I loved your Forgetful Reader; I was wondering how they would deal with the Rouges of Gotham and the Justice League.
Thank you for your time.
Hello,
I'm glad that you like Forgetful Reader! Since they are (for the time being anyway) a civilian, Reader wouldn't have much opportunity to encounter the Justice League. I think of them as someone... not exactly uncaring about heroes, simply more concerned about what the heroes do or don't do. They'll discourse online about some hero's actions using otherwise perfectly spelled coherent arguments backed by statistics and academic articles, then completely forget which hero it is. Especially since many online forums/socmeds will abbreviate the heroes' names i.e. GA or GL, and some other heroes practically share names i.e. Supers and Flashes, it's not unreasonable that Reader will forget.
As to the rogues, well, since Reader is tentatively a civilian not obsessed with said rogues, they'll focus more on seeking safety when the rogues attack and feeling upset for the victims after. Which rogue does what attack doesn't matter to Reader. That time with the Riddler's name is an outlier anyway, what are the odds Reader would get kidnapped by a rogue for some deadly game and have to call the rogue's name again?
I love your Forgetful Reader Batfam! Those are so funny!! In part 2 you did a bit with the Riddler, but what would happen if Reader met more of the villains and misnamed them?
Your writing is amazing!
Thank you so much! I'm glad you like it 😆
Oh, Reader totally would confuse the villains too, don't worry (?). Nobody gets special treatment, Reader will forget their faces and names too for sure 💕
As the public (like... 2 or 3 people?) demanded, here is part 2 of our neglectful forgetful reader, who can't remember a name or face to save their life.
Like literally. One time reader and their friends got caught by the Riddler for a deadly game of trivia, with reader answering every question flawlessly until the end when they stumbled:
Riddler, super annoyed by reader's perfect streak but unable to judge unfairly since he's already been called out and mercilessly bullied online for that last month: All right, all right, guess we got a trivia king (gender neutral) here... Now, child, just say my name and you're good to go
Reader: .
Riddler: ?
Reader: (sweating nervously, pupils shaking)
Reader's friends at the back: (frantically finger-spelling)
Reader: R, ri, rid– (squinting because of the shitty lighting) is that supposed to be double d?
Riddler, finding out and instantly offended to the max: DO YOU NOT KNOW MY NAME?!
Reader: THERE ARE JUST SO MANY OF YOU ROGUES, OKAY! GIVE ME A BREAK! AT FIRST I CONFUSED YOU WITH THE JOKER, THEN I FORGOT YOUR NAME!
Riddler: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU CONFUSE ME WITH THAT CLOWN?!
Let's leave the Riddler to grapple with the devastating fact that his name (ending with -er while riddle and joke are kinda related nouns) and gimmick (kidnapping people for a deadly game) can be easily confused with the Joker's and are thus unoriginal. On part 1 we've seen reader forgetting the Batfam's names, but you know how they also easily forget people's faces? And in relation to that, how much the Batfam resembles each other?
Add one plus one, and we have reader mistaking the Batfam for each other.
Dick, picking up reader from school to score brownies point with them: Reader, baby sibling! C'mere, I'm driving you home!
Reader: Oh wow, thanks, Bruce!
Dick: (stops in place) (turns to reader in horror) Pardon...?
Reader: (also stops in place) (turns to Dick in uh-oh-I-said-the-wrong-name guilt) ...wasn't that the name on the billboard with your face on it?
Dick: That was Bruce... Our father...
Reader:
Dick:
Reader: Oh. Uh. Our father... looks young?
Dick, gently clamping reader's shoulders: Look me in the eye and tell me honestly. How old do I look to you
Reader guiltily looks away. Dick books an urgent appointment with a dermatologist.
Reader: Come on, Tim, Jason! Just pick a movie, it'd be dawn by the time you two finish arguing!
Jason: Whoa, finally? You got the right names, kid!
Reader: I did? (suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of achievement) I mean, of course I did, duh!
Tim, squinting suspiciously: No no no, wait a minute... My intuition says there's something wrong
Jason: Oh shut up, what could be– holy shit, no way
Reader: ?
Jason: Hey, reader. Which of us do you think is Jason?
Tim: Which one is Tim?
Reader: (sense of achievement turns to dread) I–
Jason & Tim: Which one is which?
Sadly, reader proceeds to misidentify them. Movie night is cancelled as Tim and Jason brawl over the insult of being mistaken for each other.
Damian: Father wants us to gather in his study
Reader: Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me
Damian: (grabs reader's elbow) You did not say my name
Reader: ...ah
Damian: (lightly squeezes reader's elbow in warning) My name?
Reader, unsubtly tugging away: Uhh you know what Shakespeare says, right, what's in a name, such a thing doesn't matter, you're still my little brother whom I love very much–
Damian: My. Name.
Reader: ...
Damian: ...
Reader: ...
Damian: ...
Reader: ...Tim?
A moment later, Bruce hears from his study, "SOMEONE HELP! THE LITTLE ONE IS TRYING TO TATTOO HIS NAME!!!"
"I WOULD NEVER HAVE TO DO THIS IF NOT BECAUSE OF YOU! HOW DARE YOU MISTAKE ME WITH DRAKE OF ALL PEOPLE!! MY NAME IS DAMIAN!!!"
"ANYONE HELP, I CAN'T HOLD ONTO HIM ANYMORE! HE'S GETTING THE SWORD TO SCAR HIS FOREHEAD WITH HIS NAME!!!"
Tim, elsewhere: I'd be insulted by those two's reaction having their names mistaken for mine. But honestly I'm just as insulted here
The solution to this? The Batfam wearing clothes with their names written on them. At the very least, name tags.
Reader's best friend, comforting the Batfam: It's okay, Reader's always like this. They only remembered my name the first time because we had to wear these 8 by 12 name signs hanging from our necks for the whole orientation period. And even then after the weekend they still had to steal a glance at the name tag on my uniform
Reader: Sowwy, bestie 😔💔
Don't worry (?) though, reader also still regularly forgets the Batfam's names.
