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little-pondhead · 10 months

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Eyes Of The Past - OLD CH. 2

Part 1

[TW: swearing, mentions of death, sickness, and general spookiness]

The Batfamily was in turmoil. Something was wrong with the city; they could feel it. There was a heaviness in the air, which wasn’t there before. Clouds hung low over the skyline, heavy with rain that refused to fall. Citizens didn’t bother to wander the streets, even during the day. The buildings seemed to curl in on themselves like the city was trying to form a shield between her streets and whatever was to come. Even the criminals were staying quiet! Joker hadn’t made a peep in days.

So, needless to say, tensions were high.

“How’d the raid on the Lounge go last night?” Tim rubbed his face as Bruce entered the Batcave. They’d all been running themselves ragged, trying to find the source of their unease.

Bruce grunted. “Hn.”

“He was busted.” Barbara filled him in from over their loudspeakers. She pulled up footage of the previous night on the Batcomputer, letting Tim examine every pixel of the interactions. “One of the workers spotted him during the stakeout and warned the Penguin. Hood was there, too.”

“Red Hood?” Tim sipped his coffee, clicking through the fuzzy videos. “I wasn’t aware he was up for collaborations right now.”

“He was there for a business deal,” Bruce muttered, obviously sulking.

“Bruce got yelled at for ruining the whole setup.” Barbara snickered. She opened up a short, thirty-second clip of Red Hood chewing Batman out in the middle of some dark alleyway, a grumpy-looking woman in the Lounge uniform standing in cuffs next to them. “The woman is Tamia Brone, the supervisor on shift for the evening. She was seen with the employee who tipped off the Penguin. She’s being held at Gotham PD right now, but will probably be released this afternoon since she’s not affiliated with the underground part of the business.”

“So the bust was useless?” Tim summarized.

“Hnn,” Bruce grunted again. The big bat was still sulking, fiddling with his belt’s equipment. Tim sighed. Bruce always got like this when Jason got angry with him. He was all solemn and sulky and resorted to one-syllable words for communication. He wanted to look something up on the Batcomputer, Tim could tell. He was just waiting for Tim to be done.

“Fine.” Tim spun the chair fully around and popped out of the seat as gracefully as he could. “Take the chair, Bruce. What do you want to find?”

Bruce practically teleported to the chair, fingers flying over the keyboard as he cleared the cam footage except for the stuff that came from his own bodysuit. He zoomed in on the moment the employee spotted him, using a program to clean up the stray pixels for a clear face of the boy’s face.

Tim leaned over Bruce’s shoulder, watching him work. “Oh, shit,” he realized. “That’s a kid! What is the Penguin doing, hiring minors?”

Furious keyboard sounds were heard over their intercom. “There are no minors in his employee database. But there is one recent hire; Danny Nightingale, age 18. No middle name.” Barbara recited. “He fits the description of the kid there, but there’s not much on his file. It’s most likely a fake name.”

“He’s a busboy.” Bruce finally spoke up. “Here’s the conversation with his supervisor.” He typed a few last words into the computer, and the audio started to play.

“-and the boy. Who is he?”

“Boy? What the hell are you talking about, Bats.”

“The one by the dumpster.”

“Danny? Hey, don’t you even think about bringing him into this! He’s a good kid; the best busboy I’ve ever had. If you scare him off imma beat you six ways to Sunday, you hear?? I don’t care what your stabby sidekick says about it!”

“He’s not in trouble, I just-”

“Like fucking hell I’d believe that! He was the one who tipped off the boss, everyone in the building knows that! But that poor boy is just trying to do his job. That kid risked his own health and safety to warn his boss against someone who, in his eyes, threatened his livelihood.”

“Health?”

“What? You didn’t notice the poor kid had gotten sick? Some detective you are.”

“He shouldn’t be working if he’s sick.”

“Like I’d tell him that. Danny’s parents kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen. He needs money, Bats. Gotham ain’t kind to kids like him, you know this. If he was really sick, I’d’ve sent him home.”

“So he wasn’t sick?”

“Don’t twist my words, bastard. He had gotten sick, not he was sick. Poor kid has some nasty allergies. One of the boss’ associates was wearing something that didn’t agree with him, and he threw up."

“Hn.”

“Don’t grunt at me, mister! It’s a legitimate allergy! Are discriminating against allergens now??”

“No-”

“Oracle! Hey! Don’t glare at me, I know they’re real-Oracle! Make sure to save this clip in case Big Broody over here gets his head stuck up his ass again. Maybe seeing how he’s treating a sick kid will burst his bubble sometime.”

“Will do, Miss Brone.”

“AHA! I knew they were real! You’re a real one, Oracle!”

“I’m taking you down to the station.”

“If I’m not let out before my next shift, I’m letting Poison Ivy know that Robin stores extra weapons in the park!”

As the audio faded out, Barbara giggled and Tim sighed again. “Who on earth is this woman?” He asked, draining the rest of his mug in a single gulp.

“I took some night classes with her, a couple of years ago,” Barbara answered, pulling up Tamia’s personal file. A strong-faced woman stared back at them. “She’s a spitfire, but a good person. Danny probably reminds her of her younger siblings. They died a while back, and ever since, she’s been super protective of young kids who are on their own. Volunteers at the library on the weekends for kid events, helps out at the Mystery Elf Program every year for Christmas, and stuff like that.”

“How did she know about my weapons?”

Tim swore and jumped, turning on his heel. Damian, the little monster, had snuck up behind them again. Bruce just spared him a glance and went back to sifting through their files.

“Kids tell her things.” They couldn’t see her, but they could tell Barbara just shrugged at their inquiries. “Robin has a small cult following among the younger kids in Gotham, so Tamia basically has eyes and ears everywhere.”

“So we should investigate her.” Tim mused.

“No-”

A roar of a motorcycle interrupted them. Jason peeled into the Batcave on his motorcycle, barely coming to a complete stop before he jumped off and sped to the computer.

“Move, old man.” Jason snarled, practically hauling Bruce out of the seat to take his place.

“How dare you, Todd!”

“Shut up, Demon Brat!” Jason growled again, never looking away from the monitor as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

Tim flinched. He knew, without having to look, that Jason’s eyes were glowing bright green right now. He was on the verge of a Pit episode. Usually, this meant he’d hole up in his many safe houses and drop off the grid for a while. The only reason he’d be in the Batcave right now was if he needed to find someone. Someone to kill.

“Oh, good.” Jason leaned back. “You already started researching him.” Everyone looked on in dawning horror as Danny Nightingale’s exhausted and startled face looked at them, the screenshot taken from Batman’s body suit camera.

“Jason…” Bruce started.

