgust. “Anyway, allow me to explain for my friends who were dropped on their heads too early in life.”

“Hey, I was dropped on my head?!” Jeno repeats, confused.

“Give it a minute.” Jaemin nods.

“Wait, fuck you man.” Jeno glares at Haechan, shucking one of his dirty napkins at him.

“Don’t tempt me.” He smiles, biting on the used napkin, earning a collective round of groans from his friends. “Listen guys, we already either spend most of our time beating our meat or spending hours buried deep inside a warm wet hole.”

“Sometimes an entire day.” Jaemin raises his eyebrows cockily.

“Sure, anyway.” Haechan continues. “No nut November’s for idiot incels, we’re better than that. We already goon like it's a sport, why don’t we do our own version? Instead of not getting off, we compete to get off more than each other. We fuck fleshlights, we fuck pussy, shit you put a good enough looking cake in front of me and I might even fuck that.”

“What’s the point of competing?” Renjun scoffs, silenced by Jaemin’s thick hand landing down on the center of the table on top of a hundred dollar bill.

“Whoever can’t get the most nut each day adds a bill to the pool. After a month we’ll tally up who had the most wins and one of us gets a fat prize.” He grins ear to ear, tapping the $100. “Starting today we all contribute a Benjamin to sweeten the pot.”

“So let me get this straight..” Jeno leans back, rubbing his chin. “We’re going to have a month long gooning competition?”

Haechan claps excitedly, bouncing in his chair. “Good boy! You got that so fast!”

“You know what,” Jeno grits at his friend, reaching for his wallet. “I’m in, you losers have nothing on my dick game.”

Haechan shrugs, he can’t disagree with that. “Fine, but the thing about fucking real pussy is- you jerk off a lot less when you can have the real thing. Count me in too, because if there’s anything I know I can do like a pro, it’s kill an entire day with my hand wrapped around my dick.” Confidently, he whips out a hundred to add to the pile.

Three sets of eyes land on Renjun who sits leaned forward with his elbows on the table, biting on his thumb nail. “I don’t know about this guys. Like yes, it’s a normal everyday habit but I have a lot of exams coming up in the next few weeks to focus on..”

“And what better way to relieve your stress buddy?!” Haechan rumbles, wrapping around his shoulders to shake him around. “Come on man! If you win, think of the money!”

“We’ll even get a little trophy with a little plaque.” Jaemin laughs. “King of the goons!”

“Yeah come onnnn.” Jeno pipes in, tapping a finger on the pile of bills. “Do it!”

The three begin to mimic each other, chanting ‘Do it! Do it! Do it!’ In unison until he shakes off Haechan and throws up his arms. “Fine fine! Jesus,” he curses, sliding a hand into his front pocket in search of his wallet. “Guess I’m in.”

Jaemin slaps the table, standing up in the thankfully mostly empty restaurant they frequent. “It’s official. Starting tomorrow we enter our month of Goonmaxxing. The only goal: goon or die.”

“Goon or die!” Haechan repeats, lifting up his half-empty cup of diet Coke.

Renjun frowns, slouching back in his seat as his three idiotic best friends begin to type out rules on the notes app.

Sure, no nut November would never work for them considering how often he’s walked in on each of them jerking off ever since they moved in together last semester, but something about feeling obligated to get off with a goal in mind didn’t sound very smart either.

“You guys are so fucked, pretty sure I jerked off about 10 times the other day.” Jeno chuckles, rubbing his hands together. “That money's mine.”

“Don’t be too confident there Mr. Worldwide.” Jaemin wiggles a finger at him. “Besides, I’ve only nutted a few times today. I should be ready to drop loads all day tomorrow.”

“Interesting.” Haechan sits up, quickly pulling out a twenty to cover his meal and tip. “Gotta blast.”

#WIP #00z I AM READY WHENEVER U ARE #DROP. THAT. NEW. PHOTO.!!!!!!!!!!!#another legendary nct dream ‘00 line fic in the making……😄#🫲👹🫱

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johannestevans · 7 months

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all superheroes with secret identities are to an extent about being closeted and secreting part of your identity, which is gay, but like. batman is specifically about his identity in the closet where he dresses up in leather and engages in violent acts with groups of other men

every time joker puts a gun in his mouth. squirts his face with water. every time the riddler collars him. every time bane grips him by the throat, or croc pins him down, or penguin blows cigar smoke in his face, or ra's al ghul touches his jaw and talks about his potential

yes, obviously, he fucks women - he's public about that. bruce wayne, in fact, is very explicitly a womaniser in many adaptations. in the best of them, he's vapid and kind of a himbo, and women are charmed by his hapless appearances and unending niceness

and the thing is like. yes, bruce wayne is that kind. he is caring, he is compassionate - he notices the vulnerable and he wants to help; he listens to people, he remembers details, he's thoughtful.

and also he craves to hurt, and be hurt. he craves the strain in his body.

he aches for the scent of blood and sweat and oil and gunpowder; he wants to feel the bruises heal, wants to feel the itchiness of the healing cuts. he wants to be whipped. he wants to be beaten. he wants his knuckles to hurt from throwing so many punches.

it's not about justice. he beats up goons and tosses them in jail, and they go to jail, and then they come back and keep being goons. he puts the villains in an asylum that tortures them, and he visits the special cases. it doesn't help: that's not the point.

batman's obsession with joker is absolutely about joker's attraction to him and batman's attraction to joker but like. it's also about the fact that joker sees what he is - that he gets off on it. joker pushes him to the max bc he thinks it's funny to force him to admit it.

and the thing about arkham knight, or any other plotline where bruce becomes so obsessed with the joker that he hallucinates or imagines him is that like.

there are 3 people on earth who actually find the joker funny. one of them is the joker. SOMETIMES, another is harley

but the other one is batman. people who don't understand the batjokes dynamic (and crucially don't Get this as a crucial element of batman) don't understand that. batman finds the joker funny. and he feels so so fucking guilty for it. /but he keeps going back/.

batman's little fucking quips are the same as the joker's, he just puts on a deeper, grizzly voice. batman makes puns. batman makes lateral connections for the sake of terrible humour. he's deadpan and autistic and dry as dust, but he makes bad, bad jokes CONSTANTLY.

AND THIS IS WHY HE LAUGHS at joker like. that's what it is.

because this man's just. buried his identity four or five fucking personas deep. all his laughter is fake. most of his smiles are fake. humour is about the unexpected, and joker catches batman by surprise

it's not about joker being Good bc he isn't. the fact that joker is fucking irredeemable and cannot and will not be "fixed" is what makes him the same as batman. they both make choices to never be fixed. they don't want to be. they choose to be fucking clowns instead

#musings #batjokes #joker #batman x joker #batman

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clockwayswrites · 8 months

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A Broken Sort of Normal Part 11

WC 1326, Masterpost CW: anxiety

“Hey, kid,” Flash the older said as he raced up beside Danny.

“Still not a kid, old man,” Danny replied. It was already a well worn argument by this point after several dinners or weekend meals over at the Flash’s household. Sure it was used before that, but once Danny had started seeing Barry out of the mask, he’d only been worse about it. Danny guessed it was their thing now. It was weird to have ‘things’ again with people, but a good sort of weird.

“Still not an old man, kid. I’m not even a grandpa yet!”

Danny almost dropped the tablet he was working on. Barry didn’t have any kids, not aside from Wally who might as well count. Did that mean…?

“I’d tell you to watch your sass in your new position,” Barry continued, unaware or uncaring of Danny’s sudden crisis about the idea of children, “but one, I’d be a hypocrite and two, it’s a solid third of the reason I recommended you.”

“Well, that’s good because the sass isn’t going awa— wait, what new position?”

Barry grinned under his mask in a way that just felt dangerous. Not, like, dangerous in general, but dangerous for Danny who was the focus of that smile. “You’ll see. Flash Two will pick you up Monday at nine am. Don’t worry, you’re cleared off work already.”

“Fla— and he’s gone. That’s great. What the fuck,” Danny said to himself. It was a struggle to focus on finishing up the post event check in and then his reports and then going over his team’s report and then some more paperwork, but Danny managed. As soon as he got home he was immediately was texting Wally.

After the Reveal, Danny had gotten Wally’s civilian number too, but there were strict rules for using that number. Danny understood the caution. Apparently the first number he had been given was encrypted by Batman’s crew, which was crazy to think about, even when he was dating a Flash, so there were less rules other than no civilian names. Just for the ease of it, Danny mostly stuck to the old number unless they were planning a purely civilian date. Or if Danny wanted to say things that he knew would make Wally blush. Things Danny would very much never want anyone else to read. They may have mostly kept to kissing in person, but teasing Wally was just too much fun.

Danny: Why is Big!Flash having you pick me up on Monday??? What did he mean about a ‘new position’?????? I like my job! FLASH!

Quick Boy: You’ve got to give me a second to answer, dude!

Danny: You’re supposed to be fast. 😑

Quick Boy: Who’s always telling me electrical signals can only move so fast?

Danny: FLASH 🤬

Quick Boy: Sorry, babe, I’m not allowed to tell! But you’ll love it! Promise!

Danny: 🥺

Quick Boy: Don’t make those eyes at me! Trust me, babe, just wait until Monday.

Danny: Fine. But know I’m pouting.

