I wanted to write a fic with elements of infidelity with Hal Jordan and then I was like "No he wouldnt..." but he did, he truly did, that fucker is a homewrecker
He think that a ring doesn't mean shit (ironically) if your your heart is somewhere else
A sequel to the last commission I got from @spicy-apple-pie! I imagine Cass pushed Steph into frame to get her reaction to that comment. Luckily, Steph couldn't give less of a crap lol.
featuring: wally west, tim drake, dick grayson, jason todd
content: smau, established relationship, fem!reader, talks of pregnancy (non-serious), potentially sexual themes ??? this is just crack don't mind me
— wally west
— tim drake
— dick grayson
— jason todd
a/n: baby's first SMAU! this is a prompt that has floated around in my brain for a while and i'm honestly kind of shocked that i've never seen it done before (let me know if u have). all the pictures are from pinterest btw. let me know what u think!
likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3
⚠️⚠️ cw: graphic violence, allusions to homoeroticism
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Bruce had all but one condition when they got together: that Hal genuinely let Bruce take care of his city, and let him come to him for help as the Green Lantern on his terms.
They had a handful of fights about this, enough for Hal to concede. Gotham was Bruce's home, and he's protective of her the same way that Hal is possessive of his own Emerald Girl.
So against himself, Hal let the line be drawn.
Watching Bruce drag himself to bed covered by scars made by monsters who did not extend the same kindness he bled with... it chipped away at patience that Hal already didn't have. But he made a promise; one forged from respect between heroes, and trust between lovers.
But that trust mattered little now.
Not when Hal came home from a cross-sector assignment to find Bruce on a medical cot with a giant, poisoned grapple lodged through his shoulder, piercing at his erratic heart.
Not when Dick's hands are shaking as he and Alfred unwound the circus-colored beads that locked the grapple through his skin.
Not when Damian is clutching at Cass' cape while Steph nursed his own wounds, flinching any time Bruce laughed in pain, fighting a venom that might rip his mind in half.
Not when Jason and Tim both refuse to look Hal in the eye when he landed.
"Tell me."
Everyone watched around as Hal hovered by Bruce's bedside, hearing their father laugh in his sleep as Hal's trembling hands tried and failed to land on his husband's bandaged skin.
They can't see his face. They didn't have to.
An un-talkative Hal Jordan was a dangerous Green Lantern.
Hal only looked at one of them, the one he knew would be angry and spiteful enough to allow him the liberty of finally knowing.
Jason carefully handed his helmet over to Hal. The Ring enveloped it and played its lens recording.
Joker's face appeared in a dark green glow, twisted in sick sadism.
"RUN, RUN, MY LITTLE WET BAT! DROWN WITH ME, BROTHER, LOVER O'BAT!"
They watch as Joker threw a javelin and tried to drag Bruce into the water purification plant to be medicated and drilled alive.
"DROWN IN GOTHAM'S WOMB WITH ME THAT WE SHARE! LET ONE OF US KILL EACH OTHER FOR EVERYTHING TO BE BORN ANEW!"
They watch as Joker molested Bruce, licking at his cowl, laughing at Bruce's horror and anger.
"YOU'RE NO FUN, BATS! YOU KNOW YOU WANT ONE OF US TO DIE! YOU KNOW ONE OF US HAS TO!"
They watch as Bruce dragged Joker to the surface, and have him walk away with a grin forced on his tired, bloodied face, as the clown screamed at him:
"DON'T STALL THE GAME AGAIN! YOU CAN'T ESCAPE! I CAN WAIT ANOTHER 20 YEARS, BATMAN!"
Hal doesn't move nor look away.
The kids doubted he can breathe anymore.
Then he handed back the helmet to Jason.
"Stay down," was all he said.
Cass doesn't let him leave their sphere, blocking his path before he can make any move to exit the cave.
Her eyes drill deep into his own through his mask, trying to find something familiar, comprehensible in that green facade.