But Jason wasn’t listening. “No one is allowed to go after him.” He simply announced. “I have questions for this kid, you ain’t getting in the way of that.”

“You can’t kill a civilian, Todd.” Damian challenged.

Jason stood. Green light leaked from his mask, and his muscles were tensed like he either wanted to run for his life or throw hands. Tim took a step back. “That,” he ground out, pointing at Danny’s picture. “Is not a civilian. That is a threat.”

…

Danny felt like shit.

It’s been two days since he frantically tipped off the Penguin to the Bat’s presence, and ever since, the Lounge has been shut down for unforeseen reasons. He didn’t know why, he was just a busboy. His boss had taken the news in stride, ordering him to book it out the back with some of the other servers. Tamia was on his heels the entire time, directing them all down a side alley with ease before getting snatched by Batman herself. Danny had screeched to a halt, intending to go back for her, but one of the bartenders had gripped his arm and hadn’t let go, hissing, “She’ll be fine! You’re the one who needs to get out of here!” Reluctantly, Danny complied, no matter how horrible he felt after.

When everyone had split up, the bartender told him to only return to work when the boss told him to. Then, they all went their separate ways, and Danny woke up the next morning with an extra $3k in his bank account.

To be honest, he spent that first day anxiously sneaking around the city, checking in on all his coworkers that were present that night. Everyone was okay, for the most part. The bartender who had dragged him was passed out on a shitty couch, beer bottle in hand, and one of the waiters was being yelled at by her boyfriend for having her shift cut short. Danny’s core ached at the sight. So when forgotten cans of coke in the back of their fridge exploded from a random spike of cold and cut the argument short, he hoped she didn’t mind his interference too much.

Tamia, however, took longer to track down. To his horror, she was sitting like a grumpy cat deep within Gotham’s police station, glaring at any officer that tried to approach her. He was forced to tap into his invisibility, but he eventually snuck past security and over to her holding cell. He waited until she was alone, before letting out a tiny, almost inaudible rumble from his core, slipping through the bars with intangibility. The two shades at Tamia’s neck perked up, instantly zeroing in on him. While the older woman couldn’t see the shades, she must have felt something as well. She stiffened, glancing around subtly.

“Who’s there?” She hissed.

Danny shifted. He was…uncomfortable. But Tamia had done so much for him. “It’s me.” He whispered back, stepping closer and leaning close to her ear. Tamia flinched back, eyes darting to his face. He was still invisible, thank the Ancients.

“Danny??” Tamia regained control of her expression and went back to her brooding look for the cameras. “What the fuck???”

“Sorry, Tam.” He apologized. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Danny. How are you here?”

“Uh…” He didn’t know how to answer that, so he just told her the truth. “I snuck in.”

Tamia gave his general location a side-eye. “You know Batman doesn’t like metas in his city.”

And that was a tipping point, wasn’t it? Danny’s core buzzed in his ears with anxiety as his voice shook. “Are you going to report me?”

Tamia snorted, covering it up with a cough as a cop passed by. “Hell no. You’re a good kid, Danny. I’d never turn you in, even to the Joker.”

“Ah,” he said awkwardly. “Thanks. Uh, do you want me to get you out of here?”

Tamia tilted her head. Her hair had come loose from its bun, with strands of curly hair falling into her eyes. “No,” she decided. “The boss has plans in place for things like that. I’m a legal employee and a good one he won’t leave to rot. I’ll be out of here by the end of the day. I’ll be alright.”

He sighed. “If you’re sure…”

“I am. Go home, Casper. Get some sleep.”

Danny’s face twisted at the name, but he nevertheless bade his supervisor and the two shades goodbye and walked back out the front doors of Gotham PD, not bothering to fly. Flying meant he had to go ghost, and that meant he had to deal with…other things.

He decided to sleep the rest of the day, extremely spent from all the extra energy he had used up. Danny didn’t rise again till noon the next day, at which his stomach finally made itself known, demanding he seek out food. He lay on his bed for an extra hour, trying to desperately ignore the grumbles in his belly, but finally gave in, grabbing some cash to stuff in his pockets and making his way out of the shitty apartment building he lived in. Two kids threw rocks at his face as he passed through the front doors, but he just sidestepped and ignored them, letting the stones shatter the glass doors instead.

The clouds are low. The Knights are away. Shades whispered and writhed at the edges of his vision. The Lady is sick.

Leave me alone. Danny groaned and rubbed his forehead. These days, the words of the dead seemed to pound at his head like a sledgehammer, relentless. An uncomfortable heat was building in his head. He ignored it.

Danny rounded a corner and entered a gas station. “Hello!” The cashier greeted him, too cheery for the job they were working. “Let me know if you need anything!” He waved in acknowledgment and shuffled between aisles, staring blankly at the brightly colored packages of cheap food. His eyes couldn’t focus on the labels, so he just grabbed something with a cheetah on it. Danny then shuffled to the next aisle over and snatched a large bottle of something pink and bright. The cashier gave him an impeccable customer service smile, which he tried to return.

“Personally, I like the smell of the blue flavor.” They scanned his items, and he had to nod and pretend he knew what they were talking about. “Here you go, that’ll be $6.27. Would you like a bag?”

“No,” Danny shook his head. “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day!” The bell rang over the sound of the cashier as Danny left. He was too tired and hungry to give them a proper response.

Gotham’s skies were still dark and cloudy, which for once, Danny was thankful for. Sunlight would probably make his growing headache worse. He wandered around for a long while, just taking in the sights of the city. He didn’t know why, but less and less people had been on the streets these days, giving him a slight break from the relentless stares and whispers. He just had to avoid certain areas that were clouded with death, and he was good to go! He was free to walk around aimlessly all he wanted.

Today, it seemed, his wanderings took him to a small, silent park. He pushed open the tiny gate and snuck inside. It was quiet as a cemetery, and looked like one, too. Hell, if Danny was in his right mind, he would have realized it was a cemetery. He’d argue later that there were no spirits around, so how could he have known? There was just a profound sense of emptiness that was suffocating the whole area, but Danny was so fed up with the rest of the city, he barely noticed.

Instead, he simply made himself at home on a stone bench off to the side and tore open his feast, not tasting anything as he chowed down on the chips. A faint tingle on his tongue told him the chips were spicy, but how was he supposed to taste anything when his tastebuds were dead? Soon, the chips were gone, bag and all. (The only perk of being dead was that he acted as his own personal trashcan. Nothing was littered with him around!) Cracking open his heavy drink, Danny took a sip and stared at the sky. Just thinking about nothing as the day passed and the evening set.

It’d been a long day.

