#batfamcontentwar

[laquilasse]

Throwback to that time where Dick made me cry with 3 words

#richard grayson #bruce wayne #batfamily #nightwing #batman #batman and robin #dc robin #dc #batfamcontentwar #dc comics #i've never drawn dick looking so.... apathetic before and it's making me sad #my art

[camsthisky]

Life’s But a Walking Shadow

ao3 | ff.net

Day 3: Monsters

It loosely fits, so. Yeah. This is for @caramelmachete, who asked for some Dick and Wally bromance. Thanks for donating!!!

Summary: The puzzle pieces aren’t fitting. Dick doesn’t know what’s happening. But one thing that he does know is that he has to get to Bruce. He has to.

Dick doesn’t know where he is.

Well, that’s not completely true. He’s sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, somewhere in the middle of Gotham. There’s not a lot of people, but the weak sun is still occasionally breaking through the clouds, so Dick thinks it must be before rush hour. The people around him give him a wide berth, but Dick hardly notices. He keeps getting distracted by the shadows in the corner of his eye. He could have sworn he saw—

No. Batman doesn’t come out during the day. Not unless there’s an emergency. And Dick can’t think of anything that’d be classified an emergency when it seems so calm. Actually, Dick’s having trouble thinking at all.

But he knows for sure that it’s not Batman. Can’t be. He wouldn’t be scared of it if it was, right?

There’s—something. Something he’s supposed to remember. Something to do with Bruce. He thinks that maybe he should find Bruce. Or call him. Maybe it’ll help him remember, think. He’s supposed to tell Bruce about—about—

Something to do with water. Other than that, he can’t grasp it. He can’t make his thoughts form anything coherent.

There’s another—it’s not a flash. It’s more a growing embodiment of fear and darkness on the edge of his vision, creating a dark mass that catches his attention. But when he turns his head to look at it, it’s gone. Nothing there. Poof.

Unease grows in his stomach, and Dick thinks that maybe he should get up now. There’s something seriously wrong, and he needs to get to Bruce to tell him about the water. He hopes that the shadow doesn’t follow him all the way home. Dick doesn’t know how to get rid of it, so if it does, he’ll have to risk exposing his family to the danger of it.

That thought makes him slightly sick, and Dick makes no move to get up. People pay him no attention besides a cursory first glance. Dick watches the shadow creep closer, morphing and contorting as it makes its way towards him.

When his phone rings, Dick barely hears it. He keeps his eyes on the shadow, but it starts to feel like he’s falling apart. Like his grip on reality is slipping and sliding all over the place, and it takes a few more minutes for Dick to realize that he is literally shaking apart.

He’s sitting on the sidewalk, shaking and sweating as he watches a shadow he can’t take his eyes off of, and his cell phone rings. There’s something wrong. He just can’t figure it out.

Dick picks up this time without looking. “Hello?”

“Dick!” a voice says, and behind the distortion, there’s relief. Dick listens to the voice babble on about something before he realizes that whoever’s on the line is trying to talk to him. “—are right now and I’ll come get you. We can get pizza and eat our hearts out to drown out whatever’s on your mind, bro.”

“Wally?” Dick asks, his forehead crinkling in confusion. Why is Wally calling him?

“Yeah,” Wally says, his words a beat slower this time. “Yeah, it’s me. You okay, man?”

Dick thinks about that for a minute. He licks his lips and thinks about the growing shadow he can’t stop tracking. He thinks about the bad feeling in his gut. He thinks about how he can’t tell whether he’s shivering or shaking. He thinks about the need to get to Bruce and tell him about the water, but the absolute fear of bringing the shadow into contact with the people he loves. And then he thinks about how absolute none of those pieces seem to make any sense when he tries to fit them together. It’s like they don’t even belong to the same puzzle, though he’s sure that he’d gotten them from the same box.

“I don’t think so,” Dick says, and he’s feeling a little dizzy now, too. Light-headed. Everything but the shadow has gone fuzzy around the edges, and finally—finally—it clicks into place what’s happening to him. “I think I’ve been drugged.”

Wally sucks in a sharp breath, blows it out, and speaks slow enough that even Dick, in his hazy, drugged state, can follow.

“Okay,” Wally says. “Okay, first things first. Do you know where you are?”

“A street,” Dick tells him. Easy question.

“Which street?” Wally asks.

Harder question. Dick doesn’t know. And he doesn’t get to answer before he’s shuffling back from the middle of the sidewalk to press his shoulders against the wall of the building behind him. The shadow—the one morphing and contorting and growing—shoots out a tendril and almost curls around his ankle but—he jerks it away at the last moment, and the shadow retreats for the moment.

He’s left with his lungs feeling tight. Like he can’t get enough air. Wally’s small and tinny voice sounds from the phone still clutched in Dick’s right hand, but Dick can’t pay attention to him right now. He’d just talked to Wally for a second and the shadow had made a grab for him. He has to watch for it, make sure it doesn’t try to—

Wally’s in his face in a moment, shielding him from the shadows, and Dick blinks. Wally’s hands are like steel as they grip his upper arms, and Wally’s presence is just so much. Like a hot bath after sleeping in the snow. It’s overwhelming.

“Breathe,” Wally orders, and Dick does. Wally doesn’t seem satisfied, though. “Again.”

Dick tries to suck in another breath, but his chest hitches and his eyes screw up and his hands grip the front of Wally’s jacket and there’s just too much. Any moment now, Wally is going to move and the shadow will come roaring after him. It’ll grab him and drag him into the unknown, and he doesn’t think he can handle that.

Not after it’d already practically consumed him last time.

Wally cups Dick’s face in his hands. “Hey, hey. Hang on, Dick. Bruce is on his way. He’s going to fix whatever’s wrong with you.”

“Water,” Dick manages to choke out. “It was—water. Bruce.”

Shaking his head, Wally brushes away tears Dick hadn’t even realized were falling. “Dick, I don’t—I don’t know what that means.”

“Move,” someone else says.

Wally’s head snaps up, but when Wally’s eyes go wide and he makes to pull away, Dick shakes his head and grips Wally’s jacket harder, whispering, “No. No, no, no,” over and over again, until Wally covers Dick’s hands and squeezes, shuffling to the side to make room for the new person who—oh.

Bruce is here. Dick thinks that maybe he’s going to cry in relief, but then he remembers that he’s already crying.

“Hey. Look at me,” Bruce says, his voice low and calm and gentle like it is in his memories and those quiet moments just after a life or death situation. Bruce’s eyes don’t waver, and Dick focuses on his dad’s face, his fingers uncurling from Wally’s jacket to reach instead for Bruce’s. Bruce pulls him in slowly, gently, and Dick falls forward and buries his face in Bruce’s chest, closing his eyes against the dizziness.

He can’t remember what’s happening, but he knows—just like he’ll always know—that he’s safe here. He’s okay. The shadow—it can’t get him as long as Bruce is here.

“Let’s get you home,” Bruce says quietly, and he pulls Dick to his feet, supporting his weight when Dick’s feet threatening to collapse out from underneath him. Bruce’s arms are around him, Wally’s hand is on his back, and Dick keeps his head tucked Bruce’s shoulder as they lead him towards the street.

Dick still feels dizzy and light-headed, and he can’t put the puzzle pieces together very well, but he manages a sharp breath and a quiet, “The water, Bruce.”

And Bruce tightens his arms around Dick and says, “I know. Tim’s taking care of it as we speak.”

And, of course, that’s when Dick collapses, darkness taking over and the echo of his name in his ears.

When Dick wakes up, it’s slow. And when he opens his eyes, it’s hazy. But not the fuzziness he can hardly remember from before, full of shadows and monsters and puzzle pieces that don’t seem to fit as he sits on concrete in the middle of the sidewalk. All alone and scared of something that’s not actually real.

Well, in a sense. He knows what those shadows represented in his head, and just the thought of them make him unbelievably tired and world weary. So he doesn’t think about it anymore.

Dick’s lying on a medical cot in the Cave. He’s attached to an IV, and Dick wonders just how long he was out. He feels bone tired. Exhausted in a way he hasn’t been since maybe the day he’d been strapped to a bomb and had to stop his heart in order to stop said bomb.

“Hey,” a soft voice says, and Dick blinks at the redhead sitting at his bedside. Wally doesn’t look so hot, either, and he’s looking at Dick with wary eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Dick hums, and croaks out, “Tired.”

Wally chuckles. “You should go back to sleep.”

“The water?” Dick asks instead of acknowledging that last statement. He’ll go to sleep when he knows that everything’s okay. “Did Bruce get to it on time?”

Wally blows out a sigh and leans back in his chair. “You know, I still don’t know what that means.”

“It means,” Bruce says before Dick can even open his mouth to answer, striding into the medical wing of the Cave in sweats and a T-shirt, “that Scarecrow was trying to drug the city’s water supply, and the only reason that he didn’t was because Dick had enough sense in him to activate the tracker at the plant and alert Tim into checking it out when we couldn’t get a hold of him.”

“Tim okay?” Dick asks.

“He’s fine,” Bruce tells him, standing on the other side of Dick’s bed, across from Wally. He looks hesitant about something, but he finally sighs and drops a hand in Dick’s hair, sweeping a thumb across Dick’s forehead in a rare show of comfort. Dick closes his eyes under the ministrations. “You, on the other, are not.”

Dick frowns, but doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“You weren’t,” Bruce says, but it’s Wally that elaborates since they both know that Bruce won’t.

“We almost lost you a couple times,” Wally tells him softly, and Dick feels Wally grab his limp hand and squeeze. “It was—well. Terrifying. We’re just lucky that Bruce and I managed to isolate the new component in Scarecrow’s new toxin when we did.”

“Thank you,” Dick whispers, but no one responds. There’s silence for a while, and Dick feels himself floating away, back into a doze. He only hums when Bruce moves his hand from Dick’s hair to Dick’s shoulder and drops a gentle kiss on Dick’s forehead, like Wally isn’t sitting right there.

