I want overflowing inspiration and I want to get back into making art and I want to feel better and I want to become someone I like and am proud of and I want I want I want
I love the idea of Lex parenting Kon because he strikes me as the worldās worst helicopter mom but also in the sense that everything they do is a direct way to say āfuck youā to the kidās dad. Lex probably does have some affection for Kon, I mean if you go through all that trouble to obtain Supermanās DNA, probably go through trial and error growing the baby and then hey presto, hereās a living breathing symbol of your love hatred of Superman, you will probably grow attached to the little guy. So imagine if you will, Lex being open to co-parenting with Superman while Kon is growing up rather than sending Kon against him straight away.
Lex meeting Superman on top of Lex Corp with a diaper bag and Kon sat on his hip. āYouāre late.ā To which Superman reminds him that he was late because one of Lexās schemes. Lex hands over Kon, asking where the car seat is and Superman just sighs and says that heās going to fly him home which has Lex hitting the roof over safety.
Kon getting very sick as a kid and Lex calling Superman to get his ass over to Lex Corp and Superman arrives, hearing Lexās anxieties that Kon is dying because of all those vaccines that Superman insisted he get inky for Superman to ask whether Lex had been handling any Kyrptonite recently? Yup, Kon has Kryptonite poisoning. He just needs to bask in a yellow sun for a while. Lex flies off the handle becuase HOW DARE SUPERMAN CALL HIM A BAD FATHER WHEN HEāS LITERALLY NEVER AROUND?
Lex interrupting one of their fights to ask Superman where Kon is staying while heās got his spandexed ass flying at his drones? āI bet you heās with that hussy Clark Kent. Yes, Superman, I know youāve been sleeping with him. All those exclusives? Please, do you think I was born yesterday?ā
āKon tells me that you said he didnāt have to eat the strained peaches I packed for him? I know your alien ass is probably allegric to normal Earth fruit but my son-ā Lex leans down to listen to his assistant who has a report that Kon is in fact allergic to peaces and it runs in Lexās family.
Lex yelling at Superman to talk to their son about all of this punk nonsense and this music all the while plummelling him in a droid suit.
Lex reminding Superman that they have a parent teacher conference with Konās school and they both canāt be there via videochat. Lex is incensed when Clark Kent shows up to the meeting in person as Superman could not.
Lex asking Kon about Supermanās love life. āI just want to know what trollops he has around my son.ā
Lex being āsupportiveā when Kon comes out and announces heās dating Red Robin only to drunk call Superman and yell at him for making their son gay with all his liberalness and making him hang around with the Bats. āI mean, the way you stare at the Bat, of course he thinks itās alright!ā
Lex getting a little broody when Kon finally leaves the nest (denounces his fatherās plans for him to kill his other dad) and heās thinking that yes, while the plan to use Kon to kill Superman is a bust, he had sort of the right thinking just the wrong execution. He starts eyeing up Batman and those child bearing hips of his.
Gotham was not a city known for its kindness. Rain slicked the alleyways like a second skin, and shadows crept where sunlight dared not linger. Alfred Pennyworth had seen a great many things in this city. Muggers, monsters, and masked madmen were just part of the nightly routine. What he hadn't expected, however, was to be saved by a ghost.
Or something very much like one.
It was supposed to be a quick errandāa quiet evening walk to clear his head. But halfway down Burnside, three desperate men with more bravado than brains cornered him. Alfred had been ready to disarm the first and disable the second, but he never got the chance. A blur of white and black swooped in, accompanied by the distant, bone-deep hum of unnatural power. The muggers were down in secondsāone frozen to the wall, another knocked out cold, and the third suspended midair by a glowing hand that flickered green.
The boy was there and gone just as fast. Alfred barely had time to register the tattered hoodie, the hollow cheeks, the white hair and green eyes that didnāt seem quite human.
"Waitā!" Alfred had called, but the boy was already gone, melting into the shadows like smoke.
The encounter wouldāve ended thereājust another strange chapter in Gothamās nightbookāif it hadnāt kept happening.
Twice more, the mysterious young man appeared. Once to stop a purse snatcher near the theater. Another time to drag a lost child out of a crumbling building during a fire. Always fast, always silent. Always gone before Alfred could properly speak to him.
And always too thin.
It was the kind of thin that spoke of long nights without food. Hollow cheeks, knobby elbows, a belt cinched too tight around jeans that barely stayed up. It reminded Alfred of the early daysāof Dick, of Jason, of Tim, of Damian. Of boys who had learned to survive instead of live.
Alfred Pennyworth had a rule: no one went hungry on his watch.
And so began his campaign.
At first, it was subtle. A wrapped sandwich left behind after one of the ghost-boyās heroic appearances. A thermos of hot tea left conveniently near a rooftop perch. A backpack, clean and durable, filled with protein bars and fresh socks. Most of it vanished, though Alfred never saw it happen.
Then came the note, scrawled in messy, tired handwriting:
āThanks. You didnāt have to. Iām not sticking around though. Itās safer for you if I donāt.ā
The next day, Alfred left a response tucked in the same spot:
āYou are not a danger, young man. Iāve seen far worse, and fed far worse. If you insist on continuing your streak of rooftop chivalry, I insist you do so on a full stomach.ā
He added a slice of quiche. It was gone by morning.
Bruce raised an eyebrow the first time he caught Alfred baking two loaves of banana bread instead of one. Tim said nothing when the supply order mysteriously included a half dozen extra protein shakes and thermal gloves in medium size. Damian made a snide commentāsomething about stray ghosts haunting the pantryābut Alfred didnāt dignify it with a reply.
Then came the night it changed.
A patrol gone wrong. Batman caught in a collapsing parking garage. The comms went dead. Nightwing was too far. Red Hood was tracking Penguin. The only one nearbyāuntraceable, unregistered, and undeniably powerfulāwas the boy Alfred had been feeding for weeks.
He left the beacon on the rooftop.
