OKAY LEGIT I REBLOGGED THIS YESTERDAY. ME AND MY PARTNER ARE IN SUCH A TIGHT SPOT FOR MONEY ATM AS WE ARE SAVING FOR A DEPOSIT ON A HOUSE. I GOT PAID DOUBLE WHAT I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO GET AND SO DID HE AND HONESTLY I CRIED SO MUCH TODAY IM SO HAPPY AND RELIEVED
Omg can you please do 14 and 27 with Dick Grayson????
“Oh, and congrats on 500!!!”
Thanks, boo!
14.) “Don’t leave me, please, just don’t go.”
27.) “Take the mask off when you speak to me.”
You paced the floor of your kitchen, breath coming shakily. The sound of your heels clicking against the tile floor abruptly stopped when you heard the window in your bedroom creak, signaling it was opening.
“Y/N?” Dick called out, wandering out of the bedroom while still in his Nightwing garb. He froze when he saw you, arms crossed and glaring at him. You were all ready to go out, hair up, nails done, the whole nine yards. “Baby, I’m so sor-“
“Take the mask off when you speak to me.” Your voice reverberated off of the walls, cold and calm. It only hinted at the anger lying underneath, which he no doubt picked up. He peeled the mask off slowly, walking over and setting it on the kitchen island.
“Y/N,” he spoke softly, his brilliant blue eyes almost causing you to melt. You felt tears coming up, already regretting what you were about to do. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been here.” You took a deep breath, smoothing down the material of your dress, as if that was going to help.
“I understand, Dick. I know you have to go out and save people, it’s one of the things I love most about you,” you whispered, your voice cracking on the last note. His brows were furrowed and his head was tilted, waiting for you to go on. “But I don’t think you’re ready for this. You love the thrill of seeing how high you can jump, how far you can go. You’re not ready to settle down yet, Dick. But I… I am. We barely see each other anymore, babe. We haven’t gone on a date in weeks.” He shook his head, stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Don’t say that, baby. You’re right, I haven’t been spending as much time as I should on you, and I’m sorry, you deserve so much better. But we can make this work, Y/N. I promise,” he whispered, tilting your chin so that you were looking into his eyes again. This time you couldn’t stop the tears from falling, and you pushed him away, wiping the wetness from your face.
“No, Dick. This has been going on for too long. We can’t fix this. Not without time.” He clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair.
“Y/N, I love you so much. Don’t leave me, please, just don’t go,” he pleaded. You shook your head, the sorrow in your eyes evident as you reached up to peck him on the cheek.
“I’m sorry, baby. Don’t forget that I’ll always love you,” you whispered, pulling back and flashing him a sad smile. He nodded, watching as you grabbed a suitcase that had been lying on a kitchen chair, one that he hadn’t noticed until now.
On impulse, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back around so that he could bring you in for one last, lingering kiss. It was full of salty tears and last goodbyes; full of all of the love that he wished he could express in words. “I love you, too, Y/N. Always.” You swallowed, nodding and running out the door quickly so that he couldn’t see how much he affected you, even if he knew already.
He slumped down in the kitchen chair, running a hand through his messy locks. Salty tears streamed down his face, slipping off his chin and onto the floor. Every night he came home, it was a blessing to see you in bed, looking so peaceful as you slept. He was terrified that someone would come after you, hurt you, kill you, because of him. Out of all of the things in the world, he never thought he’d lose you because of his own stupidity.
Prompt: While buying a book you run into trouble with the infamous top shelf. A handsome stranger comes to your aid.
“The top shelf. Why do they always have to be on the top shelf?”
As you gaze up, a perfect copy of Pride and Prejudice sits tauntingly just above your grasp. The bookstore’s stools had all been taken by parents who sat in wait as their children eagerly played with a new puppet show stand that had just been installed. Testing the strength of the lower shelves, you wage that they wouldn’t hold both you and the hundreds of books without breaking or tipping the shelf over. The last thing you needed today was to be squished by a domino of bookshelves like every cheesy movie with a clumsy comic relief.
So there you stood, dressed in cute red shoes with a flowing black dress and red belt, contemplating how to get the book down as you came closer and closer to being late for your own birthday party. But you had to have the book, in that copy. It matched the one you lost during your recent move and you felt like it wasn’t home without it. So, with a huff and laser focus you tried to jump to grab it.
Unbeknown to you, a man stood at the end of the aisle leaning against the bookshelf and biting his lower lip to keep from laughing. His crystal blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched from under his cap as you tried to hop for a book. After a few tries you had rested your forehead on the shelf in front of your face and whined softly. It was pathetic, you knew that, but when desperate measures don’t work in desperate times you ought to be allowed a moment of patheticness.
“Need help reaching something?” the man said. You turned your head, still rested on the shelf edge, and shot up when you saw how handsome he was. He looked up to the shelf and grazed his fingers over the book spines. “Which one were you grabbing for?”
You swallowed your anxiety and said softly, “Pride and Prejudice, the smaller copy.” He plucked the book from the shelf and gave it to you with a soft smile. Cheeks burning, you held it close and couldn't help the goofy smile that spread on your face as you thanked him.