“Get some sleep, Dick,” Bruce says.

And Dick, already seconds away from floating back into slumber, lets himself relax. With Bruce and Wally here, and everything okay, he’s safe. No more shadows or monsters or puzzle pieces. Just his dad and his best friend. So, he sleeps.

#dick grayson #wally west #bruce wayne #dc #prompt #camryn writes #halloweencontentwar #batfamcontentwar #i hope you enjoy it

[shieldmaiden19]

Batfam House Sorting

As much as I love Hogwarts AUs within this fandom, there are a ton of misconceptions out there about which Hogwarts Houses the members of the Batfamily would be sorted into. Most sortings I’ve seen follow these lines:

Dick - Ravenclaw Jason - Gryffindor or Slytherin Tim - Ravenclaw Damian - Slytherin Barbara - Ravenclaw Stephanie - Hufflepuff Cass - Hufflepuff Bruce - Ravenclaw

While I respect these, I think most if not all of them are taking the characters at face value. They all live with masks - literal and metaphorical - and they might not even acknowledge some of these deeper truths to themselves, but we as readers have a much bigger picture of their actions and their motivations.

I’m not going to get into Tim Drake because I already have written extensively on my brilliant boy and where he would actually be sorted. If you haven’t read The Mis-Sorting of Tim Drake yet, I’d recommend reading it now because I’ll be referencing it later in this piece.

Dick Grayson is brilliant and smart, yes, but the reasons he keeps doing vigilante work are primarily Hufflepuff in nature: “I will save as many people as possible, no matter the heartbreak. If I can save one person an awful fate, then I have saved one person.” Or as a certain musical puts it, “Have I done enough?” Hufflepuffs are some of the scariest people on the planet because you will never see them coming. They are not the couch potatoes of the world - they are the treads on the tank, the pistons in the engine. They are capable of greater nobility than the rest of the world combined, and if their death will save one, two, a hundred people, they will die without hesitation. And who embodies that more than Dick “Self Sacrifice” Grayson?

Jason Todd is depicted in the fandom as the impulsive, abrasive hotshot, but one thing everyone passes over is how little he cares for the rules. You don’t steal the Batmobile’s hubcaps? Tough luck. You have to pretend to be a kind of person you’re not when around the Gotham elite? Not a chance. We don’t use guns, and we don’t kill our enemies? Make me. And that, guys, gals, and non-binary pals, is a Ravenclaw trait. For a Ravenclaw, rules are for the sheep not intelligent to find a way around them: “They don’t have a plan, they just hate mine.” Jason is capable of asking if maybe it is okay to kill dangerous criminals rather than have them live out the rest of their corrupt lives comfortable and well-fed in prison. Putting criminals away in jail is doing nothing for their victims, so Jason will go outside of the rules to do what must be done.

For Stephanie Brown, I debated between Hufflepuff and Slytherin with Gryffindor-ish traits. Steph knows what she wants - to be Robin, to work with Cass, to finish her degree - and good luck to you if you get in her way. Unlike most Slytherins, she bulldozes through her problems, but her driving force is her ambition, her desire to be more. As a certain musical says, “I am either gonna die on the battlefield in glory or rise up.” Gryffindors maybe care a little for glory and instant gratification, but the fuel in their souls’ engines is to see justice done. They care about humanity as a whole but have a difficult time caring about small injustices they themselves commit in their quest for Justice, and put simply that’s not Steph. She cares too much for people - real people - to choose fighting Injustice over injustices. She’s a difficult sorting to pin down, and that’s the best I’ve got.

Cass Cain, like Dick Grayson, is a Hufflepuff. When Hufflepuffs snap, they will mow through anything in their path to protect the people they love and get back at those who hurt their loved ones. It takes a lot of passion, conviction, and evidence for Hufflepuffs to rise up, but when they do, the war is as good as over. Cass cares about people, about righting wrongs, but not at the kind of cost a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw is willing to accrue. She aspires to be better, and she will save people until she keels over, and still she will ask, “Have I done enough?”

Damian Wayne, like Stephanie Brown, is tricky. The fandom sorts him into Slytherin because he’s a “bad guy” and he’s sarcastic. Segue: By the way, it ticks me off when people say sarcasm is a Slytherin aesthetic, because sarcasm is mean - it is cruel and ultimately lifting yourself up by putting your listener down. Irony on the other hand requires actual skill, putting the speaker and the listener on the same level and creating a bond instead of a rift - “I’m in on the joke, you’re in on the joke, we’re in it together.” Sure some Slytherins are cruel, but a true Slytherin’s sense of humor centers around irony rather than sarcasm. End Segue. Damian might grump and grouch around most of the time, but he has come a long way from where he was when he first came to the Manor when he was using sarcasm. It takes a lot to get him to care for and open up to people, partly because he’s young, partly because he shares half his genetic code with Bruce "No-Feelings-Only-Justice” Wayne, and partly because he idolizes his father and attempts to be like him in every facet of his life. Damian follows Bruce’s rules - adhering to a code - and his driving force is to excel, to be known, to be remembered. That is why he is a Slytherin, not just because he’s a grouchy little shit.

Barbara Gordon is similar enough to Tim to sort decisively into Slytherin. Again, read The Mis-Sorting of Tim Drake for clarity on this. 

And as for Bruce? Ah, Bruce Wayne...the freaking Poster Boy™ for Slytherin House. Gotham is his city to defend, and anyone who stands against that will be taken down both brutally and efficiently. The little flock of vigilantes he’s gathered like chicks under his wing are also his, and he will protect them more fiercely than a mama grizzly. Anyone who hurts his children, be they supervillain, common criminal, or mere scum who broke his child’s heart, will pay the price. Bruce’ll stay within the bounds he’s set for himself (i.e. no killing), but all that means is that he needs to be more creative with his takedowns.

In summary:

Dick - Hufflepuff Jason - Ravenclaw Tim - Slytherin Stephanie - Hufflepuff or Slytherin Cass - Hufflepuff Damian - Slytherin Barbara - Slytherin Bruce - Slytherin

Re-blog with your thoughts. Peace out.

#hogwarts au #batfamily #batfamily sorting #halloweencontentwar #misconceptions #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cass cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #bruce wayne #house sorting #batfam #batfamcontentwar #my big beautiful family

[nigh7wing]

Drew my boys! I thought it was cute, little batbros. Dick's cereal I was thinking was made of 100% marshmallows lol

#batfamcontentwar #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #demon spawn #i mean damian #damian wayne #dc #dc comics #fan art #batbros #original post

[batwayneman]

You say DickBabs baby, but all I hear is Bruce and Jim bickering over who gets to babysit

#dick grayson #barbara gordon #bruce wayne #dickbabs #jim gordon #headcanon #mine #idk i was thinking about this earlier #does this count as #batfamcontentwar #???? #if not someone let me know

[preciousthingsareprecious]

The Trick to Getting Treats

It’s technically day three for me, so I’m going to post this now. This fic is also only technically a monster fic (Damian and Jon dressed up as monsters totally counts right?). I hope you guys like it! 

Rating: Gen

Words: 3,492

Summary:  Jon's spending Halloween with the Batfam and excited for everything: getting to meet Damian's family, dressing up, and trick or treating. Only Damian think's he's too old to trick or treat, and let's Jon down pretty hard. Thankfully Damian's siblings find a way around that.

AO3 Link

Jon was floating. Literally floating. The thought made him giggle past the butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t decided if he was just excited or nervous or both. One of those emotions was keeping his feet off the ground, and he wasn’t sure he cared which it was. His parents had finally agreed to let him go trick or treating with Damian and his family. A fact that would have made him fly to the moon again if his dad would allow it.

Damian never stopped talking about his brothers and his sister. Like never . And Jon had yet to meet them. So yes, maybe it was excitement keeping his toes from touching the ground as his dad finished walking him up the path to the manor.

He couldn’t stop looking at the decorations out front. There was a giant spider that moved, and a ghost that fluttered in the wind. A hoard of zombies were climbing up the side of the manor building, and groans could be heard from them every few seconds. It was the kind of house that screamed having good candy and Jon rose an inch or two as the excitement and nervousness churned again inside him. He really hoped tonight would be fun. And that Damian's siblings would like him. And that Damian would have fun. Really he was hoping for the best in everything.

“It might be Halloween, but try not to float while you’re out okay?” His dad suggested, as he rang the doorbell.

“I won’t.” Jon promised.

He adjusted the big pawed gloves he was wearing and took in a deep breath. It settled some of the butterflies and he sunk an inch. Then the door opened and Alfred smiled at him, his face painted green with little bolts sticking out of his neck. His suit was still impeccable.

“Clark, Jonathan. It’s a pleasure to see you both, won’t you come in?” He said, with a smile.

Simply seeing Alfred again helped ease some of the nervous energy in Jon’s stomach and he finally landed, his feet touching down as he smiled up at the man.

“Hello Mr. Pennyworth.” Jon said, and stepped into the house.

“Hey, Alfred. Is Bruce still here or has he left yet?” Clark asked, following Jon in.

Jon had been in the the manor before, back when Damian had kidnapped him and they’d actually met, then again when he’d come to vent about his grounding. It was nice to walk in through the front door this time, though still as awe inspiring as it had been the first few times. Now the high ceilings and fancy furniture were decked out with cobwebs and pumpkins, with little bats hanging from lights, and spiders tucked into corners. It was delightfully spooky, but not scary.

“The children are in the livingroom, Jonathan I trust you know the way?” Alfred asked.

Jon nodded and left his dad with the other man as they discussed Batman’s plans for the night. Jon didn’t really care to know what the caped crusader was doing, he was far more excited to see the extended family.

Noise came to him first as he hurried down the hallway towards his friend and his family. There was giggling and the sound of someone groaning with annoyance. Jon didn’t try to eavesdrop, instead practicing, if only for a few moments, controlling his overly sensitive hearing.