āHelp him. Please. āA.P.ā
Within minutes, Bruce stumbled through the Batcave entrance, soot-smudged and breathing, but alive. Behind him, almost hidden in the shadows, was the boy. White hair. Green eyes. Shivering slightly, but still on his feet.
āI didnāt do it for favors,ā the boy said. His voice was hoarse, too young for his haunted face. āI just... couldnāt let him die.ā
āI know,ā Alfred said gently. āWhich is precisely why the offer of dinner still stands.ā
āā¦I shouldnāt.ā But his eyes drifted toward the warm lights of the manor beyond the cave, toward the smell of fresh bread and something sweet baking in the oven.
āNo one escapes me forever, dear boy,ā Alfred said with a small smile. āNot even slippery ghosts.ā
The boy stared at him for a long moment. Then finally, like a candle burning out, he sagged.
āā¦Okay. Just for tonight.ā
āOf course,ā Alfred said, already turning toward the kitchen. āWeāll start with soup.ā
Behind him, the boy whispered a name like an afterthoughtālike something long buried finally being said aloud.
āDanny. My nameās Danny.ā
āWell then, Master Danny,ā Alfred said, with the same fondness he reserved for all his wayward sons, āwelcome home.ā
Unique or well-executed tropes, all platonic edition! Just because I feel like it.
COMPLETED
City Pigeons Bleed Green by PaperPuffin
Danny is Bruce Wayne's clone. He's discovered by the Bats, who promptly adopt him. Lots of angst and trauma, skittish Danny, very sweet. 20/20 chapters
Ghosts, Legacies, and CPS by Ace_of_Roses & Karnia_Queen
Vlad calls CPS on Danny. To avoid being placed into Vlad's custody, he goes to a distant biological relative for help - Tim Drake. This one is literally so good. Lots of identity shenanigans. 6/6 chapters
Grave Promises by Blueseabird2
Dick Grayson was trapped in the Ghost Zone years ago and taught newly-Phantom Danny how to be a vigilante. After a reveal gone wrong, Danny seeks out Dick "years" later for help. 11/11 chapters
Like Facing Off Against C'Thulu, but it's Really Just your Fears by nerdpoe
Emotionally devasating. Dick is vivisected by the Fentons and Danny rescues him. The Bats rescue Danny in turn. One of my all-time favorites that you must read. 4/4 chapters
TWINcognito Mode by nerdpoe
Another one of my absolutely favorites. Nerdpoe, you get me. Danny is Tim Drake's clone, and they decide to be twins (and mess with the rest of the family in the process). 6/6 chapters
The Bat Trap by Threee
The Parent Trap, but with the demon twins who don't know they're twins. This one is such a journey. 33/33 chapters
ACTIVELY IN PROGRESS
Corrupted Respawning by CosmicDustPoltergeist
Another "Danny is Tim's clone" masterpiece. Danny is more of a chill guy than a weapon, so the Batfamily decides to adopt him. 14/?
Baby, I Basked in the Violence by Garden_Haunter
Utterly traumatized post-capture/vivisection baby Danny who finds refuge with the Bats. 17/?
those who serve. by aryelee
Reread this one a dozen times. Alfred adopts homeless Danny instead of Bruce and teaches him to be the family butler. Absolutely stunning. 8/9
sacrificial bat by hollowgast1
Shameless self promo! Nowhere near the level as these others, but hopefully you still like it. Danny is summoned by a cult and forced to overshadow Tim. Angst and identity shenanigans. 6/7
Transference by PoseidonChick13
Nightwing rescues traumatized, tortured Danny. Demon twins AU. So much delicious angst in this. 3/?
I thought you were gone (and you still found me) by TStarOPines
Evil Vlad keeps Danny captive. Dan and Ellie are reverted to cores, which Danny is "incubating." The Bats rescue him. Trigger warning for assumed noncon (there is none). 23/?
I love all the authors and readers that keep this community thriving. If you guys know if any of the authors mentioned here are on tumblr, feel free to tag them or let me know so I can tag them.
Reblog and add your favorite fic recs! It keeps the circle of support going, helps authors out, and gives us all something to read ;) Donāt be afraid to promote your own fics!
Mycella Nightcap
It's getting close to my favorite spooky season and my head is full of art ideas sprouting like mushrooms ahahaha
I'm really excited to go mushroom hunting after my move to Sweden. I actually poisoned myself once because while the mushroom I found was edible, the tree it was growing on was toxic and leached toxins into the mushroom. I vomited three times, 0/10 do not recommend. I'll have be to extra careful when foraging in Sweden!
Hereās my take on Ancient of Space/Ghost King Danny. His wings can be used like shields, with the outsides being pitch black and the inside having actual constellations and stars (from the human realm and Ghost Zone)
Why hands? A. They look pretty awesome and I like to think that he can change the whites of wings to be black and completely blend in with the night sky. Also have an idea for spooky imagery where Danny can manipulate shadows with his wings and the shadows have hands. Dark like spilled ink and when he flies they leave trails.
The wings also act like shields, because the dark outside parts can literally suck anything into them, like a black hole. And when the wings are enclosed around people, itās like they are floating completely in space, with no idea where the wings start or end.
and Lichtenstein figure that branches out from the hand that pressed the button (and has the Ring) and coalesces where his core is on his chest. :3
Thatās all from me folks
OH WAITā
I was playing around with light, so, I dunno, hereās this. Also could someone maybe tell me how to get better image quality on tumblr? These are png.s soā¦ I donāt knowā¦
And hereās normal version without spooky ghost powers (if not counting the wings) Eldritch creature Danny is a yes in my book
The fun thing is he would understand why people were getting him outfits with storks on them. Thatās a word, itās his name, straightforward. All the humans get him the same gag gift, but like, theyāre putting effort in at least. This is a genuinely nice outfit. Stork will be a walking zero-effort pun sometimes, rather than waste a perfectly fine robe.
Itās fine. This is a readily comprehensible human illogic. Exactly the kind of thing he expected from moving to Earth.
Six years in he finds out about the stork bringing babies.