“Say, I know it might be odd, but...can I get your number?” He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. His lips curved so softly it melted your heart as you pulled out a small notebook you always kept on hand in your bag and swept the numbers with your name across the paper. You could have sworn you saw him blush but dismissed it as the shadow from his baseball cap as you walked with him up to checkout. His name was Jason, you learned, and he insisted on paying for the book.
“Are you a big Jane Austin fan?” he asked as you both exited the bookstore.
You nodded and glanced down at the book, saying, “I’ve read this one so many times, but my copy got lost when I moved. I’m so excited I found the same edition!” The book was in pristine condition and you couldn’t wait to read it again.
“Well, you happen to have been hopping for my favorite book. I haven’t read this version though, mostly just the modernized version,” Jason said. He took off his cap and brushed his jet black bangs out of his face, a flash of white poking through the middle.
You beamed, feeling a bubbly nervousness broil in your stomach. “If you can get past the aged wording, it’s so much better than the newer versions,” you said, clutching the book closer and eyes flaring with determination. This was your favorite version and, in your opinion, the best version. Hell would freeze over before you admitted to anything else.
He smirked. “Well then,” he said, offering a hand out to you, “how about we talk about it over a cup of coffee? There’s a nice place next door, my treat.” You took his hand and followed incredulously. There was no way such a gorgeous guy was both a decently versed book worm and wanted your number and wanted to take you out for coffee.
As you two talked over steaming cups of Joe, Jason hardly took his eyes off of you. You talked about different books, how you wrote pieces of your own, where and when you two prefer to read. He was sarcastic and extremely knowledgable with classic literature but kept forgetting the names of the books he was talking about when he glanced up at you from his coffee. At one point he accidentally spilled hot coffee on himself because his eyes were on you and not his coffee cup. Eventually, you stared right back at him with a daring look.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
Under the warm lights of the coffee shop with his hat now on the table, you could see the flush spread through Jason’s face. He fiddled with the edge of his coffee cup and spoke through a shy grin, “Because you remind me of a statue I saw when I was a kid.” His eyes grazed up your figure until he met your face and his hands nearly crushed his cup. You were as red as your shoes and belt, and it only added to your charm. “My old man took me to an art museum a few times after he took me in, there was a statue in the middle of the gallery, most amazing thing I had ever seen. She looked like the could have come to life at any moment! The face was different, but you look so much like that statue…maybe you did come to life.”
You didn’t even realize how wide you were smiling or how heartfelt you looked as he explained. He just called you a work of art. Jason coughed through his embarrassment and tried to look at anything but you. Your phone buzzed on the table and he snapped you out of your gaze. “[F/N], your uh, phone.” A few blinks later you snapped out of your thoughts and went to check your phone, Jason’s deep chuckle sending shivers down your spine.
The screen showed a message from your mother. Where in the hell are you? You were supposed to be home an hour ago! Your jaw dropped and the color drained from your face as you checked the clock. Jason straightened up and reached across the table to brush his fingertips across the back of your hand. He asked, “everything okay?”
You smiled and tried not to laugh at how ridiculous this story would sound to your mother. You lifted your thumb to brush against his fingers and said, “I’m an hour late home...to my own party that started a half hour ago.” Your head rested on the table and you groaned lightheartedly. Jason laughed lightly and took your hand.
“Well I guess I’ve kept you a lot longer than I should have. Do you need a ride home?”
You shook your head and pulled your car keys out from your bag. As Jason walked you to the car he clenched his fists in his pockets to keep from running a hand along your back. He let himself brush his fingertips across your arm as you reached the car. He said, “I hope you’ll tell me more about the book you’re writing when we get the chance.”
“Of course. How about we meet again next week, same coffee shop?” you said, holding your breath. Jason snapped his eyes up and his excited expression took your breath away.
“I’d like that, uhm, same day? How about a little earlier, so we can maybe go somewhere else too?” he asked, biting his lip in anticipation. When you nodded his smile exploded and he was practically bouncing in his shoes. “Great! I’ll see you then, [F/N]!”
As you drove away you looked back at Jason in the rear view mirror. He had the slip of paper with your number in his hand and looked it over. Just before you turned the corner, you saw Jason punch the air in victory and giggled before dialing your mom to let her know you were on your way home. A message popped up on your phone from a new number and shot butterflies into you when you were parked and able to read it.
Alright kids, Boo here with a hopefully non-arrogant PSA.
I’m a writer of FanFiction because I like it and it’s my preferred genre (also a great way to receive feedback on writing that I can use on originals, bref). But like with most artistic work posted online, I have very little feedback.
When I was in a slightly writing rut, I cranked one shots left and right, nothing out of the ordinary. But instead of people commenting with their thoughts and good feedback, they just gave me requests.
I don’t think I could ever put into words what that felt like, but I’ll try (the irony of being a writer). It suddenly felt tiring, being a writer, and very quickly I stopped writing altogether. I only ever showed my friend what I wrote and left it at that. I haven’t published anything for a while after. It felt like people were treating me like a mule wanting me to do work for them, and I just wasn’t up for that. I lost my will to write, and then I began to think, “If I post something else other than what was requested, will people even read it?”
Then you get the infamous comments, “You haven’t forgotten about my request right??? Here’s another.”
That just adds anxiety and guilt. I’m purposely ignoring the comments to save my own uncreative ass, at least that’s what it feels like.