It is decidedly troubling that Cass looked genuinely scared of Hal.
"The Joker of Earth from Planet 2814 will be arrested and taken to Oa for trial as a threat to its planet," Hal told her, voice on the surface of polite and proper.
Cass flinched, a whole body jolt that made everyone sit up straight.
"You're lying."
"I will take him to Oa."
"You promised him, Hal."
"I will take him to Oa."
"But-"
Hal placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
"I will take him to Oa," he repeats again, in a tone that suggested that there was an or else that no one can afford to hear tonight.
Cass swallowed thickly, before eventually stepping aside.
Hal disappeared in a quiet, blink of light.
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"The only way to stop the Joker is if I die."
"And how does one stop the Batman?"
"...remind him he's human."
Hal remembered that old conversation with Bruce, on some odd night in their marriage bed.
At the time, Hal thought Bruce refered to being human as having something to lose, given the way he kissed him slow, pressed him down on the sheets, and cradled his hand in his own.
But hearing Bruce's pained laughter and the screams of fear as the monster that feeds of his legacy of love molested him... Hal understood.
The Joker can only be stopped if Bruce dies.
The Joker can only be killed if Bruce breaks.
Hal will not have either.
So he lets his ring find the clown. In his haze of fury, he doesn't hear his name or his species or what his weak spots are.
All he understood was he's alone and he can bleed.
"Ah, well, if it isn't the beau-or-not-beau of my Gotham's beloved Batsy~!" the Joker chirped, as if Hal had not just ripped through his pathetically constructed base and left most of his circus home in splinters.
Hal hovered above him like a god, but glared at him like a husband scorned.
Because how dare this clown touch his Bruce.
How dare this clown claim a city that his Bruce has dedicated his life to.
How dare this clown breathe when Bruce has to do it through tubes.
"I must disappoint, my husband-in-law, but you're a little ways too late!" the Joker cackled, "I already had my way with Batman. Oh, what an intimate dance that had been, to be born anew with him-"
Hal doesn't give him the luxury of prattling on.
One moment, he was the Emerald Knight, armed with the most powerful weapon in the cosmos.
The next, Hal was knees deep into beating the Joker bloody, throwing him against walls and furniture just to make sure he'd feel the next time his boot met his chest or his fists crack through bones.
And the Joker was crying, or maybe he was laughing. Hal can't tell if the wet was from blood or from tears.
"No! No, don't kill me! That's no fun! You can't take this away from Batman or me! You CAN'T!"
Hal doesn't dignify him with an answer.
Not if he wants to keep Bruce's name sacred. Not if he wants to keep his promise.
He hears a violent creak and a loud-
CRUNCH.
The Joker's body falls limp to the ground...
...just as the telltale sounds of an engine cutting through the quiet of the destroyed base.
"What have you done?"
It's Duke. It has to be. If Hal was teetering into insanity, which he was, only Duke can have a small shot at surviving.
Hal turned around, summoning his ring and uniform again.
"He's alive," he told him, "Oa will have medics prepared to nurse him until his trial, where if found guilty as an individual threat to his homeplanet, he will be held behind bars for the rest of his lifespan."
A green construct enveloped the Joker's limp body, and the fog across his face suggested breathing, only barely. Duke had to look away because even Gotham vigilantes can afford to flinch at exposed bone and guts.
The boy grabbed Hal's arm before he can walk away.
"Were you going to kill him?"
He can't look at Hal's face even if he wanted to. Cass must've told him, or everyone had informed him, what a rare and terrifying creature a quiet Hal Jordan must be.
Hal wants to smile, to pat Duke's hand like he always does and tell him that he's being okay and normal and responsible about all of this.
But all that was in Hal's head was the way Bruce cried and flinched from the recording of his fight with the damn clown that insists Bruce belonged to anyone but Gotham, himself, or Hal.
"I'm taking the Joker to Oa."
"I didn't ask that."
"I'm taking the Joker to Oa."
