PLATONIC!JUSTICE LEAGUE x CIVILIAN!TEENAGE MALE READER
(Did them separate cause itâs easier for me + an old request from January ;-;)
âSUPERMAN/CLARK KENT
Clark freaking Smallville Kent.
Heâs the number one dad figure to you.
Honestly, if you did have a good dad heâll be the second dad youâll ask for advice.
But if you didnât have a good dad and he was a deadbeat, heâll gladly adopt you (cough cough go away Bruce).
Calls you , âchampâ âsonâ âkidâ just classic country boy things or whatever.
He likes to think youâll be safe if heâs just Clark to you. But of course heâs wrong.
Whenever he hears youâre in trouble or maybe youâre at an event due to school and thereâs a villain. Heâll be there in a snap.
Maybe too quick.
Maybe he knows youâre his child in his heart rather than biologically.
Late to school? Donât worry heâll drive you over there like a NORMAL person and not as a hero. Even if you begged him if you knew he was Superman.
Youâd joke about being an intern for him as a photographer. And heâll take it as a pride that he inspired you to work at the Daily Planet.
âCmon kid, take a picture of that.â Heâd say as you grumble annoyed.
âYeah sure, Dad.â You said accidentally. You covered your mouth in shock while Clark just froze before hiding the smile and tears in his eyes.
He cried that night to Lois. âHe called me dad!â He was so happy, not minding how you felt embarrassed.
He was definitely proud of being the male role model for you.
âBATMAN/BRUCE WAYNE
ïżŒ Motherfucker run. You're gonna be the next victim of being added to the Batfamily if you donât stop being so damn smart and adorable.
Youâre a classmate of Damian, a simple student who is ranked number one in the grade you are in with Damian. Damian envies you, he hates you is what he ranted to Bruce before two months had passed, and he would bring you along to the manor.
It didnât take you til around the fourth month of basically being a new âmemberâ of the family to figure out who the hell these people were.
Bruce caught you staring at a shelf, the same shelf that held the secrets of the Batcave. Secrets of years of having robins and being the dark knight of Gotham.
âThis shelf. Itâs different.â You simply said, looking at Bruce through your square glasses. Bruce couldnât help but smile, you reminded him of Tim. But different.
He revealed it. It wasnât too much to handle, but it was enough for you to be around with Barb whenever the family was on missions.
Youâd be doing homework while in the Batcave as Damian is training behind you.
He practically adopted you without the adoption papers.
If you donât come to the manor at the specific time , heâs sending one of the kids to check you out.
Cass would literally stalk you from afar like a big older sister whoâs making sure you arenât having any problems with people.
Steph would make sure you live your life out big.
Tim would help with your chem exams. Heâs your tutor and best guy to ever as for questions when stuck on your homework.
Duke was the coolest guy ever! He always knew what to say to you and smiled when you explained your day to him.
Damian argued with Tim about helping you, mostly making sure he was the one who helped you more.
Dick was the cool oldest brother who would practically take you out to movie theaters and eat popcorn.
Barb was the kind of person whoâd say âIâm not babysitting himâ just for her to watch you with soft admiration for helping her.
Jason.. heâs that one brother that pops up out of nowhere and just takes you out for a simple McDonaldâs meal all cause you wanted some too.
Bruce practically has a camera and safety alarms in your apartment. Heâd almost forgotten you have a parent/parents.
Too bad you already signed up for his batfamily nonsense.
Yep, youâre adopted.
âWONDERWOMAN/DIANA PRINCE
Ouuuu, sheâs big momma.
You once went up to her and told her that she inspired you to fight against your bullies.
Just small and simple as she felt her heart warm up and pet your head. Calling you a âwarriorâ.
As Wonder Woman, she was your personal protector. Always there to your call as she felt maternal towards you.
And as Diana Prince, she kept the maternal relationship with you and the energy. Youâd come to the watch tower beside her, smiling wide with that kiddish teenage grin as you rant to her about your school day.