After weeks of convincing myself that my stories are worth sharing no matter how many people read them, I started writing and publishing again while working on some longer pieces. Slowly it got better.
Now this week, I remembered I joined another fanfiction platform, and realized I had never published anything on it. I had an idea, and so I started writing. It didn’t come out as I imagined it would, but I was so proud? Like, I started feeling happy about what I created again. Like genuine happiness that I haven’t felt in months since my last published work.
A few hours later, I get this comment:
I cranked out three 3k stories after reading this.
In four days.
It never happened before, and I don’t know how many times it will happen again. It was one comment, but it gave me so much fighting spirit that I think I’m on my way to regaining my initial writer mindset.
Fanfiction writers depend on feedback as a validation that their stories matter to people. If you’re wondering why your favourite author hasn’t updated/posted in a while, ask yourself, “Did I do everything that would convince them to continue writing this?”
Send me a # (questions for OCs) or a letter (questions for creators) and I’ll answer
QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs
What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?
How easy is it for your character to laugh?
How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)
How easy is it to earn their trust?
How easy is it to earn their mistrust?
Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?
What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?
What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child
Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?
What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?
How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?
How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?
What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?
What animal do they fear most?
How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?
What makes their stomach turn?
Are they easily embarrassed?
What embarrasses them?
What is their favorite number?
If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?
Why do they get up in the morning?
How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?
How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?
Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?
What are their thoughts on marriage?
What is their preferred mode of transportation?
What causes them to feel dread?
Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?
Do they usually live up to their own ideals?
Who do they most regret meeting?
Who are they the most glad to have met?
Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?
Could they be considered lazy?
How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?
How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?
Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?
Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?
What memory do they revisit the most often?
How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?
How sensitive are they to their own flaws?
How do they feel about children?
How badly do they want to reach their end goal?
If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?
QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS
A) Why are you excited about this character?
B) What inspired you to create them?
C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?
D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?
E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?
F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?
G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?
H) What trait do you admire most?
I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?
J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?
Summary: Damian’s need to avenge the newest face around the family leads to interesting interactions with the Red Hood as he tries to key in on whether or not Bruce should keep the baby.
“Tt.”
Jason Todd turned to a tied up boy wonder, covered in blood and freshly plucked from a crime scene he had created himself. Red Hood knew the kid was raised to be an assassin, but what he saw in Gotham’s newest drug den was too sloppy, too angry to be something from the league.
“Alright kid, talk.”
Damian stayed silent, refusing to lift his eyes and look at his older brother. His mind was still reeling, his arms struggling against the wires around him so he could go back and finish the job.
“You’re not getting out of this kid; talk! You aren’t supposed to kill.”
“Like you do?”
“I’ve got my reasons.”
“I wasn’t going to and even if I did...they deserve it.”
Hood stood over Robin, watching the boy boil in his seat. He sent a message for Bruce to come pick up the demon brat. Damian wasn’t even supposed to be out on patrol tonight, let alone trying to handle a group on his own. The brat never got personal, at least he never blatantly showed it. Jason walked over and sat in front of the boy, holding his small chin in his fist, a silent question. Why.
Damian yanked his chin away and growled, “they hurt a kid.”
“People hurt kids all the time.”
“It was a baby.”
Jason saw Bruce land across the roof and slung Damian over his shoulder. He said, “wasn’t your kid, was it?” Damian scoffed and stayed silent as he was plopped in front of his father.
The big bat began his own interrogation of what happened but Damian stayed silent. While they made their way back to the cave Jason informed Bruce of the attack,how many were injured and how badly. Bruce had expected this, but never thought he’d go so far especially for a baby. It was as if all the progress he had made from when he arrived in his life from the league was gone in an instant. Still, he didn’t have enough evidence to prove if having the infant there was helping or hurting the situation so he agreed to abstain his decision on keeping them for now.
After arriving at the cave Damian was untied and bolted up to the manor, changing out of his uniform in record time before going to check on little Amala. She was in the kitchen with Alfred, who was giving her a warm bottle and plenty of kind words. Damian decided to stay hidden, hoping for a good sign that Alfred would help him convince Bruce to not put Amala in child services.
“There there, better now? I know I always feel better with a good hot bit of food in me. The boys all do as well, you’ll see. You’ve met Master Damian,” he said, walking in circles around the kitchen island to help keep the baby happy. At hearing Damian’s name the tiny infant looked up. It was mere chance, but Alfred didn’t survive this long with Bruce as a ward without believing in more than a few impossible things. “Yes, Master Damian. The one who hasn’t let you out of his sight for three days. You’ll meet the others, I’m sure. Master Dick visits often, and Master Timothy should be back from the Teen Titans’ latest mission soon. Master Jason doesn’t visit hardly at all, moor’s the pity.”
Amala cooed as she listened to the smooth and hypnotic voice. Her small hands felt along the baby bottle’s edges and she tried to grab it. It proved too much for her little arms so Alfred kept a good hold. She only ever seemed to be calm in Alfred or Damian’s arms, being anywhere near Bruce brought a fit of crying and hours without either adult seeing her or Damian. So while the boys were out on patrol, Alfred watched over the soft bundle with the smell of baby powder reminding him of his own daughter.