Hal walked away, knowing that Duke was going to let him.
Bruce isn't the only one of Duke's loved ones that the clown had broken.
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The holding cells of Oa were reserved for the most dangerous criminals of the cosmos, those who are genuinely better off dead but the code of the noble Emerald Knights refused to sink so low to better.
It's why everyone is surprised that an Earthling, of all creatures, was in the smallest, tightest cell, reserved for the most heinous villains.
Though that's not why Kyle was there.
"Hal came in even after he just got back to Earth, and practically threw that one into the cell," Kilowog said, "He said something about paperwork and about not bothering the prisoner until he sorts some things down with Ganthet."
"That's not strange about Hal," Kyle said.
Wog shook his head, "Maybe not, but the prisoner is."
That's where Kyle saw... it.
Kyle had never seen the Joker before, but Jason told him plenty of it, or at least he tries to when he wakes up screaming and shaking, trying to reconcile nightmare with reality.
A clown who donned the color of sickness and sadism, with a permanent grin on his face that grew wider at the sight of the Bat and his children's misery.
Said clown was currently on the floor of the cell, more carcass than human. Even from a distance, the blooming bruises told a story of handmade violence than grand accidents.
And if it's Hal who brought him in...
"Is he breathing?"
Kilowog and the others looked at Kyle.
"Well, Mogo would've said something is the prisoner wasn't alive upon entry," Arisia supplied.
Kyle shook his head and barked at his ring to scan.
ALIAS: Joker
SPECIES: Homo Sapien
ORIGIN: Earth, Sector 2814
STATUS: DECEASED, 12 MINUTES AGO
Kyle was speeding off before Kilowog can ask more questions.
He finds Hal speaking in some odd hallway with Ganthet and a small congregation of other Lanterns nodding along. Kyle couldn't help but freeze at the incomprehensible glow that eminated from Hal.
The power of red and pink were fighting for control with the noble green surrounding Hal... like rage and love demanding will to decide which it would serve.
It was terrifying.
It was so very Hal.
The Lanterns and Ganthet took their turn speaking, and Hal's face began to relax.
When they dispersed, Ganthet and Hal remained. It's then that Kyle inserted himself in their sphere of relevance.
"Hal, your prisoner just died in his cell," Kyle snapped.
Hal and Ganthet's eyes widened, only barely, before they turned back to each other.
"How... unfortunate," Ganthet said.
"Seems so," Hal nodded, ducking his head down, "That's my bad. I take full responsibility for the death."
"Your ring must be taken to investigation," Ganthet continued, as if prompting Hal.
"Oh, you misunderstand, I didn't kill him as the Green Lantern, I'm afraid," Hal sighed, shrugging, "Just regular old Hal who saw a major threat and ran to it. My ring will say as much. No powers were used. I must be tried in Earth's courts for this one."
"So it must be," Ganthet sighed, patting Hal's shoulder, "You must be suspended then, according to the average time it takes for a murder investigation to occur on Earth, which is...?"
"Oh, my case? I'll be done in two weeks," Hal answered.
Kyle's face contorted in bewilderment.
He only snaps out of it when Ganthet finally left Hal to his... suspension.
"Hal."
"Hmm?"
"Hal, you killed the Joker."
"Did I?" Hal hummed, tapping his cheek in wonder, "I only remember subduing him for capture. Mogo assured me that the cell he was placed in was optimal for... storage."
"Harold."
"Oh well, it seems I must return to Earth and be tried for my crimes of mishandling a prisoner and causing death," Hal chuckled nervously, scratching his nape, "If only I can find a witness! I would have to comply with Earth's courts, since I committed the crime as a citizen of Earth without Green Lantern powers."
Kyle opened his mouth to snap again, because he knew the promises that Hal made to Bruce.
He'd been there for their wedding. He'd been his soundboard for his long frustrations with Bruce's possessiveness of his city.
But he found himself speechless when Hal pat his head...