“I do not see the point of these plastic fangs, Grayson. No one will be looking at my mouth.” Damian’s grumpy tone preceded Jon seeing him, as he stepped into the room.

He saw Damian and an older man, Grayson (Probably Dick, Nightwing--Jon almost floated again at that thought) together by a couch. Grayson was kneeling by Damian, a pair of plastic fangs in his palm. He was also dressed just like Jon’s dad, well Superman to be exact.

Jon almost wouldn’t have recognized Damian if he hadn’t heard him first, or watched him scowl at the other man and take the teeth, popping them into his mouth. His whole face was painted white, a stark contrast to his darker tones, and his hair was pushed back with some kind of gel that made it shiny in the lights of the room.

Instead of a hoodie or his robin uniform he was dressed as a vampire, with a mahogany vest and matching silk tie over a white button up and black dress pants. His cape had the highest collar Jon thought he’d ever seen on a vampire costume, which made him want to giggle but he figured Damian would probably get offended, so he cleared his throat instead.

“Ah, Jon. You have finally arrived, I expected you fifteen minutes ago.” Damian said, turning away from his brother.  

Jon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Dad and I got caught up stopping a dam from breaking.”

His friend gave him a curt nodd. “That is an acceptable reason, besides we have not yet started, so technically you are still fine. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

He waved Jon over. He swallowed before stepping into the room all the way, his eyes darting around. First to the two girls by the tv dressed in bright neon colors, one’s blond hair was teased so much Jon was pretty sure she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket for the look, and the other wore a light up headband. Then to three other boys, Jason Tim, and Jon wasn't sure who the other one was, not one of his brothers. Maybe the other kid Damian mentioned his dad had taken in? Tom or something. One had on the best zombie costume Jon had ever seen and the other was wearing a mario costume minus the mustache, the other boy was in a Flash costume.

“Hi.” Jon said, giving Damian’s first brother a little wave.

“Jon, this is Richard Grayson. The first--”

“Robin, and now Nightwing.” Jon cut him off, “It’s--umm wow. It’s really nice to meet you Mr. Nightwing, er Grayson, er umm.” Jon wasn’t sure what to call Damian’s brother.

“Dick is fine.” he said, with a smile, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jon. Damian’s told me a lot about you.”

“Yeah?” Jon asked, his heart leaping.

Out of all of Damian’s brother’s he’d most wanted to meet Dick Grayson. Aside from Damian’s near perfect praise of the man, his dad talked about him all the time. Jon wouldn’t admit it to his dad, but he found himself wanting to be just like Nightwing one day.

“Yep.” Dick grinned, then leaned forward, putting a hand to the side of his mouth like he was trying to hide his next words from Damian, “And it’s all been good stuff too.”

Now Jon did float a little. “He says the same about you.” he said, trying to ease some of the sheer joy surging through him.

“Tt. It is not all good.” Damian said, “I told you last week he needed to work on his sleuthing skills.”

Dick rolled his eyes and stood, “It’s okay to be proud of your friend, Damian.”

Damian ignored him and took Jon’s hand, pulling him past Dick and towards the other two boys, “Do not look so star struck, you’ve only met one of them.”

“Right.” Jon said, craning his head back to see Dick waving at them, a wide grin on his face.

“Todd, Drake, Thomas. I would like to introduce you to Superman’s son, Jonathan Kent.” Damian said, stopping before his brothers.

Jason and Tim turned from their conversation about motorcycles to smile at them.

The man in the zombie costume looked him over before speaking, “So, this is the kid that’s been keeping Damian out of trouble lately, good to meet you Jon. Name's Jason.”

“I wouldn’t say they’ve been staying out of trouble.” The other one, Tim, said. “Though, it’s got to be less than he’d get into on his own, so thanks for that.”

“If anything, Damian’s gotten me into more trouble since we’ve met.” Jon corrected them, with a shy smile, “I’d only been grounded once before he showed up.”

Jason barked a laugh that seemed to light up his whole person, it was completely contrary to the picture Jon had in his head of the man. His dad had told him about the infamous Red Hood who wasn’t afraid to kill criminals, and even had his own empire at one time. When he’d brought it up with Damian his friend had shrugged and said that ‘Todd has mellowed of late, you will be fine’. He was sure now that Damian was right, Jason seemed like a nice guy.

“I don’t doubt it.” Tim said, thoughtfully, “I’m fairly sure the bats are always the ones who get supers in trouble.”  

“I don’t know if that’s comforting.” Jon said.

The other boy waved his hand, "Ignore them. It's good to meet you. I'm happy Damian's got another friend to bring around. I'm Duke."

"Hey." Jon smiled.

"Thomas, did you ever decide if you were staying the evening?" Damian asked.

He nodded, "I'll stay for a few hours then head over to meet some friends for a party. You're all invited, if you want to come."

Damian shrugged, "I doubt it, but thank you for the invitation. I will see you lated, I still need to introduce Jon to Cain.”

Duke waved them off and Jon followed Damian to the girls, the blond one immediately turning to them.

“Cass, Cass, look I told you he’d be a werewolf. I have a sense about these things.” she said, before waving at them, “Hey, I’m Stephanie, but you can call me Steph. And this is Cass.”

“Hi.” Jon waved, “Why did you think I was going to be a werewolf?”

She grinned, “Because Dick got Damian to be a vampire, and vampires always hang out with werewolves on Halloween. It just makes sense.”

Jon frowned, he wasn’t sure that’s how it worked, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. Her friend, Damian’s sister, rolled her eyes.

“Hello,” she said, holding out a hand for Jon to shake, “I like your costume very much.”

“I like yours too.” Jon said, taking her hand. She shook it vigorously before letting go and touching her headband, beaming at his complement.

“I am the nineties.”

Steph threw an arm around her shoulders, “You mean we’re the eighties. Nineties has less hair, and more jeans.”

Cass shrugged, “Either way, it is fun.”  

“Now that you’ve taken Jon around, when are you two heading out to trick or treat?” Steph asked. “If you don’t have someone picked out, Cass and I would be happy to take you out.”

Damian shook his head, “We are not going.”

“What?” Jon said, stepping away from him, “You said we were.”

“You spoke about trick or treating, I told you I’d rather hand out candy with, Pennyworth. I am thirteen, and far too old to go door to door asking for candy.”

“Thirteen is prime time for trick or treating, Damian.” Steph said.

Damian shook his head, “Prime time, as you call it, is six, Brown. Thirteen receives pity candy. Besides, there are far too many risks on a night like this to go out unattended.”

“I told you I’d be there.” Stephanie argued.

“As I said, unattended.” Damian said, and Cass giggled.

“Oh hush.” Steph pouted, “I’m sure Dick will take you.”

Damian crossed his arms, his cape fluttering with the movement. “Grayson should be assisting Father with patrol, as I’ve told him countless times. All of you should. If Father had allowed it I would be as well.”

“Damian, Halloween is for fun, I’m sure your dad just wanted all of to you to enjoy the night.” Jon said.

“I’ve been telling him that all week.” Dick said, stepping back over, “Besides, you know B’s only going to do a short patrol tonight. Halloween’s an extreme or nothing kind of night.”

“Which is exactly why I should be out there helping him. What if Crane decides it is the perfect night to try a new strain of toxin? Or perhaps Ivy will grow pumpkins large enough to swallow the city?” Damian said.

Dick chuckled, “Dames, I doubt even Ivy could grow pumpkins that large. Just relax okay? If Bruce needs you he’ll call. In the meantime, go out and have fun with your friend.”

Damian shook his head, “I would rather be here in case Father calls. Jon if you would like to go, feel free.”

Jon deflated at this. Of course he wasn’t going to go by himself. He’d been planning to go with Damian, and his family. He thought longingly to the plans he’d had for all his candy and sighed, “No, I’ll stay. I came to hang out with you guys, and if you’re staying here I will too.”

Damian nodded, “The evening will not be boring, I can promise that. Grayson and I have selected a series of movies to watch, and I believe Brown had plans to play games.”

Even the thought of a party sounded dull to Jon now, he’d hoped for that after it go too late to trick or treat, but the fact that his plans had been so easily ruined put a damper on everything. He gave Damian a weak smile, “Sounds fun.”

Half an hour later, as Damian hurried to help Alfred hand out more candy, Jon felt a tap on his shoulder. Stephanie and Cass stood behind him, grinning the same way that Damian sometimes did when he was about to suggest something really dangerous.

“Wanna have some fun?” Steph asked.

“If you’re going to suggest a prank on Damian count me out. I don’t want him mad at me during our next mission.” Jon said.

Cass shook her head, “More fun than that.” she told him, “We’re going to get candy.”

The night’s earlier excitement sparked back up in Jon. He turned to glance at where Damian had disappeared off to, “Won’t Damian notice?”

Steph shook her head, “Nah, he’s too busy scaring off all the kids who’re coming by.”

Jon hesitated a moment longer before nodding, “Okay, but we can’t be gone too long just in case.”

Stephanie drove them out of the manor and down to the closest houses to it, all of them large with land and decorations, kids flooding from door to door in the twilight light. Half an hour sped by with Jon going from door to door, Cass and Steph joking behind him.

He was pretty sure Cass was his favorite of Damian’s siblings, not because she was taking him out, but because she was so funny. She joked and made faces at kids, teased Steph, and always managed to convince the parents answering doors to give Jon just a little extra candy.

Steph was equally fun, singing and dancing her way down the street, and dragging Jon along.

“You know,” she said, grinning, “I bet you’re great for Damian. That kid needs to learn how to have fun, and you my super friend, know how to have fun.”

Jon beamed at that and agreed wholeheartedly.

Their return to the manor was one of little fanfare as they snuck in the back door, Steph stashing Jon’s candy out of sight before they returned the larger group. Duke had left by then, and Damian was engrossed in a movie with lots of screaming and blood. Jon chuckled as Dick kept trying to put his hands over Damian's eyes.