He continued, “we've all had very harsh lives, little one. I’m afraid a bunch of rowdy vigilantes may not be the best place for you in prospect. But you’re here, and I do think your presence is having a positive effect on Master Damian - yes, that’s right, Master Damian - despite what he’s out doing tonight.” The butler watched as the baby hiccupped, blinking a few times before returning her mouth to the bottle nip. “Yes, I agree, he is being reckless. But I know if Master Bruce decides to send you away he will search the world over for you, so there’s another reason to stay.”
Damian had never seen Pennyworth look so warm and full of life. It was as if he could see all the love and compassion the man held within him wash over tiny Amala. The sight made him smile. Perhaps he always has that, he thought, he just never gets to show it.
“Would you like something to eat as well, Master Damian?”
Damian was torn from his thoughts as Alfred stood over him. Amala was still sucking away at her bottle but popped the nip out of her mouth to smile and reach for Damian for a moment. He couldn’t help but smile and brush his finger across her palm. Alfred kept his voice low, “I prepared a hearty stew for your return some time ago, it should still be hot, if you’d take the young Miss for a moment?” The boy nodded and took Amala to sit with him in the window. The night air was warm and brushed across the baby’s exposed hands as she ate.
Jason was just leaving the cave when he saw Damian in the window. He didn’t have to wonder what he was holding for long as two tiny hands tried to grab for the demon spawn’s face. It hit him suddenly that Bruce probably got another kid, but the fact that the demon spawn acted so odd around them peaked his curiosity. He was so...gentle. The juxtaposition to his erratic and immature behavior began to piece together as he slipped through the garden to get a closer look.
“I hope Pennyworth was treating you well, Amala,” he said soothingly. Amala giggled and Damian chuckled as he nodded. “Of course he was. Alfred Pennyworth is the best there is, you’ll understand that some day soon.”
Jason Todd could not believe his ears. The demon spawn, complimenting someone? What kind of sorcery is this? The last few pieces clicked into place and he leaned against the wall just behind Damian. “You were being protective,” he said. “They hurt her, and you wanted them to pay, didn’t you?”
The boy wonder had a knife to Jason’s throat as he balanced the baby in his lap to keep a hold of the baby bottle. He would never admit that Amala distracted him beyond paying attention, nor that the Red Hood had ever correctly stated anything about him, but the simple threat was enough to speak bounds about it. Amala whined and started to cry, unhappy with how tense things were and the newfound emptiness of her bottle. Damian relaxed, returning his attention to her and offering a finger in leu of a pacifier. “So what,” he asked, curling in over Amala.
“So it means you had reason for doing it and you weren’t just going back to your old ways,” Jason pointed out, relief flooding his voice. The demon spawn was still just the demon spawn and not some psychopathic prodigy of a madman again. The man’s blue-green eyes darted down to a tiny foot poking through the fabric and wiggling about in the cool night air. He slowly tucked it back in, making sure to fold the fabric securely and earning a murderous glare from the baby bat. “Easy kid, I just didn’t wanna see them catch a chill...they’re cute.”
Alfred had finished warming up Damian’s stew and, upon hearing Jason’s voice, prepared a second bowl before coming over. “Master Jason, it’s good to see you again. I see you’ve met the young Miss,” he said. Once Jason took his bowl Alfred pulled over a few chairs so that he could come in and sit, as he could tell this was going to be quite a conversation. Jason obliged, making sure that he didn’t touch the baby as he jumped over Damian.
“So, Bruce adopted a new brat?” he asked, savoring the home cooked stew that melted in his mouth and warmed him to the bone. Damian slowly started to ignore Jason’s comments, insisting that Amala was not a brat with a voice that got calmer each time. It was hard to keep calm around Todd but every time he would start to get angry Amala would get squirmy or upset. Eventually, Alfred took her from Damian so he could eat something. Jason slowly learned about the situation; the drug den Barbara had found the baby in, how she brought it here thinking Bruce would take it in, Damian’s bathroom debacle, and the ongoing debate whether or not the baby should stay.
“This place is a horrible home for a baby,” he said instantly, taking in a heaping spoonful of steaming spiced potatoes. Normally an argument would ensue, with Bruce having to come break up Damian and he. This time, however, the only sound was the start of a tiny sob that demanded Alfred get up and walk around a bit. Jason was surprised that neither was giving a hint of disagreement. “What, so that’s it? You’re just going to keep them here even though it’s a bad idea?”
Damian slipped from the windowsill, heading out into the garden to finish his evening meal.
“It’s better than the system, Master Jason,” Alfred finally said. “They won’t take in a child in this poor of care, and any foster family that is currently in Gotham or around would already have multiple infants on their hands. She wouldn’t get the care she needs to recover.”
Jason watched Alfred gently sway on his feet as his eyes never left the baby’s serene and sleeping face. The old man looked beaten to rags from exhaustion but at the same time had more hope and love than he had seen since before he was killed. He spoke quietly, “you need a break Alfred, you’re exhausted.”
Alfred smiled weakly and looked at his surrogate pseudo-son. “On the contrary, Master Jason, I think it’s been quite some time since I’ve felt this kind of peace in this house.”
Jason: When I was Robin, I died. And that showed me that life is precious and it must be protected at all costs. Even a life as pig-headed as a Wayne’s.
Summary: Alfred and Bruce are having an argument. Damian wants to find out about what.