Stork has a good long meditation session about this myth, his name, his job, the outfits, the whole shebang (or whatever Vulcan concept is the equivalent).
And he decides heās honored by it, in a humanly illogical way.
The humans are asking him to do what is after all his job, and specifically requesting him for the joy his name brings them on top of an already agreeable and satisfying task. He has no objection to engendering positive emotions in others. Harm hastens the heat-death of the universe, Surak teaches, so happiness must logically slow it down.Ā
Plus, Vulcans of his generation loveĀ puns. There were two decades of punning competitions in colleges across the planet. So when he realizes that he isĀ a walking zero-effort pun, and that the humans alsoĀ love the pun, he is all for it. He is the Joe Cool of the entire Vulcan population in his city.Ā
And via this pun, the humans are including him in a cherished and traditional myth, by casting him as the literal bringer of life and the expander of families.Ā
Thereās no downside. Stork wears his robes, pins, keychains, and other bird-related tchotchkes with genuine pride.Ā
For real though working together with some human social workers, a Vulcan would be an excellent caretaker for children in an adoption center.
Child has a meltdown? Imagine Stork, perfectly calm and unbothered, approaching the kid and sayingĀ āYou appear quite upset, Eliza. If you would please allow me to relocate you to theĀ ābean-bag-chair,ā we can discuss the source of your distress.ā
A Vulcan educated in medicine and child psychology would be endlessly patient with a kid with behavioral issues. Stork wouldnāt get or upset or frustrated. After all, these are children with medical and psychological conditions. It would be illogical to blame the child or to not treat them with the appropriate care.
Even if the a little one was having a bad day or was just overtired, Stork wouldnāt get angry. He might even be a calming presence. Any new kids acting out would learn real quick that theyād have better luck trying to arm-wrestle a Klingon than get a rise out of Stork.
Not only that, Vulcans live much longer than humans. Imagine Stork looking virtually unchanged as decades pass. Kids heād helped years ago would turn up fully grown, maybe there to adopt their own kids, and run into Stork, looking almost exactly as they remember him.
And heād probably remember them too. āWelcome back, Eliza.ā
WIP excerpt for Marina behind the cut; ālove is being stupid togetherā.
((Ā chronoĀ ||Ā non-chronoĀ ))
"What is that even supposed to mean, you sanctimonious idiot?" Lex asks in exasperation. He's heard Hallmark movies sound less ridiculous and schmaltzy and generic. Typically he wouldn't watch one of those under torture, but unfortunately last week Lennox had learned about the existence of Christmas via channel-surfing his way into the middle of a Hallmark Channel "Christmas in July" 24-hour movie marathon and Lex had not known peace for the full thirteen and a half hours until the damn thing had ended. Especially he had not known peace during lunch and dinner, when Superman had spent the duration of both meals floating outside his penthouse window.
Lex still does not know peace, frankly, because now he only has until December to figure out how the hell people do holidays, of all things.
Ugh.
At least Lennox hasn't asked to invite Superman.
. . . yet.
Relatedly, the Hallmark Channel is blocked now.
Maybe he can convince Lennox that Judaism is more his speed. Hanukkah involves fire, doesn't it? Children appreciate fire, Lex assumes. He wouldn't have had to listen to so many inane "don't play with matches!" public service announcements as a child himself, if they didn't.
"It means I want Kon to have things because I want him to have them," Superman says, which unfortunately reminds Lex that the man exists and has opinions, and unfortunately Lex has made the mistake of asking him about said opinions, like a damn idiot. Again: ugh. "I want him to know he deserves them without having to demand them. That they're his right whether he's arbitrarily āearnedā them or not."
Lexāpauses, momentarily, because . . .
What the hell does that mean?
What the hell does that mean from Superman, of all people?
Well, the sanctimonious prick did show up with god-alien superpowers and his whole ridiculous immature spiel about the inherent value of sapient life that no sane and rational adult actually believes. Lex wouldn't have bought that nonsense when he was Lennox's chronological age, for hell's sake, but unfortunately the general population loves to be charismatically lied to in ways besides the ones that are best for his profit margins.
It's very ironic that such a large percentage of his business model is the exact same reason he has to put up with Superman, actually. Annoyingly, infuriatingly ironic.
"No one gets anything in life without earning it, Boy Scout," he says irritably. "Except for you, of course, as the resident invasive species."
"Kon has powers too," Superman says. "Doesn't he?"
"What?" Lex says, then glowers at him, insulted by the insinuation. "Obviously, yes. You think I cloned you incompetently? I actually upgraded him, in fact."
"I think you gave him powers," Superman says. "And you didn't make him earn them."
Lex glowers at him.
"He cost eight point two billion dollars to make," he says flatly. "I earned them, through sweat and equity and very literal blood. And also DNA samples."
"And then you gave them to him," Superman says, just barely tilting his head.
Jason had just arrived back into Gotham after he left the League of Assassins. He's ready to start his plans to get revenge on Bruce.
And then he hears a baby crying in an alleyway in Crime Alley. He initially went to the alleyway to bring the baby to a place that would take care of them. But as soon as he set eyes on the baby in the partially closed box in the alleyway, something in him had slightly changed.
At first, Jason kept the baby in his most secure safe house, not trusting anyone. Even his own loyal lieutenants weren't trusted enough to look after the baby boy he found in that alleyway.
Time went on, and the Red Hood gang was growing, but Red Hood himself wasn't as violent as when he first arrived. He even rethought his plan to attack Robin in Titans Tower and decided against it.
Now, Jason is on top of the GCPD building, waiting by the lit bat signal for Batman to come, as he's about to reveal not only his identity to Bruce, but that Bruce is a grandfather now.
Elsewhere, the Ghost of Time watches his reborn King live another life. His King had lost everything, and to prevent the collapse of the Timelines, his King had to be reborn, but this time, the Ghost of Time would alter the fates of others as well by placing his King near Red Hoods beginning years as a crime lord.