It wasn’t long before Jon found himself flanked by Jason and Tim, both of them hooking their arms through his.

“I heard you let Steph and Cass take you trick or treating.” Jason said.

“We were wondering if you wanted to do it again.” Tim added.

“I do, but I mean-” Jon looked down at his costume, “Everyone already saw me. I don’t think they’ll give me candy again. And we don't have time to go further out.”

Tim eyed him, “You can fly, we could literally go anywhere.”

Jon shook his head, “My dad says I can’t fly unless it’s for super business.” he didn’t add that they’d flown to the manor together. His dad made some exceptions, but he was pretty sure leaving to get candy wasn’t one of them.

“Then we’ll just have to find you a different costume.” Jason said.

Jon let himself be dragged from the room, his werewolf ears and paws stripped to be replaced by a sheet, with two eyeholes cut out of it. For added emphasis the tucked Jon’s glasses over the front.

“Perfect.” Jason said, looking him over.

Jon was sure it was not perfect, but he was getting the opportunity to go back out for candy, so he was going to roll with it.

“How come you guys want to go out?” Jon asked as Jason and Tim were leading him to a room he hadn’t been in before, it was a huge garage filled with cars. All of them looked expensive. Jason picked a sleek silver one and unlocked it.

“We wanted to go with the Batbrat.” Jason explained, “But I should have guessed he’d think he was too old to go out.”

“Besides, neither of us can get away with going out without a kid.” Tim added.

“So you’re using me?” Jon asked, climbing into the car behind them and buckling his seatbelt.

Jason leaned back from the driver's seat and grinned, “Same as your using us.”

He couldn’t argue with that, so he sat back and tried to find something to hold onto as Jason sped out of the garage.

Handmade costume or not Jon had a ton of fun his second time out. Jason was funny, and Tim was really cool to talk to. He seemed to know a little something about everything. Both of them weren’t the least bit shy about holding out their own sacks to be filled with candy, which Jon found hilarious. They’d honest to goodness wanted to trick or treat, and he was happy to have them by his side.

“Thanks kid.” Jason told him, as they climbed out of the car back at the manor.

They helped him change back into his werewolf costume, but neither Jason nor Tim tried to hide their bags of candy as they paraded back into the room everyone had congregated.

Damian caught sight of it, looked from them to Jon, and stomped over.

“What on earth is going on. Jon where have you been?”

“Well.” Jon said, casting a side glance at Damian’s brothers, both were grinning.

“We took the kid trick or treating, since you were obviously blind to his need for candy.” Jason told him.

Damian crossed his arms, “I was not. Jon could have had all the candy he wanted here.”

Jon didn’t miss the twinge of hurt in Damian’s tone, or the way he looked at him like he’d just left Damian to fight his way out of a trap by himself.

“Going out is different than just getting candy from Alfred, Damian.” Jon tried to explain.

“I do not see why, either way you get candy.”

Dick approached them now, putting a hand on Damian’s shoulder. The kid’s arms dropped and he looked up at his brother. It was kind of amazing how Damian changed around Dick. He changed around his other siblings too, but in the same way Jon felt like he would if they were his brothers, a kind of need to make them proud. But it was different with Dick, Damian softened in a way Jon had never seen before. It was like he let some of his walls down around Dick, and Jon wanted to spend more time around them to see what else was different, and maybe figure out how to help Damian be that way all the time.

“If you want to go, Damian, there’s still time.” Dick said, then glacned at Jon, “I don’t think Jon would mind coming along with us again.”

Three times getting candy? Jon was totally up for that. He’d have to hide half of it from his mom, or she’d limit what he could eat, but it was the best deal he’d heard all night.

“Totally, it’s really fun Damian. You get to see everyone’s costumes, and people get to admire yours. I bet they’d really like your vampire.”

Damian considered him for a moment before nodding. “I can allow it.” he said, “It would be a shame for Grayson to be the only one to not get to go out with us tonight.”

Jon grinned at him, “Excellent. I can show you all the best houses. There’s even one with a haunted house that no one would let me go through. But I bet you’d like it.” he said, hurrying over to Damian.

“Perhaps.” his friend said, and let him lead them back towards the garage.

#halloweencontentwar #batfamcontentwar #Damian Wayne #jon kent #batfam #trick or treating #Damian and Jon dress up and it's great #Jon gets all the candy #and everyone else has fun

[phantomchick]

Batfam Headcanons (2 of ???)

Jason comes up with nicknames in his head for all his siblings. He only uses a couple of them on occasion, but he’s somehow come up with a lot of them. Did he spend a drunk night with Roy or Arty brainstorming them? We may never know.

Dick is ‘Dickie Bird’ ‘Dickie’ ‘Big bird’ ‘dickface’ ‘dickwing’ ‘nightjerk’ and ‘wing’

Tim is ‘Baby bird’ or ‘Red’ when he’s seeing him as a little brother or when he’s talking about him to one of the others. ‘Replacement’ when he’s pissed about something or when he wants to be difficult (#often) or when he’s bantering with him.  ‘Tim-bo’ coz his name is tim and he uses a bo staff. ‘Timmybird’ said sardonically and tauntingly at first, but developed into an actual affectionate nickname that tim hates but jay enjoys - jason will sometimes ruffle his hair when he calls him it because Tim’s usually too tired to try and dodge.

Damian is ‘bat brat’ ‘demon spawn’ ‘demon child’ or ‘baby bat’

Steph is ‘eggplant princess’ she’s the only one who actually got to choose her own nickname, but sometimes jay will just call her ‘princess’ which she is surprisingly okay with.

Cass is ‘sis’ or ‘Cassie’.

Barbara is ‘Steel on wheels’ ‘Babs’ ‘Barbie’ or ‘Bat-lady’ as in ‘whatever you say Bat-Lady’.

And Duke. Duke is ‘Hatchling’ ‘kid’ or ‘Bumble Bat’.

#Batfamcontentwar #batfam headcanons #Jason todd #batfam #nickname fun #batkids #nicknames #Feel free to add more #batfamly #nicknaming #sibling stuff #batsibs #bat siblings #woo #you can't take bumblebat away from me

[evergreena]

Tricks for Treats

My belated final fic for the Batfam Halloween Content War is here at last! I’ve had so much fun participating in this event, and you all have been a fantastic audience. This last piece is pure tooth-rotting fluff, to make up for the more angsty stuff I’ve been posting. 

Rating: Gen

Summary: Alfred knows who likes what kind of candy and sneakily makes sure they each come across their favorites one way or another.

AO3 Link | FF.net

It was the first Halloween that everyone was together and alive and not actively trying to kill each other, and Alfred meant to make it a memorable one for all the right reasons. However, the first step of his master plan involved tricking every family member into being at the Manor that day, for one reason or another. For some of them, this was easier said than done.

Damian was easy, as all Alfred had to do was let him know that Batcow was off her feed (a tiny white lie). Damian instantly declared that he would stay close to home to keep an eye on her for the night.

Dick needed no tricks or white lies. He probably would have come on his own regardless, but Alfred called him anyway, and they had a lovely chat about nothing in particular until Alfred mentioned the possibility of a movie night with Damian. Dick practically cheered over the phone. “I’ll be there! Do you think Dames would like Nightmare Before Christmas? Or is that a Christmas movie? Never mind, I’ll bring a few options and we can decide later.”

Cass seemed to know what Alfred was up to, and before he could even ask she stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and promised that she’d take care of getting Stephanie there as well.

Tim had caught a cold from an all-night stakeout in the rain the night before, so he was strictly banned from leaving the Manor anyway, which he complained about to anyone who was close enough to hear. It was made slightly less annoying by the amusing fact that his scratchy voice cracked every time he said anything.

Barbara expressed delight when Alfred invited her to join him for tea and spiced cider. He carefully left out that it would already be a full house.

Jason was a bit more challenging. Alfred finally realized that he would need to recruit help. Cass agreed to be his secret weapon. “Bruce is your problem,” she said firmly. “Jason is mine.”

Bruce. Yes. Master Bruce could be a problem. Alfred considered his options as he cleaned the sink in the kitchen. He needed an emergency of some kind. Tim’s health? Damian acting up? Or perhaps an attack on the manor itself?

In the end, he send a simple text message: “Master Bruce, a word.” That was vague enough that Bruce might actually be concerned that he’d missed some important appointment.

Satisfied that his trap was set, Alfred went about to make the rest of his preparations.

When Dick arrived at the Manor early that evening with an armload of animated movies, he found the main entrance bedecked in cobwebs that sparkled with tiny lights. He grinned at Alfred as soon as the butler greeted him in the hall. “Wow, you’ve stepped up your decoration game this year, haven’t you, Alf? I love it! Where’s the Damester?”

“He’s concerned about the cow, Master Dick. You’ll find him downstairs. But first, would you help me with something?”

Dick cocked his head to one side. “Of course! What’s up?”

Alfred handed him a bowl. “It appears that no one in this house likes candy corn. I seem to remember that you appreciate it. Is that still the case?”

Dick awkwardly took the bowl. “Uh, sure, it’s tradition… Thanks, Alf.” He did enjoy candy corn. But…

While Alfred went upstairs to check on Tim, Dick snuck into the kitchen. He opened the cereal cupboard and found to his delight that every one of his favorites had been restocked since his last visit.  He pulled out the box of Honey Nut Chex and laughed out loud. Alfred had left a note that wished him a “Happy Halloween.” That crafty old rascal had known Dick would do this! He chuckled as he dumped Chex into the bowl of candy corn and mixed it up. Presto. Instant Halloween movie snack mix! He took the bowl and went to go find Damian.

One cryptic message from his sister and he lost all self-control. That’s all it took. Jason grumbled inwardly as he sped his bike into the driveway of Wayne Manor. He’d been so determined to have a good quiet Halloween all to himself, and then Cass sent him that.