“Tt.”
Damian stood in the doorway to the library as his father cradled a bundle of blankets in his arm across the room. He didn’t pay much attention to it as Alfred Pennyworth scolded him like a child under his breath. The young assassin couldn’t quite hear what he was saying from this distance, nor read his lips with his teeth so tightly clenched together. His father spoke:
“Alfred, you know how this family is and we can’t just-”
The blankets shifted. Two tiny probes erupted beneath the fabric towards Bruce’s face. Another two poked out at the other end and making it difficult for the big bad bat to balance the shifting load. Small whines trickled across the library and drew Damian close, making him step on his tiptoes to try and see what was making the noise. A smell of gunpowder and alleyway garbage crinkled his nose as he drew closer. The blanket drew back after a few moments and the youngest boy wonder was face to face with two big blue-green eyes and a slobbery, toothless smile.
A baby?
Alfred’s scowl faded into a smile and he pinched Bruce’s shoulder until he knelt in front of his son. He watched as the little infant stopped wriggling, opting instead to reach for Damian’s well-coiffed hair. Each coo and whine broke chinks in his heart with the thought of Bruce putting them into Gotham’s corrupt and dangerous child care system scraping at the wounds.
Damian held still as the baby studied his face. He had seen babies before and expected a urge to pull back like with the others who had tried to grab at him, but he was only met with a wild curiosity burning in his mind. The baby’s cheeks were too hollowed and dirty, its hands covered in grime and eyes puffy from crying. He grabbed a chair and pulled the all too small infant into his lap, ignoring his father who began to argue with Pennyworth again. As the young Wayne drew back the blankets he saw just how red their skin was, heard the discomfort in the innocent child’s whines as he brushed his fingertips over small bruises as if they were made of fine china.
The young boy wrapped the infant as carefully as he could and scooped it up in his arms, bee-lining his way towards the nearest bathroom. Wash cloth. A Soft one. And warm water. No soap. Too harsh.
The baby watched Damian from a small nest of towels on the floor while he knelt and tried to wipe away the filth. Even the gentlest rubs began to make the baby cry and Bruce beating on the door for Damian to open it only made things worse. The boy wonder managed to get the baby clean and even massage a little water through her hair as Bruce’s pounding was cut off by Alfred’s voice. You don’t beat on a door when a baby is crying, he said. The baby calmed down quickly, still obviously distressed but much quieter.
“It’s alright now, tiny one,” Damian said softly. He cut cloth from a linen and tied it around the baby to make a diaper. The blankets were still clean so he wrapped the baby up gently and held the once again. A gentle hand rose to rub the baby’s cheek encouragingly and was met with a tiny grasp that pulled it to the baby’s mouth. A relieved coo bubbled around Damian’s finger as the tiny figure settled against his chest. He stood and went to unlock the door, thankful that his training let him open it with his foot, before stepping out still focused on the tiny face that grew more tired with every passing moment. As Damian stepped out his training took over and made the baby’s ride as smooth as humanly possible out into the hallway.
Shock blasted Bruce and Alfred’s faces as they saw the young trained assassin, who was so often yelling or fighting or scowling at everything, with a clean and sleepy baby sucking on his knuckle. His face was relaxed, looking almost his age as the infant fell asleep with a little yawn against his hand. His head turned and the hateful grimace they knew so well returned ten fold with a voice that cut through the air with more precision and intent that his blades ever had.
Summary: Ellen meets the boys out of uniform and they learn what happened to the Waynes in her Universe.
Dick brought Ellen up to the manor’s library and left to change with the rest of the family as Alfred tried to make her comfortable. He smelled the same, a mixture of tea, old book pages, and a hint of polish. She saw more pain in his eyes than she had thought imaginable and wondered why her mother hadn’t done something to try and comfort him. “Alfred, are you alright? I seem to be from another universe, but I’m still me,” she said quietly, taking his hands in earnest and fighting a smile onto her face. The man had nearly begun crying when he wrapped his arms around her as if she would turn into smoke should he let go for even a second.
“My dear you look just like her. Just like, like Martha before-” Alfred released Ellen and was unable to look at her face. It made her uneasy to see such a good man shrouded in his own darkness, hands gripped to keep them from trembling. “What happened in your universe, Miss? To the Waynes?”
Ellen took a breath and recited the same story she always had,“Thomas Wayne was killed by a mugger when his son Bruce was eight years old.” She tried not to sound rehearsed and cold after so many years of having to explain what happened, “Martha Wayne was injured, but she and her son weren’t killed. She was in the early stages of pregnancy with little Ellen Wayne; no one knew before the attack, except for maybe you.” A small yet genuine smile creeped onto Ellen’s face as she spoke, remembering the happier moments of her childhood. “You stayed, and helped my mother raise Bruce and I. Bruce currently helps mother with Wayne enterprises, and I was studying to go into medicine like you.”
Alfred nodded, a smile warming his tired and worn features to bring a familiar sparkle in his eyes. “I suspected as much. I’m so sorry that you’ve gone through what you did my dear, and I’m afraid to say that both of your parents - and you, it seems - died that night here. Bruce was alone, and is much harsher from it than in your universe, I’m sure. Well, you did see what he has become.”