Dick: This morning, reader called me Elmo. Apparently they remembered Jason calling me Big Bird and their mind immediately associated it with Elmo
Tim: The day before yesterday, reader called me Him–like, the friggin' Powerpuff Girls' villain Him. Yesterday, they called me Jim right when Jim Gordon the police commissioner was dropping by. He laughed at me. And today, because they heard Jason call me Timberly, they somehow came to the conclusion that I would definitely be named Kimberly!
Dick & Tim, turning towards Jason: That's why we are hosting this intervention, to stop you from addressing us by misleading nicknames ever again
Jason, squirming out of the mummy-like rope binding while vigorously worming his way across the floor: You will pry my right to nickname you lot from my cold dead fingers–
Alfred:
Reader:
Alfred:
Reader, vaguely recollecting Alfred's surname is related to money a.k.a. Penny: Dollar...? No, wait, you're British. ...Poundsterling?
Alfred, tired: That was not even a surname, Young Mx
Life is just hard for forgetful reader, man. Have pity on them 💔
A/N: This isn't really yandere at all but I still tagged it as such, sorry. I hope those of you who found part 1 through the yandere Batfam tag would be able to find this part 2 here 🙏
I recently binge read all of your works! Especially Pink Robin. The way it is written instantly had me laughing! I can’t wait for more! Anyways, here is a humble contribution because I can’t get Duke having to sit there and listen to family drama while pretending to be unconscious
Oh my gosh thank you so much!! I'm glad you like my stories. And I love the meme, it's perfect 🥺💕
To be fair Duke didn't have to pretend to be unconscious. Like sure it could be argued that he was waiting for the right time to flashbang the Batfam so he and Rei/beta reader could make a clean escape, but he also could just flashbang them from the start, thus sparing Rei/beta reader from having the teeth-pulling painful conversation from the start. After all, listening alone was so awkward but what about the one actually forced to participate in said awkward conversation, huh, Duke?
Duke: Salty you didn't get to fake faint your way out of the conversation huh
Could pink robin have been within the area where the warehouse explosion was visible at the time of Jason’s death? they could’ve watched the explosion from afar if they had nothing to do and didn’t fully know where robin was. They’d understand what happened though, they felt like something was lost.
On a side note- pink robin seems like they’d be a mix of a scene kid and a emo kid, they just make me feel like they’d have neon pink streaks dyed into their hair Yaknow?
O, oh. Oh. Oh no 😰
Picture you, Pink Robin. Fourteen years old, four years into your accidentally begun mercenary career and already fairly famous, besides being the apprentice of #1 mercenary Deathstroke the Terminator. You might be no superhero, not even a vigilante, but you feel yourself an invincible and all-competent badass anyway. At the top of the world and having fun despite the blood staining your hands until it seeps into your soul.
You're at Ethiopia, freshly off a mission. Do you know Robin the Second is intending to go here? If you do, you're probably already taking selfies and sending it to him, captioned guess where I am >:3 You're probably laughing to yourself just imagining his reaction to know you're here. Or maybe you know nothing, decidedly not where your friend Robin the Second wants to go and why, and at most you're sparing a thought about what to tease the guy about when you get back to Gotham.
Then comes the explosion, and worse?
When you see it, you feel absolutely nothing. No premonition of something bad, of having lost someone something precious. You see the goddamn mushroom cloud and casually think man, it looks cartoonish, sucks to be whoever got caught in it. You snap a picture. You leave.
You come back to Gotham, and by the time you know it, Robin the Second is no more.
You dig a little, because you remember that guys jokingly make you promise to investigate in case he suddenly died in a 'mysterious accident', then you find out how he did die.
You break your phone.
Okay, enough about that. Anyway yeah, you're absolutely right! At some point at least. I imagine Pink Robin enjoys changing hairstyle as well as costume and would explore all kinds of style :)
Pink robin is about 10-12 when they start merc work yes? They must’ve been one scrawny sneaky fucker during jobs that they actually need the money from
They started at age ten, true! And yeah lol they were itty bitty. Former street rat, you know? 😔
Fortunately for them, they had Robin the First establishing precedent of scary badass babies, so Pink Robin still managed to build up a good (intimidating) reputation ♪ヽ(*´∀`)ﾉ
Dick a.k.a. former Robin the First, nearly vibrating in excitement: Which means I've been the best big brother helping my little si–
Pink Robin, pushing Dick off a 50-story-floor rooftop: Haha, nope!
I've edited the masterlist! Now you guys can find my Pink Robin and Evil Counterparts Guide series more easily 💕
Note that I just linked the actual stories for Pink Robin, not the asks. If there's an ask or even another post of mine–unrelated to any of the series–you want me to include in the masterlist, please don't hesitate to tell me in the reply here or send me an ask!
Hiii, guess who's back? That's right, it's your favourite mercenary!reader, Pink Robin (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
Nevermind the Batfam, let's talk about Respawn today, 'kay?
The Batfam: No no no, we protest, we object, this is a yandere Batfam post so why aren't we the focus here–
Because the focus is you, Pink Robin, duh! What kinda question, honestly...
Eh-nee-way, first we gotta go back to the time Deathstroke (🫳💀💕) was training you, back when you were hiding abroad from Batman and his fearsome Bat-adoption papers. Among other things, Deathstroke also gave you a list of people and/or organizations you should not offend yet, with a stern warning that you shouldn't treat the list as a checklist.
You didn't do that, of course! Geez, what did he think you were?
You used it as a bingo card 💕
"If that kid is doing something stupid again I'm not going to help them." –Slade Wilson, a.k.a. Deathstroke, one (1) full minute before covertly looking up your location
"Whatever you say, Slade. Pink Robin's having manicure with Lady Shiva in Paris, by the way." –William Wintergreen, Deathstroke's butler slash mentor slash probably life and work partner
Fast forward to when you were fourteen. Robin the Third had just debuted but was already being quite the nuisance, constantly breaking into your beloved container unit of a home to ~enlighten~ you about the greatness of Robin the First like a kind of door-to-door missionary. No matter how many times you threw him into the sea and robbed him, he just kept coming!
At one occasion, you were so annoyed by him that after bodily wrestling him into submission, you didn't release the guy but instead took him hostage, holding him at knifepoint (your guns were out of bullets 💔) and shouting at Batman via comms to fetch HIS Robin the Third and keep him away from you lest you do something you'd regret.