…

Jason jerked. Shivers ran up his spine, and the green in his vision got stronger. He was in the depths of a pit episode, some part of his brain told him. No one had been hurt yet.

But someone was about to be.

Jason jerked again and lunged for his front door, ripping off the lock Tim had put on it (trying to cage him like an animal) with his bare hands. He had no shoes, no helmet, no mask, nothing. But he bolted out the front door in a blind rage. His world was greengreengreen.

A snarl ripped itself out of his throat as he jumped the last two stories from the main staircase to the ground level. His landing left a small indent on the tile. (How did he do that?) The front doors were already wide open, he’d left it that way. Jason tore down the street, silently thankful there was no one on the streets.

Someone was going to die tonight. Someone had walked over his grave.

Jason’s chest heaved as he bolted through alleyways, taking shortcuts to get to the one place he always refused to visit. There was a Bat following him now. Which one? Probably Nightwing. It didn’t matter. His hands were curled and his footsteps were loud. His heart pounded in his head, egging on the Pit. Phantom fingers ran down his arms, pushing his shoulders so he’d go faster. The city bent in on itself. Streets seemed to straighten out, letting him have a clear shot toward his target.

He burst from the alleyways in a sudden rush, and Jason skidded to a stop to get his bearings. His feet were bleeding, he could tell. Whatever. His green eyes were glued to the tiny, limp figure of Danny Nightingale resting on a stone bench not five feet away from Jason’s grave. The one he was buried in. The one he crawled out of. The kid had walked on his grave.

Jason rushed forward with a roar.

“What the FUCK?!” Danny startled upright at the sound, quickly spotting Jason and scrambling to his feet. He had a half-filled bottle of pink Fabuloso cleaner in his hand but dropped that quickly when Jason lunged for him.

“Jason!” Someone yelled, trying to grab at his shoulders. But Jason was too far gone in the pit rage, now. He was almost animalistic, growling and clawing at the kid’s retreating figure. Blood was getting smeared over the dead grass, with bits of glass from the alleyway being pushed farther into his skin.

“Shit, man! I didn’t know this was your Haunt!” Danny’s eyes were filled with fear and worry, but his gaze was fixed solidly on a spot above Jason’s head.

“This was my grave!” Jason managed to screech. He got a lucky hit in, and the kid tumbled away, clutching his shoulder where a bruise was already forming through his thin clothes.

“I didn’t know!” Danny yelled again. He made no move to fight back.

“THIS WAS OUR GRAVE!”

Something is wrong. A sudden, clear thought entered Jason’s head. It was like cold water had splashed him awake. These were not his words. These were not his actions. Jason was not in control of his body.

Something else was speaking for him.

A wail ripped itself out of his throat. Danny rolled to the side, avoiding his lunge. Jason could only watch helplessly as the kid was backed into a corner. For every step Jason took forward, Danny took two steps back. The kid was too used to this. He moved with too much ease, avoiding Jason’s wild swings like he could predict every movement.

“Dammit, JASON!” Two pairs of hands gripped at his shoulders this time, forcing him to turn. Nightwing and Orphan (when had she gotten here?) tried their best to wrestle him down, heaving with the effort.

“No! Don’t!” Danny bolted forward, right as Jason lunged for his own family in a haze of green. Time seemed to slow, and logically, Jason knew there was no way in hell Danny would have made it in time to do anything. Jason knew he was about to hurt his family, badly. He was about to break bones and claw at vulnerable skin. He was about to look his sibling in their eyes and see their hearts shatter. Jason was bout to break apart their family. Again.

Then Danny screamed something, there was a flash of light, and suddenly there was a wall of fucking fire separating Jason from his siblings. From the outside world.

Jason barely managed to avoid the flames, tucking himself into a sharp roll and popping up with his teeth bared.

His brain tried to process what had just happened.

His body screamed in rage.

His prey had disappeared.

In Danny’s place floated a young boy. His eyes were as green as Jason’s. An iron crown wreathed in flames was set upon his head upside down, the sharp points causing rivers of green blood to run down from his hairline. Iron shackles chained his hands together. Pieces of charred armor clung to his body by thin straps. There was a chill in the air, and despite the fire, ice was starting to grow from the ground in a ring around the boy, curving and sharp, like it was trying to trap him in.

The boy looked at him, and Jason saw that he was crying.

...

[oOoOoO cliffhanger~]

#danny phantom #dpxdc #eyes of the past fic #pondhead writes #angst #i just think it'd be funny if everything was food for danny #he had hot cheetos and pink fabuloso for dinner #packages and all #danny IS NOT the ghost king #then why does he have the crown you may ask?#good question i'm not telling you #adding links as i go #not beta read #no beta we die like danny #long post #oc insert #sorry about that #she's just for this i swear

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aprocessionofthoughts · 6 months

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Bloody Sacrifice

ai-less whumptober2023 day 22- stress position fandom- dp x dc TW- blood summery- Danny is sacrificed in order to summon the Ghost King

ao3 masterlist

Batman and Nightwing were currently tied up and hanging from their wrists in a dusty old warehouse. Brue struggled to get out of the ropes but it was proving difficult.

They’d been investigating a cult, one of the many that popped up in Gotham, and hadn’t expected that one of the cultists actually knew some magic.

The cult leader had chanted a spell that had rendered him and Nightwing imobile as the cultists strung them up. The spell had worn off by now, but because not only were their wrists tied with the rope secured to the ceiling, their ankles were also tied with another rope securing them to the floor. This left them stretched out and unable to escape.

The cultists had gathered around a stone table.

“B,” Nightwing said, “there are shackles.”

“I know.” he yanked at the ropes again, but they still didn’t give.

Then the doors of the warehouse were opening and two cultists were dragging in a limp figure.

The vigilantes started struggling harder as the cutlists shackled the kid, because he was way too small to be anything but a kid, to the table.

“Hey!” Nightwing called. “Wouldn’t whatever demons you’re trying to summon appreciate a vigilante as a sacrifice more than some random civilian?”

“Quiet!” the head cultist said, his voice ringing with power and Bruce felt his mouth involuntarily close.

The cultists gathered around the struggling teen, who now that Bruce looked closer seemed to have a flower necklace tossed around his neck.

They began changing and all the vigilantes could do was watch. One took out a knife. The boy stared with wide terrified eyes. He jerked in his bonds.

As the chanting grew in volume a cultist reached forward and removed the flower chain necklace laying it on the ground.

The leader raised the knife. Bruce fought to cry out but no sound escaped.

The knife came down.

The kid let out a short scream that ended in a gurgle as blood bubbled up out of the kids mouth. Then the kid slumped and didn't move again.

