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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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I JUST SAW THESE POSTS OF DANNY BEING RAS AL GHUL CHILD LIKE THE FIRST THAT IS LIKE 25-30 YEARS OLDER THAN TALIA AND MAKE MY BRAIN WORKS FUCKING WIGGLE!?!?!??

anyway

Danny established the status quo and the disappeared for 20-60 years and the is summoned by Ra where he’s like “Dad you could’ve have called my personal phone you know that right?” And Ra’s like “YOU WENT OFF THE GRID FOR YEARS AND NEVER TOOD ME-!!??!? Now do you look different? Are you eating? What’s with comingoutthesummoningcirclefortheghostking? HMMM???”

“Ah- I knew I forgot something! Let me tell you all about it! I see you brought the whole fam and in laws let’s have dinner and discuss it- AWWWW THATS BABIES!!!” *Damian, Jason, Tim, and Dick being referred to as “babies”*

“Excuse me.” Danny then fucking tackles them in hugs and loves while dodging and/or holding their punches and kicks

"My maternal uncle is coming for a visit and likely evaluate my living arrangements.. We must be at our absolute best when he is here. " Damian announces one evening right as the family is finishing preparing for a night of crime fighting.

Everyone freezes from their respective stations, twisting around to stare at the young Robin in confusion. He doesn't notice; he is too busy making sure his katana is sharpened to perfection and balancing it on his fingertips.

"Baby Bat?" Dick calls, "What do you mean by that?"

Damian pauses in his prep work, approaching the eldest with a pretty impressive scowl. " Mother sent a messenger a few days ago about Uncle's plan audit. Should we fail it, I shall be removed into a different household."

"An audit? Removed?" Steph repeats, confused, but Damian has no idea why. He thought it was pretty apparent that Uncle Daniel would be scoring them, which would determine if Damian would be allowed to continue living within them. He has done so to all of Ra Al Ghul's offspring, and nothing his Grandfather has done has been able to stop him.

How could they think they would have more power than his grandfather?

"When shall Dusan be here?" Father asks, quickly switching on the home security. "What kind of attack should we expect?"

Damian scoffs, "Not the White Ghost. Uncle Dusan is on the other side of the world on a mission for Grandfather. No, Uncle Daniel will be the one conducting the suit. He is the eldest, after all."

Father's eyes narrow behind the white lenses of his masks. "I was unaware your mother had more siblings."

Damian considers the words, wondering how he could politely- at least he shames Alfred- remind his father that his grandfather has been around for hundreds of years. Staying at his peak through the usage of the Lazarus Pit, he has never been short of lovers.

And sometimes those lovers have given him children, many who aged and died naturally, as none has deemed worthy of the Lazarus. All except for one, the First Son, who has never needed the Pits but remained youthful and powerful on his own.

The perfect heir.

It's too bad he had abdicated long before Damian was even a thought.

"Grandfather has had many children, but Uncle Daniel is different. Special. He is the First Son."

"Capital letters," Todd cuts in, shaking his head. "It's never good when the League of Assiasans assigns capital letters. How strong is he?"

"He could easily best Grandfather and all under Grandfather's command," Damian replies, watching as the rest of the vigilantes grew uneasy by the information. It's good that they are wear of Uncle Daniel's power but they have nothing to fear of his wrath. "Uncle Daniel is a pacifist. He carries a protective core."

"A Al Ghul that a pacifist? I'll believe it when I see it." Drake droned as he was clipping on his utility belt. At once, Damian felt his body grew hot with rage. No matter what, it seemed Drake would always curse his family.

The way he says the family name drips with disrespect as if the other teen was saying a swear.

"My Uncle Daniel is a great man!" He shouts, gripping his sword so har his knuckles ache. Drake's face twists as if though he smelled something foul and the rage burning in Damian's chest spreads to his whole body.

He is just about to reach for his throwing knives when a familiar cold hand settles into his hair. "Aw thank you Little One. I love you too."