...and squeezed at it gently.
"All you know," Hal said, smile just a tad bit too tight, "Is that I submitted a subdued Joker to Oa for imprisonment and he died because of poor holding conditions."
Kyle bit his tongue.
He wasn't talking to Green Lantern Jordan, the greatest in the corps' history, the man who mentored and raised him up, the man who was basically his older brother.
He was talking to a husband of one of Joker's victims.
He was talking to Bruce's husband.
And he knew that this particular version of Hal was not one who liked to listen.
So he can only acquiese, "All I know is that the Joker died when he was imprisoned in Oa due to poor holding conditions."
Hal smiled and ruffled his head.
"Right, see you when I finish suspension~!" he chirped, already floating away to some direction or another.
Kyle stayed there long enough for Hal's presence to dissapate, before he let out a long shiver.
"Fuck, he's crazy."
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Dick woke up from his bedside watch of Bruce abruptly.
When he got his bearings, he realized who had entered the fray.
Hal sat across from Dick, smelling more like soap than space. His face was relaxed to a soft smile as he cradled Bruce's limp hand in his, eyes squinted into a sort of joyous relief.
Truthfully, he looked nothing like he'd been three days ago. Not like a monster a beast a villain an angry god.
He was Hal again. The Hal that said "yippee" when he took off Bruce's veil in their wedding. The Hal that learned how to make latte art because the kids have asked him to.
Their Hal.
Bruce's Hal.
"Where have you been?" Dick dared to ask.
"Oa," was all Hal answered.
Because of course he knew that Duke will rat him off anyways. Because of course Hal would not be the type to be ashamed, even if it was over broken promises and prolonged absences and terrifying last memories.
Dick stared at him for a long time, trying to muster the same ability as Cass had to try and see for certain if this was really the Hal they knew.
Because the last time they'd been wrong about Hal, the universe was almost ripped in half.
So what if, what if, what if, what if...
"Hal, where's the Joker?"
Hal didn't look up from tenderly touching Bruce's battlescarred face, his smile didn't waver.
"He's in Oa."
"Alive or dead?"
"He's in Oa."
Dick knew he should ask Kyle or Duke, or Uncle John, or Guy... just anyone to be sure.
But then Bruce shuffled in his sleep, chasing Hal's warm carresses on his face, and only stilled when Hal kissed the stiched corner of his eye.
Well.
It's not like Dick didn't have an answer.
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Writing exercise as I fight my writer's block... save me.
I have 3 ideas for how and why Hal kills the Joker
the Joker's scheme blows up during Hal's rare times on Earthside to hang out with his husband and kids, and he just... pops him off.
Jason and Bruce have another fight about the Joker being alive, and Hal decides to just... kill the Joker himself... let them be done with it... Jason gets his vengance and Bruce can finally sleep
(Jason will still say something about how Bruce didn't do it himself, and Hal slaps him at the back of his head like when tired dads want their ungrateful kids to stop) (Bruce is very conflicted)
Oa actually labels the Joker as a threat to his entire planet, and Hal has to basically tell his husband that he had to arrest his main rogue
Bruce is at that point where as long as there's due process, he lets it happen, even if he's very discomforted
and Jason + Dick + Duke give Hal a run down of why Bruce is bothered by Joker specifically
and whoops accidentally left a small cavity in the light construct as he was being transported, and he died (from asphyxiation, ironically enough...)
Tim Drake being bipolar is my new favorite thing in the world, mainly because 1) it makes SOOOO much sense when you look back on his history and his father's history and it would bring a LOT of things full-circle, and 2) DC clearly doesn't know what to do with Tim Drake right now, so why not give him some mental illness to create fun new problems and spice things up? (And tbh whenever I see a character who's known for their intelligence, I immediately want to give them a heaping pile of mental illness to turn their greatest strength into their greatest weakness. I'm a simple gal ❤️)
The driving force behind the theory of Tim having bipolar disorder is the fact that you could 100% make the argument that his father, Jack Drake, was ALSO bipolar in the comics. Not only does it fit perfectly with his character, but it would also re-contextualize a lot of Tim's interactions with his father and the way his dad treated him for most of his life.