Quick Boy: 😭

Danny behaved. He didn’t bother for updates. He sent more cats dressed as Justice League members and finished off the last Percy Jackson book, sending Wally updates along the way. But the whole weekend the fact that he apparently had a new job he knew nothing about and would be taken to Monday churned in the back of his mind.

It made him anxious in a way that he hadn’t been since he left Amity Park for Central city.

He didn’t much like it.

“Please at least tell me that I’m dressed fine for this new job?” Danny asked when he opened the door to Wally’s knock.

He didn’t really have many other options if Wally said no, he already had on his best dark jeans, cleanest boots, and his new cross body bag. He might have a button up shirt he could change into instead of the long sleeve one he was in, but that was as good as it was going to get. He just didn’t have business casual clothes with the jobs he had.

“You look fine,” Wally said.

“Not exactly a supersuit,” Danny said with a sigh, taking in Wally’s uniform.

Wally pressed a quick kiss to Danny’s cheek. “Not the kind of hero you are.”

That was something Wally had been doing, insisting that Danny was a hero. Whenever he protested, it only seemed to make Wally more insistent so Danny mostly let it be. Plus, the cute smile Wally got for ‘winning’ was nice to see.

It was gracing Wally’s lips now as Danny stepped out of his apartment, locked the door, and shoved the keys securely in his bag. One lost set of keys due to super speed was enough to make sure they were safely clipped in from then on.

“Okay. Right, let’s get this over with.”

“It’s a good thing,” Wally insisted as he squatted down for Danny to climb onto his back, “not your execution or anything.”

“I just don’t like not knowing,” Danny said.

“You love surprises.”

“Little surprises like picnics and presents, not life changing ones.”

“You’ll love it,” Wally insisted and then they were off.

“I’ll love an abandoned warehouse?”

“Apparently abandoned warehouse,” Wally stressed with a wave of his hands, like he was a two-bit magician.

“Convincing appearance. Once again, Flash, it’s a good thing you’re a hero because this as serial killer vibes.”

The windows were blacked out. There was a heavy layer of dust on most surfaces. The stairs to the foreman office were long rusted away. It was a mess.

But there was that feeling of being watched that crawled up Danny’s spine. None of the dust actually moved as they crossed the floor over to Barry. And the doors were either welded shut or solidly reinforced.

“Ready kids?” Barry asked.

“Still not kids,” Danny replied almost absently.

“Still don’t care!” Barry pressed one of the bricks on the wall and the whole thing shuddered and pulled back like some massive pocket door to reveal a… a portal behind the wall.

“Ta-da!” Wally said, complete with jazz hands.

Danny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the portal to look at him.

Did they know? Was this…?

“Danny?”

“What?” Danny started, forcing himself to look over at Wally who was beside him again.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Danny winced. He just couldn’t hold back the twitch of his body at that word. “Sorry. Um, so what is that?”

“A Zeta tube, it’s how we travel to the Justice League. It’s like a transporter,” Barry explained.

Okay, right, not a portal to the Ghost Zone. No one knew. He was safe. Danny closed his eyes. It was just a transporter that looked a lot like a portal.

Wally rested his hand on Danny’s arm and Danny almost jumped from the light touch. “Babe?”

“Um, remember how I told you there was an accident in my parent’s lab when I was a kid? Yeah, um, sorta similar look, is all. It just freaked me out for a moment.”

"Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Wally said. He squeezed Danny’s arm gently.

“No way you could have known. Who has a phobia over portals, right?” Danny said as he summoned his best attempt at a smile for Wally.

“Are you okay to…” Wally glanced from Danny to the portal nervously.

“I, yes? Can you just explain to me how it will go?” Danny asked. He pressed himself close to Wally, doing what he could to scrape together his frayed nerves. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone through the actual portal that had killed him all the time. It was just that now all that felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime no one remembered but him.

“Of course, babe,” Wally said, twining their arms together before he launched into a passionate explanation of the Zeta tubes.

It would be alright.

He could do this.

He had Wally.

-----

AN: Wally and Barry: We have something so cool to show you! Danny: *has portal based ptsd* ._.

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the masterpost!

#dp x dc #quick death #danny fenton/wally west #abson

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

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Tiny ideas 2

----

1. Danny, in his new and very human black and white vigilante outfit runs past Penguin who had gotten soaked when a car full of hooligans wearing clown masks ran threw a puddle and splashed him.

Danny, not knowing who this was, tapped him on the shoulder as he ran past, running his intangibility through the man and letting the water fall off him, leaving him nice and dry again.

Penguin makes note to pay both back in very different ways.

----

2. Phantom, having been exorcisized from Amity Park and essentially banished and unable to return, roams around the multiverse looking for something to do.

Upon coming across the creepiest doll hes ever seen in a trash bin, he decides to mess with some local bat themed vigilantes and possesses the doll.

His first victim is Red Robin. Danny in all his creepy doll glory toddles out from behind a chimney as his target is running across the rooftop in his direction. Birdy stopped dead (heh) and stared at the doll.

Danny picked good. The doll was porcelain and cracked, missing one of its glass eyes and moss growing out of the empty socket and around various parts of its body. Its dress was once a lovely blue or green velvet but was now patchy and worn.

He turned the dolls head around at an unnatural angle to fix its gaze on the vigilante, its frozen polite smile adding to its eerieness, and in a moment of impulse said, "I'll see you soon." In the most creepiest little girl voice he could manage, using his ghost powers to make the words seem to drift upon the air towards the hero.

And just like that, doll Danny was gone.

RR almost frantically contacted oracle, "Did you see that?!"

"RR your signal cut out for a few minutes, backup should arrive soon. What happened?"

-----

3. Jason has been getting followed around by this wierd kid who is prime Brucie adoption bait. Kid kept jumping out of nowhere without anyone being able to sense him to ask him the weirdest questions (Damian was so startled that he nearly stabbed the kid on reflex. Not that he'd ever admit it).

The questions where things like, "Do you like books? What are your favorites? Can you cook? Do you like red heads? Do you like dogs? How opposed are you to having supervillian in-laws? What if they give you free experimental weaponry? ....how about some laser cannons and a jet?

Jason ends up getting kidnapped by this kid and dumped in from of this pretty girl as the kid tells her, "I went out and got you a boyfriend who won't try to murder you. Don't screw this up!" Before the kid ran out of the room.

Jazz was mortified.

Jason is still on the floor where he was deposited earlier, "So..." he begins, "I heard you like Jane Austin?"

-----

4. Phantom faked his death in front of the people of Amity Park, just to see how they would react to his passing and kind of in hopes of something changing. He couldn't keep sacrificing everything for these people, after all.

He did not like how the people reacted. Danny had to move away cause if he heard one more person say it was a good thing "that monster" died hes going to hurt someone.

Gotham seemed lovely this time of year and its one place that neither his parents or Vlad would visit. Vlad because if he tried anything at all the worlds greatest detective would ruin him and his parents because they once tried to hunt Batman and Robin only for Batman to terrify them to the point of never returning after they hurt his bird.

Danny got hired at Wayne Tech after submitting a wide range of devices but couldn't do much thanks to still being a minor. Thankfully Mr. Wayne was very generous and kept him housed and fed while he finished his online schooling and graduated early.

(Heavy angst for Danny.)

---

5. Danny hadn't seen Cujo in a while, which wasn't too unusual, but it have been a long time since hed seen his puppy and he was overdue a visit.

Danny pulled out his dog whistle, one normally used for emergencies and that Cujo would never ever ignore.

Only...Cujo didn't come. Now Danny goes on a journey to track down his missing dog. Following clues and trails across different realities, dimensions and universes to find his lost dog.

He did not expect to meet a bird themed vigilante along the way, not for them to insist he help him on his quest. Robin seemed very wary of the Infinite Realms the first time he entered them and had tons of questions. But bird boy was great company and Cujo would love him so Danny could deal.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny fenton #batman #tim drake #red robin #yum #body horror #tw: body horror #dolls

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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year

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Immortal Cop Danny P.2

Part 1

So, we have seen my scenario where Danny is revealed as an Immortal Cop really late in the Timeline, like nearly the entire Batfamily has already been formed kinds of late.

But what about a world where Danny has been on the Force since Batman Year 1?

Officer/Detective Nightingale has been one of the best and most loyal members of the GCPD for well over 3 decades. He didn't hide his "Meta Ability" when he first joined the force, since Gotham hadn't been introduced to all of their Superpowered Rouges yet, and the attitude for Metas in Gotham was nowhere near as harsh as it would be in the future.

He was one of the Go-To Cops in the early days of the Batman, since he had proven to be trustworthy and most people felt comfortable talking to him. Most of the community respected him, although some saw his power of Immortality as unnatural or freakish.

Batman met Officer Danny on one of his earliest cases. Danny pushed him out of the way of a Bullet and saved his life, getting shot in the process.

Bruce will never forget when Danny reached into the hole on his side and pulled the bullet out with his fingers. He didn't even flinch.

Danny has also been one of Commissioner Gordon's best friends and closest confidants for years. He was even offered the job of Commissioner once due to his extensive experience on the Force, but refused since he knew Gotham would never accept a Meta Commissioner, or maybe because he believed that he wasn't the right fit for the job.

Dick remembers the time when Officer Nightingale found out about Robin's age. He will always think of Danny laying into Bruce for bringing in such a young kid as one of his fondest memories.