Little did you anticipate, this admittedly reckless move would awaken Robin the Third's attraction towards you that would last to this day even if he still hasn't realized the truth himself. What a little freak. You could've been mutuals on Tumblr.
...holy non sequitur, Batman. Sorry, guys! Where were you again?
Oh yeah, you were fourteen. Four years and going as a merc. Well, Robin the Third was being so annoying to you then, so after Batman came to pick him up and you had a mini heart attack realizing what you'd just done everything, you wisely decided to flee abroad just until the Bats were too occupied to forcibly try to adopt you again.
Throwing a dart blindfolded at a world map, you chose your destination, which unbeknownst to you back then was one of the bases belonging to the League of Assassins. Which in turn was one of the names on the bingo card list Deathstroke gave you.
Oh well, whatever. You planned to lie low anyway.
The very next day, you broke into the League's compound.
You needed your enrichment ♪ヽ(*´∀`)ﾉ
All the fics, novels, comics, films, games, etc you brought with you: You've promised to devote yourself to me on this vacation, you scumbag!
You didn't mean to do anything... well, much beyond sightseeing and taking selfies at the League's compound, prommie. Pinky swears, even! But as the proverb says: Man proposes, God disposes. When the path you were taking branched out into four options, you naturally went eeny-meeny-miny-moe, your left hand covering your eyes as your right moved wildly over the four options.
Then you stopped, opened your eyes, and saw that you were pointing at a suddenly appearing group of assassins.
Welp. Insert a Looney Tunes chase scene here.
You dashed here, took a turn there, swung up into a vent here, cannonballed down a hole (?) there, all the while dodging swords and other weaponry thrown your way, not forgetting to pocket the ones that took your fancy and thus having the cries of 'Thief!' added to the ones of 'Intruder!'.
If they didn't want you to take their things, they shouldn't throw them around, geez 🙄
Eventually, your exploration led you landing on top of a dissected child's body.
A vivisected child's body, you corrected yourself as said child proceeded to choke and tear up.
"Oh my gosh! Sorry about your organs, kid!"
Never let it be said that you are unsympathetic and merciless. Unless it's to a potential client or one of your regular ones, in that case please do go ahead and add that you drink the blood of virgins and eat the flesh of babies or whatever. You have a reputation to keep.
Not in front of the kid, though, you didn't. So as soon as you noticed that he had both wrists and ankles shackled to the operating table as well as his mouth gagged–in addition to, you know, his body cut open like a frog in biology class–you figured you could do a Good Deed™ and rescue the kid.
You even made sure to ask him first, "Hey, I'm gonna blow up this joint 'cause lots of people here desperately wants me, wanna come with or get blown apart alongside them?"
He nodded rapidly, which of course meant he was excited for freedom.
You couldn't carry him piggyback considering his exposed organs, and you needed at least one of your hands free to defend the both of you, so you just moved him (very carefully! Kiddo didn't even whimper! 10/10 bedside manner for you!) onto a nearby gurney on wheels. You also raided the closet for medical supplies–suture threads and needles plus antiseptic and painkiller, most importantly–and just because it happened to be there and aroused the oh-shiny magpie instinct in you, a vial of some hopefully-not-radioactive glowing green liquid.
Later you would learn that said liquid, Lazarus water, was jealously guarded by the League and could fetch a fortune in the black market. Sadly for you, you only learnt this from Deathstroke while he was lambasting you for your 'foolish, reckless, yadda yadda' actions and after you let Respawn drink it.
Oh yeah, the kid's name was Respawn. Other people might at least blink at the name, but you had grown up a street rat with acquaintances named anything from Antichrist to Zipper. And of course, your mentor's professional name was Death-freaking-stroke.
Back to your grand escape with Respawn, at the time still only 'the kid'.
You tossed him the med supplies and sincerely told him, "Try to stitch yourself back together. If you can't, I also got a stapler. I'd offer duct tapes too, but I just have this washi tape."
The kid looked as if he thought you were crazy, but you generously interpreted it as he was awed by your obvious competence and badassery. As he wordlessly began suturing himself, you held onto the headboard of the gurney, put one foot on the bar connecting the wheels right below the aforesaid headboard, then clicked a button on your phone.
The next moment, you used your other foot to push the gurney, with you and the kid forward.
The next next moment, a loud BOOM sounded from a distance, followed by a force of hot air propelling the gurney forward even faster. The kid let out a frankly adorable high-pitched noise, only drowned out by your whoop of exhilaration.
Who needed rollercoasters when you got this!!!
😱🏥🛏️ 😆🌬💥💣
↑
Modern hieroglyphic depiction of the scene, hospital and person in bed substituting a gurney because apparently there's no emoji for it yet
"HELL YEAHHH!!! AHAHAHA!!! LET IT BURN BURN BUUURRRNNN!!!"
"AAAAHHH YOU CRAZY BASTARD LET ME GO AAAHHH!!!"
It was most heartening to witness the formerly silent, timid little boy blossom into a bold and expressive young man. Could this be what Miss Charity felt seeing you grow up over the years?
The two of you got out of the compound without looking back. Not precisely because cool guys don't look back at explosion so much as because the guys at said compound (those who didn't get caught in the explosion, at least) were furiously chasing after you. You loaded the kid plus all the stuff you'd stolen into a jeep conveniently parked nearby, hotwired said jeep, and hit the gas, away from the League of Assassins' compound.
Once you were in the clear, the kid–who had stitched himself up pretty nearly despite all the screaming then–gave you another look.
Vehemently, not a little petulantly, he said, "You're crazy."
"Not completely wrong," you genially agreed. With a grin, you introduced yourself, "I'm Pink Robin! Mercenary, at your service!"
Respawn: ...and that is why I'm the superior little brother of Pink Robin
Damian: Fuck you
A/N: The poll result is yes, so I'll be updating the betaverse masterlist to include Pink Robin and Guide series! Tomorrow tho, tonight I got a banging headache 💕
Btw, here's another poll for you guys:
What do you think is Pink Robin's secondary gender in betaverse/ABOverse?