Bruce slumped. He had been too late. The kid was dead.

Bruce was brought out of his thoughts by the cultists muttering amongst themselves. They seemed agitated. They went off to the side to continue talking. From the little bit Bruce could hear, it sounded like the ritual hadn’t worked.

Bruce was glad, but there was still a dead kid, and Bruce wanted nothing more than to send these cultists to the hospital.

“B.” Dick whispered and Bruce realized the magic keeping them silent had faded.

He looked over at Dick who motioned with his head to the table.

Bruce looked over.

The kid’s eyes were open and he was reaching for the knife buried in his chest. Bruce stared, wide eyed, as the kid pulled the knife out before sitting up. Then the kid looked over and froze as he caught sight of them. He brought a finger to his lips and then disappeared.

Then wind began to blow through the room and a ghostly vice echoed, “Who dares to wake me?”

The cultists scrambled. “We– We do my lord.”

“You have greatly displeased me. I do not like human sacrifices. I only accept the sacrifice of chocolate and gummy worms.”

The cultists didn’t have time to react as the wind picked up slamming them against each other several times before dropping them to the ground where they were then encased in ice.

Before Bruce had the chance to say anything he was being lowered to the ground and untied along with Nightwing.

“You can show yourself.” Nightwing said.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got to go. They kind of interrupted my night.”

“Wait–”

“See ya.” and with a gust of wind the boy seemed to leave.

They were silent for a moment.

“New sibling?”

“Hnn.”

#ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptober #day 22 #stress position #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #fanfic #Danny fenton #dick grayson #bruce wayne #blood #sacrifice #summoning

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cantsaythetword · 2 years

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Hii could you write a fic with either Lee!Batman or Lee!Daredevil & any ler of your choice :) and maybe focus on back tickles?🫶 hope your weeks going well !

Gonna add this onto the last batman anon ask too

Hi! Do you think you could write a fic with Lee!Bruce Wayne and any ler(s) trying to get him to smile/laugh more?😇

hi!! It’s that anon that asked for Lee!Batman, I don’t really have a preference for characterization of Batman in the fic so you can choose to write him however you like! (But maybe a bunch of teasing in the fic? :))

Thank you for the ask, I hope your week is going swimmingly too ☺️☺️❤️

Masterpost Link

Bruce would never admit it, but he loved moments like this.

Lying in bed, Clark's arms effortlessly wrapped around him, feeling his breath lightly trickle down the back of his neck.

Yeah. This was good.

"Someone's happy." Clark murmured, briefly squeezing a little tighter.

"Huh?"

"You let out little hums when you're content. Any time we're cuddling and you make those little noises I know you're enjoying it."

"I do not hum." Bruce tightened his body slightly, still getting used to letting his guard down with anyone.

"Oh it's very tough and manly, don't worry." Clark teased, humming in a comically deep tone for emphasis.

"I don't do it."

The bed creaked as superman shuffled to see his lover's face better.

"It's not a bad thing to show when you're happy."

"I know. But I still don't do it."

Clark chuckled. "Ok ok, forget I mentioned it."

The two continued their cuddles for a moment longer, and Bruce began to relax a little more.

Deep rumbles began to radiate from the billionaire's chest as he slowly drifted into complete peace. Before he could get there completely, though, Clark's breathing turned to small breathy laughs.

"What?" Bruce groaned, annoyed at the disturbance.

"Nothing!"

"You're laughing!"

"Not at you!" Superman chuckled. "It's just cute that you hum."

Batman grumbled something about not being cute, before turning completely onto his stomach.

"Awwww Brucey don't be like that!" Clark beamed. "Can't a man call his boyfriend cute?"

No response.

"Come onnnn..." Clark gently let his fingers glide over Bruce's back, the sudden flex and almost-giggle he got back was the last thing he was expecting.

"Oh?" Superman grinned. "What's this?"

"hnn~nthng~" Bruce's slightly panicked voice was muffled by the mattress.

"Didn't catch that... You want me to do it again?"

"Cl~~rkkkkkk~!" Bruce groaned nervously, refusing to lift his head.

"Perfect!" Clark smirked, softly stroking his fingers from the top of Bruce's shoulders all the way down to his tailbone - leaving a shivery trail of goosebumps in his wake. He absolutely adored the way Bruce's back muscles tensed and rolled as he descended. There was something oddly hypnotic about it, luckily there was one thing to bring his out of his trance.

"Kehehent!" Bruce tried to grumble, but it came out as more of a giggle. "Stohohop ihihit!"

The small titters of laughter as Clark's fingers cascaded close to Bruce's sides were addicting, and Superman was far from finshed.

"Awwww cute little Bruce likes his tickles huh?" He teased, letting his nails lazily scatter along the obliques of his partner. "You should laugh more."

"Shuhuhut uhuhup..." Bruce mumbled sleepily, helpless in the sudden wave of relaxation that hit his body the more Clark touched it.

"And while I do love your giggles..." He grinned, fingers dancing dangerously close to Bruce's very ticklish sides.

Bruce whined and squirmed gently, not wanting to disrupt his own peaceful state.

As Superman's fingers returned to his shoulderblades, Bruce's mouth couldn't resist but twitch upwards as soft hums escaped his throat.

Clark smiled.

"I'll settle for those."

#ask #anon #i hope this is alright for you guys!#my first ever #superbat fic #fic #mine #mini fic #prompt fic

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testingcheats0n · 1 year

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It is my personal headcanon that Bruce sometimes (read: so often that his kids are concerned) adopts the Batman body language. It's on bad days when he needs to front and white knuckle the day. He hovers, he stands in the corner, he blends in any shadows available, he stands like this 🧍🏻‍♂️because it's what he does under the cape, he looms, he hnns, he grunts, he purposefully bends his neck so it looks more bird-like, he voids his face of all emotion, he crouches and kneels, and is constantly looking for a vantage point, climbing up the stairs sometimes unconsciously, and it's very very disturbing when he's just some guy at dinnertime.

#batman #bruce wayne

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puttheglareinminecraft · 2 years

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Au where the Batman can’t kill people, but the batmobile is free game. Whenever a rouge goes too far they just get hit by a tank.

Gordon: So, the jokers dead.

Batman: hnn

Gordon: anything to say about how he died?

Batman: hn

Gordon: cause it looks an awful lot to me like he got hit by a car

Batman:

Gordon: Now, I don’t know if there are any other lunatics with wall climbing tanks around Gotham

Batman:

Gordon: But he was found on the second story of a building with no other car in sight

Batman: he hurt my son

Gordon, erasing a line on a report: Alright I guess he was in a parking garage

Batman: hn

#the batman #batman #batmobile #dc #dc comcis #batman arkham series #this is totally based on the fact that when driving around in the Arkham games #there’s no way no one dies to this fucking tank

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 1 year

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The Leak Pt2

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/1RepATt

by TonyStarksAngstyHeart

"B..."