“I can’t say I blame him much on that front,” she said, “I was the one who took up the cowl in my Gotham.” Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the least to her, causing a giggle to erupt and fill the glum room with a lightness that seemed to gleam off the shelves of books. “Oh don’t give me that look, even my Gotham needed someone. I have to admit though, Bruce seems to have taken it much further than I did. I handled what I could get to, mostly to make sure no one got to him. I took the bat as my mantle because Bruce was afraid of them, I figured I could both protect him from what I feared by wearing his and keep him away, so he wouldn’t figure it out. In fact, you were the only one who did.” Ellen took Alfred’s hand and squeezed it gently as she spoke, “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. With Bruce, his cowl, his teammates…”
“His sons and wards, you mean,” Alfred said, melting a bit where he sat. Ellen was every bit as warm and thoughtful as he remembered her mother, as strong as he remembered her father and as sharp-minded as Bruce. “He took in young Master Dick when his own parents died, Master Jason when he found him on the street in his early teen years. Master Timothy came next wanting to be Robin, and now Master Damian has the mantle at a mere ten years old.”
Ellen’s hands threatened to tremble at the thought of children being brought into the crazy mess that Gotham crime was. Her fingers ran cold and her stomach lurched as she remembered some of the more vile criminals she had faced. “He trained children? To fight grown criminals alongside him, are you serious?” Alfred nodded, drawing back as the frigidness that toned Ellen’s voice drowned the room and the darkness in her eyes overtaking her features. He remembered that concern himself, and reached out to console her, to explain.
The library doors opened suddenly and Ellen’s concerns faded into the background as each of the boys entered, free from their vigilante attire. Bruce was nowhere to be found, and she was thankful she would have a few moments to cool off before seeing him again. Dick was first to approach her with a cheery, playful, even flirtatious greeting. Tim greeted her next, his drooping and tired eyes now exposed without his cowl. Ellen insisted he sit down, earning a small smile from the exhausted boy as he folded himself against the arm of a chair. Jason gave a short greeting before going to gaze out the window, and Damian didn’t look at her or say a word at all as he sat down nearby to read.
“This is a bit of a predicament,” Alfred announced, unimpressed by their nonchalant attitude, “seeing as there are no real guidelines for manners in this situation. Would you boys say that, even from another universe, a family member would be family?” Each of the boys agreed, after a short debate and a few thrown books. Ellen was impressed by their ability to think so quickly, especially Tim since he seemed to be half asleep during it. “Well then, I suggest you re-introduce yourselves to your Aunt, Ellen Wayne.”
The boys’ heads snapped to Alfred, their gazes eventually settling on Ellen in shock. “She’s Bruce’s sister?” “She does have the Wayne good looks.” “Wait didn’t his parents die?” “That was here, you idiot, she’s from another universe!” “Don’t you call me an idiot, demon spawn!” “Try and stop me!” “Guys come on don’t fight in the library!”
Chaos erupted as Damian and Jason were at each other’s throats with Dick trying to keep them from killing each other. Tim was already asleep on the arm of his chair and Alfred was rubbing his temples from an every growing headache. Ellen smiled faintly, feeling a sense of home in the insanity that she only got from the streets of Gotham before.
“Alright boys,” she said finally, walking over to Jason and Damian to push them apart. They were surprised by her strength as she managed to keep Jason at bay with one arm and lift Damian by the scruff of his jacket with the other. “You’re giving poor Alfred a headache and Timothy looks like a poster child for college coffee shops, so please stop shouting at least?” Her voice was soothing and soon the two fighters were calm enough to stop and sit on opposite sides of the room.
“How did you do that?” came a rough voice, strained but still strong. Tim jolted awake and stood as the other boys seemed on edge, seemingly ready to head out on patrol out of instinct. Ellen tapped his forehead and he was back down in an instant.
Bruce was in the doorway being ushered into the room by Alfred. His clothes were the same style as she had known, his hair the same, even his voice was the same. But his movements were far too graceful for it not to be an act. His footsteps were nearly silent and his shoulders far stiffer than could be comfortable.
“It seems your sister has a better gift for us than you do, Bruce,” Dick said. Bruce glowered at Dick, brow furrowed and eyes questioning. Dick smirked, obviously impervious to Bruce’s interrogative glare. “She’s from another universe, one where you have a sister. Her name is Ellen Wayne.”
“So my- our- parents, they didn’t die that night?” He asked tentatively, walking over with a quizzical look on his face. Ellen watched him for a moment, a sense of dread filling her as she took in the reality of her brother losing both of his parents. She couldn’t stand to imagine how lonely he had been, her dear brother that she fought so hard for.
“Only Father did, protecting you and Mother,” she said, “she was pregnant with me when the mugging happened. You never told me much about that night, and I didn’t press. You had enough pressures on you as it was.”
Bruce nodded, finally looking at his sister. “I’ll want to confirm that with a DNA test, if you don’t mind,” he said coldly, obviously uncomfortable with her story. Alfred moved to protest but Ellen agreed without hesitation. The boys all glanced at each other, then Alfred as he glared at Bruce in disbelief. It seemed Bruce had offended the old butler by doubting his assurance that she was a Wayne.