Mercy had been his King's decree. A second chance for one who had suffered and caused suffering in turn. Clockwork had Seen and would see it done. And if he just so happened to pick the timeline that would benefit most from the calamity turned infant he now gently tucked a blanket around, that was simply efficiency on his part.
Jason was struggling to zip up his overstuffed duffle bag, a headless corpse cooling at his feet, when he heard it. The unmistakable wail of an unhappy child split the otherwise silent night air like a siren. Considering Jason was currently alone in a dockside warehouse at four o'clock in the morning, the sound was as out of place as a bat in the ocean.
It put Jason immediately on edge, his hand on his gun as he looked around for the source; not wary of the crying child so much as their caretaker. His search brought him to the grungy, frigid alley behind the warehouse and a singularly baffling sight.
There was a baby in a box.
Perhaps a year old, face screwed up beneath dark locks, their little arms struggling valiantly against the blanket they'd been wrapped in. Jason scanned his surroundings, but the alley remained steadfastly empty save for its single noisy occupant. Considering Jason had chosen this spot in particular for his recent activities because it was one of the most deserted parts of Gotham he could find, the situation became nauseatingly clear; someone had abandoned this baby to die alone in the cold.
Jason's body moved without conscious thought. No sooner had he reached his conclusion, the baby was up and in his arms, their icy face pressed against Jason's neck, instinctively seeking the warmth. Jason found himself crooning soothing nonsense as he rubbed his gloved hands over the baby's back, trying to warm them up as much as he could. The wailing tapered off to miserable whimpers.
Now Jason was standing in an alley holding a baby. No parents in sight, not that Jason would actually give them back the baby they abandoned to die. There were a handful of institutions Jason could drop them off at, but knowing what he did about Gotham's abysmal foster care system made him hesitant.
A tiny hand fisted in the collar of his shirt. He looked down at the baby in his arms, their tiny face screwed up and red from crying, the name Dante stitched along the edge of the blanket that had been the only thing between him and the freezing night air for who knows how long. Jason decided to put the long-term on the back burner and focus on making sure the poor kid actually survived his bout of exposure.
The first aid kit in his car had a triangle bandage that made a serviceable baby sling, allowing him to strap the kid to his chest and leave his hands free. He ended up removing his chest armour and half closing his jacket over the sling to provide as much warmth as possible.
His first stop was the nearest 24 hour convenience store. To the clerk's credit, her response to the heavily armed, helmeted man buying formula and diapers for the baby strapped to his chest at 4am was to blink and then ask if he wanted baby bottles too.
Jason made it all the way back to his safehouse and had the baby boy freshly diapered and suckling away at some formula before he remembered he'd left his duffle bag full of heads back at the warehouse.
"Fuck." He glared softly down at the bundle in his arms. Dante stared back with guileless blue eyes. "Do you have any idea how many of my plans you just torpedoed, you little shit?"
Dante just continued to suckle away obliviously. Jason could feel his scowl melting away into a soft smile.
"You're lucky you're adorable."
In the scramble to both get together more than the barest essentials for a baby and rearrange all his grand plans now that the dramatic duffle bag revel was off the table, Jason would claim that he simply hadn't had the time to find a suitable long-term home for Dante. The truth was that whenever the thought crossed his mind to make such a plan, the idea of handing the kid over filled him with such visceral upset that he immediately found something to do to take his mind off it.
Without his grand entrance onto Gotham's criminal stage, Jason decided to go a more subtle route. He used the rumour mill to his advantage, so it was supposed but never proven that Red Hood was responsible for the heads found by the GCPD. He was less showy and more shadowy than previously planned, making problems disappear but allowing whispers of his involvement to permeate.
It was enough to build up the reputation he wanted, but also painted less of a target on his back, which eased some of his worries over Dante. Before he'd found and strenuously vetted some trustworthy babysitters, he'd had no choice but to bring the kid along on a handful of meetings. Nothing too dangerous, just meetings with potential recruits or informants, but more people than he'd like now knew that the up and coming crime lord had a baby in his care.
Bizarrely, showing up to meet recruits with a baby babbling in his arms actually seemed to help his recruitment drive. Crime Alley had seen plenty of thugs come along trying to carve up a slice of the pie for themselves through violence and intimidation, but baby Dante's presence painted Red Hood as a father willing to do whatever it took to make the Alley better for his kid. It gave him an understandable motive for both his altruism and his violent response to any threat to the Alley. It made him a more trustworthy employer than most of the other less than legal options, and as a result, quite a few people were willing to jump ship to join him.
He may have lost some intimidation points against the big players, but he had the Alley's trust, and that was worth more in the long run. His overall plans and goals still remained the same, were still achievable, even if he'd had to adjust his methods.
Well, until the moment Jason finally realized he'd stumbled his way into fatherhood, and all the consequences that came with it.
It happened on one inauspicious Tuesday evening as Jason put Dante down to bed.
"Night-night, Dan-dan," he murmured, pressing a kiss into his sleeping baby's soft hair, "'love you, kiddo."
The words slipped out thoughtlessly, and Jason couldn't deny that they were one hundred percent true. He went through the rest of the routine mechanically, tucking in the blankets and checking the baby monitor was functional before leaving the room in a haze and planting himself on the couch before his knees gave out.
"I'm a fucking dad."
Jason had a baby. He was barely out of childhood himself and he had a baby, a tiny human that was entirely reliant on him and so achingly vulnerable.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
Jason had a baby and he'd been planning on kicking a Black Mask-shaped hornet's nest until the Joker fell out. What the fuck was wrong with him? All it would take was the littlest thing to go wrong and Black Mask would be gunning for him and his baby, potentially with his worst fucking nightmare in tow. Jason wanted to smack himself for being so stupid, for almost putting Dante in that kind of danger.
The very idea of the Joker existing anywhere near Dante made Jason almost blind with rage. In that moment, the shattered pieces of all his plans rearranged in his mind into a crystal clear picture and he knew what he had to do.
Batman might not be willing to kill for his son, but Red Hood sure as fuck was.