"Uncle Daniel!" Damian shouts excitably, forgetting the fool he was about to run his blades through. His uncle stands before him, the same darl night hair, warm blue eyes, and a crooked smile that had secretly comforted him in his youth.

"Where in the world did he come from!?" Damian hears one of Father's adopted brutes gasp but does not care to see who as his uncle quickly reels him in for a hug.

Hugging Uncle Daniel was like being wrapped in warm blankets in winter. He always ran rather cold, but it was lovely to be wrapped in his arms and surrounded by his protection.

It felt like nothing in the world could harm him from here.

"You seem well, Little One. Are you happy?" His uncle says. The delict of their native tongue is another comfort Damian can sink into.

"I am." He allows, snuggling his face against his stomach, as childish as it is. If only he could grow taller like his father.

"Wonderful. I'm so glad." His uncle then switches to English, ignoring all the weapons drawn and pointing at him from the Bats. Damian steps back to admire the man he wishes to grow into. "I'm terribly sorry for arriving so late, nephew. You must be tired. When is your bed time?"

"I do not have a bedtime." Damian scoffs. Uncle Daniel frowns, reaching into his chest to pull out a clipboard and a pen- he'll never get used to his uncle storing things within himself no matter how often he sees it. Damian is pretty sure he heard someone gag.

A soft click is heard as his uncle opens the pen and quickly scribbles something down. He is not tall enough to see what is written, but he can see clearly as day that his uncle selected the red ink of the muli-color pen he is using.

He only uses red when he is doing bad things. Damian breaks into a sweat. "What was that? Uncle what did you just write?"

"No bedtime. Tsk tsk." Uncle Daniel mutters, looking around the cave with disapproval. "No proper heating living space."

"Oh no! I do not live down here. This is merely the training grounds. We live upstairs" Damian quickly says, waving his hands frantically in the air as his uncle's unimpressed look. Curses, the auduit just began and already he got bad markings.

"Would you care for a tour? I shall not be going on patrol-"

"He forces you to fight crime? At your age?" Uncle barks, throwing a look of utter disgust at Father. It's the same one he gives Grandfather whenever the older man tries to raise child soldiers.

Even Damian had not been sent on any missions. His childhood had been intense training but nothing that was life-threatening.

"I volunteered to go!" He tries to defend Father, but his uncle only clicks his pen and scrambles more red ink on his paper.

Drat and Damian were actually enjoying living at the manor. He will likely have to say goodbye to it all and be moved to some house Uncle deemed more child-friendly.

"What is your diet here? Have you been taken to the doctor? Any form of therapy?" His uncle fires each question quickly, walking through Todd and Cain when they try to apprehend him without a glance.

His uncle is, and not to sound like the fools of his school, so cool.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #The Audit #Damian's cool uncle Danny #In which Danny was reborn as Daniel Al Ghul four hundred and ten years ago as Ra's first born son #Then went all Ghost King on him #and now travels the world making sure kid's safety laws are followed #Sorry I know it's not what you were picturing but it's all I could think of.

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puppetmaster13u · 5 months

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Prompt 100

“What are you, a Kent?”

It’s a saying in the world of the supernatural. A well-known one even. See, several, many generations back, no one quite knows when, the Kent family managed to run afoul of a particularly nasty creature who laid a curse upon them. The original wording, no one quite knows either, but the gist, everyone is aware of. For no firstborns will be born to them before they already have one.

It was supposed to be airtight in a way, a curse that would end the entire bloodline really. For a child to exist before they could have a child? How could that be?

Well. That curse had… backfired. It had backfired massively. Most, at least back when blood was everything, didn’t exactly ponder things like adoption to those outside of their own bloodline. The Kents however, lived in a very simple village, one that had disease spread through it often back then, leaving families childless and children parentless.

What were they to do but take them in? And so they had a son, many sons and daughters even, before their firstborn. Now of course, most would simply dismiss it afterwards. After all, that was the end of the story, isn’t it?