Gordon remembers being invited to dinner with Danny's mom, a nice if cryptic lady dressed in gothic clothes who thanked him for all the work he did for the city, and for keeping her streets as safe as possible. Apparently she did the same for Batman, who had gone to Danny's apartment for some information and left with a full belly and plenty of leftovers.

He was basically the best Cop you could ask for. Calm, kind, honest, understanding, and he genuinely seemed to be trying to help the people around him.

Barbra calls him Uncle Danny, and he was there to help her adjust when she lost use of her legs.

Commissioner Gordon thinks of Danny as his best Cop/Friend, unflappable and loyal to a fault.

Bruce thinks of him as one of his more trusted allies, on the same level as Commissioner Gordon even.

Robin called him "Cool Cop D". Later, he was one of the reasons Dick decided to become a Police Officer.

Hell, even Damian commended the man's resolve to help the City, which was considered a monumental feat at the time.

Which is why it was such a shock when Danny disappeared.

He just didn't show up for work one day. This in and of itself wasn't too out of the ordinary, but he usually called in to tell them he was gonna miss a day. They thought it was just because he was so anxious lately, jumping at the little things like a guy bumping into him or asking to leave room at the mention of Autopsies

Then he missed the next day. Not that bad, I mean he had been really stressed out recently. Maybe he just needed an extra day, to work off the stress? Nobody was really worried anything had happened to him, he was immortal after all, but they were still concerned.

Then he missed a third day. This was far more concerning. The last time this happened, Danny had been found passed out in his apartment because he hadn't slept in days and hadn't eaten in weeks (what's the point if he won't die either way?).

He had been put on medical leave for a month after that.

So one of the guys decided to visit his house, just to see if he needed some help.

They find the apartment empty. No evidence that he ever lived there. It was like the entire place had been scrubbed clean of anything that even hinted at his existence, and whoever had done it obviously wanted to cover their tracks.

So, an investigation is launched.

And almost instantly, the Feds take the Case from the GCPD and declare Danny as dead a week later.

Seems they forgot to take a look at his Resume...

So Gordon takes this to Bats, who immediately starts investigating the Feds in White who showed up to steal the case.

...

Tag List:

@overtherose @kyrianclawraith @ghostreblogging @the-autistic-spider @just-rant-and-write-fic-idea

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starlight-eclipsed · 1 year

Text

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.)

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.��

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

#dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #tim drake #red robin #brain dead #rejected soulmate au #danny x tim #my fic #complete #gonna be honest I planned to stop at part I #but it felt incomplete so I threw together a bunch of scenes I wanted to see between them #pacing is for people with time

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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On the Dance Floor Our Hearts Beat as One

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, dancing, fake/pretend relationship, teasing, gala, flirting, slightly suggestive, mutual pining, resolved pining, awkward boner

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: I wrote that Prince Jason fic and it was great but a gala with Dick is equally as fun because he's just a sweetheart.

"What is the point of this exactly?" You look up at a very nervous Dick who keeps tugging on his bow-tie and scanning the dance floor. You have to admit that he looks really handsome in his black and white suit, with the blue buttons and cuffs on the sleeves. And maybe a little cute when he's nervous.

His blue eyes look down at you for half a second, taking in your dress, a matching blue color to his buttons, the way your heels make your legs stand out, and the black necklace hugging your neck. It's not hard to see where his eyes escape to for just the briefest of moments, you chose this dress for a reason after all.

"Because I can't ask anyone he knows too well. Look this is just for the night, then we can go back to being friends like nothing happened alright. I just need to get Bruce off my back. Like he's the one to tell me I'm lonely. The man barely leaves his house unless it's for a meeting or... private business." Code for Batman work.

Although the people listening in, and there were a few for sure, would think it's about Bruce going to strip clubs and parties. He had a playboy persona to keep up too, but Dick? Everyone always thought of him as a gentleman.

Oh if only they knew of the things you've heard.

"So I'm your arm candy? I knew this dress was the right choice." You wrapped your arms around him and deliberately pressed your chest into the muscle of his arm.

Dick blushed a little, smiling and scratching the bridge of his nose as he tried hard not to look down, "It's very pretty. And you're wearing the necklace I bought you too."

"It was a birthday gift, of course I am." It was a very expensive birthday gift that you wanted to throw back at him when he first bought it because you thought it was too much. Dick insisted, the price of it was nothing when compared to the friendship the two of you shared. Which is why you were comfortable coming to the gala with him.

You did spend time together quite a bit lately, it wasn't that hard to believe that the two of you were a couple. Even Bruce sometimes had a hard time telling exactly what your relationship was. True he only saw you on rare occasions when you'd visit Dick but the two of you were never shy at being affectionate with each other.

This was the perfect plan.

"Crap, I see him." Dick's eyes widened when he saw Bruce casually talking to a few people and raised his glass at the two of you. He was smiling but that could be for show, it was kinda hard to tell with Bruce. "I don't think this is convincing enough."

"No? I have my boobs pressed into you, what more can we do?" There was that adorable blush of his again.

"A slow song is coming up, do you wanna dance with me? I don't mean to brag but I'm really good." He was most definitely bragging, smug and smiling down at you, his foot already tapping along with the barely there rhythm.

"Okay but don't blame me if I break your ankles." You let go of him and watched as he gave you a very prince-like bow, offering his hand. "Such a gentleman. You may have this dance my good sir."

"Why, thank you very much my lady." Dick wink up at you as he kissed your fingers, barely putting any pressure behind his kiss yet it still made your heart flutter from it. Why does he have to be so damn charming all the time? It's hardly fair.

He led you to the dancefloor, making sure you were in Bruce's field of vision. One of his hands held yours, the other wrapping around your hip, the tips of his fingers tickling your back. He always managed to have warm hands, rough but gentle, kind and caring when he touched you.

The song finally started, couples beginning to gather and start dancing in the dim light at the slow, almost sensual melody.

"Sorry I dragged you into this. I hope you know how much I appreciate you." You, not this favor you're doing for him, you. "Promise I'll make it up to you. Just name it any it's yours."

Dick Grayson. How about that?

"How about you taking a proper break and us going somewhere for a day?" It was still him, still his company you were asking for. His eyebrows vanished into his hairline, his grip pulling you closer.

"That's all? You're a very simple woman then. And I mean that in the best day." He smiled at you again. Too cute. Way too damn cute.

Feeling a little mischievous from being called simple you drew close to his neck, "If you want to I can show you just how interesting I can be." This was only meant to tease him but you may have put a bit too much truth into those words. Dick gulped and almost stumbled across his feet.

"Interesting. And if I were to ask, would you demonstrate that during out one-day vacation?" Was he asking what you think? You were kidding at first but... now you're not so sure anymore. Not with Dick's slightly darker blue eyes looking at you.

"Ahem." The two of you tore your gazes from each other and toward Bruce who was looking at you a little judgmentally, "Young love is a beautiful thing, I'm happy for you, but please, don't scandalize the guests. At least take her to your bedroom." He turned around and left before he could elaborate on what he meant by that.

"What's his problem?" You pouted, pressing yourself close to Dick. The moment you did you felt your face heat up, "Dick, are you um... please tell me that's actually a gun and not..."

A gun would have been less embarrassing and more easily explained, "Eh... I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"How can I not notice that?!" You hoped no one else did though, the headlines would not be favorable to Dick.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled and let his head fall on your shoulder, his face visibly red, even the tips of his ears, "I didn't mean for it to happen. You just look so sexy in that dress and it sounded like we were flirting just now, I thought that... well I don't want to tell you what I thought."

Oh. "Oh. Those thoughts." He nodded a little, face still hidden. From an outside perspective it looks like he's kissing your neck, which will also get the rumors going pretty quickly, "Can you walk okay?"

"It's uncomfortable, but I'll manage, just get me out of here." He somehow still managed to move gracefully through the crowd, fast and calculated until he reached the hallway and in a panic pulled you against his chest, "Sorry. Can we stay like this until it goes away?"

You inhaled deeply and nodded, wrapping your arms under his arms and around his back, fisting into the fine material of his suit, "I do that much for you do I?" You had to tease him just a little about this, it was too good of an opportunity to let slip.

"Apparently." Dick let out a little laugh, "Bruce is gonna give me a long talk after this. I can't believe he still treats me like a kid sometimes. I'm a grown man."

"Oh I don't doubt that." You giggled into his ear. There was definitely some movement after that sound. He liked your laughter and giggles. Good information to know for the future.

"You're never gonna let me live this down will you?" He turned his face toward yours, "How much do I have to bribe you to make this incident go away?"

"A week worth of a vacation with you. I think that's a fair price for me to hide your... big secret." You were laying it on really thick right now, but lucky you Dick seemed to pick up on it, even with his awkward situation.

"A week worth of my attention. All yours." Without a doubt this was the best awkward moment of your life. It really payed to come with him to this gala. You should have done it sooner if these were the results, "One thing. You have to promise me you'll make it interesting for me."

The breathy way he said it sent shivers down your entire body, the implications making your imagination run wild, "Count on it." It was gonna be one hell of week.

#nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x female!reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x female!reader #nightwing fluff #dick grayson fluff #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics fluff #dc comics fanfiction #titans #titans x reader #titans imagine #titans fluff #titans fanfiction

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scintillyyy · 4 months

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a view at perceptions of dick's economic situation at the circus through the years

alright, we start at detective comics #38, the OG introduction. and, nothing is really said either way about what dick's economic station would have been, because really, the only thing it's there to tell us is that dick is an acrobat--which gives him the skills needed to fight crime by batman's side.

of absolute note to me, though, is the fact that his family was famous for their triple spin & what that potentially means for his upbringing. because, if you've been following this journey with me, means a lot. because we have a real life example of that to compare to get an idea of what may have been his childhood. i am of course, talking about the flying concellos && i did find another one and that would be the flying codonas (alfredo codona being the first man to land a triple somersault).

now, let's be clear--dick being the son of famed circus trapeze artists, especially ones who could land a triple, in 1940, means that he grew up the son of stars. they would have been center ring performers, and likely had amenities and pay that reflected that. now i won't deny that as circus performers they were likely 'othered'--there was likely a prejudice against what they perceived circus folk to be, but that does not likely completely reflect the actuality of what they may have had access to as a result of being entertainment stars. because they were othered--but at the same time, if they were famous enough for their skills, they were definitely adjacent to the rich and famous, not just poor, exploited workers. there was a lot of overlap between famous acts, longstanding families, and ownership. after doing...a lot...of reading on the most famous circus stars of the era of the 1920s & 1930s (especially alfredo cordona + his eventual wife lillian leitzel and the flying concellos), i think i've determined a couple of things:

one, these circus stars feel very akin to movie stars wrt their fame. and they were messy as hell. lillian leitzel in particular was a prima donna--she was the first circus star who was able to catapult her worth into luxuries. she was the first star to ever get her own private train car and personal dressing tent and was known to be the prima donna of the circus. she was also known for her temper--her personal maid would sometimes get fired and rehired several times a day. when she married alfredo cordona between acts in chicago, it was considered the royal wedding of the circus world. may wirth, a trick rider, was frequently in the gossip column of newspapers & had many, many admirers. lillian leitzel was voted the most beautiful woman in the world by american soldiers in wwi. like, these people were stars in every sense of the word.

two, these performers were not just meek, exploited poor people. with the right skills, they had power, they had ambition & they had money. they were center stage performers. arthur concello was huge in investing in and modernizing the circus--likely because of the money he made through the years of performing his act.

so frankly detective comics #28, and later batman #32, doesn't really delve into what dick's life experiences may have been on the circus--because that's not the point. the only thing those are their to do is establish dick as an orphan & and acrobat, and thereby skilled and motivated enough to work at batman's side.

but based on the era in which he was created and in comparison to similar acts of the time, it's easy to take a gander. because john & mary being able to perform a triple would have been huge. they'd be center stage acts, high in hierarchy. with mary being a young, attractive woman who could perform a triple, she may have had plenty of admirers & been in the gossip columns of the newspaper. her wedding to john may have been a whole thing to circus fans. i read a lot about those types of acts being invited to perform and star in european shows over the winters at old, respected circuses && they had enough international star power that they drew crowds there based on name alone. i know the impulse is to think that dick would have had no experience with the wealth of bruce's world, but conversely in that day and age and his parent's skillset it's highly likely he would have been exposed to the glitz & glamour of the famous high life. they may have been invited to do private performances for other rich & famous people & rubbed shoulders with them. alfredo cordona was in a few hollywood movies for his skills & arthur concello had connections to hollywood due to brokering the movie 'the greatest show'--is it out of the realm of possibility to believe that john would have had the same opportunities?

anyways, moving on. i find myself extremely intrigued by detective comics #484, which brings dick back to haly's circus. now there's some hilarity here in that dick has no clue if it's possibly the same haly's circus he and his parents worked for, and he meets linda--of the flying graysons! (get her ass for copyright infringement, dick). jk. linda is a very nice girl & it's just a stage name. dick confirms they were circle ring stars & says that haly's was the greatest show on earth (the ringling bros & barnum and bailey about to come for haly...)

now this issue is interesting because while it doesn't necessarily give us an idea of what dick's economic status would have been, it does establish that the flying graysons were famous enough that the evil stepfather conviced haly that by yoinking the name for his family they'd be able to draw in more customers based on name recognition alone & that the name would put him in the headlines/give him headliner credibility for his act and the circus to get sold to a bigger show & that he would be able to "ride the crest of the wave" and become very successful (and presumably rich). which definitely implies that the grayson name is worth something. now haly's circus is shown to be getting by with generous checks from bruce wayne, and i feel like here we start to get what i feel is a fairly consistent incongruency where haly's circus is often shown to be barely getting by (despite their full audiences), yet the flying graysons were famous.

so then on to secret origins #13, which has dick tell joey about his journey to robin, and...briefly goes into his childhood (he started performing with his family at 5), but again the focus is, as always on the acrobatic portion. there's an interesting opaqueness there about what his childhood was like. just acrobatics and loving parents. nothing is ever really suggested with regards to their fame, they're just vaguely famous & circus stars. nobody seems interested in interrogating that.

and then we get to year three & batman #436 and this is the first time we get any sort of nugget as to dick's potential economic status, and it's not bad? his dad references getting world series tickets and dick wants to go to a movie with harry so he can skip out on homework. the average price of movie tickets in the 70s (when this is implied to take place) adjusted for inflation would be equal to about ~11 dollars today and dick clearly doesn't seem to think this is a huge expenditure. i mean, i wouldn't say that they're rich here by any means (unlike the potential implications of his 1940 introduction), but they're clearly comfortable enough to afford small luxuries without worry. which, again, as a named, headlining act doesn't seem too out of the ordinary. as the headliners, they're probably making the most of all the acts, as they're the ones bringing in the crowd. mary is said to be a third generation circus performer, which. to me. implies some success, that the circus family continued on. a lot of the people i mentioned before were ostensibly part of circus families that continued the tradition as that's what they were raised in. alfredo was first brought on stage at 7 months. & i think the fact that dick was a part of a longstanding circus family that would have had deep ties not just to the community but also would have likely been very entwined and friendly with management due to the nature of a long work relationship together. there is a stability there that wouldn't necessarily be seen with. someone new, i guess?

anyways, honestly i feel like year three & later a lonely place of dying are really the stories that try not to stereotype circus life the most. there's no "wow circus people are so othered & weird", they're just normal people who work at a circus & are treated as such. even jack and janet stopping for a photo is treated like "let's show our son that these performers are just people like us under their costumes". which, honestly reads more like that time i was brought to a local haunted walk when i was like 7 and i was in tears because i was so scared and one of the performers took off their mask to show me he was just a normal guy underneath the costume.

devin grayson, of course, retcons this long-standing family history of his mother being part of a circus family in nightwing annual #1 and changes it to his father instead & is very, hm, married to the idea that circus workers are poor in her conceptualization of how she writes dick as evidenced by her interview in "dick grayson, boy wonder" where she says the following:

god. the racism. it's something. and now. i'll say i have no issue with the idea of clarifying dick as not necessarily white. i do have slight issue with the idea that because he was a circus performer, he was poor. because this is the first time someone i think has actually tried to take into account the childhood dick may have experienced, and she definitely inserted her own stereotypical biases into it. and is a bit at odds with how skilled, famous american circus workers who have his parents' skillset were treated back in the time of dick's conception. they traveled in the winter because they were stars and were invited to perform in prestigious european circuses due to their fame. i just. and i will point out that a lot of these famous circus performers were hot blooded and it had nothing to do with race and everything to do with the fact that they were stage divas. idk. obviously, conceptions of circus workers were likely not the greatest in the 90s. they were nowhere near what their fame was in their heyday. clowns were definitely starting to be seen as more creepy and by this point, circuses were far more criticized for their treatment of animals. but i feel like there's a bit of a leap here wrt devin grayson's assumptions of circus life because of the fact that they travel & doesn't do near enough justice to the worth of the skill of dick & dick's parents. because being able to perform a triple & a quadruple would have still been extremely rare and highly valued. so rare it wasn't performed until 1982 & can still hardly be achieved.

https://www.nytimes.com/1982/07/13/arts/a-quadruple-for-the-flying-miguel-vazquez.html

this article is a fascinating review of exactly how rare and dangerous it is. & hey, alfredo mention.

batman legends of the dark knight #100 seems to go along with this idea that a circus is a dirty and poor place.

and, like. okay so the graysons are still shown as an act important enough to have their own dressing/prep room, per usual, as expected for their skillset. haly's circus in modern day is usually shown in more modern comics to be a small traveling circus that's not doing...super well--at least in comparison to previously established show selling out lore, but the only thing i really take umbrage with here is that alfred describes it as decrepit. which. i feel like even if haly's is small and maybe not super profitable it should at least be shown as a well kept, nice place & the only reason for that is because if it was practically falling apart, there's no fucking way jack would have won the battle of 'let's bring our son tim to the circus' if it was falling apart. janet would have been out here on beyondthebump all 'help my DH wants to take our son to a circus and it's falling apart, located in a terrible part of town, and looks like it employs murderers, how do i tell him no?' and she would have been met with a chorus of 'stand ur ground girl, do NOT let him endager your baby like that!!'.