I looooove how to deal with your deadbeat family's evil counterparts so much like I am eating up every chapter I adoreeeee it like I love that reader is capable and powerful but playing the long game and the tension of "they don't know that i know" with all the bat stuff I am FEASTING thank you so much
Omg thank you 🥺💕 So glad you like it! I've been worried it's not very well-written... Reader is playing the long game but tbh they're sweating nervously the whole time lmao Hopefully the tension wouldn't break out into a disaster~
Will you make a masterlist that has ALL of your writing posts on it? It's great that the Beta story has one, but none of the others do, which makes it hard to find the other stories you write. I'd definitely appreciate you making a masterlist with everything on it! ❤️
If the poll result says yes, I'll modify the betaverse masterlist to have the Pink Robin and the Guide series! If there are other posts of mine you'd like added to the masterlist, just tell me and I'll add them too! Thank you for the ask 💕
Guide to Dealing with Your Deadbeat Family's Evil Counterparts | Part 4
Six in the evening. Getting off the cab in front of Wayne Manor's side gate, you walked through it, down the driveway, and into the manor, from the side door that opened right into a spiral staircase leading up to your turret. With an obligatory sigh you slowly trudged up, your mind a mess of half-finished thoughts about tonight's online lessons, breakfast options, your countless technically-in-progress projects, and of course–your deadbeat family's evil counterparts still here.
With another sigh, you opened your bedroom door.
"Reader, we need to talk."
You closed your bedroom door.
Tried to, anyway. You watched sadly as impostor Jason shoved his combat-booted foot between the gap and yanked the door back open, his face looking clearly annoyed (but also subtly amused) as he tersely ordered,
"Reader. In."
This is my room, you out, was what you'd love to tell him. Self-defenestrate was what you'd love to do. Alas, all you could do was get into your room with another sigh.
Your turret bedroom was octagonal, with three windowless sides including the one with the door. To the left of it, along the western wall was a narrow bathroom without a bathtub. Against the adjacent northwestern wall was your bed–an admittedly luxurious, elaborately carved four-poster one you had spent quite an embarrassing amount of mana to move out of one of the show bedrooms in the Manor's main building. Next to it were the matching double wardrobes flanking a dressing table with an attached trifold mirror. Across the bedroom door, a suite of couch, two armchairs and table stood before the fireplace between two big windows facing northeast. The entire east side was your mini art studio, besides that against the southeastern wall your desk and pair of bookcases. Lastly along the southern wall was a kitchenette.
It was big, almost unnecessarily so. Seeing as your coven members regularly snuck in here and stayed the night (or day) however, it was simply a comfortable fit. Nevertheless, today your room felt too small, what with the impostor Bats not just sitting around but practically looming there.
Jason, having firmly shut the door behind you, went presumably back to his original position on your desk chair. Damian stood sentinel in front of an easel displaying your unfinished painting. Dick sat on the pouf while leaning back against your dressing table. Tim actually, shamelessly lay on your bed with his shoes on like a heathen who never had to do laundry or make a bed in his life. Mr Alfred practically manifested out of thin air in the kitchen area and jumpscared you with his murmured offer of relieving you of your satchel.
Last of all, of course, Mr Wayne the impostor himself. Sitting on one of the armchairs that one of them had to have moved so to directly face the doorway, his elbows resting on his spread knees and his mouth hidden behind his clasped fingers. Looking every inch the forbidding papa with his rebellious child.
Or–perhaps more fittingly–a mafia boss or a supervillain. He lacked the cat to stroke on his lap, though.
Pretending your heart wasn't beating rapidly, you put on a nonchalant face, strolled across the room, then seated yourself on the centre of the couch opposite Mr Wayne. You immediately regretted the last action, as the counterparts of your oldest adoptive brother and your sole half-brother abandoned their spots to also sit on the couch flanking you, practically in unison. It took all your experiences facing dangerous entities (planned or otherwise, generally the latter) to keep yourself from tensing visibly.
Seeing as Mr Wayne seemed content to keep staring solemnly at you, you took the initiative to open the conversation.
You chirped, "Good evening, Mr Wayne!" and had the satisfaction of seeing the vein on Mr Wayne's neck twitch visibly.
"Reader," Mr Wayne finally ground out, "we need to talk."
"We are talking right now, Mr Wayne," you placidly pointed out. "And you already said that when I first opened the door."
"You mean before you immediately closed said door?" Damian snarked.
You pretended not to hear him.
Mr Wayne closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before opening them again. "We need to talk about your leaving the house without informing any of us."
You blinked, pretending to be confused. "Sorry, Mr Wayne? Didn't you say that I should just do as I please and not bother you about trifles?"
Everyone in the room (sans you) tensed visibly at that.
Shifting the blame of the OG Wayne's neglect towards the impostors might not have been the wisest move, but you never claimed to be wise anyway.
For a moment, Mr Wayne looked gutted. The next, he looked as if he wanted to gut someone.
The impostors came from a dimension where you and your coven members were evil, the tiny voice in your head reminded you. That's what worries you about the impostor Bats: because they might be evil too.
Fortunately for you, Mr Wayne ended up not gutting anyone. He just spoke again, this time with an indecipherable tone, "The... situation, has changed."
Somewhere behind you, you heard Jason snort before hurriedly trying to disguise it as a cough. You were envious; all your self-control went into appearing 'innocently confused' at Mr Wayne's lame excuse.
Likely realizing the lameness of his excuse too, Mr Wayne hastened to elaborate.
Or rather, to lie, "You are currently in danger by our enemies. We need to know your movement to keep you safe."
You were genuinely flabbergasted. "Our enemies??"
Oh, you knew the OG Bats had their rogues and all that. And, admittedly, you did not really know how they operated. Still, somehow you had this feeling that the OG Bats would not refer to their rogues as 'enemies'. People who would say such a thing, in your experience, could only be...
Oh crap.
These impostors couldn't be actual mobsters, right? You were joking about Mr Wayne looking like a mafia boss!!
Meanwhile, in another dimension...
The portal harshly spat them out before whirling into nothing. By the time they had regained their balance and turned around, it was to see the end of the portal's disappearance, its flash of colours and light looking as if a cheeky wink thrown their way.