For those who don't know, bipolar disorder is characterized by recurring periods of mania and depression (high highs/low lows), often triggered by a catalyst like stress or a major life event:
So here we have Jack Drake—an inattentive father who constantly flip-flops between exercising crazy control over Tim, and wanting nothing to do with him. Throughout Tim's Robin run, Jack often makes spur-of-the-moment plans and impulsive decisions. He oscillates between high-energy attentive parenting and completely absent parenting, which could just be the result of grief over losing his wife or the excitement of meeting Dana, but I've decided they're mood episodes. One minute he's energized and looking to rebuild his broken relationship with Tim, and then a few weeks later he's pulling away again as the low hits and he doesn't have it in him anymore.
Robin #11
Robin #12
Robin #15
There's also the explosive anger:
Robin #45
Robin #124
And the weeks-long depression Jack falls into after he loses most of his fortune (but is still financially well-off), and he doesn't get out of bed for days. The way Tim reacts to this display of depression from his father as not a big deal suggests that it isn't the first time Jack has fallen apart like this.
Robin #110
Robin #116
Sooo as far as I'm concerned, Jack Drake was living with undiagnosed bipolar disorder for all of Tim's childhood because middle-aged men don't like going to therapy or accepting a diagnosis, and it's a hell of a lot kinder than the canon "man doesn't give a shit about his child, then man gets murdered right after he finally starts giving a shit and no one gets closure" situation lmao.
NOW FOR TIM'S TURN:
If Jack has bipolar disorder, then Tim would naturally have a high probability of inheriting it. For the most part, Tim is a consistently level-headed character, and he's noted for his self-control in the field compared to some of the more impulsive Robins (cough Jason Damian Steph cough). However, he has gone through MANY periods of instability over the years, specifically after major events like losing loved ones or going through a big change, like when he lost the Robin mantle or when he was kidnapped for a year.
It's canon that Tim has gone through periods of severe depression:
Red Robin #7
DC Halloween Special '09
Adventure Comics #3
More often than not, Tim's grief results in questionable behavior he wouldn't exhibit otherwise: trying to clone Conner back to life, going on a goose chase across Europe to find Bruce after he gets lost in time, trying to steal Lazarus Pit water to resurrect his dead loved ones, etc.
Teen Titans #37
Nightwing #139
Losing Bruce especially concerned everyone around him because they knew that his behavior (lashing out at loved ones, obsessing over Bruce's disappearance, explosions of anger, making risky decisions, self-isolating) wasn't normal, to the point where it even had the usually level-headed Tim questioning his own sanity:
Red Robin #4
Red Robin #1
(Yes he was right in the end about Bruce being alive but I'm calling it a manic episode anyway, it can be both. This guy teamed up with assassins and robbed museums because he saw a painting of his dad in a pilgrim outfit. Come on.)
(Also, ever see that season of Grey's Anatomy where they revealed Amelia Shepherd had a brain tumor and that explained why she'd been acting so irrational and out-of-character all the previous seasons and why her characterization was never consistent? That's the nifty thing about retconning a character to have a condition like this; it explains away all of the out-of-character writing decisions, like when Tim tried to murder Captain Boomerang in the last issue of Red Robin out of the blue, despite his strong moral compass and anti-killing stance rigid enough to rival Bruce's own, but I digress!)