The message was all emojis, in typical Cassandra fashion: emergency light, praying hands, house, wristwatch. He took that to mean, “I need your help, please come to the manor right now.” He’d texted her a dozen times after that, trying to convey his frustration and telling her to bother someone else for help, but she’d gone silent. He worried. So he got off his butt and raced over to the manor.

When he arrived, he burst in through the front door, a little perplexed by the decorations. “Cass? Helloooo?”

The lights flickered off suddenly, and Jason fell into a ready stance, his hand over the concealed gun in his jacket.

A flashlight beam suddenly lit up a face in front of him. He lurched back, but it was only Cass, holding the light under her face. She grinned, revealing fake vampire teeth, and waggled her eyebrows at him.

“Cass,” he sighed. “Please tell me you didn’t text me just so I’d come for Halloween.”

She swept the flashlight beam in his eyes, blinding him.

“Ow! Hey, cut that out!”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, her cheap vampire cape fluttering behind her and tickling his arm. She pulled him into the kitchen, where some furious baking had been abandoned. She pointed at some bat-shaped sugar cookies and red licorice. “Help,” she said, then settled herself onto a stool at the counter and began piping black icing faces onto the bats.

Against his better judgement, he sat next to her. “What do you need me to do?”

She gestured at the red licorice. “Vampire bats need blood.”

He snorted. She wanted him to put red licorice pieces on the cookies? Fine. He could do that. Then maybe he could get out of here before Bruce or Dick or the Replacement showed up.

Either Cass didn’t notice, or chose not to comment on the way he kept sneaking pieces of licorice. After all, it was his favorite candy, and tonight was Halloween.

Steph loved Halloween. And not just because of the candy. She loved being spooked, she loved the decorations, and she loved dressing up. She’d had the most difficult time picking a costume this year, but then Tim had sarcastically suggested she just go as her favorite food. That had amused her so much that she actually made herself a waffle costume to spite him.

When Cass texted her that she’d made cookies at the manor, Steph needed no encouragement. She arrived in costume, rang the doorbell until Alfred arrived, and shouted, “Trick or treat!”

To her surprise, Alfred was ready for this, and dumped a heaping handful of candy in her purse.

To her even greater surprise, it was all Skittles. Regular, tropical, and several other special limited edition versions. “Alfred, how did you KNOW?” she gaped.

“Miss Brown, I make it my business to know exactly what each of you enjoy. My methods shall remain my own.”

Then it was her turn to surprise him when she flung her arms around him and gave him a legendary Stephanie Brown glomp. He patted her head gently in return.

“-Tt-“ came a scornful noise from further back in the hall. Steph peeked around Alfred to see Damian regarding her with his lip curled. “It does not surprise me that you would engage in such a childish behavior as dressing as a breakfast food,” he said in that stupid smirking tone.

Steph immediately ripped open a bag of Skittles and flung them all at Damian, catching him off guard. They smacked into his face and scattered into all corners of the hall.

“Miss Brown!” came Alfred’s mild rebuke. “I expect you will find and dispose of every last piece of candy in this hall!”

“Worth it!” she called over her shoulder as she chased Damian into the house.

Tim woke to the sounds of shrieks and yells elsewhere in the house. It didn’t help his headache much, that was for certain.

He sat up groggily in bed, noticing how the covers had been tucked in around him securely. Alfred had been here. Another sign of Alfred’s handiwork: the tray on the bedside table, laden with some still-hot soup and a bottle of pills. Tim grimaced. The soup smelled amazing, and his stomach grumbled. Maybe he was actually on the mend now.

After drinking half the soup, he realized that the pill bottle was unlabeled. Huh. That was very unlike Alfred. In fact, it seemed exceedingly strange, now that he thought about it. He picked up the bottle and shook it. It rattled with the sound of tiny pills. He twisted the cap and peeked inside. Whatever the pills were, they smelled fruity. Vitamins?

He dumped some into his hand and immediately laughed out loud when he recognized what they were.

“What are you doing, Drake?”

Tim nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice near his elbow. His sudden jerk in surprise sent the little colorful pellets onto the bedspread. “Damian! Now look at what you made me do!”

Damian leaned over to inspect the colorful pieces. “What are they?” He picked one up between his thumb and forefinger and sniffed.

Tim dumped some more into his hand and smiled. “They’re Nerds!” He popped the small handful into his mouth. The tangy sweetness woke up him a bit more. He glanced at his little brother and nearly choked at the disgusted expression he wore. “Damian, it’s okay. It’s candy.”

Damian frowned. “Oh. You would enjoy a candy that could have been named after you.”

Tim blinked. “What.”

Damian’s lips twitched, threatening to undermine his carefully prepared frown. “You know what they say: you are what you eat!”

Cass didn’t mind the chaos in the kitchen. It was a friendly kind of chaos, she could tell by the relaxed way her brothers were fighting. Dick had shown up before she and Jason had finished decorating the cookies, and insisted on joining them, since he’d somehow lost Damian.

Cass was content to stick little candy red-hots on the bats for eyes while Jason fought Dick for the icing bag.

“Give it back, Dickface! I was using that!”

“No, I’m not going to let you write ‘Batman sucks’ on all the cookies! You go back to eating licorice. Someone with taste should do this part!”

“Well, that rules you out!”

“I’m not the one with helmet hair.”

Cass smiled. Her brothers used so many words, but despite their occasionally rough banter, she knew deep down they cared. And that made her feel all warm and fuzzy. But, if she didn’t intervene soon, the cookies were in danger.

So, she climbed on the counter and reached into the baking cupboard for another icing bag. She found a bin of candy and sprinkles instead. She pulled it down and opened it curiously.

“Hey, whatcha got there, Cass?” Dick asked, still holding the icing bag out of Jason’s reach. “Did you find Alfie’s hidden stash of candy decorations?”

She opened the bin and let out a small gasp of delight. Her brothers crowded close to see what she’d found.

The bin was completely full of sour candy, including her absolute favorite: Warheads.

Jason made a face. “You like those things? They’re just coated with that awful artificial sour salt. They’ll kill your taste buds.”

She ignored him and carefully unwrapped each one, setting it on the counter in a row. Jason and Dick watched, their earlier argument forgotten for the moment. When she’d finished unwrapping a dozen Warheads, she picked the first one up and walked over to the sink to rinse off the sour salt and get to the sweet interior.

Jason smirked. “Wow, Cass, maybe you don’t realize, but that is what we call cheating.”

Instantly, Cass was on him. Before Jason even realized what was happening, she’d stuffed a fistful of sour Warheads in his mouth.

As Jason gagged and coughed into the sink, Cass nodded at Dick, who couldn’t stop laughing at the whole thing. “Not cheating,” she said matter-of-factly. “Life hack.”

When Barbara arrived at the manor, she probably should have expected the chaos, but she was still taken aback when Jason rushed outside in his socks and hopped in her car’s passenger seat.

Before she could demand what was going on, Damian followed, snarling like a wild animal, with a piece of caramel stuck in his hair.

Jason locked the car doors. “Since Alf banned us from helping with the caramel apples, I’m just gonna take a nap in here,” he said. “Don’t mind me.” He laid the seat back and closed his eyes as Damian pounded the window.

Babs was sorely tempted to hit the “eject” button, but instead she simply unlocked the doors and let Damian try to yank his much larger brother out of the car by his feet. “Come on, Todd, don’t be a Drake!”

Tim poked his head out the front door, wrapped in a blanket and looking a little healthier now that he’d actually gotten some sleep. “Did you seriously just use my name as an insult?”

By the time Babs made it to the kitchen, all three younger boys were yelling at each other in the hall. She glared at Alfred as she rolled up to the table, which was covered with sticky caramel pieces and bruised apples. “Thanks for inviting me into this disaster zone,” she said. She took the cup of steaming hot cider from Alfred and breathed in the scent of cinnamon and cloves and the secret mulling spices Alfred always used. Ah. That alone made it worth coming out here.  

“You’re very welcome,” Alfred said with an incline of his head. “Would you care for a caramel apple?”

The chaos had settled some by the time they actually started the movie. Damian wasn’t sure how Grayson had done it, but somehow he’d managed to convince Jason to stick around for “Hotel Transylvania.” Damian let Dick snuggle him a bit, though he refused to try any of the ridiculous “snack mix” that Dick shoved under his nose.

“I will not put that in my mouth,” he said. “I must draw the line somewhere.”

Dick looked hurt, but then he shrugged. “More for the rest of us, I guess.”

“You can have all of it,” Jason chimed in from his place on the floor. “I don’t think any of the rest of us would stoop to such unhealthy eating habits. Except maybe the Replacement.”

“Hey!” Tim said. “I’m sick!”

“Exactly my point.”

Damian barely focused on the zany animated film, especially once he noticed that his father had entered, and was silently watching them from the door to the den. Apparently Alfred had already spoken to him, because he wore that “I’ve been scolded by someone older than me and I refuse to admit I was wrong,” face. Damian could read it because, well, it took one to know one.

Nobody else seemed to notice Bruce, so Damian settled in closer to Dick on the couch and frowned every time his brother munched on that hideous mix of cereal and candy corn.

Then he noticed something on the armrest next to him. He blinked at it. It was a dark chocolate truffle. A real homemade truffle.

He glanced around and noticed Alfred exiting the room. Bruce raised an eyebrow at the man, but then he was gone. Bruce nodded to Damian as if to say, “He’ll spoil you rotten, but go ahead, it’s all yours.”

Damian took the truffle and savored every last moment as it melted in his mouth.

Somehow the kids lasted through the entire movie. Bruce had tried to leave at least twice, but Alfred’s glare was enough to make even the Batman compliant. As far as he could tell, only Damian and Cass had noticed him, but then again, Jason had fallen asleep on the rug, and Tim was probably still a bit feverish, so he didn’t fault them for not being alert.