"Hnn,"

"B," Jason repeated, snickering to himself, "you gotta see this."

They stared at the screen where a blushing Bruce was seen being manhandled like a Disney princess by a large bespectacled man.

"Not again," Bruce whined.

-------

There's another Leak! only this time they're of Bruce and Clark, now that the family is (mostly) onboard, how are they going to combat this leak. Something tells them that going after the photographer and beating the shit out of him won't cut it this time.

Tune in to find out!

feat: A twitter debacle Oliver crying Tim and Tam tag teaming Clark a rare appearance from Kate assassination attempts and a flash mob???

Words: 122, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 7 of The Kids Are Alright— or at least they will be

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jon Lane Kent, Lois Lane, Alfred Pennyworth, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Silver St. Cloud, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen

Additional Tags: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Crack Treated Seriously, Twitter, Duke's YouTube channel, adoption addiction mentioned, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Crack, I'm not funny so y'all better contribute, I will be stealing prompts from tumblr

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/1RepATt

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

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batsgirll · 2 years

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the batkids to alfred:

you’re everyone’s parental figure and we’re sorry we’re just dumb little ducklings following you around.

#bruce in the corner like ‘hnn’#batfam #dick grayson #batman #dc comics #tim drake #duke thomas #jason todd #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown

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bibereangelum · 2 years

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i just want everyone to imagine battinson going to so many single parent groups once he takes dick in. man doesn’t know shit abt kids but he’s about to! every single soccer mom and baseball dad knows bruce wayne and he’s got like 10 new casserole recipes and he can’t even cook!!!

#brunchy rambles #the batman #battinson #im not bold enough to do small text bruce #but imagine him at like #weird single parent groups #this gruff 20 something with his nine year old kid that he just took in #and none of the parents are like: hey that's *weird*#they're like OH SHIT U WANT ADVICE?? we got u #give me this parenting group asking bruce to babysit during a pinch and bruce is like 'hnn sure' but on the inside he's like FINALLY #FINALLY SOME FRIENDS FOR MY ACROBATIC CHILD

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halogamma · 3 years

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like father, like grandfather, like son

#the way bruce grunted to say good night...#like damian is brief alfred is proper and bruce just... hnn #batman and robin #batman and robin 2011 #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #dc #dc comics #.my posts

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danny-chase · 3 years

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Thinking about that one Titans issue where the fab five roast the fuck out of each (their emotions are being manipulated for context) in the pouring rain and Dick eventually walks away to build a lean-to

Titans (1999) 15

i aM bUiLDiNg a LeAN-tO

AND THEN IT FALLS OVER

AS I SAID THEY ROAST THE FUCK OUT OF EACH OTHER

Edit: I wrote the wrong year number when referencing sorry

Image Description under cut:

Image 1: Dick on his knees tries to build a structure in the pouring rain as Donna stands behind him.

Donna: What are you doing?

Dick: I’m building a lean-to.

Donna: Out of sticks? In this wind?

Dick (in bold): I am building a lean-to.

Donna: Honey, if we don’t find shelter --

Image 2: The lean-to Dick was building flies apart, Dick screams “GHAAAA!” and Wally, Roy, and Garth are pictured as the angle has shifted to show where they were standing a few feet away.

Wally: You know, Batman would have had that built by now.

Garth: Batman would be safely in a cave or something by now.

#they really got him #like holy fuck they got him #anytime Dick does anything annoying all the Titans are like hnn hnn okay Batman in this series #but to be fair they're being excessive cuz mind control #but OHHHHHHH #you're gonna need some ice for that burn #(GARTH FROZE THEIR SHIP)#HE CAN USE SOME OF THAT #the plotlines in this series were... um... questionable but i love this issue (it's an airing of grievances basically)#dammit dick #why can't you just be BATMAN #Bruce if he saw this would be like hrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn #and everyone would be like bruh what do you even mean #Bruce *has no idea what he means*: hhhhhhhRRRRRRRRRRNNNnnnnnnnnnnnn #dick grayson #roy harper #garth of shayeris #this is the only time Garth has said anything remotely mean and he's under slight brainwash so he's still my perfect angel #donna troy #titans

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daringyounggrayson · 2 years

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Summary: Bruce takes in a five-year-old Dick Grayson, and Harvey offers his two cents.

A/N: Happy Twosday! So this is the first fic in the AU I've (inaccurately) been calling the seven-part epic. Essentially, Bruce adopts the kids at younger ages, the kids are closer in age and grow up together, and Bruce is still Batman but the kids won't get into vigilantism until they're older. You might read that and ask, "But then why did you make the first fic mostly about Harvey?" And to that, I answer with this: I do what I want

oOo

“Successful transfer?” Harvey asks lightly when Bruce returns, child-free.

“Still wearing day clothes, but he’s asleep in his bed,” Bruce says.

“He’s a great kid.” Harvey takes a sip of his water. “Pretty good actor, too.”

Bruce’s lips quirk into a frown. “Do you think I should take him to a therapist?” Dick’s a fantastic, brilliant kid, and he’s hurting, even if he tries to pretend he’s not.

Harvey shrugs. “I’m in law school—the only mental health we really talk about is criminal insanity. But, personally, he’s been through a lot and it’s only been a month. Maybe it’s okay to give it time.”

Yes. Dick’s been through a lot—all within the span of a month. That fact does not help the boy’s situation in the slightest. “Hnn.”

Harvey claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll do what’s best for him, that much I’m sure of.” Harvey takes another sip from his glass. “I’m kind of surprised you’re considering therapy, though. I mean, didn’t you hate your therapist?”

“I—” He did. Bruce hated going to therapy, but it might not have been the therapy itself. For a period after his parents died, he’d hated people, hated talking about how he hated people and all of the horrible things they did even more. “It could be different, for him.”

Harvey nods, eyes on his cup. Bruce wonders what he’s waiting to ask.

“You’re taking time off of work?” Harvey asks.

“Yes. One more month of full leave, and then part-time until school starts.” And maybe through the first month, depending on how things go. Dick will be starting kindergarten, and Bruce isn’t sure how the boy will take being away from them for so long. “Not that I was going to the office that much before anyway.”

Harvey hums.

Bruce sighs loudly. “Just ask, whatever it is.”

“Okay, fine.” Harvey sets his glass down on the counter with more force than necessary. “What about Batman?”