anyways, the new 52 also gives us almost nothing to go on either. dick's parents' trailer looks nice enough, indicating they do make enough money with their act to afford a semi nice trailer. john is an asshole, dick is out of character. lovely, thanks new 52. the secret origin is as least much better but does go into how the circus has no money--which, hm. doesn't really tell us anything re: the grayson's economic situation. the circus might be struggling and have to close down soon, but it doesn't mean a lot for what contracted rates they pay their acts. in fact, paying for an act as skilled as the graysons and not getting enough profit in return could be part of their money troubles.

and then finally we end with nightwing 82-83 by tom taylor, with the meili lin thing (and, while meili is nice enough, i must say i still don't like this whole thing because the point of zucco should not have been he had a longstanding grudge against the graysons, gdi-). which, again, all it confirms is that the grayson's were the star attractions and does nothing to interrogate what that might've been. it does focus a lot on the idea of they were free and happy, which. um. sometimes the focus on how happy people are is usually "despite the fact that they don't have x". then again i do feel like i will give tom taylor the fact that he also seemed to have just written the graysons as normal people, but he also doesn't seem interested in interrogating what dick being the son of the star act might have actually meant for him.

honestly, a lot of what i'm finding is that much like tim, dick's childhood is left frustatingly opaque--there's a lot of room for interpretation, honestly. it's not ever really said on paper if they struggled with money growing up. you have writers who have all but confirmed they wrote dick with the understanding that he grew up poor because he worked in a circus, but at the same time does ignore the fact that the grayson's had such a unique and special skillset that it's hard to say that makes sense. & is rooted in stereotypical biases. the only aspect of it that's ever considered is "dick's the son of the skilled, star performers and also has those skills ergo he has the skills to be a vigilante". they're cast in this light of famous & skilled!! but the circus they work for is poor and barely getting by, and you can only assume that because they worked for a poor circus dick was probably also living on the poverty line, wholly dependent on the success of the place they worked for because at times their wages were struggled to be paid (despite the fact that as a contract act, to underpay them would absolutely be a breach of contract). there's no confirmation or in-depth look at his childhood, only vague implications, throwaway lines & stereotypes. they want the grayson's to be probably the most skilled circus act in the world. they don't want to look at what that would realistically mean. because only the acrobatics is the important.

#anyways my deep dive into reading various versions of dick's origin really does show that dc doesn't really care #what his childhood experiences may have been #because they don't matter. only the acrobatics ever have #anyways i do think there's a lot of potential for dick to feel othered in his stories #his family would have been at the top of the hierarchy #he was used to fame but still was unable to fit in to bruce's world

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unicreamuwu · 5 months

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The Little Batgirl (Yandere Platonic Batfam x Child Reader)

Chapter 2 - Meet the Batfamily

Warning: None, just a bunch of batfam fluff

(Anything that reader says in a bolded text means she's in "thought of mind.")

From now on, this series will be posted on my yandere batfamily account, which is @yan-batgirl

Y/N stares at herself in the mirror as she tries to do her hair by making the perfect twin tails hairstyle.

After she had bounced on her new bed for nearly an hour, the same butler from before, Alfred, handed her a box from Bruce.

When she opened it, she saw a folded-up white costume-like dress that contained a white helmet with bat ears with small pink hearts on each side.

It also included small pink hand gloves and a pair of hot pink Astro Boy-like boots along with a bright yellow utility belt.

Her head was tilted, but she just shrugs it off and puts on the strange costume that was gifted to her.

However, after she put on the costume part, she was just staring at herself in the mirror, not knowing what to do next.

So, she decided to strike a pose.

(Do NOT steal my art!)

~~~~~

Y/N was walking behind Bruce, Damian, and a group of unfamiliar looking people that Bruce had mentioned before.

A young man was wearing a black hero suit with a blue “V” minus the blocky boots and gauntlets who introduced himself as Nightwing, or his usual name, Dick Grayson.

A young guy who is probably around his teen years, he's probably around 17 or 18 whose name is Tim, but Damian calls him Timothy for some reason.

Another young guy is wearing a bright yellow suit as he carries his helmet which is the same kind of yellow is named Duke.

A girl who looked a bit younger than that young man was wearing the same suit as Bruce's Batman suit who hadn't introduced herself to the young girl yet.

Y/N just stares at them as they chat about random things.

"What an interesting group..." She said in her head before one of them turned to her.

"So, what made Bruce take you in?" The young man asks with a friendly looking smile.

Y/N actually didn't know.

She tried to come up with something to say before Bruce interferes.

"She's a child that needed to be taken care of. Y/N came from a rough household and needed to be taken care of since nobody wanted a child who was nearly seven years old. So, treat her with respect just like how you do with the others of this family," he tells him as he takes off his bat mask that reveals his face.

The man nods in response as he eyes the little girl from each second passing by before she finally catches him staring at her.

"Why are you eyeing at me like that? It's weird."

She tells him before he just focuses walking ahead.

"Sorry about that!" He said with a sheepish smile as Y/N just stared up at him with a eyed down look.

"He's weird." Is all she said in her head.

Then, she looks up at the slightly older girl next to her, who is dusting off her batsuit.

"Who are you?" Y/N asks as she points up at her which made the other girl smile down at her.

"I'm Cassandra. You can call me Cass if you like," she responds.

Once again, Y/N was in thought before she spoke up.

"So, Cass, why are you guys dressed up like that? Including me?" She asks out of curiosity.

Then, the doors of the dining hall open and reveal the table that is filled with different kinds of pastries.

"We have... A tradition," she said with a smile as she led them to the table.

~~~~~

The table reveals a bunch of desserts that has a various kinds of desserts.

The group sat in their seats as Y/N just stood by the doorway, not knowing what to do.

It was then Cassandra called out to her.

"Hey, Y/N! Come sit next to me."

She said with a smile as she tugs the chair back for Y/N to sit on which she did.

When the little girl took a seat, everyone just basically started to dig in with the pastries in front of them.

"All of these are made by Alfred. Most of these desserts won in a lot of awards."

Cassandra tells her as she takes a bite of one of the cookies.

"Does that mean they're really good?"

Y/N thoughts to herself before she nods before she takes a bite of a cookie.

The taste of the sweet, crispy dessert made her eyes wide open as her pupils turned into a shape of large stars.

"These are so good!"

She said before she took another one and shoves it in her mouth, which made some of the people laugh, including Bruce, who let's out a chuckle.

"Do you guys so this everyday?"

She asks as she shoves another cookie into her mouth.

"Only when we come back from missions without any injuries, but since this is basically your first day, we decided to do this tradition ."

Tim replies with a smile.

~~~~~

Later on, Y/N was sipping a cup of tea, which she later made a scrunched up face because of the bitter taste.

"I don't like this..."

She said as she sticks out her tongue.

This made Cassandra lightly chuckle.

"I get it. Dick actually made that."

She said as she pointed with her thumb towards Dick, who was leaning against his seat as he bites into a small piece of cake before he heard what she said.

"Oh, come on! I told you that I'm not an expert at making tea."

He said as he chewed with the cake piece in his mouth which made Cassandra roll her eyes playfully with a smirk on her face.

"Yeah, I get it."

She said in a playful tone.

Y/N looks up at him before she shows him her teacup that still has tea in it.

"No offense, but your tea doesn't taste that good."

She tells him, Dick just lets out a small chuckle.

"Welp, at least I tried."

~~~~~

After the lovely dessert time that they all had, the only ones left at the dining table were Y/N and Bruce himself who was watching her finishing up the last piece of the angel cake.

"Was it good?"

He asks her before she looks up and nods with a big smile on her bed.

"Yeah! They were right when they said that Alfred won a lot of awards with these desserts."

She said as Bruce smiled softly and nodded at her response.

"It's true. I've seen it all."

He said with as he clasped his hands together and stares into her eyes.

"Now, let's talk about your life from now on in the Wayne Manor.

Y/N tensed up by his words as she just stares up at him with wide eyes.

"Oh no! The real pressure is starting!"

Bruce then lets out another heavy sigh before he leans towards her a bit.

"Are you ready to be part of the batfamily?"

For weird reasons, a weird sense of silence was filled up.

Y/N looks up and just stares into Bruce's eyes.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were ready to be a part of us."

She continues to look up at him with a dumbfounded.

"Me? A part of the bat... what?"

Bruce lets out a gentle sigh before he points at the costume she was wearing.

"Do you see the costume you're wearing right now?"

Y/N looks down and nods.

"That costume resembles the sign of the batfamily. It means that you are now one of the protectors of Gotham. However, I don't know if you really are capable of doing this, so that's why I'm asking you if you are ready to spend your life in this new position that you're going to hold."

Bruce explains to her as his gaze softens a bit.

"You're still young, so I want to give you a chance to think about your decisions before actually committing yourself into this family."

Y/N listened and then got into thinking.

"If I don't join, I could get kicked out and might be thrown out into the streets or sent back to the adoption home. But at the same time, if I did join, it'll be a life or death situation..."

She continues to think about the hard decision that she's going to make.

However, the more she thought about it, more exciting thoughts are starting to fill up her head.

"If I choose to stay, I can keep this costume and maybe go on astonishing missions with my new dad and maybe my new siblings. This is going to be very exciting!"

She said in her head as her eyes brightened like stars.

Then, she leaned to Bruce with a huge, determined smile on her face.