When the movie ended, however, Dick said without turning around, “Hey B, why don’t you take a seat and join us!” So he’d noticed as well.

Bruce approached the group and rested his hands on the back of the couch where Dick and Damian sat. Jason stirred and gave him a sleepy one-eyed glare which Bruce took to mean, “I still hate you but I’m too tired to do anything about it, so you’re off the hook for now.” He could live with that.

“What do you wanna watch next?” Dick asked. “Coraline? Paranorman? The Skeleton Dance?”

Bruce let them argue for a bit before he said, “How about Casper?”

They all froze in mid-argument. “What. The. Heck.” Jason said. “Of all our options, you want to watch that campy movie about a ghost who died tragically as a child? Why the hula-hoop would you even suggest that?!”

Before Bruce could react, Alfred approached with a silver platter. He held it out, revealing a single candy bar that he held in front of Bruce’s nose. “Please, sir, eat a Snickers. You’re not you when you’re hungry.”

The entire room erupted with hoots of laughter that lasted long into the night.

Alfred carefully closed Tim’s bedroom door behind him, satisfied that the teen had actually gone to bed and was not on his laptop or some other device. All the others had turned in as well. Even Jason had not put up a fight when Alfred suggested that they all stay in the Manor for the night, since it was so late already. Alfred returned to the den to clean up the mess of popcorn and candy and blankets from the family movie night. To his surprise, he found that Master Bruce was there, seated near the fireplace.

“Happy Halloween, Alfred,” Bruce said quietly, and held out a small bowl.

Alfred took it and was instantly transported to another place and time. The bowl contained traditional British candies, from Jelly Babies and Allsorts to Winegums and a Sherbet Fountain.

“Sir,” Alfred said, astonished. “When did you..?”

“On my last business trip. I’m glad I did. I had no idea that you were going to go to all this trouble to make the day special for the kids.”

Alfred smiled. “My pleasure, Master Bruce. Happy Halloween, sir.”

#batfam #halloweencontentwar #batfamcontentwar #Halloween #candy #this ended up longer than expected #oh well #Alfred Pennyworth #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #Tim Drake #thank you for reading #my stuff #writing #fanfic

[autumnhobbit]

Dying without company

“You know,” Jason croaks hoarsely, his throat tight with pain and his chest burning from the effort of speaking, “in our line of work, no one expects to live forever.” He pauses to gulp for air that burns as it goes down, and he clenches his eyes shut at the pain the effort causes him–and at how his headache is being exacerbated by Bruce banging against the bars of the cage they’re locked in, roaring threats at their captors. He doesn’t seem to be hearing anything Jason’s saying–he just keeps slamming his hands against the metal frame surrounding them. Jason’s not even sure if he’s speaking English. His posture is wound tight, and anyone even half-sane who saw him this way would turn and run the other direction as quickly as possible.

Jason’s never been sane, though. Plus, there is the small matter of the shrapnel embedded in his chest and stomach–and, more pressingly, the holes the shrapnel left. He’s been trying to put pressure on them since a few minutes after he got them–the first few heartbeats after the rocket launcher fired were nothing but white noise and terror and painpainpain–but his hands are shaking and it doesn’t seem to be doing much good. There’s slippery, sticky blood all over his hands, drenching his uniform, and the few times he’s chanced glancing down at his body he’s only been able to scan the shredded skin, flapping muscle, and the slight darker color of an organ before he’s looked away. He licks his lips, swallows blood and grimaces. But he clears his throat slightly and goes on. “And look, I know I’ve never been a safety-first kinda guy–” A spasm in his stomach makes him clench his eyes shut, keen deep in his throat. “–but I kinda…” he pants, breathless, gives a half-hysterical laugh through his teeth. “…I thought I’d at least make it to thirty.”

It occurs to him, after a long moment of just trying to catch his breath after speaking, that it’s quiet. He chances a glance at Bruce, and blinks when he sees the man just standing there. He’s still clasping the bars, shoulders hunched and so tight Jason can practically feel the rage wafting off him.

Though on second thought, maybe it’s not rage. There’s blood welling up in Jason’s throat, and he can’t stifle a whimper at the sensation. He gags, and then goes into a coughing fit that has him lurching up off the floor slightly, his whole body burning from the inside out and blood everywhere and—

“Shhh.” Something strokes his hair, comforting and gentle. “Breathe, Jay.” There’s another hand on his back, holding him up and rubbing smooth circles. The voice is tense but soothing and reassuring, and Jason finds his gasps growing slower, easier–though he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. His vision comes back slowly, colors bursting into his view in painful light. Bruce’s face, cowl still firmly in place, is above him, the man’s jaw tense in worry. He gently eases Jason’s head down into his lap, cups his face with a gloved hand and carefully wipes the blood from his cheek, his mouth. Jason sighs, leans into the touch and closes his eyes, and Bruce’s hand freezes on his cheek.

“You’re not going to miss out on thirty,” Bruce says, and Jason almost smiles, because Bruce’s voice is as firm as ever and the guy has a desperate need to deny reality.

“I…” he gulps. “I missed you, you know.”

Bruce stiffens further, if that’s even possible.

“Even when I was so angry, even when I hated you, I missed you so, so much, a-and it hurt so damn bad–”

“Jay.” Bruce sounds desperate.

“I just.” Jason’s eyes are burning viciously, almost as badly as his lungs, and he sobs once, the sound choked and odd-sounding from lack of air. “I just want you to know that I did hate you…but I still loved you, too. I…I still…”

“Oh, Jason,” Bruce says, fast and hoarse. His hand slides carefully but fiercely into Jason’s hair, pushing the tangled curls back behind his ear. “I love you too. You know that.”

Jason swallows blood. He does know, and he can hear the pain in Bruce’s tone that reveals how much his doubt hurts, but he can’t help it. He’s always been a cynical son of a bitch. Dying hadn’t changed that before, and it wouldn’t again.

He’s really starting to not feel good. Well, he’s been feeling pretty awful for a good long while now, but now he feels really bad. The pain in his torso—and especially in his stomach—feels deep-seated and intense and pulsing. It throbs in time with his faltering heartbeat, and he feels dizzy and lightheaded, like he’s going to fall over even though he’s lying still. Like he’s going to float up out of his head at any second. Though that might partly be because of the heat—he’s sticky and sweaty and yeah it makes sense that he would be feverish. Puncture wounds and intestines didn’t go well together. He’s probably screwed even if the others get here. Which they probably won’t. He wishes he could accept that fact with a little less desperation. He really doesn’t want to die without getting to say goodbye…and maybe even having them just be there, where he could see them. He imagines it must be awful to watch someone you love die right in front of you, but he reserves the right to think that dying alone is worse. He’d never been so utterly petrified in his life as when he’d died. As utterly weak. All he could do was lay there and cry as he slowly suffocated and wished that Bruce was there.

Bruce is here, now—and probably getting more than a little panicked that he’s spaced out, if the faint pressure on Jason’s face is anything to go by. And Jason’s grateful, he really is. But sue him if he wants the others, too. Even if he hates seeing Dick cry. It always makes him want to cry, too. He doesn’t know if Tim would cry. Maybe. Damian, who the hell knows. Cass would be upset. He thinks maybe she would be the worst.

He faintly feels like he’s being manhandled, and at first he thinks this is it; not in small part because he feels like he’s moving far more than he would be in reality from just being rolled over and tugged upwards. But then his chest hits Bruce’s and the breath leaves him from the pain. Huh. He wasn’t sure he was actually breathing. He supposes that’s a good sign.

“—You can’t do this again, Jason,” Bruce’s voice fades back in as the ringing in Jason’s ears eases off a bit. He rocks back a bit, dragging Jason along. Jason can feel Bruce’s arms around him, supporting him with a tension he knows all too well. “I don’t…” Bruce’s voice breaks, and Jason winces at the first of his hitched sobs. “I just got you back. I don’t want to say goodbye again.” I didn’t want to the first time, Jason hears. “I don’t want you to go.”

Jason takes that in, limp in Bruce’s lap, stuck staring at the collar of Bruce’s suit from where he’s lying, cheek is pressed against Bruce’s collarbone, held there by his dad’s gloved hand cupping his face. Bruce does know that changing position would only help if his lungs were full of blood, not his stomach, right? Jason doesn’t particularly want to go now, either, but…. “Y-You do know that isn’t,” he has to stop to gulp for air, half-laughing a bit at himself and the awkwardness of this situation, “exactly up to me, right, Dad?”

Bruce buries his face in the top of Jason’s head as a response, and Jason just lies there and breathes, listening to Bruce’s shuddering breaths as his tears wet Jason’s hair.

Jason winces. He can’t really move—no strength to—and he can barely feel his face, let alone his limbs. His whole body feels oddly numb…except for his stomach, of course, which is still throbbing with burning pain. He swallows. “…Dad?” He whispers.

Bruce freezes, and only a split-second later Jason’s eased down a bit, his head against Bruce’s forearm so that Bruce can look at him. Jason’s heart seizes a bit; Bruce’s face is streaked with tears. He wets his lips. Bruce probably won’t take this well, either. “Promise me you’ll cremate me. A-As soon as I’m dead. Promise me you won’t bring me back.”

Bruce’s whole body shudders faintly. “What….what are you talking about–”

“You can’t,” Jason wheezes, starting to cry. He doesn’t know why the thought suddenly occurred to him, but now it’s all he can think about, a pressing, real fear that’s a vice around his failing heart. He can’t do it. He can’t be pulled away from his dad’s arms to drift off into emptiness again, only to wake up screaming as his body is torn apart to put it back together. He can’t have his mind like that again. He can’t do it. He just can’t. “I don’t want to do it again, B, please. Promise me you won’t try to get me back, please, please just let–” he chokes on blood and snot. His stomach is probably in shreds now, based off how it feels, and more tears spill out at the thought of it. “Just let me go.”

A gloved hand on his cheek. “Shhh, Jason, calm down, please hold still–”

“Promise, B!”