The room goes cold. “Batman?”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me. I’ve known it’s you for a while. We spoke—did you honestly think I wouldn’t recognize you? After everything?”

“I—” Bruce doesn’t know what to say.

Harvey shakes his head. “I know you went a little insane after you dropped out of college and disappeared. And then you came back fitter than I’ve ever seen you and wanting to make all of these public appearances while acting like a total dunce playboy. You were a completely different person, based on the headlines. But when we finally got together, you were more or less you—just as focused as ever, maybe even more so. A few months later, I found out about your little pet project and everything clicked.”

“I went insane,” Bruce repeats slowly.

“Yes, Bruce!” Harvey yells—actually yells. “Hell, you’ve always been a little crazy, and I get it. A lot of that is just you. But you were different in the weeks leading up to your . . . your trip. You were impulsive and jumpy and hiding everything from me. And then you left overnight without saying goodbye to me, to Alfred.” Harvey runs a hand through his hair. “You were in crisis, and I get that. Trust me, I get that. But most people having an identity crisis don’t run from country to country only to come home and dress up like a giant goddamn rodent.”

“I wasn’t in crisis.” Bruce was . . . he’d had it under control. That wasn’t the best period of his life, but he’d been doing something productive. Something to help. Still is.

Harvey scoffs, shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me? We used to tell each other everything.”

“I was going to.” There were so many times Bruce had gone to call Harvey, to tell him where he was and what he was doing. Who he had become. Fear kept him from making that call, but fear of what, he’s not sure.

Harvey shakes his head again. “You’ve been hurt, yeah?”

Bruce hesitates, then nods. He’s had more than a few injuries thanks to Batman, and he’s gotten quite good at applying makeup as a result.

“I’m not happy about the vigintile thing—never was,” Harvey explains. “But now that you have a kid to take care of, it’s not just about you anymore. What if something happens to you, hmm? Have you thought about that? Dick has lost enough. And as of now, he’s in foster care. Kid like that, a case like this, he’ll get lost in the system. Zucco will probably find him and that will be it.”

Bruce knows.

“You’re my best friend, but if that ever happened, I would blame you.”

As he should.

“You have to stop.”

“I can’t,” Bruce insists. “I’m helping people, I’m helping Dick.”

“There are other ways to help.”

“Gotham needs me.” Needs him like this, doing this.

“That kid needs you more. I need—” Harvey shakes his head. He runs his hands down his face. “Forget it.” He clears his throat. “If you care about that kid, either find a nice family to adopt him or do it yourself and make sure you have a guardian set up for when—not if, when—the night job kills you.”

Bruce has nothing to say after that, and Harvey leaves in a huff shortly after. They don’t talk for a week.

But just like always, it doesn’t take long for things to go back to normal. Harvey starts visiting regularly, more often than not with some present or treat for Dick.

Even though they never talk about it, Bruce thinks about that argument a lot. Before, he’d been hesitant—unwilling, even—to adopt. He’d thought Dick living with him would be a temporary situation, just until the trial so that Dick would be safe. After Zucco was taken care, Bruce would find a nice family far away from Gotham for Dick to live with. Because Dick is a good person, and Gotham eats good people.

But he can’t let Dick go—as selfish as it is. And Harvey had been right: fostering isn’t a secure, long-term solution.

oOo

Bruce is tucking Dick into bed when the idea of adoption once again rushes to the forefront of his mind. He thinks about it more every day, but before he moves forward with the process, he needs to know something. He taps Dick’s knee to get his attention, then asks, “Are you happy here? With me.”

Dick pauses, stars at his stuffed elephant and pulls gently at its ears. “You’re not—you’re not my parents. But I like living with you and Alfred.”

“I want your opinion.” Dick’s gaze shifts to watch him closely. “Right now, legally, I’m your foster guardian. That makes our situation somewhat fragile because, theoretically, you could be moved to another foster placement or adopted at any time. There are things I can do to try to prevent that, among other things, but there are limits. If I adopt you and become your full legal guardian, I can do more for you.”

“Adoption,” Dick says slowly. “What would change?”

“Nothing between us would change, it’s mostly legalities. For example, if something happened to me, I could select a new guardian for you, such as Alfred or Harvey. You would also be entitled to my inheritance.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Dick insists, voice firm. He knows about Batman—the boy is too bright and curious for his own good and found the cave after only a few weeks of living in the manor; to Bruce’s relief, he’s also incredibly good at keeping secrets—and is fully aware of what Bruce is alluding to. Bruce doesn’t argue (not tonight). “But okay. What else?”

“You would be able to go on school trips and sleepovers without approval from your social worker.” As it stands, Bruce can’t even take Dick out of the county without getting approval, and getting permission for other adults to take him somewhere is nothing but a headache. Dick had missed his first school field trip due to lost paperwork, and even though Bruce had taken him to the same museum that weekend to make up for it, it hadn’t been the same. “We could travel and go on vacations.”

Something close to excitement fills Dick’s eyes. “Where would we go?”

Dick must miss traveling. Before he came to live here, Bruce doesn’t think the boy had ever stayed in one place longer than eight weeks. “Anywhere you’d like.”

“Would I have to call you dad?” And there it is, the crux of it.

“No.”

“Good.” Then, quickly, Dick adds, “I mean, I love you and everything, but you’re not my dad. You’re Bruce.”

Bruce smiles. “You don’t need to explain.”

Dick nods.

“You can think it over. There’s no rush.”

Quietly, Dick asks, “Do you want to adopt me?”

He’s not Dick’s father, but he can’t help but view Dick as is his child. As much as he thinks the legal protections are necessary to keep Dick safe, he also wants the court to acknowledge what he already feels. “Yes. But if that’s not something you want, either now or from me, I understand.”

“I want you to adopt me,” Dick decides. “I want you and Alfred to be part of my family. That’s all adoption means, right?”

“Yes,” Bruce says, smiling softly, “the adoption will mean that the court will acknowledge us as a family.” Bruce brushes a hand through Dick’s hair. “I already consider you family. It’s just a matter of informing the court.”

Dick smiles, and it gives Bruce the rare feeling that he’s doing the right thing.

oOo

Harvey is ecstatic when he hears the news. Even though he won’t be a lawyer for another year, he helps Bruce sort out the paperwork and find a family lawyer—someone he met during an internship. He’s there at the hearing, and he’s in several of the pictures they take after the ceremony.

Dick takes to calling him Uncle Harvey, and it suits Harvey. He takes Dick to movies and plays baseball with him in the yard. Bruce watches them and feels like he’s doing the right thing.