Well, no. See, the curse was a family-line curse, a just in case perhaps, that meant that each generation could not have any children until they had children. Perhaps it should have ended there, but well. It didn’t.

Kents are a strange breed in the world of the supernatural, known for having a… bit of an adoption problem. If any child or babe were to be left near their land, one can be assured the family line would take them in as their own.

Fae, demon, human, changeling, satyr, cyclops, half-breeds, werewolf- it didn’t matter. A Kent would gladly pick the child up and raise it as their own. And now, they could add aliens to that long, long list in the family line.

And really, perhaps with this context, is it really surprising that when one Clark Kent, said alien, opens his door to a basket on his doorstep holding a trio of godlings, he takes them in with no questions asked?

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #superman #clark kent #sam manson #tucker foley #danny fenton #The kents didn't bat an eye at getting an alien kid #Pa might be human but his uncle was a literal angel & his aunt was a dullahan #ma kent got the rundown when the relationship got serious #she is completely fine with this #This is the woman who got Clark an “I believe” alien shirt #she is down to parent this alien baby #“Ma I found a three-for-one do you and Pa want to meet your new grandbabies”#“Bruce I need to know if you have baby supplies- No I didn't kidnap a baby I should be asking you that-”#“Since when did you have kids Smallville-”#“Since 3 this morning :)”#Clark with his 3 toddlers at home seeing Connor for the first time: GASP #Clark: Another baby!#Connor: I've technically been artificially aged up-#Clark already holding him: Baby!#100 prompts woo

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citybin · 14 days

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Haven’t been able to draw for weeks but suddenly I just wanted to make fanart of my silly little Uncle wukong AU

#city art #artists on tumblr #lego monkie kid #lmk #fanart #lego monkie kid wukong #lmk wukong #lmk mk #lego monkie kid fanart #lego monkie kid mk #uncle wukong #uncle wukong au

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billsbae · 6 months

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now imagine jegulus being harry's parents and pandalily being luna's. barty now has to deal with not only one but two kids, babysitting them

*playing with dolls*

barty: uh, how you doing?

harry looking at luna: uncle barty, say it in your girl voice!

luna: why do we keep asking you!

barty to james: hey look away

barty: how you doing? 🩷💅

james: *fvcking dies*

could work also with evan

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introspectivememories · 2 months

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in a better world, nico rosberg and lewis hamilton never get divorced and nico still retires after his one wdc and he still becomes a reporter and instead of the the awkward interview we got last year, we get thousands of brocedes interviews where they're being stupid together. lewis moves to ferrari and nico publicly quizzes him on his italian. nico interviews another driver and lewis is in the background making fun of nico. people make compilations of lewis and nico making each other laugh during interviews.

#i am struck with a vision so potent of lewis pulling nico into a hug in the middle of nico interviewing someone else #lewis winning a championship and nico and vivian are the first ones to spray him with champagne...#the amt of uncle lewis content we would've gotten with nico's kids #it would've been vivian‚ vivian's husband nico‚ and nico's homoerotic friendship lewis #they would've been terror together. reporter!nico and racer!lewis #AUUUGH WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALL #god could you imagine teamlh and nico rosberg on the same side??? menaces for real #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes #f1

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nerdpoe · 2 months

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3 Fanon ideas to make a prompt from :)

1). Ectoplasm is Lazarus Water but purified

2). Ghosts can retreat to their cores

3). Protocore Jason AU

Danny has to retreat into his core, Jason somehow finds him and absorbs it. It looks like Jason is pregnant as his own ecto is being purified and then given to Danny's Core.