Of all the things Tim might have imagined happening when he eventually ran into the illusive Red Hood, being handed a toddler wasn't one of them.
"Protect him with your life, Replacement!"
Because of course the gang Tim had been tracking had decided to try and ambush Red Hood. And of course Hood happened to have his kid on him when they jumped him. So of course Tim dived in without hesitation, not willing to risk the kid getting hurt. Only for his efforts to be immediately hindered by Hood shoving the kid into Tim's arms so his own were free to take down his attackers with extreme prejudice.
"Wahbah!" Was shrieked gleefully into his ear, sticky little fingers doing their best to try and grab his domino as Tim moved the kid to one arm so he could wield his Bo staff one handed. He backed away from the fight until he could safely trade his staff for his grapple and zipped up to the nearest roof, a toddler's giddy giggles in his ear the whole way up.
"Fwy! Fwy!" the little tyke demanded excitedly once they were safely on the roof, a big grin on his adorable face.
"Sorry, Baby Hood, pretty sure your dad'd kill me if I swung off with you."
Tim peered over the side of the roof as he answered. Hood had already swiftly disarmed all of his assailants when the ambush started, but with his kid out of the firing line he was really letting loose. Tim put a hand over the kid's eyes, much to his annoyance, and stepped back from the edge. Kid didn't need to see that, and Tim wasn't particularly inclined to argue for mercy for the kind of people who'd threaten a kid to get at their parent.
"Wahbin." Baby Hood's little hands were now digging into the R emblem on Tim's chest, trying to pry it off for a closer look.
"That's right, I'm Robin." Tim couldn't help but smile down at the kid. He really was too cute, with his big blue eyes, tousled black hair and chubby cheeks, all wrapped up warm in a tiny red hoodie.
"Wahbin fwy?" The kid asked again hopefully, making Tim chuckle.
"Sorry Baby Hood, this Robin is grounded 'til your dad is done down there. You, on the other handā¦"
Tim gripped the kid tight, held him a little out from his body and spun in a quick circle. He was rewarded with a squeal of delight. At the kid's insistence, he kept spinning, giggling along with his young charge.
"He's gonna puke if you keep that up."
Tim stubbornly tamped down on the startle reflex the unexpected voice invoked. Baby Hood wasn't pleased that he'd stopped spinning, but Tim refused to shift his focus back to his charge no matter his pouting and whining.
Red Hood was something of an unknown. He was a crime lord, yet his ultimate goals seemed largely altruistic, if mostly focused on Crime Alley. His file in the batcomputer essentially stated he was considered the lesser of two evils and only to be engaged if he posed an active threat. That said, the file itself was sparse beyond his gang's activities; very little was actually known about him, and even Baby Hood's existence had just been a rumour until Tim had seen him with his own eyes.
"You gonna give him back, Replacement?" The tone was going for light, but Tim could hear the threat beneath it plain as day.
"I dunno, he's pretty cute," he replied, booping the kid on the nose to make him giggle, "we could put him in a tiny Robin outfit and make him our masco-"
"Over my dead body!"
Tim was taken back by the vehemence in Hood's response and he hastily handed the kid back when it looked like Hood was about to snatch him back regardless. Baby Hood seemed entirely unaware of the tension, just happily snuggling up to his dad.
"I was just kidding!" he assured him, hands out like he was calming a wild animal, "I'd never actually, like, steal your kid."
"Threaten him again and I'll make what happened to the last Robin look like mercy."
Tim bristled a little at that. Jason and his fate were something of a touchy subject amongst the Gotham vigilantes and to hear it referred to so flippantly felt like a slap in the face. Tim might not have known the guy personally, but he'd spent the last two years trying to live up to his legacy.
"I get that you're pissed," he snapped back, "but don't joke about what happened to Robin. He died trying to protect people and he deserves a little respect."
Red Hood went very still.
"Respect? Is that what you call putting on a dead kid's uniform before he's even cold?"
Tim scowled.
"I call it trying to honour his legacy, actually," he answered firmly, "but respect works too."
Hood seemed somewhat taken back by his answer.
"You think that's really worth risking your life?"
The question sounded honestly curious, though it was hard to tell with Hood's entire face obscured. Tim wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten from protecting a kid to defending his decision to take up vigilantism. There were a lot of reasons, most of them intertwined, and none of which he owed to this random gang leader.
"Gotham is worth it," Tim decided on, chin lifted, daring Hood to judge him.
Hood shook his head sadly. "And they say you're the smart one. Word of advice? Get out while you can. You are too young and too smart to die as just another soldier in Batman's war. Sooner or later, someone's gonna come along and clip your wings."
Tim scoffed. "I don't do this for Batman. This is my home, Hood. You, of all people, should know that in Gotham, I'm in just as much danger out of this suit as I am in it. So if I can do something to make it better, I will. Baby Hood and all the other kids in this city deserve for someone to at least try. It's what Batman does, it's what Robin did, it's what I'm gonna do and none of your ominous warnings are gonna stop me."
Silence followed Tim's rebuttal, broken only by soft baby babble from Baby Hood. If Tim had to guess, Red Hood seemed pensive. Or maybe he just hoped that Hood was actually listening to what he had to say.
"...did you just call my kid Baby Hood?"
"I don't know his name! You didn't exactly stop for introductions when you threw him at me!"
A sound Tim assumed was a chuckle crackled through Hood's helmet. He pulled up the hood on Baby Hood's hoodie, only for the toddler to shout 'no!' and yank it back down with an adorable scowl.
"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna stick." He looked back at Tim. "You're stubborn, Replacement, I'll give you that. I appreciate you watching the kid, but stay the fuck out of Crime Alley-"
"Language."
"-from now on. You wanna throw yourself to the lions, fine, but not on my turf."
Tim frowned. "But what if I have a case that brings me here?"
"Then you don't have a case. Look, cape or not, you're a kid, and on my turf, no one fucks with kids. You start sticking your nose around the Alley, people are gonna retaliate, and then I'm gonna have to hand out a buncha' bullets. You want those lives on your head?"