She didnât get much from what you spoke about, other than that you had a good day and the school lunch was better today.
Clark would slightly tease her talking about how sheâs practically your mother.
Diana smiled and waved her hand, âOf course Iâm not. I am his mother.â
And she meant by that, sheâd be your second mother if you already had one. Sheâd be the man one if your mom left you or died.
Sheâll train you, sheâll mentor you in every case that she wonât be there to protect you.
Thereâs nothing better than a woman whoâs devoted to caring for her child thatâs not hers biologically.
âTHE FLASH/WALLY WEST
Holy fucking shit.
You just gained the best older brother/dad figure ever.
Wally, wallster, big red (cuz of his red hair), the flash, THEEE flash is always there for you bro.
Heâs always there to be on time for your recitals for your marching band.
He realized you were just like him, you couldnât stand or sit still. You always drummed your fingers against your knees or on his head.
âKid, you may wanna get into a band.â He suggested, feeling your smaller hands on his head as you drummed.
âSure!â You said back. And look at Wally now, taking a video of you beating on your percussion instrument.
Bart side eyes Wally whoâs pointing at you with a proud grin, âYou see him? Heâs the one rightââ
âOmg I get it!!â Bart said annoyed, but he couldnât lie and say you werenât cool.
You let Bart beat on your drums that were old drums to let out his energy.
The Flash family does admire you cause you can handle their energy. Including Bart who likes to ask you to hang out on random weekends.
Wally would speed over to you with some groceries that you need with the help of Barry beside him.
You were one of the normal people in the family, even if you arenât really in the family by speed or biological relationships.
Itâs about the relationship that makes the family.
âGREEN LATERN/HAL JORDAN
He wants to be sooo nonchalant at least, talking about how âthis kid is so clingy to me, itâs adorable.â
Meanwhile, this cocky mofo is soft and a sweet father figure, texting you if you made it safely to the bus.
Iâll say I can see him trying to get away from you as he just sees you as some kid around the watch tower that was randomly brought around all cause Batman knows youâre a safe person to trust despite being young.
But the more times you rant about how you thought planes were cool, you didnât make much eye contact. You talked about planes like they were the only things that made sense to you.
You were someone he knew he had to protect.
Heâd watch you when he wasnât needed for a mission as you sat by him at the long table. Heâll help you quietly at first.
Guy once made fun of you, it was a small joke of course. But Hal didnât take it that way and almost fought him before Wally came over and diffused it as you clung to Halâs arm.
You were just 14 and you knew that the air shifted around you.
Okay yeah, he denies how heâs your guardian, but then heâll proudly declare it if someone were to just call him that.
I love the idea of Tim clocking Bruce was Batman as a small child but the problem is that he is a small child. Tim at a charity event with his parents and they're passing Bruce and Tim just tugs at Janet's hand snf he's like "Dad, that's Batman" and the Drakes are all, "Oh don't be silly, Timmy."
Then a few years later, Bruce is at a gala and Jack and he are bonding over their kids and Jack has to tell him that his Tim, his silly little boy, thinks that Bruce is Batman. And Bruce is chuckling, like "yo that's crazy" until he looks around and... is that? There's Tim pressed up against a window.
i love being late to trends. my new years resolution is to be late to every trend ever. and you know im serious because im even late to new years.
(theres an inverse version of this by @chamiryokuroi , you should go check it out! i started making this before i saw theirs, but i think its cool that now theres both versions)
I really like the whole âother members of the Batfam can mimic the Robin, report! to a degree where they actually respond as if itâs Batman,â but I raise you:
What if other Gothamites learned to do the same thing?
The first time it happens, Jim is panicking. Heâs got an injured bird on his hands and no idea where Batman is. The kid isnât responding no matter who asks questions, and suddenly the GCPD is treated to Commissioner Gordon doing a scarily good Batman impression, to the point Robin immediately responds
Word doesnât necessarily get out right away. It happened in the precinct building, so the only witnesses were cops. But the rumors start in bars with drunk men telling anecdotes, with officers coming home with stories, and it spreads from there.