They moved back to the cave where Bruce took a blood sample to run it. Ellen was confirmed to be Thomas and Martha Wayne’s child, and the boys silently rejoiced in the background that there was someone in the family that seemed so warm and nice compared to the Bat. It was a far cry from the upbringing Bruce had given them. Even Bruce seemed lighter, eyes following Ellen as she glanced around the cave taking in its advanced technology. “I must say, Brucie,” she said, a small smile forming on her lips, “at least my cave lighting, Mr. brooding-as-I-work!”
The men in the room all said in unison, “your cave?”
Ellen nodded, sitting on a railing that separated the cave’s platform from the cavern beneath is and smoothing her dress down. “What, you think our family didn’t have its problems in my universe?” They shuffled and muttered to themselves, earning a hearty laugh from Ellen as Bruce gripped his chair arm while looking at the trophy reminders of all the rogues he had fought in Gotham.. The sound rang through the cave and shook up the bats, a few of which landed on Damian’s shoulders and at his feet. “Bruce, you helped Mother with the company, poured your heart and soul into helping her. But Gotham needed something besides the police to help. So, I became batwoman. I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt my family again, especially you. I guess it spread to all of Gotham after a while.”
“Why the bat mantle, though?” Jason asked, moving to sit with his back against the railing beside her legs. The boys followed suit, sitting around and beside her. It looked like a picture out of a classroom, with teacher telling all the little kiddies their favorite story. Even Damian listened intently, his young green eyes fixed on her every movement. It was adorable, but only boiled up her anger towards Bruce for allowing such precious children to be brought into this life so young.
“Bruce was most afraid of bats, so I decided to become what he was afraid of. It gave me a sense that if I could deal with it, he wouldn’t have to. Plus, he wouldn’t come near me and find out I was doing this,” she explained, watching as Damian’s face softened in contemplation then grew in disgust.
“Father, you’re afraid of bats?” He spit, earning a stern look that was just as intense as his own. Even Dick backed away from the situation, knowing better than to get in between the two bats.
“Everyone is afraid of something, Damian,” Ellen said, pulling his attention away before the air between them combusted. “I’m sure there’s something that gets to you as well. His at the time just happened to be something you can see and hear coming. Perhaps yours isn’t so easy to spot.”
The boys sat dumbfounded, lost in their own thoughts enough to not hear Alfred approaching the group with a tray of snacks. Ellen chuckled softly and ran her fingertips through Jason’s hair before moving to insist the old butler let her help set out the treats. Jason flinched in the slightest and though it broke her heart, the young man relaxed under her touch almost instantly, though she was sure he would deny it till his last breath. There was more tension with him and the rest of the family, Ellen hoped that her being accepted into the family didn’t bother him.
“Come on boys, you need your strength,” she called. They quickly grabbed the food and flipped, jumped, or grappled their way to their respective spots in the cave to eat. She watched Bruce huddle at the computer once again, nibbling on a finger sandwich. It was an adorable sight, seeing him so serious with such a tiny sandwich. “Come on, join us Alfred!”
The boys looked down from their perches fully expecting Alfred to decline. He tried, but Ellen kept insisting; “Alfie please? You work so hard it’s okay to take a break with us once in awhile!” Admittedly she was valiant for trying, though even Dick had never been able to crack the older butler enough to take a rest. However to their amazement, Alfred broke and took a sandwich from her.
Jason swung over to Dick’s nest and whispered, “how did she do that? You never could.” Dick simply smiled and said, “at least Alfred’s letting himself rest for once. I’ll have to ask how she did that!” Jason sighed, sitting next to his brother and watching carefully. This woman had even won Alfred over in a matter of a few hours, she seemed to fit in here so well. His envy writhed in his stomach like a poisoned snake, frantic and tying itself into knots.
A family doesn’t have to be normal. Sometimes a family is a broody vigilante who wears a lot of black and has an orphan addiction, a boy from the circus who used to like wearing scaly green panties, a badass computer geek, a zombie, an awesome ninja assassin girl, a sleep-deprived depressed teenager, a sassy blonde with a thing for purple, a teeny murderous 10 year-old, a cow, and an old immortal British butler who can beat up Superman.
Ellen woke with a splitting headache, sprawled out on the roof of Wayne Tower. Her limbs refused to move so she listened to the city until they stopped throbbing in pain. The city sounded...different. There were less gunshots, less screams, less police sirens speeding in all directions. They were still there, but for once the most prominent sounds atop her family’s infamous tower was harsh wind and a dull rumble of thunder from the clouds above. As she managed to coax her muscles into dragging her to the tower’s edge, Ellen saw just how different the city was. More buildings had lights, more people were walking along the main streets, even the docks along the river were thrumming with activity. Gotham was still itself, in all its wrought iron and gargoyle-esque glory, but it definitely wasn’t her city.
As cool soft raindrops began to fall in Gotham, Nightwing decided to end his patrol early. Hood and Red Robin were still out, and they had been insisting that he go in all night after seeing how fatigued he had let himself get while trying to help both Gotham and Bludhaven. Still, he made his way to Wayne tower to take one last look over the city. A bold streak of blue piercing the dark sky, the acrobat flew across the rooftops only to find a mess of dark hair peeking over the edge of the tower. Making his way quietly to the rooftop, Dick found a beautiful and gorgeously dressed woman struggling to get up. He rushed over, catching her as her balance nearly failed enough for her to fall off the roof.