Enjoy:)

This is a full prompt, though? Okay I'll write mpreg. Gonna bypass that "looks" and make it an "is" though, throwin in some reincarnation and trans Jay.

~~~~~~

Jason was doing one last round before he left for Gotham. Before he left to prove a point. To teach Bruce a lesson he'd never forget.

He wasn't sentimental, no, he was just checking to make sure he wasn't forgetting any sickass weapons that may have fallen behind a dresser or something.

"Todd," a small, imperious voice demanded from behind him. "Observe my new pet rock."

Jason sighed and stood up to humor the little demon.

The kid was holding a weird glowing, cracked orb. It was radiating frost, and Damian had to use cloth between his hands and the magic stone.

"Damian," Jason started, keeping his voice level. "Where did you get that?"

The kid sniffed with all the superiority of a spoiled brat, looking proud and holding the obviously enchanted stone higher.

"Since Grandfather and Mother say that animals as pets would be a weakness, I decided to search the lesser treasure room for a suitable inanimate pet."

Jason sucked in air through his teeth in a soft hiss. There was no "lesser" treasure room; there was the "safe" treasure and the "unknown" treasure. Where was Talia when he needed her?

"Look, kid, I don't think-" Jason started, reaching for the weird rock, just as Damian started pulling away.

"-You are jealous that I have this rock and you do not-"

"-Damian, please, just hand over the fucking-"

"-Cease your attempted theft this instant-"

"-Damian come here you little shit-"

Jason tripped. Damian tripped. The weird rock went into the air...and landed on Jason's chest. It melted into him with a sharp flash of pain.

And that was that.

Damian stared at Jason's stomach, aghast.

"You stole my rock!"

By the time Talia arrived to see what was keeping Jason so long, he and Damian were rolling on the ground biting each other.

~~~~~~

Months later, Jason was beyond ready to murder the newest Robin. He'd originally planned to just beat the shit out of the kid, but he'd been having a rough time.

He was losing his carefully crafted abs.

He was getting soft.

Normally that was whatever, but he was trying to be intimidating, and being soft in any way was definitely going to trigger the dysphoria he thought he'd outrun.

It made no sense; he worked out daily, had started eating on a caloric deficit, drank nothing but water, and made sure what he ate was home-cooked.

Then, one month before go-time with Timmy, he'd started getting nauseous.

He felt bloated, tired, hungry, and most of all; pissed.

As he stalked through the Tower that the newest Robin was hiding in, he may have, perhaps, let the millions of small annoyances pile into one big rage filled pity party with a kid as the target.

It really didn't help that he hadn't been able to don his replica of his own Robin costume, because he...he had pudge. He didn't fit in it.

It was infuriating.

He knew it wasn't little TimTams fault, but he was gonna take his rage out on someone, and the kid was the unfortunate closest person he had beef with.

Was he overreacting? Probably.

But it was lash out or cry, and he refused to cry.

On top of everything, the one thing that had helped with any of the symptoms, the extra purified Lazarus Water that Talia had given him to 'act as an emergency first aide', was gone. He'd drank it all.

With that supply out, he was.

Well.

He was going to kill little Timmy, fuck the consequences.

But little Timmy was...doing a very good job of staying completely out of sight. The kid had been acting far more neurotic than he normally did, only letting out a small gasp when he'd seen Red Hood and immediately darted into some sort of weird hidey hole.

Jason hadn't been able to find him since.

The kid had added his own gopher network to the Tower, fuck.

The speaker system crackled on, just as Jason was about to start laying down bombs.

"Red Hood, please consider your condition. Do not do anything that would raise your blood pressure, or uh..." the newest Robin's voice trailed off, keyboard audibly clacking as he looked something up. "...Or eat peas? No, that can't be right. Whatever, look, just stay calm, take a breather, and don't overstress yourself. It's not good for the uh. The second...yeah. Not good. Do not do. Why am I so dumb sounding when it comes to things like this? Shoulda gotten Steph..."

The kids voice trailed off as he berated himself, but Jason was too busy fighting off the horribly dawning realization of what the kid was saying.

Which couldn't be true, because there was no way for the kid to know, and Jason hadn't had sex in...well. Years.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jason gasped, thanking his past self for putting the vocoder in his helmet. It sounded far more threatening.

"Oh. Uh. During one of your fights with Batman, you got glanced by something sharp, and there was a little blood. Don't worry though! I didn't tell Batman! I just wanted to see if I could figure it out on my own! So I ran your blood and now I...know. That was actually probably like, really invasive. Sorry Jason."