Later on when Tim was trapped in that inter-dimensional prison for a year, when he came back, he fell directly into a textbook manic episode. (Not sleeping, not taking care of himself, coming up with wild ideas, delusions of grandeur, lashing out at his loved ones, etc etc.) This is probably the most prominent example I have of Tim being manic and the best evidence for Tim being bipolar overall:
Detective Comics #970
("After all that, I can take care of myself, take care of us" = "I know I haven't been the father I should have been, Tim, but I'll make it up to you...starting tomorrow!") (I'VE CONNECTED THE TWO DOTS OKAY THEY'RE CONNECTING)
Detective Comics #976
Aaaaaand for my last piece of evidence: Bi stands for bisexual and bipolar <3 (DC hire me already I can make this guy so unwell just give me a job)
Bruce, Dick and Tim around the bat-table are giving "the council will decide your fate".
Leslie is pissing me off. She was the first to call Bane a monster and criticizes Bruce for helping him, but she talked to him once and decided to help him behind Bruce’s back. She is so self-righteous and judgemental. She was sick at the idea that Bane could be Bruce's brother! She did not want the man near Bruce after he hurt him! And now, she is acting as if Bruce having any kind of negative feelings toward Bane and what he did to him is bad?! She believes she is sooooo much better than him. I cannot stand her. And once again, she is giving more grace to a criminal, one that hurt Bruce deeply, than Bruce.
Batfamily but I make them eat my favorite Filipino food because it's Buwan ng Wika and fuck you, that's why //
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Sick days mean soup days in Wayne Manor.
And this one was a challenge for Alfred — because everyone except him was sick with varying degrees of suffering. Some had an awful cold (Damian is currently breathing out of his mouth). Some were coughing out their left lungs (Bruce's coughs alone was enough to cause a second No Man's Land). And at least two people have a piercing headache that gets worse if they use their jaws to chew (Cass already burst out in tears when she has to move her head).
So making only one sort of soup would not be enough.
Fortunately, the rainy season with a full house made Alfred a little indulgent.
And that's why the dining hall looked less like a dinner spread and more like a soup kitchen.
"Alfred, we love you, but now is not the time to go Michelin on us," Tim groaned, panting through clogged noses.
"I hardly think this is Michelin food, sir," Alfred clicked his tongue, pushing the boy's jaw shut, "And please have some manners, Master Tim."
"Chicken soup and black out curtains would've sufficed," Duke shivered, how he walked through the doors with such thick layers of sweaters on him, Alfred's yet to figure out.
"Chicken soup would be useless against clogged noses and swollen throats," Alfred said, smiling, "Simply dig in, sirs and madames. Trust that this spread of broth will do you well."
Damian is the first to obey, mostly because everyone is sure he's not entirely lucid anymore.
He leaned in to sip his soup...
...then promptly started crying.
"DAMIAN!?" Dick squeaked in worry from across him, making Cass hiss ("Dick, shut up, please...")
"It's good and doesn't make my tummy hurt," Damian sobbed, already shoveling more into his mouth, "And the beef is so soft that I don't have to chew so my brain doesn't hurt."
Alfred sighed in relief. The whole day, Damian had been struggling to keep food down. Easy porridge has all he'd manage, but he believed, and Alfred quotes this with the sincerest worry: it tastes like punishment.
"That would be Bulalo, sir," Alfred said.
Damian's eyes shimmer as he hugged the steaming bowl of broth, "I love you, Bulalo."
Cass rose her head from her sweater cocoon, glaring at her bowl, "Why does mine and Dick's have macaroni?"
"It's Sopas, madame... a version of chicken soup that's a little more thicker," Alfred informed her, "Good for you wheezing bunch."
The wheezing bunch — Dick and Cass, who had spent last patrol screaming in the rain at each other — promptly dug in.
Cass moaned, "Fuck, that's good."
"I don't even mind the vegetables in this one," Dick chuckled, but there were tears in his eyes from relief, because god knows their swollen throats can't handle a lot of anything right now.
Jason's eyes widened as he took dug his spoon from his bowl and in his mouth, "This is sour as fuck."
"You know what Sinigang is, Master Jason."
"Yes, but my Sinigang doesn't summon the prehistoric water of Antarctica," he huffed, pointing at Duke's bowl, "I want Nilaga! Duke, let's trade!"