The Bats–what you would call the original Bats–stood tense, instinctively moving on a formation to keep each other's back safe as they scanned the surrounding area for information. The sight of gargoyles perched atop old-looking buildings nearby gave them a semblance of comfort that they were still in Gotham, but as to be expected, it wasn't their Gotham.
Red Robin cursed under his breath while typing rapidly on his wristwatch holographic computer. Nightwing frowned as he went over contacts in his comm. Robin kept his katana ready, standing protectively in front of Agent A, while Red Hood discreetly checked the elder's condition. Batman alone stood still, even with a batarang wielded in one hand, his mind sorting through contingency plans while his eyes watched the almost familiar cityscape of Gotham on the horizon with a look that not even he could decipher.
Suddenly, came the sound of footsteps. The already wary Bats turned towards the source–a dark alley between two brownstones nearby–weapons drawn just in case.
First came the shoes. Hand-stitched genuine Italian leather ones, decidedly of good quality. Next came the suit, perfectly tailored to the wearer's body. Then pinned to the dress shirt, replacing the conventional necktie was an odd cabochon brooch–odd, because upon seeing that the Bats all thought it almost familiar just like this Gotham they were in. Lastly was the face of the person, a face that initially looked perfectly unfamiliar until a second and a third look made them rethink, try to remember–
And eventually recognize with a shock that felt like cold water drenching their forms.
"You're... Reader?"
Half-lidded eyes languidly sweep the area. You–or rather, your evil counterpart–curled their lips up in a cold smile.
"My, my. You're a long way from your dimension, Bats."
A/N: *panting like a dog* Sorry guys, this is the best I managed to write. I'm afraid my hope that this chapter would be easier to write was naive and foolish of me.
Please leave replies or send asks, I require the validation 🙏
Btw, should I add this series and Pink Robin to the masterlist?
Guide to Dealing with Your Deadbeat Family's Evil Counterparts | Part 3
Meanwhile, at the Wayne Manor...
"They hung up on me?"
Dick stared at his phone in disbelief. Hours he'd spent trying to find you because this dimension's unworthy excuse of your family never bothered saving your phone number moreover installing a single tracker in said phone, hours he'd ended up tearing your bedroom apart for the slightest clue until he came across a scribbled note of what he later learnt with knee-buckling relief was indeed your phone number, hours fretting and praying nothing had happened to you–
Only for you to hang up on him??
Not far from Dick, Jason, the bastard, snorted in amusement.
"Oh, I like the kid's audacity." He grinned. "I was already worried they would be the kid version of a Stepford wife, what with the perfect socialite manner before. Turns out all they needed to be a brat was for Dickiebird to be all motherhen over them."
Breathing in, Dick reminded himself that the phone he was gripping actually belonged to his counterpart and thus necessary for pretending to be him (except for the terrible brother part), and thus shouldn't be thrown at Jason's head.
Bruce, on top of a ladder by the wall where he was re-hanging a framed painting, proceeded to frown. "That could have many implications. Our previous investigation has shown that Reader is not close to any of our counterparts, and they have acted–as Jason remarked–perfectly polite to us back at dinner. But then they ran away and behaved flippantly towards Dick who contacted them, which could mean–"
"Which could mean we would not finish putting my sibling's room back together before their return, if you chose to dwell upon this matter right now, Father," Damian snarked, then added, "Tilt the painting two more milimeters up on the left side."
Bruce frowned harder, but did as directed.
Shutting closed the drawer where he had just put your re-folded clothes in, Alfred ignored the rest and addressed Tim, "I presume you are still unable to track down Mx Reader's location, Master Tim?"
Tim let out a voice between a groan and a shout, pressing one hand over his face while throwing his tablet across the bed he was sitting on using his other hand. Said tablet skidded near the edge and precariously hung halfway out, threatening to fall and shatter into pieces, but it seemed Tim was too exasperated to care right now.
"It's unbelievable! It's like the signal is glitching out of reality itself! Which it isn't because I know how to deal with that! I don't know what is up with their phone!"
"Just say you're not as smart as you thought you were, Timmy," teased Jason. "Wouldn't help with anything, but would keep you humble at least."
"I'll humble you, you–"
"If you would be so good to focus on the matter at hand, please, young masters."
"Right," Dick muttered, massaging his forehead while going through his phone one more time. Just like all the previous times he did it, Dick felt a pang in his chest. His counterpart had been as social as he was; there were countless chats and call logs as well as pics and recordings from all sorts of events in said phone. Even his notes app was full of reminders for people's birthdays and other celebrations with suggestions for gifts.
Yet out of the hundreds of chats and calls, the thousands of pics and recordings, not a single one came from you. Hell, Dick's counterpart did not even have your phone number.
Did that bitch even remember you were his little sibling?
You were sixteen to Dick's twenty-eight. Twelve years' difference. Dick, both in his world and this one, first came to live with Bruce at age eight–twenty years ago, damn, he was getting old. The records concerning you and your mother were frustratingly sparse, but the part about your age was solid enough. Dick couldn't help wondering what his counterpart's twelve-year-old self was feeling and thinking about your existence then.
Was he excited to have a baby sibling? Or was he jealous, scared that the baby would take away all the love and attention from him?
And what about your mother? The one and only wife of Bruce's counterpart, Dick's counterpart's stepmother, who went missing without a trace three days after giving birth to you. Were he and your mother close? Or the opposite? Did he hate both you and your mother, or did he like her but hate you, or did he like the both of you?
Dick thought about the twelve-year-old boy who had every chance to be a big brother to you, who could have witnessed your first word and step, who very likely never did–and detested him with every inch of his being.
Dick would have been a much better brother to you.
(Though as your big brother, his first act once he got you back would be to lock you up inside until you knew not to run away or hang up on him.)
You paused in the middle of walking through the street, suddenly feeling a chill running up your spine.
Pressing one hand to your nape and another to the mana stone brooch pinned on your sternum (actually the concealed hilt of a dagger you'd made yourself), you warily scanned for danger. Finding none, you slightly more frantically used your magic sense to check on your technically-in-progress projects, just in case one of them was about to explode and decimate Gotham again.