Jason knew the fight the little Bird was talking about. He'd had a random wave of vertigo, barely dodged a batarang. He'd had to do his own stitches afterwards.

"...You know? Know what?"

"Okay, I should clarify. I didn't tell Batman, but I kinda needed help scrubbing everything, so I had to ask Oracle to help, so she knows, and she couldn't keep it from Nightwing, because he's felt super guilty about how he treated you, but Batman definitely does not know."

Jason sat down on the nearest chair, feeling like the wind had been ripped from his sails. He took the helmet off and dropped in on the ground in favor of running a hand through his hair.

"How can you be sure B doesn't know it's me?" He rasped, staring at nothing.

"Because can you imagine he'd leave you alone for a second if he knew you were alive, much less up the duff?"

Jason had nothing to say to that. Either Ra's had been up to some fucked up experiments while he'd been asleep, or he was the victim of miraculous conception.

The newest Robin was rambling over the speakers, but Jason ignored him and held his head in his hands. The glowing orb flashed through his mind, and Jason didn't even have the energy to curse Damian for doing stupid kid shit.

He was just thankful that the kid hadn't been a viable host.

"Tim, shut up. Do you have an ultrasound machine here?" Jason interrupted, steeling himself. He was an adult sort of, one year before it was technically true, and he could freak out later.

It was time to do adult things.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Why? Has your gyno not done one yet?"

"Don't have one, didn't know. Where is it?"

"...I probably should have broken that news to you like, way softer."

~~~~~~

Jason was...pulling back. His criminal empire was still growing strong, and he was making a shit ton of money from it, but he was pulling back from actively provoking Batman.

As much as he wanted B to be the one to kill the Joker, he knew that the older man probably wouldn't do that, and Jason wasn't going to risk getting anywhere near that maniac while he was pregnant.

Batman had certainly noticed the change in behavior, but whenever he tried to intrude into Crime Alley, Nightwing or Robin would intercept him.

Jason.

Jason wasn't sure what he wanted to do about Bruce.

Dick was slowly earning forgiveness for his pas actions, piece by piece. Tim was surprisingly good at being supportive, and Jason's hatred for him was starting to wear away to the realization that this was just a kid.

Oracle, whoever she was, had apparently designed the best security system in the world and quietly renovated an apartment into a safehouse, just for him.

He hated the charity, but it was better than what he could make at the moment with how many enemies he'd gained.

As the months passed by, he found himself hiding away in the gifted apartment more and more.

The dysphoria was...bad.

There were no more mirrors in the apartment.

The kid, which the ultrasound confirmed they were, was a small one, thank fuck. His belly had popped out, true to most pregnancies, but it was relatively contained.

It was still enough to make a horrible sense of wrongness almost knock him off his feet every time he looked down.

He was, essentially, useless.

If it wasn't for the trio of well-meaning extended family (maybe? he had his suspicions about Oracle), he probably would have just laid down on the floor of his apartment and not gotten up.

Tim, surprisingly, had adopted some stupid Alvin Draper alias and was running his crime network in his stead. He was doing a concerningly good job, actually, and Jason and Dick had exchanged more than one worried glance over the kid's head.

Dick had moved in, citing that Bruce was getting suspicious and it was easier to pretend that he'd moved back to Gotham than it was to continually make up excuses. In reality, he was making sure Jason didn't lay down and rot, keeping him active and healthy.

Jason was...trying. He was trying. But between needing to stop HRT and the changes and his fucking voice and just. Everything. All of it.

He hated it.

But he still wasn't sure what he wanted to do with the kid.

Dick and Tim had set up a nursery, just in case. Dick had also surreptitiously reached out to the Kents, also just in case. There was no judgement. If he decided to keep the kid or give it away, it would be well taken care of.

That should have been a weight off his shoulders.

But instead, he felt like he was getting worse.

He was so, so fucking tired. He was starving but he couldn't stomach the food Dickwing put in front of him. He had worked so hard to build his criminal empire, but when Tim tried to tell him about it he couldn't focus long enough understand what was being said. He knew that they were getting more and more concerned, and when he woke up one morning and vomited straight Lazarus Water, Tim snapped.

"I'm calling B."

"Tim, no, we can-"

"-No, Dick, we need to figure out what's going on! This isn't something Leslie can handle, we need Bruce!"

Maybe it was just something buried deep inside Jason, but he agreed. He wanted his dad, not a doctor. He didn't care about Tim's reasoning, he just. He agreed. He wanted Bruce.

"Do it," Jason rasped from the floor, leaning into the cold tile. "Get B."