"I'm in!"

~~~~~

She doesn't know what's coming to her later on...

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere platonic #batfam #x child reader #platonic

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thewritermj · 6 months

Text

cameras flashes, that's how we crashed

battinson!bruce wayne X reader

part 1

summary: on a press conference, bruce finds a journalist who's up to his standards

warnings: usual gotham violence, quick discrimination of a serial killer, not actually smut in this, but in the future so NSFW MDNI

a/n: forgive any grammatical mistakes, english is not my first language!!! Bruce lives in the manor instead of the Wayne Towers cuz I like the manor vibe more, also I kinda picture Jim Gordon from the Gotham Tv show, cuz I love that version but it doesn't really matters lol. (nothing said above is useful for this reading but I just thought you should know) also, this takes place one year after the movie

Bruce sat quietly on the car, the ride was awfully short. He wished he had more time to mentally prepare to his first press conference. He was a recluse for most part of his life, but after the scandal about The Gotham Renewal Program, people deserved to know the truth. And the idea of continuing his family legacy of charity and philanthropy wasn’t all bad and kept Alfred out of his nerves for a while.

And even tough Bruce Wayne could crack a fake smile to the cameras, throw charity galas and events, the true help came at night. The only possible salivation Gotham could have, the real way he could help the city was as Vengeance. The Batman. He didn’t think of himself as a hero, or a vigilante, more of a necessary evil; all the violence and anger, the rage and the darkness of his work, his project; people would be outraged if they found out they were the same man.

“We’re here, Mr. Wayne” The driver announced.

Alfred, who as sitting across from Bruce on the limo closed the papers he was reading and smiles softly.

“Ready, master Bruce?”

Bruce sighs.

“Not really”

The car parked inside the underground garage of the Wayne Enterprises, Bruce and Alfred made their way to the elevator, not a word was said.

Bruce stole a glance at his reflection on the mirror. A black suit Alfred picked for him, a W embroidery on its lapel, his hair was short now, shorter than he liked, all slicked back by hair gel, but nothing could hide the dark circles under his eyes or the lack of sun colour on his skin. Sometimes, just sometimes, Bruce wishes he didn’t have to wear normal clothes, to comb his hair, ties his bottoms; he wishes he could live inside the Batsuit. He felt like the suit was his own skin, her armour, him and Batman were on, there was no Bruce Wayne without Vengeance, they were bonded forever and could never be separated from each other. He wish they could, he wish he could be Batman alone; no press conferences, no reports, paparazzi, no “Bruce Wayne crowned prince of Gotham.”

The elevator stops and the door open. Alfred goes our first and greet some people outside, telling them where to go.

“You have 10 minutes, Bruce.” He warns, “I’ll get them stared and you wait here till I call you”

Bruce nods.

He sits down on a leather couch and waits, starring at the glass doors. All the reports and journalists waiting for him, men and women, from Gotham and other places of the world.

He’s nervous. Not nervous like he is before a fight, nervous he will be put on a corner, that he’ll be catch on a lie, nervous someone knows. It’s like someone in the next room it’s just waiting for him to appears, to stand up from their chair and ask ‘Are you the Batman?’

“Ladies and gentleman, Bruce Wayne” Alfred announces from the stage and glances at him.

Bruce works on his better smile he can put on and enters the stage; he’s received with thunderous applauses and blinding cameras flashes. He waves and sit on a chair, in a wooden desk in front of him is a glass of water and a microphone.

“Let’s get, started then” Alfred said, pointing to a woman in a grey dress standing with a microphone in her hand.

“Mr. Wayne, why did you decided to throw a press conference after years of reclusiveness?”

Bruce leans into her direction a bit.

“Well, I think all the events of the past year made me realize how much the Wayne Foundation means to Gotham and I’ve been a little reckless with that matter”

It was a good answer, he thought.

The following questions were easy too, “Mr. Wayne, how do you plan on taking care of the raised money? To prevent anything to happen again”, “What’s the difference between the Wayne Foundation and the Gotham Renewal Program?”, “What projects do you have in mind?”, and of course, some shallow questions, “What brand is your suit?”, “What car do you drive?”, question he almost laughed at. Did people actually wanted to know that?

Bruce was thinking how the conference was going well, easy, almost, not as he had pictured it before. Until…

“Mr. Wayne, what do you think about The Batman?”

He flinched for half a second, he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Another woman asked something he didn’t quite hear with all that was going on inside his head, but the word Batman was also there. And then another, and another…

“Mr. Wayne, what do you think about The Batman?”

The room turned into a complete circus. Grown adults talking over each other, fighting for a turn on the microphone.

You rolled your eyes. This happens every time, someone thinks about the name Batman and suddenly everyone has something to say. What does it matter Bruce Wayne’s thought of the Batman? There were so much important questions to be asked, so much more to discover about that man’s life and projects than a simple opinion.

You were begging to regret the moment you accepted the offer to come to this conference. You weren’t a regular journalist, you didn’t know how to write an article about the weather, fashion trends, social events, you wrote about thing most journalist didn’t want to, thing that most people were scare to read. People scared of the truth. You weren’t. You would dig and dig until the raw verity came to surface, it didn’t matter where or who you had to dig.

The man who had introduced Mr. Wayne appeared again and announced the press conference. No fucking way, no without the answers you wanted, you didn’t take this job to watch other people ruin it.

Slowly, you got up from your sit and walked towards the person who as holding the microphone and gently pull it away from his hands.

“Mr. Wayne…” but the voices around you were too loud.

You gave the head of the mic a flick, the loud keen sound made the room come silent.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “Mr. Wayne, why did you felt the urge to re-open the school project at the marginalized neighbourhoods of Gotham after your father failed attempted?”

The men was halfway leaving, but he turned around reluctant, staring right at you. Those piercing blue eyes roaming your face.

“Well, I believe the project needs a second chance. Children and teenagers should be given a chance to have a good education, it helps getting them out of the streets.” He answered, without the microphone his voice was low, but the silence of the room let you hear him loud and clear. “Who do you write for?”

“The Gotham Gazette” You answered proudly.

Mr. Wayne whispered something to the other man and sat back at the chair.

“Do you have any more questions, Miss…?”

You smile politely and told him your name.

“Would you say that the Wayne Foundation has an impact outside of Gotham?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on the man’s lips. You shook the urge to smile back at him.

You could tell he was a bit nervous, but he had answered the questions with manners and the right words, maybe he didn’t notice, but he’s quite good at it.

“Yes. I think the work we do on the Foundation inspires people to do the same. If it works out, we can show the world that if there was hope for Gotham there’s hope for them too”

“Do you think there’s hope for Gotham?” You asked, out of spite, because you didn’t write it down before the press.

His lips contracted to a thin line and he thought of it for a few seconds before answering:

“Yes. As long as people like me and you care about what happens here, there’s still hope for the city”

You smiles.

“People like me?”

“You seem to know a lot about the charity work, and you care enough to show it to the world”

Your smile grew bigger and you felt a hint of warm rushing through your cheeks.

Mr. Wayne answered a few more of your questions before the press conference was over.

You were, oh, so proud of yourself. The information you gathered was perfect for what you had in mind and for sure, you could make it a good article. An admiring of the Wayne legacy, that’s what you called yourself. It has always called out to you what that wealth family did; they had no obligation to do it, to donate not just money, but time and resources to help those who couldn’t have what they did, to make Gotham something to be proud of. It’s a shame they never lived long enough to cure it, to heal it. However, you hoped that, maybe, Bruce did. At least he sound determined to.

You gathered your things and your purse, but as you made your way to the elevator, a woman dresses on formal clothes approached you with a clean, sharp smile that made her look like a dental paste commercial.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind, following me?”

You frowned.

“Ahn…What for?”

“Mr. Wayne wishes to speak to you” She explained and her smile somehow grew wider.

Standing there for a few seconds, all you could do was nod as you followed her through a long corridor. What was happening right now? He wants to speak to you? Bruce Wayne wishes to speak to a journalist in private? And more important, to you.

She opened a door to a breath-taking office.

Right in front of you was a full wall window, a panoramic view of Gotham in all its “glory”, skyscrapers, apartment buildings, the clock tower, the bridge of the river, the field behind the road, you could see everything from up there. There was a wooden desk in front of the window, quite empty, and a chair that looked more comforting than any other you had ever sat.

When the woman closed the door behind you, your attention changed to the man standing on your left. Bruce Wayne was staring at you dead in the eyes with a facial expression of someone who just saw a ghost.

This guy seriously need some sunbathing. You shook that thought out of your head.

“Mr. Wayne. You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes” His raspy voice responded. “Sit, please”

You took a seat on one of the chairs in front of the chair and he sat opposite of you, behind the desk, diving completely into the velvet chair. He crosses his fingers and stares at you again. It made you a little uncomfortable, he did that a lot, like a hunter watching its prey.

“So…”

“I’ve searched your work. You’re really good.”

“Thank you, sir”

“You won a Pulitzer, am I right?”

“Yes, a few years ago”

When did he get the time to read all this information? It’s not like you’re super famous, even the Pulitzer wasn’t a very known prize if you didn’t know the industry.

“For a book about a serial killer in Detroit” He said, a voice that verged into an interrogation tone. “The Divine Move?”