"What? That's fucked up to put that on me!"
"Then stay out of Crime Alley. This is your one warning." Apparently done with Tim, Red Hood turned and approached the edge of the roof. "Oh, and if you try and track us? I'll clip your wings myself."
With that, he grappled away, Baby Hood's joyous squeal echoing behind him. Normally, Tim might have tried to tail him, but he wasn't willing to test the veracity of Hood's threat. Instead, he sighed and headed towards where he parked his bike, intending to return to the cave.
He had a few things to add to Hood's file.
Jason pulled Dan away from the light for the fifth time in three minutes. The kid was apparently determined to try and climb it, but Jason knew from first hand experience just how hot that thing could get. At least trying to distract Dan away from the light was helping to distract Jason from what he was here to do.
The replacement's words had been rattling around his head ever since their unexpected run-in.
Tim Drake had been far from the obedient little soldier Jason had expected. He'd actually scoffed at the idea that anything he did was for Batman, and in the next breath had Jason beginning to question some of his own motives.
Jason had personally seen to it that the Joker was dead. His crew had successfully claimed the entirety of Park Row as well as most of it's bordering neighbourhoods. His last operation had wiped Black Mask off the board entirely. Jason was actually, tangibly, succeeding in making Crime Alley a better place.
So why was he fighting the guy trying to do the same thing for all of Gotham?
Jason didn't agree with Bruce's methods and Bruce almost definitely wouldn't agree with his. But the end goal was the same and they were both trying in the ways they thought were best.
Baby Hood and all the other kids in this city deserve for someone to at least try.
Jason could acknowledge that Bruce tried. In many ways, Gotham was only in as good of a shape as it was because of Bruce, both in and out of the cape. He wasn't perfect, and he fucked up, but he tried; to be a hero, to be a leader, to be a parent.
Having Dan had given Jason a whole new perspective on what it meant to be a parent. He thought he had known fear inside and out, but with Dan, fear became a near constant companion. His son's safety had become a priority beyond everything else, including his own. With that new perspective, Jason realized something that he'd never understood before;
Bruce had been terrified.
So many of his less than happy memories of Bruce made so much more sense. So many times Jason had thought Bruce had been angry at him when he had actually been scared for him. Had he handled that fear well? No. But if Jason was honest with himself, he wasn't entirely certain he would have handled the same situation much better.
Jason's new insight into Bruce's motivations had taken much of the heat out of his anger. He hadn't exactly forgiven Bruce; the very idea that the Joker might one day threaten Dan had been enough to get Jason to put him down himself, after all. But he was willing to try, at least, to work with him. To maybe rebuild something of what they'd had before the Joker ripped Jason away. He was willing to give Bruce the chance to try and make it up to him.
The chance to try and be a grandfather.
"Badman!"
"That's right, little man! Good spotting!" Jason did not acknowledge the shadowy figure he now knew was behind him.
"Hiya, Baby Hood!"
"Wahbin!" Dan squealed, toddling over as fast as his little leg's would let him to latch around Robin's leg like a koala. "Wahbin fwy?"
Robin chuckled and obliged, hefting the kid up and swinging him around to his absolute delight.
Batman had tracked Dan's path towards Robin and clearly deemed him not a threat, remaining stoically staring Jason down.
"Red Hood."
"Batman," Jason mimicked.
"The bat signal is for emergencies only."
"I remember."
Slightest twitch in the jaw. He'd picked up on Jason's choice of words.
"You killed Black Mask."
"You have proof that Black Mask is dead?"
Batman's lips pressed together in frustration. That was a no, then.
"What do you want, Hood?"
Jason kept his posture deliberately lax in an effort to keep his riot of nerves from showing.
"I've cleaned up Crime Alley enough that it's no longer a threat to me or mine, so I figured the time had come to share some information you might be interested in."
"What makes you think I'd be interested in anything you have to say?"
"Well, I was pretty sure you might like to know you're a grandfather, at least."
Batman stood completely frozen. Robin also stopped abruptly to stare at Jason in surprise, much to Dan's annoyance.
"Fwy, Wahbin, fwy!"
Batman's head snapped to the side, studying every one of Dan's features. Robin did the same, blinking down at the kid in his arms as though if he blinked enough, the whole situation would make more sense. Jason chose their moment of distraction to slip off his helmet, vehemently ignoring the shake in his fingers.
Batman's head turned back to him, all his previous stoicism completely dropped in favour of gaping at his previously dead son.
Jason was alive and eyeing him nervously from the other side of the bat signal.
Jason was alive and had a son of his own.
Bruce was forcibly reminded of this fact by Tim dumping the kid into his arms. Instinct kicked in even if Bruce's brain hadn't and he carefully cradled the boy, making sure to avoid the sharper parts of his armour.
"Hello," he said dumbly, at a complete loss.
"Badman," the child answered happily.
Big, blue eyes stared up at him. Bruce stared back, drinking in every feature of his cherubic face. Curious little fingers pressed at the edge of his cowl, feeling the material and clearly trying to reach one of the ears. At the back of his mind, Bruce knew he should be asking questions; how was Jason alive? Where had he been? Who was his baby's mother? Was it really even Jason?
"What's his name?" was what came out instead.
"Dante Alfred Todd." Jason (was it really his Jason, whole and alive?) eyed him warily, poised to grab his baby back if Bruce proved to be a threat. "He prefers Dan, though. Made that clear the minute he mastered the N sound."
Bruce's vision blurred. Jason had named his little boy after Alfred. Bruce's heart felt like it didn't fit in his chest anymore, so overwhelmed by everything he was feeling in the moment. Jason was alive and he had a beautiful baby and he was the Red Hood. So much of who Bruce was at his core revolved around constant preparation and planning for every possible scenario, but this had completely blindsided him. He knew he should be doing something, but all he could manage was looking down in wonder at his grandson, who was apparently determined to inspect every nook of his cowl with his hands.
A rough sound bubbled up out of his chest. It could have been a chuckle or it could have been a sob, Bruce couldn't have said either way.