~~~~~~

Jason was still on the bathroom floor when a set of far, far heavier footsteps paused at the doorway.

The wood from the doorframe creaked as whoever it was tightened their grip on it.

Their breathing stuttered. They swallowed.

The footsteps continued, and they knelt next to Jason, wordlessly running their fingers through his hair.

"Hey Jaylad," Bruce whispered, voice tight and controlled even as his hand shook. "Looks like you've got a bit of a situation. Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Got knocked up by a magic rock," Jason muttered, thoroughly enjoying the hand in his hair. "But it ain't going right, and I'm tired and hungry all the time, and I'm throwing up the Lazarus Pits."

"The magic rock info is new," he heard Tim mutter from the hall, right before he was forcibly shushed by Dick.

"Did you have any weird cravings? Any symptoms that don't normally match a pregnancy?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice calm and controlled even as he lifted Jason from the floor and into his lap. "Should I get Constantine on the phone?"

Jason let it happen, turning to hide his face from the shitshow that had been his life for the past six months and shoving it into Bruce's stupid fancy shirt.

"Had Lazarus water. Drank it. I'm hungry but I can't eat anything. I can hear the kid chirp sometimes."

"Like a bird? That's adora-"

"-Shut up Dick not now!"

"You shut up!"

"You...drank. Lazarus Water." Bruce repeated, voice stilted as he clearly started working through something in his head. "I....hm. Okay. I'm...I'm going to call Constantine." Jason couldn't help the snort at the clear distaste in Bruce's voice as he said that.

He expected Bruce to put him down and go get changed into his Batman kit.

He did not expect Bruce to adjust his hold, lean back onto the cabinets, and make the call then and there.

~~~~~~

Constantine was officially unofficially his doctor for the duration of his pregnancy.

That was not something that anyone wanted, Bruce especially.

Jason wanted to throw up and aim it at the Hellblazer, but he had a feeling the man had been covered in worse and would, at best, be unfazed.

At worst, tempted to just smear it on Jason to prove a point.

The Mage of the hour himself was hovering over Jason, eyes unfocused as his glowing hands rested on the despised baby bump.

Jason was laying on the couch, trying not to let the sound of Bruce's pacing drive him up a wall.

"That," Constantine started, head tilting as if he was listening to something. "That is a core. And a baby. And another core. Two Ghost Cores, two bodies. If you're meetin' the needs of the physical, and you're still havin' issues, prolly need to see to the spritual, love."

"Don't call him love," Bruce warned, pausing his pacing long enough to glare at the Mage.

Constantine didn't bother to acknowledge him.

"Don't suppose you've got any spare Lazarus Water lying around, eh?" The man asked instead, eyes refocusing as he removed his hands from Jason's person.

Jason shook his head, but Tim nodded his.

Everyone stared at Tim.

Tim shrugged.

"What? It's under the city. Not like anyone will miss it if we take some."

"How. Tim, how do you know that?" Dick asked, sounding a little scared.

"Because I found it? I tried throwing dead rats in it but it doesn't work on rats, so I tried larger dead animals that had gotten down there-"

"-B you've raised Dr. Frankenstein," Jason groaned, covering his eyes from the realities of a mad scientist little brother.

"But I'm not an undead being stitched together?" Tim asked.

"You uncultured swine," Jason snarled, practically throwing himself into a sitting position and was quickly met with Constantine trying to wrangle him back down. "It's common fucking knowledge that Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, and if you paid any attention in English class-"

"-I'm gonna go get Lazarus Water okay bye!" Tim shouted, bolting for the door.