Duke glared at him as he suckled through a corn cob, "Fuck you, man. I'm gonna kill myself if people take this bowl away from me."
"You're not even eating the saba!" Jason snapped, once again to Cass' horror next to him ("Jason, shut UP.")
Duke stuck out his tongue, before transferring the bananas onto Tim's own bowl of Nilaga, as the boy was still fast asleep on the table to care
Alfred rolled his eyes, plucking the bowl from Jason, "I shall exchange yours for Nilaga as well, sir."
It's at that moment where Bruce joins his family.
As expected, he got it the worst. After all, Bruce had spent last patrol wrangling his sopping wet children out of whatever accursed crevice they found themselves in to shield them from an onslaught of rain. He's miserable enough with knowing he'd be a hypocrite to scold them for insisting on patrol despite the weather reports, but now he also had everyone's symptoms.
Clogged nose. Hurting head. Twisted tummy. And a throat that claws at god's feet for mercy.
He sank down, clearly looking like he wants to go back to his den of darkness and cold medication.
Alfred placed his bowl down just as he serve the other young masters and young madame.
"Feel better, sir," he cooed at his ward.
But before Alfred can leave, Bruce dragged him my the wrist.
"Sir?"
"Ch'ch'r'n..."
"Pardon?"
Bruce squinted at him, "Mung...go..."
"Yes, sir, that is Munggo," Alfred agreed to the poor, lethargic tall child pouting at him, "There is minimal rice at the bottom, as you prefer."
"No charon?" Bruce frowned.
It clicked to Alfred what he meant, and he grimaced. "Master Bruce, need I remind you that your lockjaw is what's keeping your headache? You cannot afford to be chewing something as gammy as Chicharon!"
"Not Munggo w'thout 'charon..." Bruce wheezed.
Alfred rolled his eyes, scooped some Munggo and forced it into Bruce's mouth, "Well, you're going to have to settle for no Chicharon in your Munggo this time, sir."
Bruce teared up, "You hate me."
"No, I do not hate you, Master Bruce."
"You don't put chicharon in munggo because you hate me and want me to die."
"I will make you Kare-Kare when you get better to remedy this transgression, and you can have all the bagoong you want."
"Promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
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Dinner was had in total silence, on a table full of people who were just happy to eat something that wasn't going to make their stomachs miserable.
Deeming his indulgent caretaking a success, Alfred ventured to pluck out his anticipated prize that he prepared alongside tonight's soup spread.
Unfortunately, Alfred forget to mind if he's alone.
"What's that?"
Alfred looked down as he was just about to eat his prized dessert. Damian was draped in a thick blanket, breath smelling more like medicine than soup.
"This is Biko, sir," Alfred said, poking at his plate, "It's a sort of rice cake. I made one earlier today, just in case anyone's coughs turned out to be, well, wet coughs."
"Smart. Sticky food to get rid of phlegm," Damian nodded.
Then the boy makes a show of coughing, much to Alfred's amusement.
"Oh? It looks like we have our first customer," he chuckled, halving a small portion and feeding it into Damian's wanting mouth.
Alfred watched the boy's puffy eyes light up in delight.
"I take it you both want and need this particular dessert?" Alfred offered his own plate.
Damian nodded, "You may keep that serving, Pennyworth, I can take care of myself."
"Oh? Then would you need help getting a dessert plate from the.... top of the...."
Alfred watched as Damian took a fork, then steal the entire tupperware full of Biko, before happily walking away.
Leaving Alfred with only one plateful of serving.
Alfred also highly doubted that Damian would be sharing with the rest who have sticky coughs tonight.
"That boy..." Alfred sighed, placing down the plate and turning back to the fridge.
He pulled out and unlocked another container full of Kuntsinta.
Just as he was about to enjoy a piece, a shadow materialized to join him in the kitchen.
Bruce stood there, comically also draped in a blanket.
He gave his guardian an expectant look, "I want 'chinta..."