"I think Baby Hood broke him."
"It, uh, does kinda look that way."
"Oh God. I just realized I defended you to you!"
"If it makes you feel any better, if you hadn't, I might've kicked your ass."
"You mean you would've tried."
"Bold fucking words, Replacement. You wanna try me?"
"Language." Bruce startled himself with the reflexive reprimand just as much as them. "Little ears." He added pointedly when Jason gave him a particularly incredulous look.
Jason rolled his eyes. "We live in Crime Alley, he's heard wors-"
Little fingers that had been pressed against the edge of his cowl near his jawline abruptly slid through Bruce's cheek, molars and gums to painfully jab the base of his tongue. Bruce reared his head back in surprise and Dan seemed to be just as startled by his hand going through Bruce's face because he immediately burst into tears.
"It's okay, little man, you're okay, I gotcha," Jason soothed as he swiftly swooped in to scoop up his son and comfort him. "You won't fall, I promise, Daddy's gotcha."
Dan's wailing eased to unhappy whimpers that he pressed into Jason's shirt. Jason eventually looked up from his son, his mouth pressed into a grim line.
"He's a metahuman," Tim stated the obvious.
"Maybe," Jason hedged, looking at Bruce, "I figured you'd wanna do every test under the sun to make sure I'm, y'know, me. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and figure his deal out too while we're at it."
Bruce finally got a handle on his composure.
"Does he do that often?"
"A few times. Walked right out of his clothes, stumbled through a wall." Jason held his boy a little tighter. "Never through a person though."
Bruce nodded, several plans and possibilities already running through his head. "Concerning. I'll reach out to J'onn, see if he has any suggestions to help him adjust to his intangibility so young, as well as martian baby-proofing techniques. In the meantimeā¦" Bruce hesitated and was saddened to see Jason flinch like he was bracing for a blow. So he swallowed his uncertainty and forged on. "...perhaps you might consider moving to a residence where he isn't at risk of stumbling into the street. The manor has plenty of space, and he can run around the gardens without risk."
Jason seemed honestly shocked by the suggestion.
"Youā¦want us to go back to the manor? Just like that? Don't you wanna run tests? Interrogate me? Hell, yell at me for becoming a criminal?"
"Iā¦do want to run some tests," Bruce admitted, "and there's a lot we need to talk about. But Dan's safety is more important."
Jason's eyes narrowed. "He's safe with me," he hissed, "I swear, if you try and take him away from me I'll destroy everything you've ever touched and disappear somewhere not even Superman can find us."
The very idea made Bruce's heart clench in panic.
"I don't want to take him from you, I want you both to come home."
That truly was all Bruce wanted and he would beg if he had to. Jason assessed him for a long moment, his face blank.
"Even though I'm the Red Hood?"
"Yes."
"Even though I've killed people?"
It broke Bruce's heart to know his little boy had become a killer. That not even death had saved him from that fate.
"Yes."
Jason stared at him for a long moment while Bruce prayed that he believed him. Finally, he nodded.
"Fine. But only 'cause it'll be safer for Dan. And I trust Alfred to watch him while weā¦talk."
The way Jason said talk suggested he dreaded it like the gallows, but Bruce couldn't focus on that. His little boy was finally coming home and bringing his baby with him.
Dick came home from patrol bone-tired and ready to just collapse into bed for the next four hours. Getting out of his suit felt like it took monumental effort and Dick didn't even bother finding pajamas, just crawling under his blankets in his underwear. His head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes in bliss, ready for sweet oblivion.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Dick wanted to ignore it. He really did. But absolutely no one he knew would text him at 4am unless it was literally life or death. So, with an aggrieved sigh, Dick picked up his phone and checked the message.
And blinked hard, because that didn't make any sense.
When the picture Tim had sent didn't change no matter how many times he blinked, Dick sat up and turned on a light just to double check.
Yep, that was still Tim with a smug grin holding a sleeping toddler. There was still an intense looking conversation going on in the background between Bruce and someone who looked painfully like a grownup Jason. The caption still read 'already the favorite uncle'.
What?
What the fuck?
Dick stumbled out of bed, fumbling for the nearest pair of pants as he hit the call icon.
"Hey, Dick," Tim answered, voice amused. The was the muffled sounds of an argument behind him.
"What the fuck?" Dick demanded eloquently. His evil little brother simply cackled at his confusion.
"Dude, just come to the manor. Jason might actually be done yelling at Bruce by the time you get here. Can't promise Dan'll be awake though; kid sleeps like the dead. You'll probably have to wait til morning to officially meet him."
"It's really Jason?" Dick had to ask, voice achingly hopefully.
"Yeah, it's him. We did every test Bruce could think of. He's really back, Dick."
Dick's knees almost gave out from underneath him. Little Wing was alive, somehow. The little brother he'd failed was back and Dick would finally get the second chance that had always been an impossible dream.
"Ok," Dick murmured, more to himself than Tim, "ok, I'm on my way."
Dick probably broke every single traffic law ever written on his way to the manor, but he honestly didn't remember a single second of the drive. All he could say for certain was he hung up on Tim and the next thing he knew he was sprinting into the manor.
"Your shirt is backwards," was the first thing Tim said when Dick tracked him to the living room he'd taken the photo in. Bruce and, apparently, Jason, must have taken their argument somewhere else. He was curled up on the couch under a blanket with his tablet, a tray of toddler friendly snacks within arms reach that was most likely Alfred's doing.
"Don't care, explain," Dick demanded, parking himself next to Tim and his charge.
"So this is Dan," he introduced lightly, a smug grin growing on his face," full name Dante Alfred Todd."
"He named him after Alfred? That's so sweet!"
"Yeah, you should've seen it; I don't think I've ever seen Alfred actually choked up before."
Dick stared down at the little cherub drooling on Tim's shoulder.
"So, Jason's really back? And he has a baby?"
"Yep," Tim answered with a pop, "it's Jason, no doubt about it. Even pulled a Bruce; found a baby in an alley, said 'is anybody gonna parent this' and didn't wait for an answer."