Bruce hefts him back up again, and Jason feels a big hand cradling the back of his head. “I–” Bruce swallows, crying too. “I p-promise, Jason. I–I won’t.”

Bruce is crying too hard to speak, and so’s Jason, but he still tries to flop his numb arm up towards Bruce. Bruce catches it, pulls Jason’s hand in against his chestplate, to his heart.

Bruce lifts his head, and Jason thinks he hears something. Maybe the dull boom of an explosion. The others, maybe. Hopefully.

“Please,” Bruce whispers, into Jason’s ear. “Please wait.”

It kind of seems like Bruce said that uncertain of whether Jason could still actually hear him or not. It’s okay. He heard it. And he’ll try. It didn’t make a difference last time. But he’ll still do it. Bruce orders most of the time, and Jason still tried to obey, when it made sense. When Bruce asks…Jason tries.

(Ao3 link here.) [For @camsthisky's content war.]

#batfamcontentwar #my fic #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam #batfamily #dc #just barely eeked in a different fic

[mc-awsome-arts]

Because who doesn’t need a dabbing Robin in their life?

#batfamcontentwar #batfam #young justice #robin #dick grayson #fan art #dabbing #flip animation #paper animation #art #drawing #pen #video

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

The Woman in White

Day 5 of the Batfam Halloween Content War is Haunting/Spooky. The Manor is old, it most have a few ghosts wandering around, the Dead Robins Club was going to find out for sure once and for all. Words: 1,050 Rating: PG Gen AO3

Sitting cross-legged for such a long time was not a good time. Steph grimaced as she straightened her legs out, both of them had fallen asleep. Since she was now half laying across the antique wood table in the library Steph decided to just go for it and laid down. Staring up at the chandelier with its green globes made her wrinkle her nose. Being in the Wayne Manor library always reminded Steph of how obstentiously rich the Waynes were.

“Brown, we are here at your request which means you should refrain from falling asleep,” Damian snapped from where he was curled up in the nearest window seat. Steph sat up to stick her tongue out at him before flopping back onto the table.

Jason got up from where he had sprawled across one of the couches and walked over. Leaning over the table so that he was looking Steph in the eye, albeit upside down, Jason raised a single brow. “Demon Brat’s got a point. What’re we doing here Steph? I haven’t seen or heard anything.”

“I swear! There was a woman in white in here the other day! I opened the door on a hunt for you and she was standing right at this table. She looked at me and then- just- disappeared.” Steph frowned.

“-tt- Are you really trying to get us to believe that you saw a ghost?” Damian asked as he sat up straighter.

“A ghost? Right here in River City? That starts with G which rhymes with P which stands for pool,” Jason grinned down at her.

Steph shoved at Jason’s face which only made him laugh. Getting her feet under her Steph stood up on the table, looking down at the two boys. “My fellow dead Robins, this is a very serious predicament! If the library truly is haunted it is up to us, the formerly deceased, to save this wandering spirit!” She ended her rallying speech with her hands on her hips, chin jutting out, and a light stomp of her foot. Steph imagined that her blonde hair was blowing softly in an invisible wind, making the effect that much more dramatic.

She looked down at the boys; Jason was doubled over with laughter and Damian was giving her his favorite “Brown you’re a ridiculous lunatic” face. Steph crossed her arms in a huff which was when she noticed something, the ends of her hair were lifting up as if they had a mind of their own. She ran a hand through it in an attempt to smooth them down, only for her blonde hair to continue to float.

Steph tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat as her eyes widened. “Guys? Uh, guys? Do you see this?” her voice wavered as her eyes darted to Damian and then Jason.

Jason went pale as his own eyes grew to resemble dinner plates. “Steph… don’t turn around.”

Damian appeared to pull batarangs from thin air and dropped into a fighting position. His brows furrowed at whatever was behind Steph. Taking a shaky breath Steph slowly looked over her shoulder. Standing directly behind her was a pale, vaporous figure. Steph screamed and leapt into Jason’s outstretched arms. He held her to his chest as she continued to scream her head off, loud enough to give even Black Canary a run for her money. Damian threw his batarangs at the woman, only for them to pass straight through her.

“Run. Now. Damian! Run!” Jason yelled as he himself sprinted towards the back of the library and the door to the old servant passage there. Steph was stilled held in his arms, her own were locked in an iron grip around his neck. She could feel her heart pounding harder and faster than Jason’s foot falls. Damian was right on their heels, panting and glancing over his shoulder as they raced through the stacks.

Reaching the panel that hid the door Jason set Steph on her feet and scrambled along the wall for the hidden button that would swing the door open. Steph stared back the way they came, her foot tapping like she was the Flash when he was impatient. A steady stream of “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon” being muttered by her. Damian appeared to regain some of his composure. At the very least color had returned to his cheeks and his breathing seemed to even out.

With a click the wall swung inward and Jason pushed the younger two into the passage ahead of him before slamming the door behind. Steph flicked on her phone’s flashlight and looked around the cramped hallway. Jason inclined his head to the left. “This way,” he said and they all followed Jason.

They twisted through the walls of the Manor, eventually coming out in the kitchen pantry. “Alfred! Ohmygod, Alfred! You’re never gonna guess what just happened,” Steph called as she raced into the kitchen proper. The butler was not there however. She looked to the boys in puzzlement, both shrugged and Jason made his way over to the fridge with a chair to get some of the liquor kept on top of it. Taking a swig directly from a bottle of jack while still on the chair he offered it to Steph. She shook her head and he shrugged, taking another swig before putting it back.

“I wonder where Pennyworth is,” Damian said as he settled into a seat at the island.

“Hopefully not the library,” Jason twitched his brows as he replaced the chair.

What they didn’t know was at that moment Alfred was flinging open the library’s large double doors. “Master Jason? Master Damian? Miss Stephanie?” he called as he entered. The ghostly woman was still there, she turned to Alfred and held up her arms in a shrug. “Miss Loraine, did you scare them off? My my, please refrain from doing so again. There is enough of a strain on all of their hearts without you giving them a fright.” The woman seemed to hang her head in shame. “Now, I must track them down. If you’ll excuse me and wish me luck as I’m sure calming them down is going to be a task.” With that Alfred turned sharply on his heel and left the library in search of his wayward charges.

#dc comics #halloweencontentwar #batfamcontentwar #stephanie brown #spoiler #batgirl #jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #alfred pennyworth #writing #my fic #own writing #batfamily #the batgirls are better than you #batbros #yes alfred #dead robins club

[laquilasse]

HI CAN I GET UUUUHHHH DICK SERVING UP FROZEN VIGILANTE REALNESS IN TEEN TITANS #12

#richard grayson #nightwing #teen titans #batfamily #batman #dc comics #dc #my art #wednesday spoilers #LISTEN #L I S T E N #HOW HOT IS THIS BOY #HOW FRESH IS THIS LAD #I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO GET DOWN AND ROWDY WITH A SPICY NEW DICK LOOK #I'm also tagging this as #batfamcontentwar #because i want cam to know how much i'm living and dying and being resurrected over Dick's new winter line

[camsthisky]

Determined Ghosts

Part 1 | Part 2

ao3 | ff.net

Summary: A gala, supposed to be spent by eating cakes and wearing a pretty dress, goes wrong. But honestly? What doesn't in Steph's life? Still, they better figure this out before it's more than just Dick that's hurt.

Stephanie’s eating one of those tiny little cakes that absolutely is not enough in any way whatsoever when Tim walks into her line of sight, head craning this way and that over the crowd of people Bruce has invited into his home for yet another gala-party-thingamajig. And—dear god, the boy is short. He’s on his tip toes.

“Timmy, dearest,” Steph says, only a little bit mockingly, and Tim’s gaze snaps to hers, eyes wide and owlish, like he hadn’t even seen her standing next to the dessert table. Which. That’s not that worrying, considering that Tim works on like, less than two hours of sleep a night.

Maybe Steph can get Cass to arm wrestle Tim into going to sleep instead of patrol tonight. And she can casually suggest a movie night to Dick. Dick will jump on anything that involves family bonding time, and Tim’ll be out cold in no time.

“Steph?” he asks, and now he’s giving her a weird look, like he hadn’t even known she was here at the gala-party-thingamajig. Again, very possible. For a person who’s supposed to be one of the best detectives, Tim can miss the most obvious things. He blinks a couple times, seems to accept that she’s not some sleep deprived hallucination, and walks over to her. “Did you need something?”

“No,” Steph says, shoving the rest of the tiny—tiny. Steph is going to have words with Alfred later—cake into her mouth. She swallows and raises an eyebrow. “Did you need something?”

Tim shrugs, head swiveling to look out over the crowd again. “I’m looking for Dick.”

“He was over by Damian earlier,” Steph says. “I think the brat brought his sword, and Bruce refused to deal with it. By default, it was Dick’s problem.”

“No, I know that,” Tim says distractedly. “I was standing right there when Damian started swearing at Dick. It was hilarious.”

“Yeah, you sound like it really changed your world,” Steph snorts.

Tim wrinkles his nose. “That was almost an hour ago, Steph.”

“Mhmm,” Steph says, debating whether it’d be a good idea to stuff the brand new purse that Bruce had gotten her the other day with the entire plate of mini-cakes and how much she’d get yelled at if she was caught. “And?”

“I saw him after that, though,” Tim tells her, following her gaze. He rolls her eyes when he catches on to what she’s planning on doing. “You know you can literally have Alfred make you bigger portions later, right?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Timmy,” Steph says sweetly.

“It is not.”

“Is, too,” and then Steph finally makes her decision and starts grabbing a few of everything. Because if she’s going to stuff her purse, then she’s going to go all the way. Maybe Cass would be willing to share with her later. If not Cass, then definitely Dick. Speaking of, “Why are you looking for Dick, anyways?”

Tim blows out a heavy breath and sort of deflates, and it has enough umph to it that Steph stops raiding the dessert table to stare at him.