Still, the Batman argument haunts him. He had one with Alfred, too, back when this all started. There had been no argument when Dick found out about Batman, just awe and an insistence that he would become a hero too, as soon as he was big enough. However, Bruce knows it’s only a matter of time before the wonder fades and he and Dick have their own Batman argument. He imagines it will be the worst one yet, ugly and raw and hopefully years away.

oOo

One night, Bruce gets hurt, worse than he’s ever been before. Alfred sends Dick to stay with Harvey for several days while he recovers.

Harvey and Dick come to visit him, and when Alfred takes Dick out of Bruce’s bedroom for lunch, Harvey looks like he’s about to start a second Batman argument.

“That kid has been absolutely terrified.”

“He wasn’t supposed to see it,” Bruce croaks. He’s still not sure what Dick had been doing in the cave. Maybe a nightmare—Dick’s been having them a lot recently. He wonders if the boy ever had them before, when he was living at the circus.

“He didn’t have to. Dick told me he had a nightmare you got hurt a week before and didn’t say anything. He thinks he could’ve prevented this if he’d said something, just like with his parents.”

Bile climbs in his throat. He nearly spits, “That wasn’t his fault, and neither was this.”

Harvey runs a hand through his hair. “I know that, and I’m sure you’ll explain that to him as much as I did. But that’s not how he sees it right now.”

“You want me to stop.”

“Yes. And I want your six-year-old to stop having nightmares that his dad won’t come home. I want to stop having nightmares that you won’t come home.”

“Harvey.” Bruce works his jaw.

“Why does it have to be you?” Harvey grabs Bruce’s hand, squeezes it. “I can see that Batman is good for Gotham. But why does it have to be you?”

Sometimes Bruce asks himself the same question. Perhaps not often enough. But. “I can’t stop.”

“I know.” Harvey removes his hand. “I know.” There’s a silence, and Harvey looks like he’s debating on whether or not he should sit down. He decides against it. “Do you want me to send Dick back in? He misses you.”

“Yes.” He misses his child too—so much.

Ten minutes into the visit, Dick falls asleep against his side, and hours later, Harvey tells him it’s the most sleep the kid’s had since Bruce went down. Begrudgingly, Dick goes back home with Harvey that night, and Bruce lies awake thinking of all the ways he’s hurt his boy. He wonders if he’s any better than the people he’s fighting.

oOo

Harvey is a good person. He’s bright, an incredible lawyer who tries to help those who need it most, and there’s a real chance he could end up being Gotham’s youngest District Attorney. On top of that, he’s kind and funny and Harvey. He’s a good person, and Gotham eats good people.

Dick is tucked into Bruce’s side, sleeping off a cold that’s kept him out of school for the past two days. It’s about one in the afternoon, and normally Bruce would be trapped in a boardroom right now, but he’s been taking time off from Wayne Enterprises and Batman to take care of his sick seven-year-old. It feels like the right thing.

Bruce turns on the news and pauses when he sees Harvey’s name on the screen, freezes when it’s followed by an image of him being taken out of a courthouse on a gurney.

An hour later, he gets a call from the hospital that Harvey is in the ICU. They ask him to come. He leaves Dick with Alfred and goes to see Harvey, but he’s unconscious and half of his face is bandaged. Bruce holds his hand and vows to find the person responsible.

He spends the whole evening and into the next morning investigating. It hurts that much more when he learns the mobster responsible for Harvey’s acid burns is the same man he’s been trying to hunt down. Bruce wonders if he would’ve found the mobster before he got to Harvey if he hadn’t taken time off of Batman to take care of Dick. He tells himself over and over again it hadn’t been a bad choice, but the other half of him screams that if he had just been faster—smarter, more efficient—Harvey would be okay.

And now his best friend is in so much pain that sedatives can’t even control it. And it’s Bruce’s fault.

“Are you sad about Uncle Harvey?” Dick asks when he crawls into Bruce’s bed around eleven in the morning. Bruce has been lying here for two hours, but he hasn’t gotten any sleep.

“Yes.”

“Me too,” Dick says, then coughs into the sheets. His forehead feels warm against Bruce’s side. He probably needs more medicine. “Can I visit him?”

“He’s in the ICU, kiddo. You’re not old enough, and even if you were, you’re ill.” Dick sniffles, but it’s not from the cold. “I’ll tell him you wanted to come.”

“I made him a card. Can you bring it to him?”

“Of course, chum.”

Harvey runs away from the hospital two days later, and Dick’s card is found scattered across the floor, ripped into tiny pieces.

oOo

Batman tries to find him, make him see sense, but Harvey’s not an easy man to find, not like this. On the third night, he still hasn’t found him. Dick is in the cave when he returns, sitting on Alfred’s lap. Bruce expects Dick to slide off and run toward him, like he normally does, but tonight he’s still.

Bruce walks over and crouches down, runs his fingers through the boy’s hair. “Hi, chum. How are you feeling?”

“Did you find Uncle Harvey?” Dick sounds terrible, and there’s a wheeze in his voice. That’s new.

“Not yet. Soon.” Bruce looks up at Alfred, who’s rubbing circles into Dick’s back. “How is he?”

“His fever has spiked an hour ago and he’s complaining of chest pain. I recommend you take him to see a doctor in the morning, or the emergency room if he gets any worse before then.”

Bruce takes Dick from Alfred and holds him, rocking him slightly. “I’m sorry you’re sick, sweetheart.”

Dick coughs for a long time, and when he stops, he’s wheezing harder than before, head tucked into Bruce’s neck. “I really don’t feel good, B.”

“Can you wait until morning, or do we need to go now?” Bruce asks.

“Now.”

And that’s how Bruce knows this is bad.

oOo

When they finally get Dick to the emergency room, his oxygen is too low and his temperature is too high. The doctors give him fluids, a fever reducer, and something for the pain. They put an oxygen mask over his face and a pulse oximeter on his finger. They take chest x-rays and blood and cultures.

Dick is too passive through it all, and Bruce should have taken him to see a doctor days ago. Harvey would’ve told him to take the kid to a doctor days ago.

They admit Dick to the hospital, and he stays there for three days. Bird flu, they determine. Bruce wonders if he contracted it from a bat in the cave.

He buys Dick a milkshake on the way home, extra whipped cream and extra cherries. It’s not not an apology, but it is at the same time.

Bruce looks for clues on Harvey and the mobster while Dick sleeps against his chest, a heating pad between them to help ease Dick’s chest pain. He wonders if Harvey would blame him for this. Maybe if he hadn’t been Batman, he would’ve taken better care of Dick. Maybe he would’ve spent more time visiting Harvey at the hospital and prevented his escape. At the very least, Batman clearly hadn’t done Harvey any favors when it came to the mobster.

oOo

Five more days pass before Bruce is able to track down Harvey and the mobster. The mobster comes in easily, but Harvey is unwell. Bruce has no choice but to let the police take him to Arkham. The look Harvey sends him is like a dagger to his heart, and the worst part is that Harvey looks lucid as he sends it.