Having triple checked that everything was fine, you tentatively assumed the chill was caused by the impostors. Whatever they were planning or doing to give you this premonition, though, you had no idea. You could only hope it was nothing you and your coven wouldn't be able to handle yourselves.
It was such a pain to get the JLD involved...
Mentally sorting that into the To Panic Over/Deal With Later folder, you continued on your way to your destination:
The evil dimensional portal's original location.
Of all cliches, said location happened to be an abandoned warehouse that had been used by a cult to summon their god. Or maybe a bunch of baby goths to summon a demon, you weren't sure. The traces of a shoddy pentagram drawn in pig blood on the concrete floor could've been done by kindergarteners for all you knew.
("Not everyone's an ambidextrous able to draw perfect circles and straight lines without tools or a natural array genius, witch."
"I have no idea what you are talking about, werewolf.")
Your coven was waiting already. Callum paused his prying open the crates stacked by a wall with his favourite crowbar to cheerfully wave at you, syncing with Gudrun who was perched gargoyle style on a rafter above. Dressed in a pure white, bell-sleeved medieval-esque robe with a hood drawn over the upper half of her widely-smiling face, you privately thought she looked scarier than Callum with his rusty ol' crowbar. Kilmeny and Lark, the lovebirds, blessedly just nestled to each other on top of a long crate while smiling and nodding at you in greeting.
You waved your own hand, at once greeting your coven back and gathering them around. Without further ado, you asked,
"Got anything?"
After a minor breakdown over the impossibility of changing the impostor Bats for the originals, you had your coven members split up to gather clues, info, or whatever else they could. You yourself had gone to your lab-slash-study-slash-studio to retrieve your grimoire.
Gudrun was the first to speak. "I've checked with Grandmère. Nothing historically important about this place or either times those portals appeared. As far as we've been able to check, it was chosen randomly."
You sighed, unsurprised yet still disappointed. Logically you would know if an important event (ranging from a demon-worshipping orgy to a wrongful mass execution) had happened here considering your mana sensitivity, but you had held onto a tiny bit of hope that at least the time might mean something.
Callum went next. Waving the handheld metal detector he'd 'liberated' from one transphobic mall cop and modified into a mana detector, he announced, "Nothing. Zilch. Nada. If not for the recorded notification of the portal reopening, I would've thought I'd dreamed it up."
Again, sadly unsurprising. Back when the portal first closed, you had been unable to detect even a hint of something ever happening there.
Mentioning the notification, you turned towards Kilmeny, who fumbled the tablet in her hand and held it up the wrong way first before scrambling to flip it. On the screen was a scanned picture of the array you had originally put down here after closing the portal.
"I, I checked the num, numbers. It wasn't–there was nothing w, wrong. It sh, should work norm–like normal."
Once again, completely within your expectation. Not to toot your own horn or anything, but you hadn't trained to draw all kinds of array with your eyes closed and your hands tied at the back for you to fumble such a basic alarm array. Frankly, if you had drawn it wrong, you would cannonball into the ocean out of shame.
Lastly came Lark, who typed on his phone's text-to-speech function, "I hacked the BC. The OGs brought the impostors in."
Your eyebrows flew to your hairline. Okay, now you were surprised. Also mildly suspicious Lark was insulted you made him go last, which was why he delivered the news so nonchalantly.
Judging from the lightning-quick smug look in his eyes, your suspicion was correct.
Geez, this guy was too petty.
The petty Lark proceeded to elaborate, fingers practically flying over the keyboard. "According to their comm transcript, the OG were about to wrap up patrol yesterday morning when they witnessed the Im spat out by the portal. The OG confronted them. The Im said it was an accident and they meant no harm to this dimension."
Hmm. Truth or lie?
"The OG took them to the cave. Then–" Lark grimaced, "–said they'd begin interrogation."
"They didn't do that?" asked Callum.
Here Lark hesitated. He grimaced again, then shot you an apologetic look that your brain hurriedly tried to decipher, but only managing to do so after Lark answered Callum's question.
No words, no sign language, only Lark's fingers forming a scalpel and making a Y shape over his own torso.
Your back felt like it'd been drenched with cold water.
"Vivisection?!" Gudrun blurted out. You and the others couldn't help recoiling at the word bluntly said.
"D, d, did they real, really–?"
"No." Blessedly, Lark shook his head at Kilmeny's unfinished question. Your almost collapsed in relief. Or stomped on Lark's pristine white tennis shoes for the scare. "They were going to, but the Im refused to cooperate. Obviously. They fought instead, all the OG vs half the Im. The other half hacked the BC and somehow opened the portal again."
"...seriously?" Gudrun voiced what you were thinking. The portal opened a third time? Not here, granted, but it did?
Lark was about to nod, but paused to think it over, before eventually shrugging. "A portal, at least," he amended.
"Right. Sure. All right." You had a headache. Nursing your left temple, you closed your eyes and let out a great sigh, then asked, "So, the impostors sent the originals into this portal, I suppose? What did they do next?"
"Checked the BC. Looked up the OG, Gotham, JL." Another pause, then Lark added, "You."
"Me?" You blinked, headache temporarily forgotten. "...why?"
Lark just shrugged, causing you to sigh again.
"Maybe because the 'you' here is different from their 'you'?" Gudrun suggested.
Your face twisted at the concept of any of your counterparts, evil or otherwise, being the Bats'. However...
"That does make sense," you admitted. After all, your evil counterpart you had to fight back when the portal first opened was–well, not like you.
They were colder. Sharper. You remembered their eyes, impassively surveilling the area, your coven and you with only calculation of how troublesome it would be to take you all down. Their voice, bored yet perfectly decisive when telling their coven: Attack. No need to hold back. Their movement not slow so much as perfectly measured to not waste energy and brimming with lethal grace, poised to kill you and your coven members as if merely handling petty annoyances.
Assuming the impostors knew you there–wait a freaking second.
"Did they know me? My counterpart?"
Your coven blinked in unison. You hurriedly elaborated.
"We've all fought our counterparts, so we know they exist in that dimension. In this dimension, I'm related to Batman. But does the same case apply there? Were the impostors–the Bats from that dimension–related to my counterpart there as well?"