“Um,” she says.

Tim runs a hand down his face. “Sorry. It’s just—He went to go grab something from his room. Said it was important and just left.”

“And?” Steph prompts. “What’s so bad about that?”

“It’s been almost a half hour since I’ve seen him, Steph. And I’ve been around the room twice,” Tim tells her, and he leans back against a nearby pillar. He looks exhausted—well. More exhausted than usual, and Steph has half a mind to find Dick herself and tell him to tell Tim to stop worrying. And when he talks again, his voice is small. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Of course, it just so happens that that’s when the lights go out.

Steph drops her dessert-filled purse and grabs Tim’s hand, pulling him close. People start murmuring and muttering, and Steph has a feeling that Bruce’s gala-party-thingamajig has gone south real fast.

“Should we grab our uniforms?” she wonders, her voice soft enough that she’s sure only Tim hears her.

“No,” Tim says. “We don’t know if this is an attack or—”

The lights flicker. On, off. Someone screams bloody murder, and people start running for the exit as quick as they can. Someone shoulder checks Steph and she stumbles, but Tim tightens his hold on her hand and pulls her upright.

She whirls on him a second later, raising an eyebrow and shouting in order to be heard over the cacophony of panic, “You were saying?!”

“We still don’t—” He stumbles forward as someone bumps into him, too, but he stays on his feet. Pity. It’d have been funny to see him faceplant. Probably not the best time, though. He pulls her closer. “We still don’t know what’s going on!”

“Bruce?”

Tim nods. “Bruce.”

Somehow—holy shit, somehow—they make it through the throng of panicked people crowding the exits to the back of the room and over to where they can see Bruce standing with Damian, Cass, and the Commissioner. By the time they make it to them, most everyone is gone, and the lights are back to normal.

Dick’s nowhere to be found, though, and Tim and Steph share a look.

Bruce is staring at them. Steph knows that there’s no way he didn’t catch that, but he doesn’t comment on it. Yet, at least. Maybe it’s because the Commissioner is still standing there, or maybe it’s because they’ve got bigger things to worry about.

“Are you two alright?” he asks instead.

Tim nods and finally lets go of Steph’s hand, and she shakes it out, flexing it a few times, too. She hadn’t realized how hard Tim had been gripping it until he’d stopped, and she shoots him a concerned look he only grimaces at.

When she realizes that Bruce is still looking at her, waiting for her answer, she makes a face. “I’m fine, you big worrywart. Tim saved me from landing on my face, and I was disappointed by not seeing Tim land on his.”

“Hey!”

“I regret that it did not happen, as well,” Damian says, and he sounds seriously sad about it. Sheesh. Steph had forgotten that the brat had it out for Tim.

“Come at me and you’ll regret it,” Tim says, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Like you could take me down,” Damian scoffs.

Tim tenses, but backs off when Bruce clears his throat purposely, his eyes flashing dangerously. It’s so unsubtle and—God, after years, Steph still can’t believe Bruce Wayne can act like he does in public when all he seems to be is a big pile of brood and dad. She can see where Tim gets it from, at least. The brooding and acting part, not the dad part.

Next to Bruce, Jim Gordon sighs. “I’m going to see if I can round up a few of my men, Bruce,” he says. His rake over all of them, before they meet Bruce’s again. “I’ll be back soon, but it’s better that all of you stay together. Just in case.”

Bruce smiles, and Steph wonders if it’s painful for him. It certainly looks painful. “Thank you, Jim.”

And with that, the Commissioner’s gone, Bruce drops the smile, and it’s just the five of them standing there. Nobody says anything for a few seconds, and so Steph steps up. It’s like, her thing by now. She could probably major in it if she wanted to. She’s surrounded by so many emotionally stunted idiots that she’s got enough practical experience, after all.

Except Cass. Cass is great.

“So?” Steph says, folding her arms over her chest and raises her eyebrows. “Whatever’s happening, it better be good. I lost my dessert purse for this.”

Cass giggles, and Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. Tim doesn’t react much, but Damian scowls at her in confusion. It’s great. So many different reactions in so few words. She should get an award.

“I don’t want to know,” Bruce tells her. “Did anyone see anything?”

“Dick disappeared,” Tim says.

Steph elbows Tim. “You don’t know that. All you said was that Dick left to get something from his room. And technically that’s not seeing anything.”

“It’s the lack of seeing something,” Tim argues.

“Grayson is probably playing a prank,” Damian says, a somewhat adorable scowl on his face and—good god, does this child not know how to smile? Did he inherit Bruce’s gene of feeling pain while smiling? Someone needs to teach Damian how to have fun, and soon.

Cass frowns. “I don’t think so.”

Well, Cass’s word is law, after all. At least, it is to Steph. It’s a rare occasion that Cass has been wrong—though, it has happened before, Steph’s sure. She just can’t remember—and Steph doesn’t think now is one of those times.

Damian’s scowl inches closer and closer to a worried frown. “Then where is he?”

“Kidnapped?” Tim suggests weakly.

Steph grimaces. Dick’s a slippery one, especially when it comes to kidnapping. He’s got acrobatic skills he can use in self-defense, curtesy of his circus roots, and it’s an advantage that none of the other kids really have.

Something shatters upstairs, and the five of them freeze. And then, before Steph realizes it, Tim’s darting for the stairs, the rest of them just a beat behind him. They stop at the top of the stairs, and Steph gapes at what she sees.

“I think that I’m going to be sick,” she says, staring in horror at the giant puddle of blood soaking into the carpet. “Like, someone find me a toilet to throw up in, kind of sick.”

“You’re not,” Cass tells her, and Steph sighs.

“I’m not,” she agrees, but she can’t take her eyes off of the puddle. “But that is still disturbing. I sleep here, Tim.”

“Yeah, but you don’t live here,” Tim says, and Steph manages to take her eyes away from the scene in front of her to glance at him. He looks pale, and he’s got that look in his eyes, where his thoughts are racing a mile minute. It’s a little disconcerting, actually.

“I sleep here enough that I basically live here,” Steph says.

“Enough,” Bruce says, his eyes hard and unforgiving. “Cassandra, go get Jim. As of right now, this is a crime scene until we rule out otherwise.”

Cass nods, and she’s just about to leave when Steph hears a voice from down the hall. She frowns because—that was from Dick’s room.

“You guys heard that, right?” Steph asks. “Because if you didn’t, I’m out. Outtie 5000. Good-freaking-bye. Stephanie Brown has left the building and isn’t coming back. All that jazz.”

“I heard it,” Bruce says. And Steph can only watch as he makes his way down the hall towards his son’s room, Damian and Tim not even hesitating—or arguing—before following after him.

Steph shares an uneasy glance with Cass and she bites her lip. “What do you think?”

Cass doesn’t speak for a moment, but then she nods her head in the direction the boys had gone, and Steph can’t help but deflate in disappointment. Just a little. This is a little different than being in uniform, and she’s not happy that she’s doing this in a short sparkly dress Cass had picked out for her.

Cass looks at ease, though, and Steph appreciates it when her best friend holds her hand and squeezes. Steph smiles back.

“Guess we should go watch their backs, huh?”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Cass replies, and Steph’s smile grows a bit more genuine.

“Right, right,” Steph breathes. And then they skirt around the puddle. “Well. Might as well get on with it, right? I can totally use my heels as a weapon, right? That’s somewhat socially acceptable? Actually, don’t answer that. If it comes down to it, I’m doing it anyways. Watch out, thugs, I’m armed and dangerous with heeled shoes, and I can attest that getting hit in the face with one really freaking hurts. So watch out for—”

Steph stutters to a stop, both physically and mentally. She’s standing in the doorway to Dick’s bedroom, but—but.

“What happened?” she whispers to Tim, who looks about as clued in as she does.

His wide eyes flick to her helplessly before they’re back on Bruce, who’s checking Dick’s pulse. Dick, as it turns out, has been passed out on the floor of his bedroom, blood oozing sluggishly from a cut on his forehead. Bruce is trying to gently rouse him, but besides the steady up-down motions of his chest as he breathes, Dick doesn’t move.

He’s dead to the world.

Steph shivers at the mental image that brings up.

Damian scoffs softly, and Steph glances over at him, watches as he watches Dick with worried, but angry eyes.

From somewhere else in the manor, there’s another crash, and the lights flicker again.

Bruce finally looks up, meeting each of their eyes in turn, and says, “There’s someone in the house.”

And yeah. Steph’s done.

#stephanie brown #tim drake #bruce wayne #dc #camryn writes #halloweencontentwar #batfamcontentwar #determined ghosts

[shieldmaiden19]

The Coffee/Tim/Sleep Love Triangle

Imagine Tim in a loving and committed relationship with Sleep (the sweet, unassuming darling that loves and cares for him and keeps him healthy in body and mind). Now imagine Coffee coming onto the scene. Maybe she’s a manipulative b***h that isolates him from his family and abuses his body and mind, but maybe she makes him capable of Great Things (Besides, the chemistry is to die for). It gets to the point where Tim thinks he can’t live without her. What does Tim do?!

@imnotafan​ and @buckysl3ftarm​, I’m drowning in tears of hysterical laughter right now. Please send help.

#i honestly don't know #send help #crack post #tim drake #tim drake/coffee #tim drake/sleep #batfamcontentwar #halloweencontentwar

[notanightlight]

Posted for the 6th day of the Batfamily Halloween Content War!

I offer the ghost of little Dickie Grayson as he appears in my fic I Cannot Rest

(I was planning on posting the sequel today, but that is turning out to be a lot longer than I planned!)

#halloweencontentwar #richard grayson #batfamily #dick grayson #batfamcontentwar #linger on series #my art

[mxopifex]

A girls night in. 

(p.s. I take commissions now)

#batfamcontentwar #batfam #barbra gordon #Stephanie Brown #harper row #cassandra cain #my art