Dick is feeling better now, almost back to normal, but he’s still sleeping in Bruce’s bed. He’s there tonight, as expected, and Bruce tries to be quiet when he climbs in next to the boy. He’s not quiet enough.

“Did you find him?” Dick mumbles, still half asleep as he shifts to curl around Bruce.

Bruce pets his hair. “Yes.”

“Is he okay?”

“No.” Bruce barely recognized the man he calls his best friend, and that will never not haunt him. There is no fixing this. There is no way Harvey can forgive Bruce for all of the ways he’s failed him. “But he will be. They’re taking him to Arkham and he’s going to get the help he needs.”

“Can we visit him?”

“Soon, maybe. If he’s feeling up to it,” Bruce says. But the way Harvey moved, how unhinged he seemed—he doesn’t want Dick anywhere near him, and that sends another dagger through Bruce’s heart.

“Are you sad about Uncle Harvey?” Dick asks.

“Yes.”

Dick buries his forehead into Bruce’s side. “Me too.”

Bruce hugs his child and tries to tell himself that Gotham won’t eat all good people.

#bruce wayne #harvey dent #dick grayson #batman #two-face #nightwing #elizabeth writes

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dailydccomics · 2 years

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Behold!

A panel for the ages!!

A wonder of the known universe that kings have sat and pondered!!!

Guy Gardner being a literal ass. Also, I like how Batman's only response to this is "Hnn." Eloquent as always lol!

Anyways, have a nice day ^_^

ON EASTER SUNDAY???????

#therearenomorevalidblognames #asks #guy gardner #thanks 💀#happy sunday!

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wonderlandleighleigh · 3 years

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Then and Now Pt 1

Happy holidays, all! Here’s some holiday cheer, batfamily style.

For @tajmah

Then

The grounds of Wayne manor are covered in more snow than Bruce Wayne has ever seen in his entire six-year-old life. It blankets everything, and there isn’t an end in sight.

When he clicks on the little radio by his bedside, the DJ on WGCR is gabbing away.

“-Believe all this snow! It’s like the end of the world out there, folks. Stay safe. Stay home. Have a happy holiday.”

Bruce lights up as he peers at his calendar. A week to Christmas, and Hanukkah already in full swing.

The tap on his bedroom door makes him turn around, finding his father standing there, looking amused. “Pretty wild, huh, Champ?” Tommy asks, amused.

“It’s so much snow!” Bruce cries.

“Yeah,” Tommy chuckles. “It’s a good thing I already had the week off.” He reaches out for his son, nodding towards the door. “C’mon. Alfred’s got a mountain of pancakes waiting for us and your mother is reassuring all of her friends that it’s not a big deal if they cancel all of their party plans.”

Bruce can’t help a grin; he hates those parties.

When they get down to the kitchen, Tommy steps over to Martha - who is still on the phone - and kisses her cheek lightly before settling down next to Bruce on a stool at the island.

“I know it’s disappointing, Mitsy,” Martha says, winking at Bruce. “But clearly God wanted us all to stay home this year. We can still donate to the children’s hospital, after all. We’ll just be doing it in our house slippers.”

Bruce grins to himself as his mother says goodbye and hangs up, pretending to faint against the wall, the back of her perfectly manicured hand against her forehead.

“Oy!” she cries jokingly. “What will we ever do without a fancy charity Christmas party? How can we donate to charity without the incentive of booze and gossip?”

“I see the cancelations are going well,” Tommy jokes.

“I thought Angela Gastire was going to have a nervous breakdown,” Martha tells them as she sits on Bruce’s other side, reaching out to neaten his hair. “Apparently, the Christmas Eve gala’s cancelation is, and I quote: ‘The worst thing that has ever happened.’”

Tommy gives her a pained expression. “Please tell me you didn’t bring up the Holocaust.”

“I did not,” Martha smiles sweetly. “Just for you, I held my tongue.”

Bruce giggles and his mother winks at him again.

“What do you say, Boychick. It’s just gonna be us for the holidays. That okay?” she asks.

He nods eagerly as Alfred sets a large stack of pancakes in front of him, and the snow keeps piling up outside.

*****

Now

The snow is so thick, he can barely see where he’s going as he swings from one rooftop to the next.

“This is ridiculous, B,” Batgirl’s voice chitters in her comm. “There’s nothing going on. Nobody can even see in this, let alone do crime.”

“She’s right, Boss,” Oracle’s voice chimes in. “There is literally nothing going on. There was an attempted robbery the cops took care of an hour ago, and other than that, zilch.”

“Hnn,” Batman sighs slowly before tapping his comm. “Batman to all operatives: meet at the cave for debrief.”

A chorus of relieved groans sound off, and he can’t help his lips from twitching into a slight grin.

On the way back to the cave, he pulls up WGCR. “-Worst snowstorm Gotham’s seen in nearly 35 years! Stay safe, everybody.”

When he gets back to the cave, everyone is gathered around, warming up, as Alfred distributes cups of hot coffee.

“So that was a little pointless, huh?” Dick asks, grinning.

“You said it,” Jason complains. “It is too damn cold out there.”

“It’s good that we got a patrol in,” Bruce tells them as he settles into the chair in front of the batcomputer. “We may not get to go again until the snow lets up. And no one is sure when that will be.”

“So what do we do til then?” Duke asks.

“Well, it is the holidays,” Bruce says, sitting back. “And it’s been quite some time since all of us have spent time together outside of our costumed responsibilities.”

“Tell me you’re dressing up as Santa,” Steph begs jokingly. “Please. Please tell me.”

“Father would never do something so deeply undignified!” Damian cries. “And we do not need the holidays.”

“Sure we do,” Tim says. “I know I could use a break. And I would not say no to Alfred’s chocolate peppermint cake roll.”

“I’m sorry, did you say chocolate peppermint cake roll?” Harper perks up.

“I suppose I could dust off that old recipe,” Alfred beams.

“Are we really falling for all of his holly jolly bullshit?” Jason asks, a little bewildered.

“Heck yeah, we are,” Barbara chimes in, shifting her wheelchair over smoothly. “I even left a sourdough starter here that we can use for fresh bread!”

Bruce grins to himself, and sits back as everyone chatters around him.

#batfamily #bruce wayne #thomas wayne #martha wayne #dick grayson #barbara gordon #tim drake #jason todd #harper row #stephanie brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #cassandra cain #fic #au

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