Eventually, people know that if you channel Batman and go âRobin, report!â the bird will go from gasping desperately in pain to a robotic list of injuries. EMTs learn to do this as part of their training. The Bats donât go to hospitals, but they will let someone do emergency first aid on them.
Interestingly, it doesnât just work on Robin. Gotham knows, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks, that their little birds grow up to become other Bats. Itâs why their rivalry with BlĂŒdhaven over Nightwing is so vicious. Thatâs their little bird the city is claiming. BlĂŒdhaven did not raise him, Gotham did.
Of course, not all of the Bats were Robin. Signal flipped someone off for trying the trick, and Black Bat pulled out a sharpie and drew a sad face on a civilianâs hand when they were trying to see how injured she was after falling several stories due to a snapped grapple line. So, the trick isnât universal.
The most surprising one was when someone found Red Hood, half-buried in rubble with a slash across his neck, and barked out the order in a panic and he immediately complied.
It wasnât Batman who told the city he was their dead little bird. It was the panic of a passerby just trying to do the right thing.
I couldn't help it. @leithlovesyou i reblogged your reblog and then decided no i need to write it, so i did.
===
Mary is just a kid, in the grand scheme of things.
She's nineteen, fresh out of high school after flunking a year, and trying her damnedest to find a job that doesn't have a manager who will grope her under her dress.
They can tell her an 18 year old is an adult all they like, it doesn't give Mary any more idea of what the hell she's fucking doing.
But even clueless as she is, even as scared and lonely and desperate, she knows that when you come across a downed Bat, you help.
You help, because the Bats stop at nothing to help you and ignoring a Bat is like spitting in the face of all the little good things you experience in this beautiful, fucked up hell hole of a city.
Because Gotham is a hell of a place to be but when you're born and bred here, there ain't no other place to beâthe city's tar runs in your veins, so you help.
Even if that Bat is Red Hood.
Mary's from the Narrowsâshe knows about Hood and the good he's done for her Alley friends. She's notâshe knows about the bad, but in the grand scheme of things Hood's got the Bat on his chest, and Signal's her guy and he seems tight with Hood andâ
Mary might be panicking.
She was on her way to another interview when a building collapsed, and like a good Gothamite she ran the other wayâonly to get turned around this way and that because the smoke and rubble and dustâ
Somehow, someway, she's ended up here in the thick of it. Not 10 feet away from her is Red Hood, bloodied and delirious, half buried under rubble with blood all over his neck there is so much fucking blood and it might be bad he might not be breathing except Mary can see his chest heaving, and his helmet looks cracked all over like some kind of horror movie god there's so much bloodâ
Mary is definitely fucking panicking.
"Hood, Red Hoodâoh god," Mary rasps, tumbling over on her knees, scraping them to high hell, reaching over only to hover her hands awkwardly because what the fuck is she supposed to doâ "Hood, can you hear me? Oh god oh god oh godâ"
Hood doesn't react beyond a painful sounding wheeze, and she's definitely hyperventilating but she's a Gothamite god fucking damn it, so she cries a little bit as she scrambles for her phone.
"911, what's your emergency?" A man's gruff voice answers.
"H-Heâthere'sâ" Mary tries to say, hiccuping through her sobs. "Buildings collapsed, he'sâhis neck isâthey're so much bloodâ"
"Ma'am, you're okay, take a deep breath for me." The man asks, which she complies to with a stutter and a wheeze. "Can you tell me where you are? Are you safe?"
Mary looks around, not recognizing much of anything in the wreckage exceptâthere's a signâ "I-I'm on front street, andâand Madison street, I-I think. I-I'm safe but he'sâoh god."
"Good, that's good, I'll send someone over right now, you said he? Is he safe?"
"I-it's..He's, there's something wrong but he's under rubble a-and there's so much b-bloodâ" Mary bites her lips, tastes metal. She shouldâshe should do something, something for his neck right? That'sâshe shakily puts the phone on speaker. It takes her three tries and the phone tumbles down but the man on the phone is asking her to describe what's wrong and she can't fucking think.