You blinked a few times.

“I…Yes. Nathan Walters.”

He lifted his eyebrows just an inch, telling you to continue the story.

You cleared your throat.

“He uh, he used to be the altar boy of the neighbourhood church and he chose his victims based on the sins he supposed they’ve committed.” You’ve shorten it, you couldn’t understand why a billionaire was asking you about the modus operandi of a criminal who was thousands of miles away. “Why are you asking me this, if I may ask, Mr. Wayne?”

“You’re an investigative journalist. Why are you attending press conferences of a random billionaire?”

You supressed a laugh. Random.

“I grew up here, sir. I’ve always admired your family work, I took the opportunity when it was offered to me.”

“You seem to know a lot about my family history.”

“Like I said, I’m just an admiring. Although, I once thought of writing a book about the Wayne Legacy. Your legacy, sir.”

“Your legacy, sir”.

Bruce looked down at his cufflinks, the W prominent on a silvery material.

His legacy.

He once thought the Wayne Foundation was his legacy. But now he knew, his true legacy came in a bat shaped suit and sleepless nights; it came on purple coloured bruises and blood stained clothes.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well…it’s very hard to write about something when you only get superficial information.”

You were nervous, he could tell. You kept staring at the view behind him, or at your shoes, tanking a little too long to answer his questions. He wondered how could a journalist gets nervous, almost shy.

He gave you a puzzled look, not using any words to express his question. But you understood it.

“Using material that was wrote by someone else. All the records and stories about your parents have already been wrote by someone else before me, so I couldn’t say it was my work, could I?”

He hummed.

Bruce took a sigh. Maybe. Maybe this was a good idea, it could keep him in a good status with the press, plus, he’d be able to hide even further down his secret identity, having a journalist with him every day? No one would suspect his the Batman.

“There are stories and details that haven’t been told.”

You bit your lower lip.

He stared at you.

“What are you implying, sir?”

“If I tell you the stories, would you write it?”

You almost passed out.

Would you?

Who could say they had a proposal like that? Dig into the secrets of the Wayne family?

“Yes”.

___________________

a/n2: aaaah this is actually so boring I'm so sorry, also I think I made bruce a little more talkative than I would've but anyways I may change it yet.

a special thank you to @preciouslandmermaid for inspiring me to finally write this!! <3

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devilfic · 7 months

Text

❝nocturnal animal❞

plot: okay, maybe the caped crusader is a vampire. and maybe you just want to know what it would feel like for him to sink his teeth into you. it's not weird. pairing: vampire!battinson!bruce wayne x detective!gn!reader. cw: vampires (duh), vampire-typical erotic descriptions of blood drinking, vampire hypnotism/compulsion, teasing martinez (lovingly). words: 2.6k.

a/n: I had a rough month last month and writer's block was the icing on the cake, but I picked up a vampire encyclopedia at the library and found out batman has been turned into a vampire... several times. more times than I thought, actually. this is what came of it. happy halloween month!!

"How does it feel?"

Gordon cuts his eyes to you for a moment, still thumbing through rows of manila folders. You sort of do the same just to appear a little less eager. "How does what feel?"

"The... well, you know." You awkwardly gesture to his wrist where the sleeve had fallen back a hair.

Your lieutenant flicks back his coat sleeve as if he were checking the time, but the watch face is laid flush against the inside of his wrist. He tugs at it. Frowns. Shrugs. "Feels like nothin'."

"Oh, do not bullshit me."

Gordon looks at you again. Then he glances around the storage room, quieter and emptier than every other room in the precinct right now. It's just the two of you here. You'd made sure of that before you decided to ask.

He props his arm on the box of cold cases and gives you a hard, judging stare. "I'm not describing what it feels like to have a grown man sucking..." He glances around again just to be sure no one had slipped in all of a sudden, "...if you wanna know, go ask him to bite you."

You... hadn't considered that. "He'd be okay with that?"

"I don't know, probably. It's not like he has a preference."

"I thought he didn't like Martinez."

"Well, you've seen Martinez. He eats like a high schooler."

You press your thumb into your own wrist, clenching and unclenching your fist until the veins show. You're possessed with a shiver as the draft from the vent above cools the skin. "So I... what? I just go up and ask?"

"Yeah, sure. Worst he can say is no."

"Detective."

About a third of your coffee goes flying, splattering milky brown onto concrete. You're lucky it had gone cold on your way up here or else it would've singed the skin off your ankles, but you're still not happy.

"Christ- get down from there. I'm not talking to you like that."

The Bat is perched comfortably above the doorway, looking down on you from above, but makes no move to get down. He keeps himself crouched, "Where's Lieutenant Gordon?"

“Night off with Barb. He’s been overworking lately, you know how he is. I told him I’d take care of you.” You stare up into the darkness and feel your heartbeat pick up a bit. You force yourself to still it, keep it tamped down under the years of poker face your career had honed for you. “I’m serious. Come down and talk to me or I’m making Martinez do this.”

You usually negotiated with people on the other side of a table, and none of them could ever hear your heart going ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump… so this was fairly new to you.

He drops down in front of you, cape fluttering gracefully. The first time you met him, Gordon had warned you to keep your cool. I mean, six foot something unknown, dressed in all black armor with innumerable resources and connections, endlessly prowling the night sky, whose intentions were murky and who was only on your side until he decided he wasn’t? Everyone thought Gordon was crazy. You were the first to give him a chance.

You noticed the little things. You rarely saw him during the day, never could get him to come out of the shadows when you did, always skulking about and never seeming to slow down. Weekdays, weekends, holidays. At one point, you’d wondered if he was even human. You’d wondered it out loud, in front of Gordon, expecting him to rip off the cowl to reveal a labyrinth of wires and then-

And then you’d realized you’d been paying an awful lot of attention to the Batman, and absolutely not enough to Jim Gordon.

He doesn’t sway or make faces like other people, doesn’t give away his thoughts like you’re used to. Instead, you’ve noticed very minute ticks: prolonged staring (even worse than his normal staring), not bothering to take a breath, the stillness of him and around him. The cityscape in the background might as well be a wide, empty plain when you’re standing next to him. Eventually, he lies, “Martinez is fine.”

"Worst he can say is no," your ass.

You try not to be offended by that. “You don’t like Martinez.” You sound pretty offended, against your best efforts.

“That’s not true.”

“I- you know what I meant. You said it yourself. Gordon told me.”

“It's fine."

You squint, “Am I not good enough for you?” A rare look of surprise flickers in his eyes. "You just said you’d prefer the guy whose blood you don’t even like.”

“I said he’s fine.” You hear a little edge to his voice that gives you pause. You’ve heard it before, coiling around the margins of his words. A tell-tale sign, Gordon had said, that you were trekking into dangerous territory.

You press your lips into a firm line but stand your ground, “I already made my choice. If you really want Martinez, say so. Clearly. Use your words and mean it.”

The Bat stares, unreadable.

You know how this goes with Gordon. It’s nothing intimate. The wrist most of the time, other times the neck when it’s closest. Or when Gordon’s busy on his computer. It’s always quick. You don’t even see Gordon flinch.

But with you? You don’t know how it’ll go with you. You don’t know where to start, only that you’d been thinking about it all day after you’d finally called Gordon and promised “I can take care of him.”

Batman takes your wrist, brings it to his nose, and flinches away. You panic at the thought that it might really be he prefers Martinez to you until he plucks the coffee out of your hand and sets it down on the ledge. His eyes follow yours as his mouth falls to the inner wrist and you feel wet, cool breath against it. It tingles all the way up to your ears. Those eyes flicker away a millisecond later, inspecting your arm in its entirety.

His leather-gloved thumb caressing your skin should make you something other than what you’re currently feeling, that’s for sure.

“Thank you,” Batman starts, sounding reluctant. His eyes quickly flicker to your throat and then away again, “Do you have a preference? Anywhere I should avoid?”

"Avoid?"

"Anywhere someone might look. A friend... or partner, perhaps."

Your lips part, sucking in a breath, “No, uh- no. No one like that. Wrist is fine. O-Or neck. Whichever is… easier.”

He doesn't say anything more. His lips curl up. Two pointed fangs reveal themselves behind the parting of his mouth, fangs that weren’t there before when he spoke. You ruminate on that, a reminder that the man under the mask could be anyone if he could hide so easily like that.

You watch—transfixed, barely registering the pain—when those fangs pierce skin. Blood beads where his teeth push in slow, and the icy sting you're expecting is no more than a needle prick at best. But the strangeness of a mouth pressed there, suckling at the wound as blood dribbled out of it… you stretch your fingers and stiffen. It was all you could do not to scare yourself and rip that hand back, tearing a vein in the process.

His tongue unmistakably presses to the flat of your inner wrist and before you can question it, he’s got his eyes on you. All of it goes quiet after that.

You no longer feel the sting, nor his lips pillowing around his teeth, nor the grip of his hands holding your wrist to his mouth. All you see is blue. Endless, reeling pools of blue. Not red like they were in the movies, or yellow, or black all over. Blue. Human blue. Wondrously beautiful blue. Had you ever liked blue eyes this much before? It felt like this was your first time truly seeing them. They were just so… radiant. And here he was, swathed in night, with pale skin peeking out like a waning crescent. Had you ever seen skin so pale? It felt like this was the first time truly seeing it. It was just so...

Your train of thought wanes. Sweeping over you is a dizzy spell so abrupt that you think you gasp. Or whimper.

Feeling returns to you as soon as he breaks your gaze. All at once, your skin is flush, your breathing concernedly slow, your knees weak. It’s so shocking that you buckle at the slightest gust of wind.