Dick laughed. "Like his father before him! Though I'm assuming this little cutie wasn't jacking his tires at the time." He held out his hands hopefully. "Can I hold?"
"Sure, but if he wakes up because of it you have to deal with Jason."
"I thought you said he slept like the dead?" Dick asked as Tim slowly maneuvered the kid off his shoulder and onto Dick's, resulting in some sleepy grizzling.
"Oh yeah, he slept right through Jason tearing into Bruce, but the reason I'm here and not, y'know, sleeping, is because he started crying every time I tried to put him down."
Luckily, Dan settled into Dick's arms easily, his teeny little baby snores melting Dick's heart.
"He's so cute I'm gonna cry," Dick joked, though the truth was his eyes were actually a little moist. A soft shutter sound told him Tim had immortalized his first time holding his nephew on film. Dick didn't look up, too enamored by the precious bundle in his arms. "How did Bruce take the news?"
"Total blue screen. I think Bane could've tapdanced naked in top of the bat signal and he wouldn't have noticed. It took Dan shoving his hand through his mouth to get him to reboot."
"You mean in his mouth," Dick corrected idly.
"No, I mean through." That got Dick's attention.
"Through?"
Tim pressed his fingertips to the side of his own cheek. "Yeah, through."
Dick looked back down at Dan, reassessing with a more critical eye while Tim kept talking.
"We already ran DNA, obviously. Came back human, no meta gene and not even a partial match to anything in our system."
"Really?" Dick's eyebrows rose in surprise. "So he's, what? A totally normal human that just happens to be able to phase through solid matter?"
"He's a total mystery, is what he is," Tim groaned, shooting his nephew a loving glare, "Jason literally found him in an alley wearing nothing but a blanket with his name on it. None of our tests show him as anything other than baseline human except for the fact that his canines have grown in weirdly sharp and the intangibility, obviously."
"Does he have any scars?" Dick asked, praying the answer was no. His heart sank when Tim made a 'sort of' gesture with his hand.
"If you look real close at his right hand, there's a lot of tiny little lines all connected. They don't look like they're from any kind of incision though, they look more like lichtenberg figures."
Now that it had been pointed out to him, Dick could trace the barely visible lines branching over his nephew's hand. The sight broke his heart.
"So, an abandoned experiment then?" he guessed sadly.
"That's the current theory," Tim agreed, "it's all we've got unless Bruce can actually convince Jason to let us do more tests." He grimaced. "Dan really didn't like getting tested. Just being in the medbay upset him, which is a point to the experiment theory. We only managed to get one vial of blood before Jason couldn't handle the crying and stepped in, and I'm pretty sure we only got that far because Alfred was the one drawing the blood."
"It's pretty normal for kids to hate needles," Dick mused, "is that what they were yelling about when I called?"
"Something like that," Tim hedged, suddenly very focused on his tablet.
"Ah, Master Dick, it seems you've heard the good news," Alfred said as he walked into the room. His gaze softened as it landed on Dan. "I see the young master is still sleeping. The nursery has been prepared and well-aired, if you wish to lay him down."
Dick turned away from Alfred theatrically. "No! I just got here, I need more cuddle time!"
Tim snorted at him. "Enjoy your dead arms. I'm going to bed."
"Master Dick, I'm sure there will be ample opportunities for such things in the future."
"I know, but then I'll have to fight the others to get a turn. Just give me a few more minutes. I'll put him down soon, I promise."
Alfred was entirely unsurprised when he returned to the room to find Dick fast asleep on the couch still with Dan tucked against his chest. Alfred sighed fondly and put his great-grandson to bed with minimal grizzling. He made certain to tuck a blanket over Dick before heading towards a well-earned rest himself
Danny is a broke College Student, and the Ghost King getting constantly summoned. And he's getting completely stressed out, and needs a way to make money fast.
He's been hearing about all of these Gacha Gambling Games, and he gets an idea ...
^0^
The Justice League are losing their minds right now.
When JLD came up saying that a new Ghost King was crowned, they wanted to do a threat assessment despite Constantine's objections. So they did the usual summoning ... but what they were not prepared for, is how tedious it is to summon the Ghost King.
First they needed MONEY to get some kind of Ecto-Crystals which eerily look like Kryptonite - and then draw up ANOTHER Summoning Circle, because the first Circle is used to 'buy' Ecto-Crystals, and then use the Crystals to Summon the Ghost King.
Except that's not what happens.
The circle glows blue, and they are ready to do a threat assessment ... only for a bunch of junk to drop into the circle. And a single note to appear, as Batman picks it up and read - "You got junk. Roll again?"
The Young Justice instantly clock this as a GACHA GAME.
And now the Justice League have been trying to get the Ghost King for the past MONTH and they keep either getting junk, 4-Star Items and Ghosts - the most annoying one calling himself the Box Ghost - and by the time they get an actual 5-Star ...
It's not even the Ghost King.
It's one of the ANCIENTS and even they know about the Gacha Roll and are having fun with it, much to the Justice League's growing headache.
And now, it's been 3 months and even Superman can see Batman slowly losing his mind to the stupid Gacha Game.
had a dream btw btw that i was in like superhero training andddd i had the power to hear the narrator and could change the storyslightly by talking over her very. 'she brought the axe down, an overhead swing, an- "she completely misses andembeds it firmly in the concreteeee" ' kinda style which was fun but i was like. mandatory teamed up with this other girl because her deal was that she just flung like 2000metal shards at people telekineticly and it jsuts had a 100%mortality rate if i wasnt hanging around going "AND THEY GRAZE THE TARGET CAUSING ONLY SMALL CUTS ANDWOUDNDS QND DOESNT KILL THEM" last second everytime
For the purpose of this poll, books in the same world but not Directly sequels count. If they're grouped on Goodreads, it counts. So like, Percy Jackson but also Magnus Chase count as the same series.
titsay
stormborns
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
gummygunk
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
gracieabrams