“Woah there, are you alright ma’am?” He said, still baffled by how she got up there in the first place. Sure, there were jumpers in Gotham, but Wayne Towers’ security was full proofed against letting people up here for precisely that reason.
“Please don’t call me ma’am,” Ellen said, smiling crookedly through strands of her hair as she struggled to keep on her feet, “Only Mr. Alfred Pennyworth can call me tha...”
Dick held Ellen close as her strength gave out, calling over the comms to Jason and telling him what was going on. It as an unusual situation, but if this girl knew Alfred then he might be able to give them a lead on who she is at the least. Red Hood and Red Robin came to retrieve them in the batwing and they headed to a safehouse not far from the manor. Tim sat across from her, keeping a watch on her while his older brothers discussed what to do next.
“Miss, how did you get to the roof of Wayne Towers?”
“I was there for a Gala, the one held every year today. Someone...someone appeared out of nowhere and everything seemed like it wasn’t real anymore. Like he had torn reality apart or something. I tried to get him to tell me what was going on but he was already trying to leave through some kind of portal, I guess I got sucked through too. I know it sounds insane but I promise you that’s what I remember happening.”
Tim nodded, too calm for Ellen to find any comfort in it. She should be back at the Gala, cheering her mother up with one of her horrible puns or being nagged by Bruce about how shamelessly she teased his cohorts. Nerves began to twist in her stomach. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in a sketchy or possibly dangerous situation and it wouldn’t be her last, but at least then she had an idea of who she was up against. Being in the dark about everything was more terrifying than she’d thought.
“Earth to Red Robin!”
Ellen jumped a bit, losing the calm facade she had put up, if only for a brief moment. Red Hood was towering over the startled teen vigilante, his helmet dangerously close to Red Robin’s face. Out of all of them he was definitely going to be the biggest problem, if they became on at all. He had a lot more darkness in him than the others.
“Wake up, we’re here. Decided it was better to take her to the big boy himself right away,” Jason grumbled,
Ellen stiffened a bit, leaning back against the wall to feel if she still had the decorative knife strapped in with her dress. An old trick she learned from an honored guest, one who obviously knew her way around a fight (or maybe a battlefield). This ‘big boy’ couldn’t be anything good, especially if Red Hood seemed unhappy about seeing him.
Nightwing, on the other hand, cheerfully led Ellen from the plane and into the cave beneath Wayne Manor with Tim and Jason close in tow behind him. It was less furnished and much darker than hers, much more high tech as well. She thought the giant figures were a nice touch, especially the penny. The cave was mostly illuminated by the towering computer interface, controlled by a man hunched over and working relentlessly on what looked like a genome breakdown.
“He’s modifying the 21st chromosome? Why?” she whispered, scanning through all the data she saw to try and find a purpose.
“Trying to un-modify it, really. You...know a lot about this stuff?” Red Robin asked tentatively. Bruce had been working on this case nonstop for days. He walked with her towards the batcomputer, hoping his mentor wouldn’t mind that this person had seen the cave already. Something about her just seemed familiar, like home here at the manor.
“You could say I have experience, there was a giant mutant lizard man running around Gotham once,” Ellen said simply. Nightwing chuckled, remembering their own capers with a mysterious mutant bat flying around Gotham.“So you work at Wayne Industries? They’re about the only research lab equipped for something like that.” “You could say that.”
“Don’t try to be cute, doll,” the Red Hood interjected, “He won’t like that, trust me.”
As they made their way to the computer, Ellen’s sense of dread grew. Whoever it was that was sitting here could easily snap her like a twig based on his size. He turned while pulling up a bat cowl, not unlike the one she would wear, before she could see his face. “Is this the mystery woman,” he asked, voice monotone and gravely.
Ellen nearly choked on the air sucked in, immediately recognizing the voice of her older brother Bruce. It was forced deeper than normal but it was definitely his. The two vigilantes gave her a questioning look as she began to tear up, the reality of being in a different universe hitting her like a truck; her precious older brother was putting himself in harm’s way to do what she did, and the thought was too much at once.
“Bruce….what happened to you?” she whispered, folding her arms over themselves in an attempt to steady her lawless emotions. Batman stiffened then stood slowly, walking to tower menacingly over Ellen despite only being a few inches taller. “How do you know who I am?” he demanded, only bringing more tears. She stepped back, looking very much like a child being scolded by their teacher
“Woah, Bats! All you’re doing is scaring her,” Nightwing said, putting himself between Ellen and Bruce, “she hasn’t done anything wrong and we scanned her in the batwing, all she’s got on her is a small knife.” Red Robin took the opportunity to snatch the computer’s controls being working on his own project while Red Hood tried to pry Batman from his stance and calm him down. “Dang, Bats, even I wouldn’t go that hard on an innocent woman for that,” he jabbed as he dragged Bruce further back.
“Really, Master Bruce, you ought to be more considerate for the poor woman’s feelings.” Alfred Pennyworth was standing behind Bruce with a small tray of refreshments, impassively staring at the irritated brute. “Alfie?” Ellen squeaked, taking a few wary steps to see him beyond Bruce’s shoulder. He gasped, dropping the tray and taking a step back. A hand covered his mouth as the others in the room ran to him so see what was wrong. “Alfred, Alfred what is it?!”
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