Just as quickly, the Bat clings to your wrist and pulls you flush to his chest, holding your bleeding arm in between the both of you while he holds you in a half-dip (like a pause in a waltz), suspended over you. Your eyes catch on the darkness staining his bottom lip where his fangs are still poking out, and you watch as a drop of blood gathers, swells, and falls… right onto your cheek. It’s still warm.

You feel a subconscious warning thrum through you. Perhaps it was because you were so close now, that the blue looked more hypnotic than radiant and his skin looked more undead than celestial. You understand in one sweeping, chilling second, what you’ve just let sink its teeth into you. “What the fuck was that?”

“You were starting to panic,” he explains, low, using no effort at all to hold you, “I calmed you down.”

“How? It’s like… it’s like you hypnotized me. Did you hypnotize me? Do you do that to Gordon?”

You don’t mean for it all to come out like an accusation, but the feeling had been akin to walking on a cloud, only to wake up the minute your foot falls through. In the time that you’d been lost in his eyes, waxing poetic about his otherworldliness, he could’ve… well, he could’ve… he could’ve done anything.

The feeling was untethered. Wild. Alien.

When he’s sure you won’t hurt yourself, the Bat lets your hand fall back to your side, straightens you up but never pulls away. Your eyes keep glancing between his and the points right above his brow, unsure that he wouldn’t draw you right back into that place if you looked directly at him again. “Gordon doesn’t panic.” He simply answers.

You go to defend yourself but you had felt it; the mounting pressure of it, the strange pain toggling on the instinct to get away, get away, get away. Your heartbeat was so slow when you came back to, like he'd damn near put a stop to it. “I panicked?”

The Bat doesn’t laugh at you, even when the answer is so obvious. “It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's a common phobia.”

You're struck by his implication, “Are you seriously trying to say I’m scared of blood?”

“Maybe just your own.”

“I'm a detective. I see blood all the time. Maybe it's because you're a fucking vampire and my ooga booga brain is rightfully terrified.”

“You offered.”

Your ears burn, “As a favor to Gordon.”

“I can hear you lying.”

The sureness of his statement stops you quick. You feel yourself choke on nothing, sounding strangled as you respond, “Excuse me?”

“I could hear it,” your heartbeat thrums in your ears as the Bat continues to hold you, less waltz now and more hostage situation, “I heard it when you lied just now. I heard it earlier, on your way here. And I heard Gordon on the phone… not with Barbara.” He's blocking the wind sweeping over the ledge, making your flush feel hotter than before. “I don't prefer Martinez to you, but I know why you offered.”

You swallow, exposed. He'd make a damn good detective. "And?"

Your offended wrist is seized once more, and he studies the small holes there, as well as the teeny-tiny drops of blood still lightly flowing from the wound. It looks like it'll stop soon.

Achingly slow, Batman brings it to his mouth and licks away the last of you.

You have no choice but to watch, of sound mind and body, because he refuses to look you in the eye. You're forced to see him in his entirety. Forced to keep down that mounting pressure. A test, to see if you're just a little bit better than Martinez.

You steady your breathing and stare, trying to make this unnatural thing feel natural. Trying to not like it so much.

When he peels away, your skin is clean, and you can tell your blood is beginning to coagulate. "If you come back to me, I won't stop you. But if we're going to do this, I'd prefer somewhere with less concrete. In case you faint."

Your eyes narrow in on the slight pursing of his lips. Almost as if he were trying not to laugh. "I'm not scared of blood." You can’t tell if it’s because he’s so good at his poker face or if he really just doesn’t want to tease you further, but something about the clearness in his expression convinces you to speak up for yourself, “It’s probably because I missed dinner. That's all."

For one single moment, his face shifts. Then it smooths out again. You watch him climb onto the ledge, next to your long-forgotten excuse of a coffee, and turn back to you, "Will you be alright?"

You want to be annoyed about it, you really do, but the concern in his voice is true. As a compromise, you take a seat on the ledge, "Well, if you see the signal in the sky tonight, just assume I ate shit going downstairs."

As one final surprise, he smiles at you. Then he's disappearing into the darkness below.

You can hear Gordon in your head as you slip a bag of chips out of Martinez' upper drawer. After the vending machine had eaten six of your dollars, you'd given up just short of kicking a hole in the glass. You didn't want to think about what kind of hell Chief Bock would put you through for that one.

After the Bat left, you'd stumbled your way down several flights of stairs with the hopes of ending your shift only a little past midnight. There were still cops around, most unusually idle for a night in Gotham, and you supposed they had Batman to thank for that. Not that they ever would.

The very thought of him flashes images of his tongue on your skin, lapping at your blood, and you immediately force yourself to think of anything else. That was going to be a long-lasting memory.

If you were lucky, you at least wouldn't see him until tomorrow night, and that might give you time to get some sense into you. And food, too. The chips in your hand are no Michelin star dinner, but they'd hold you over until you made it home.

Just as you turn the corner to your office, you notice that something isn't quite how you left it. The door, for starters, is cracked where it was once closed.

You take a beat, then two. You listen for movement in your office, careful not to cast a shadow under the door and give yourself away, but hear nothing.

You push the door open in a rush, staring into the dimly lit room searching for the barrel of a gun staring back at you. Or, considerably worse, a person.

Instead, on your desk where it definitely wasn't before, is a bag of something that smells suspiciously like good food. You approach cautiously. Sure enough, you recognize it from Gordon's favorite lunch spot... your go-to, as only Gordon would know it.

A note is stuck to the side of the bag, a message written in neat curves and lines. The penmanship of a steady hand, not at all like your lieutenant's fast-moving scrawl. You read the note and feel a phantom sting where your wrist is patched up in band-aids.

Thanks for dinner.

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#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites

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dawndelion-winery · 7 months

Text

I Can See You

Warning: suggestive, use of f-word (not the slur)

They get dressed up all nicely for you the spooky season (modern au)

Ft. Alhaitham, Childe, Kaeya, Kaveh, Scaramouche

Alhaitham:

He didn't really see a point in getting in costume just for candy

But you insisted, and who was he to refuse to accompany you?

He honestly wasn't very pleased

Until he found a few costume ideas people were posting about

If his boyfriend-material turtleneck sweaters weren't form fitting enough, the skintight latex suit he was getting definitely was

He had no business dressing up as batman, flaunting his ass and abs like that

Still, he told you not to worry, as he'd cover up

And by that he meant wearing a full on suit and tie over it

Suddenly you're not so keen on leaving the house and it's Alhaitham complaining about how you're not getting ready to go trick or treating

Not that he actually minds, of course, given how the fit that night was picked out with the sole intention of convincing you to forgo the candy raid

Childe:

He's nothing if not extra

Full on SFX make up and everything

He made the side of his mouth seem torn and basically doused himself in fake blood (he assured you it was fake)

Fake burns to top off his already existing scars?? It's like he was dressing up to be the victim of some monster attack

And of course, he had to rip up his clothes to really sell the look

Ajax tearing shirts wasn't something you knew you needed to see

Seeing the fabric pull apart with a shrrrppp sound and loose seams dangling over toned muscles littered with as many scars as freckles

They're all old wounds, but the fake blood reminds you of when some of them were fresh and you were helping him tend to them

As you subconsciously reach out to caress the side of his stomach where a nasty old gash was, you felt his warm hand over yours

Right, well, Ajax always was a touchy person, so he never had any qualms about you feeling him up now and then if anything he wished you would more often

It was a soft moment until he spoke up

"Want me to rip up your clothes too? Though they might not be able to stay on then."

Kaeya:

You only ever get one of two things with this man

He dresses cute, or he dresses slutty

And you not wearing the matching peacock onesie with him meant he was dressing slutty

Hence the Seele cosplay

But without the wig, so he looks mildly cursed

Boi really out here strutting with everything on display like goddamn all this for free???

It was not, in fact, free

If you're not getting handsy on him along the way, he's keeping his hands on you because frankly, how could you not give him any attention when he's dressed all "fancy" for you?

Hi please appreciate his hips or he's going to dislocate his pelvis trying to flaunt himself in front of you /hj

Kaveh:

He's putting way too much into an outfit he's only going to use once

And you know damn well he's going to then use that as an excuse to keep using the costume

I mean, does he really need to recreate a fully functional Iron Man suit???

According to him the answer was an obvious yes

Honestly you were just a teeny but disappointed because you wanted to see his face

Which wasn't as much of a problem as you'd anticipated because it got hot in there, so he'd pop out of the suit every so often

You'd never been more appreciative of white dress shirts

More specifically the white dress shirt he chose to wear into that portable mechanical sauna he'd made himself

Yeah, maybe he really should use that suit at every opportunity

Scaramouche:

If you find him hot in his costume, you are 100% a monster fucker

Like Ajax and Kaveh, he goes all out

Except instead of aiming for visual appeal, he's going straight for trying to traumatise children

I hope you're not scared of zombies because he's painted himself grey and made faux scarred tissue all over

On top of tearing his clothes, he's burnt parts of it, and the shirt was pretty much just a few strips of cloth at this point

Oh, you thought you were going to have your boyfriend shirtless all night?

Well yeah, but somehow with what seems to be massive chunks of flesh missing and ribs poking through

His pants were, unfortunately, intact for the most part, with the hems undone and a little scorched

10/10 decaying zombie, and he makes you go as a zombie hunter equipped with a flamethrower

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