Callum opened his mouth, but closed it again to rethink whatever he'd been thinking. Gudrun ran a fingertip over her rapier, frowning. Lark turned on his phone and rewound the recording he had of the impostor Bats from the Batcave. Kilmeny fidgeted with her cable-knit cape, shyly peering at you before equally shyly asking,
"W, what if they di, didn't... Or did?"
In all honesty? You hoped the impostors did.
Because that'd mean they would be wary about you becoming like your counterpart–someone dangerous and possibly out of the Bats' control. Because that'd mean they would seek to prevent you from becoming like that. Because that'd be something you could handle, if neither easily nor without help.
But if they didn't know you there?
If they only saw you here, stated to be Batman's, Bruce Wayne's older biological child who was not involved in the family at all moreover the ~family business~?
If they saw you here and decided to... what? Get to know you because you were family?
You wouldn't know how to deal with that at all.
A/N: Not super thrilled with this part 3 tbh, hope you guys don't dislike it bc I'm afraid this is the best I can do. I think I have a not-really-plot for this series tho, so hopefully part 4 will be easier (and faster) to write :)
Please don't hesitate to leave replies or send asks! 💕
I NEED MORE OF FORGETFUL READER AND IMPOSTER READER (I don’t remember the name, you get me though) I CRAVE MORE. I WILL GIVE YOU MY FIRST BORN. TRUST!!!!
Forgetful reader is just a one-off for now, sorry! Idk if I could reach the same sense of humor again 😔🙏 Witch reader who's dealing with the impostor Batfam is in the works tho! Please wait patiently 💕
(Don't worry, they're nameless and I don't remember the title either myself)
Thank you for the ask! And no need for your firstborn, thank you, I'm scared of babies 🫶
Thinking about a neglectful reader... Hmm, no, that's kinda harsh. Let's just say a ✨forgetful✨ reader.
Reader who so easily forgets people's faces and names. When summer vacation ends they'll go back to school and not remember the names of their own classmates unless reader's regularly interacted with them through the vacation. Like practically their whole conversation that first day back to school is like this:
Reader's Classmate: Reader, hi! How was your vacation?
Reader: Oh hi! 😊 (a suspiciously cheerful smile in place of the classmate's name) Mine was nice. How about yours?
RC: Niceee. ...you forgot my name again, didn't you.
Reader, humbly: My bad 🤞😔
Even reader's own best friends know they aren't invincible. If any of them has to go away with no contact with reader longer than three days, they will come back wearing a name tag or something similar and gesture aggressively to it.
Reader's friend #1, back from a week-long academic camp: *gives the sign to other friends*
Friends #2 to #5, moving their arms and heads into the letters of friend #1's name and shouting cheerleader-style: J! A! N! E! J-A-N-E JANE!!!
Reader, mortified: Oh my god sorry I have the memory of a goldfish?? 😭 We chatted nightly the whole week, I still remember your name!!!
Friend #1: 😐 I have to stay vigilant. One time you forgot my name mid-conversation with me
Reader, now offended: And one time we were traveling together you forgot my existence at the subway card reader!!!
Friend #1: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Reader: (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻
The thing is, though, reader's memory in general is not equal to a goldfish. Honestly, they're pretty good at remembering stuff. It's just like this post.
In reader's case, obviously, the forget everything part is about people's names and faces.
In relation to this, do you know the family full of black-haired blue-eyed boys who, in spite of the lack of blood relation (sans the youngest who is ironically the only one not with blue eyes or white skin) look very similar to the patriarch?
That's right: The Wayne's, a.k.a the Batfamily.
A.k.a difficulty level: HELL when it comes to differentiating between names and faces.
So here's reader, the neglected child in the fam. The one whom the Batfam treats like air, or like a pet they're indifferent about–smiling politely and making small talk with reader when they're not busy and happen to encounter each other, at best just as politely excusing themselves but not infrequently outright snapping at reader when they're busy. More importantly, the one whom the Batfam never hangs out with, and therefore also the one who keeps forgetting their names.
Reader, passing by Dick: *nods casually* 'Sup, Nick.
Dick: Oh haha, very funny, Reader. You know my name
Reader: ?
Dick:
Reader:
Dick: You... Do know my name... Don't you?
Reader, remembering Jason-whose-name-they-also-have-forgotten calling Dick 'Dickolas': Isn't... Isn't it Nick? Like Nicholas?
Dick: ...
Reader: *absconds*
Jason: Hey, kiddo. Heard you misremembered Goldie's name
Reader, having already forgotten Dick's name again but unfortunately still remembers the Incident™ clearly: Haha, yeah (눈‸눈)
Jason: Heh, good for you. Dickiebird does need to be taken down a peg or two sometimes
Reader, getting premonition, now trying to recall Jason's name: U-huh. Sure
Jason: Yeah, like he's the golden boy and all, sure, but it's not as if everybody needs to know or remember him, right? And-
Reader, getting premonition harder, trying to recall Jason's name more frantically: What was it... Was it something ending with 'son'...? Oh, wasn't there the Grayson–wait that can't be a first name... Huh, didn't one of them once call him something ending with 'ay' instead? Or was it somebody else? Nah, the figure back then looked like his. Hmm May, Day, Kay... Gay? Oh–
Jason: -anyway! You remember my name, don't you?
Reader, premonition confirmed: *confidently nods* Of course, Gaylord
Jason:
Reader:
Jason, grabbing reader's shoulders: How the fuck did you get that name out of mine
Reader: 🫥
Tim, barging into reader's room: Reader, we need to ta–aaAAAA!!!
Reader, having completely forgotten Tim's face: HELP!!! PERVERT!!! THERE'S A PERVERT IN MY ROOM!!!
Tim: I'M YOUR BROTHER! STOP SCREAMING! AND MORE IMPORTANTLY STOP SPRAYING ME WITH BUG SPRAY!!!
Reader, tucking the bug spray can under their blanket: Oh, why didn't you say so
Tim: 🙂💢
Tim: Okay, never mind that. We need to talk about your constantly forgetting people's names. This is a serious matter, people will think you're being impolite by forgetting them–
Reader: Didn't you 'forget' to prepare a table for that couple you disliked at the last gala?