~~~~~~

Jason drank his fifth juice pack of Lazarus Water, finally starting to feel like himself again, and stared at Bruce.

Bruce, to his credit, was clearly trying very hard not to stare back.

Jason imagined this was rather hard, given that he couldn't stop fucking purring. Apparently, that was a Thing that his body could and would do, according to his unofficial doctor.

Dick and Tim were helping Constantine put the Lazarus Water into the juice packets, all of them desperately pretending that they weren't there at all and trying to be as quiet as possible.

"So, Hellblazer. Nothing to say about the Big Bad Batman?" Jason asked, eyes never leaving said man.

"Not particularly any of my business, mate. I don't really care one way or another."

Bruce actually looked a little put out at that, much to Jason's satisfaction.

"I imagine you have questions," Jason sighed, finishing off his juice pack.

Bruce finally turned to look at him head on, gaze steady.

"They can wait. Do you have any plans for...this?" Bruce didn't motion towards Jason's stomach, but he didn't have to.

"...Maybe. I don't even really know what this is." Jason muttered, sinking further into his chair.

"I told you, love, it's a baby. With a ghost core. It was probably an adult ghost, at one point, but if it was cracked near as bad as you say, it was either reincarnate or disappear." Constantine shrugged, taping another stupid tiny straw to another juice box and moving to repeat the action. "Either way, since it's reincarnation, the baby ain't gonna know tit from tat. 'S just a baby."

That. Damn. If he'd been faced with the same choice, he probably would have done the same thing.

"You keep saying that. What does a ghost core do when it's in a human?" Bruce asked, knuckles white on the couch's armrest.

"Dunno, haven't seen it before. Heard of it, though. Just makes the person powerful, but now sure how much. Flight is definitely gonna be there, though, so I'd ask supes for some pointers." Constantine answered without really answering, true to form for him.

Jason heaved himself up and waved everyone off as they started to get to their own feet to help him. "I'm gonna take a nap. Snipe at each other in here and don't fucking bother me."

~~~~~~

Jason was disgusting.

Alfred and Bruce and everyone else assured him he wasn't, but he absolutely was.

It was so bad he'd gone ahead and, without informing anybody, arranged for an induced labor at Gotham General as soon as he could.

He didn't want to deal with Dick getting scared and frantic, or Tim overplanning and having a mental breakdown, or Bruce's rigid shoulders as he both tried to apologize and do something stupid like take over from the actual doctor.

Alfred would probably be composed, but if Alfred acted a little off then they'd know.

Hell, Jason had started getting some Braxdon hicks contractions and he swore he watched Bruce's hair grey in real time.

So at the eight and a half month mark, Jason lied to everyone and told them he was going to another safehouse to get away from their coddling.

He ignored their objections and reached for the keys to his car-

-and pissed himself.

Or, it felt like he did.

The apartment went dead silent as everyone looked down.

Then the contractions really hit.

~~~~~~

Bruce actually did try to take over the maternity ward and do the doctors jobs.

Jason was delighted to have an excuse to kick him out.

He couldn't force the man to avenge his murder, but he could make him wait in the waiting room like the rest of the peasants.

Alfred he allowed to stay, though.

~~~~~~

Jason still hadn't decided what to do with the kid.

He didn't know if he was gonna send them off to a farm or if he was gonna keep them.

So he let himself hold them, to see if any of the disgust he'd felt during the pregnancy had been directed at the kid or if it was all just him hating how he looked.

The little bean of a child, eyes bluer than his own, proceeded to free one arm to pull on Jason's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

Ah.

Nah, the hatred had been towards how he looked.

This one was his, the Kents could get visitation rights.

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faeriekit · 27 days

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The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to!#this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol.#faer fic

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