Nearly 20 years of being an active Green Lantern, half of that being known and living up as the best in history, and nothing prepares Hal for...
...whatever this situation he found himself in was.
He's out on some minor assignment, weeding out an xenobiological environmental depracator from a thriving developing civilization. It's a one-done deal and he's elected to spend the next few hours saying hello to locals, playing with the kids, and maybe doing some "shopping" (because everyone refuses to let him pay)
Hal is joined by a galactic diplomat who makes polite conversation that's led them to this particular string of dialogue:
Alien Diplomat: You've bought so many fine cloths and toys! To whom are they for?
Hal: Some are for my children, actually.
Alien Diplomat: You are mated then! Wonderful ^^ ! How many are in your brood? Strong Lantern such as yourself, you must have plenty of children!
Hal, figuring he should clarify things: Oh, no, all are adopted. Well, adopted by my boyfriend. Or, well, I guess the more understandable way to call it is that he's my mate.
Alien Diplomat: You and your mate don't have children together?
Hal: Well, he has kids when we started dating, and they're as good as family.
Alien Diplomat: But you would like to have a child with your mate?
Hal: I mean, it's a fantasy but Bruce can't really have kids.
Alien Diplomat: Oh, I see. It is a health issue!
Hal, thinking they understand it's because both he and Bruce have none of the parts for it: Sort of?
Alien Diplomat: No matter! We can help you overcome it so you can impregnate your mate! ^^ How many children would you like to put in him?
Hal: ??????????????
Alien Diplomat: :DD ?
Hal: I'm sorry WHAT.
And that's why, 2 weeks later, a gift crash lands into Wayne Manor's front lawn full of aphrodisiacs, body alteration-inducing medication, courting gifts, and foreign-written instructions on how to ensure procreation during intercourse that will lead to at least 3-4 children on the first pregnancy.
Alfred is loading his shotgun. Damian and Duke have not stopped laughing. Leslie is rattling on over the phone about how "I AM NOT BECOMING ANOTHER 2 AM MEDICAL BOOTY CALL FOR A HORNY WAYNE"
Now announcing the Fantasy Bruce Wayne Event: Event Calendar!
Above are all the prompts for each day throughout the event month of November!
Psst, here's a Gdoc copy of a simplified Event Cal for folks who need it.
A few things of note:
Reminder that participants can mix and match prompts as they wish, create an anthology work out of them, or make multiple pieces for the same/different prompts. You can even incorporate all prompts from one day into one work! The possibilities are endless!
Otherwise, participants need only choose at least one prompt from the calendar and create a piece according to how they view the prompt.
We only ask that you post your piece on the prompt day that corresponds latest in the month, or according to the prompt that is most prominent within the work. (i.e. If your work incorporates Steampunk from Day 3, with Deep Space from Day 21, and the piece focuses more on the Deep Space rather than Steampunk, please post your work on Day 21)
Prompts can be interpreted as you wish, as long as said interpretation adheres to the Rules and FAQ (pieces must be Bruce-centric, Bruce must be or become afflicted by the fantasy/sci-fi in some way)
Remember, this is a Fantasy Bruce Wayne Event! Go wild with whatever sings to you but please keep these tidbits in mind when creating your pieces.
And last but not least, our special gift we've been working hard on to give to our participants:
✨ Fantasy Bruce Wayne Event Workshop! ✨
https://discord.gg/M5Fd22bTbE
A Discord server where you can craft your pieces among kindred artists, workshop your ideas, and have all of the Event Info handy! Writers, artist, betas and more are all welcome as long as you are participating in the event and/or would like to cheerlead alongside fellow Fantasy Bruce lovers!
Participants will now have Four Months to create their pieces. Please have your pieces ready for posting by the day of the prompt your piece corresponds to on the Calendar above. If there are any questions or concerns, please feel free to send us an ask!
We look forward to seeing you all in the server, and alongside fellow participants at posting time in November! ✨