Tim, without hesitating a beat: No, damn, you misremembered that too? Anyway here, I made you this easy-to-remember PowerPoint for you to know–
Reader, knowing full well Tim lied: 😒 Yeah yeah, sure, I'll take a look when I have the time. Thanks bro
Tim, pausing: ...look at the PowerPoint
Reader, spitefully: I will. Later. When I have the time. Bye, dude
Tim: Look at it now. Look at my page. Look at my name!!!
Reader: LATER, MAN!!!
That night at dinner.
Reader: Thanks for the PowerPoint again!
Tim, gripping the water glass stem: Yeah...?
Reader: Yeah, it was so useful to remember everyone's names and faces
Tim, gripping harder: Right...?
Reader: That's right! So thank you for that...
✨William✨
Tim shatters the glass in his hand. Reader has no regret.
Damian, victim to being the youngest child in the family and having had Bruce call everyone's names including the pets' before finally getting to his, wielding a katana: My name is Damian Al-Ghul Wayne. Carve it into your soul lest I carve it into your flesh
Reader, unfazed: No use carving your name on me, I'd still forget it was supposed to be yours. Write it on your forehead or something instead
Damian: I'm your brother! You're not supposed to forget my name!! I've always remembered yours ever since I learnt about you!!!
Reader: *looks at Bruce, outwardly polite but inwardly indifferent*
Bruce: *looks at reader, outwardly indifferent but inwardly disturbed*
Reader, having counted to ten: Sooo, is there something you want to talk to me about? Because if not I still have homework and stuff to do–
Bruce: Reader
Reader: ?
Bruce, pained: It has come to my attention... You often forget your brothers' names?
Reader, accidentally slipping: Not just theirs. I regularly forget everyone's names
Bruce: ...even mine?
Reader:
Bruce:
Reader: Uhh, look here. It's–it's not that I mean to be mean, you know? I forget my own friends' names, I forget everyone's. And, really, it's–
Reader: ...I shouldn't even be addressing you by name, you know
Bruce: ...ah
Reader: *absconds before Bruce realizes that reader hasn't called him any variation of dad for years*
Alfred: Young Mx–
Reader, vaguely recalling Alfred's (sur)name as Super British: Hi, London! Bye, London!
Alfred: .
This doesn't have to be yandere Batfam, of course, but if it does? Naturally, it warrants the Batfam keeping reader at home for them to constantly interact with. This way they'll never forget the names of their own family members, right, reader?
(Cue the whole Batfam having to fight in space for a whole month, then coming back to reader having escaped, faked their death, forged a new identity, started a new life elsewhere, and most importantly forgotten the Batfam's names again)
Been thinking about this AU for a long time. Honestly tho it's gotten worse after reading Damian being canonically neglected and mistreated by Bruce 💔 He's my boy now 💔
Anyway you all have heard of neglected reader, now get ready for neglected Batfam.
Gonna preface this by confessing that I'm a purely fic reader. No offense I just don't want to crash out bc DC ruins my blorbos again, my heart is fragile. But anyway I've observed in fics at least neglected Dick post-Spyral, Tim, and of course Damian.
(In canon there's Steph too, but I can't say I've read even one (1) fic centred on neglected Steph. Poor girl is neglected to even be written in fics.)
We'll still combine this with a neglected reader tho. The usual kind who is unloved and ignored by everyone in the Batfam.
Maybe you're a meta, maybe you just somehow come across this science/magic item, heck maybe you're a technically totally normal human who then proceeds to build the thing from scraps, but whatever it is, it allows you to see into other dimensions. Other worlds, with other versions of you as well as the Batfamily.
Maybe at the start you are just looking for a world where you aren't neglected, where you have a good relationship with the Batfam. Only to be slapped with the horrifying truth that in most of those worlds you don't even exist, and in the ones you do, if you're not neglected you're obsessed over and have your personal boundaries and privacy constantly violated, there's just no winning for you. Eventually, you branch out to look into other worlds.
Maybe the Damian in your world is indeed the 'demon brat', who despite literally injuring you somehow still gets loved more by the Batfam. So in your hurt and anger, you search for a world where Damian is the one neglected. See how that demon brat likes being neglected like you!
Well. You find the world, all right. Multiple of them, in fact.
...You don't like that.
You watch as Damian tries and tries and tries, but people keep thinking that he is evil. A killer. A sinner. Damian himself thinks that and goes to hell because he believes he deserves to go there!
In the end, you can't stand it anymore. After finding yet another world like that, you step in. You hug the boy, telling him that it's all right, that you know he's tried his best, that he's truly good. You offer Damian–not a home, perhaps, but just somewhere to shelter in. To take a break from the coldness of what should have been a family (is a family in another world) and just... be.
Maybe Damian resists at the start, not knowing moreover trusting this stranger no matter how much he's been longing to hear those words. Or maybe he is too tired already and–really, would the Batfam care if he leaves? Other than in case he's gone rogue and betrayed their secret to the enemies, Damian doubts it. So he accepts.
And from the occasional sanctuary, eventually turns into a home, both for him and for you.
Others join later on.
Tim, who's sacrificed everything to bring Bruce back only to find himself unacknowledged by the family. Dick, who's died and been forced to keep faking it in order to infiltrate Spyral only to come back to cold siblings and Bruce refusing to say a word in his defense. Steph, the girl, the outsider, the one made into Robin only to lure Tim back in and ended up tortured to near-death by Black Mask because Batman never regarded her as a partner worthy of trust in the first place.
She jokingly calls the shelter you offer them as Reader's Home for Neglected Bats and Birds. You and the others laugh, laugh so much until there are tears and the laughter turn into sobs and sniffles.
"...I still miss them."
"I still wish they'd accept me."
"I still wonder what I've done wrong to be treated like this by them."
Confessions whispered in the dark, as you and they lie under the blankets and stare up the ceiling, acknowledging each other's display of vulnerability with nothing beyond a firm, gentle clasp around each other's hands.
It's all right now. You've made a home, a family with them now.
Until your respective Batfams finally realize you're gone for real and, as per the custom with neglected reader stories, grow yandere in their quests to take you back 💕