She tears off her sweater, she liked this sweater but she has nothing else and Hood isâhe'sâ
She crumbles it up, presses it against where the blood oozes at the base of his neck. Pressure, apply pressure. Red Hood groans under her hands, twitching.
"Ma'am, paramedics on their way to your location right now, can you tell me what you're doing?"
"I-I'm putting pressure." Mary coughs out, tears blurring all around her. "O-on his neck. I-it'sâI can't seeâ"
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to take another breath for me okay? Just breathe." She takes a breath, and it must be something like clarity, must be the sirens, must be the man's voice or that red fucking Bat symbol soaking and blurring together but she remembers something that all Gothamites remember and it can't possibly work, it can't it can't it can'tâ
"ROBIN," Her voice is gravel, from the dust and crying and sheer fucking panic, "Report!"
For a moment, Mary can't hear a fucking thing. The man on the phone, the paramedics that have arrived so fast somehow, the city noises, the rasping of her, the rasping of Hood, all of itâgone. And thenâ
"G-ash to the ne-ck-k." The throat under her thumb swallows painfully. "Damaged left fibula, possible c-lean brea-k. Sprained right wr-ist, fractured ribs, possible p-uncture to the lu-ungs."
Hood tilts, spitting out a glob of blood, and passes out.
Mary's fingers feel numb.
There are paramedics surrounding her now, taking over and dragging Hood out of the rubble on a stretcher. Batman might have arrived, she doesn't know. She blinks and somehow she's sitting in the back of an ambulance with one of those stupid shiny blankets and bandaids on her knees.
She remembers when she was 12, and her mom was leaving her and her dad to fend for themselves.
She remembers sitting on the fire escape listening to her mom pack up, to her dad yelling and her mom screaming back, remembers hearing her name like it was some kind of prayer, some kind of excuse. What about Mary?
She remembers Robin, the second one, hanging upside down like a parrot-colored Spiderman, grinning down (or was it up?) at her.
Yeah, Robin had said then, What about Mary?
She remembers Robin talking to her that night, remembers crying and a warm hand that rubbed her back. Remembers Robin, smaller than she was but his hands were big.
Big and warm, the kind you grow into.
She remembers crying her eyes out when the city rumbled with rumors. When Joker kept laughingâha! ha! clipped wings for pretty birds!
She remembers seeing a Robin fly over her when she was sixteen and her heart jumping into her throat.
Remembers the bitter taste of grief when this Robin was not her Robin.
Nightwing, Red Robin, Spoiler.
All Robins accounted for, except for hers.
She thinks about the things Red Hood has done.
She thinks about eight decapitated heads, about the gun shots that echo in the Alley, about the clean drugs being shilled out, about the hookers overflowing the streets, about dead goons and rampant crime.
She thinks about Candy walking the streets and paying for med school, bruiseless and proud.
She thinks about Armando and the recovery program out in the Alley outskirts.
She thinks about rubber bullets and goons that have better things to be, lesser in number and better for it.
She thinks about those eight heads, and how much a body can bleed. Someone's cleaned her hands and her sweater is gone, but there's still blood on her dress. It's all over the hem of it, some of it on her stomache.
She thinks about Robin, younger than her. You're barely a year older than me Robin had sniffed at her on that fire escape years and years ago.
Mary is just a kid, in the grand scheme of things.
Nineteen, clueless, desperate, and no longer grieving.
if the dadâs best friend trope where he knew reader since they were born and immediately have feelings and attraction the minute reader turns 18 has no haters that means i'm dead
If you all will allow me a moment to analyze the competition as it exists, there's something interesting going on with the numbers.
As we all know, thanks to the support of the good people of Tumblr, Tylenol has experienced a meteoric rise to second place. Even though her competition is stiff, I believe in Tylenol's ability to go the distance.
But let's take a look at the competition:
Elmer seems to be a lovely boy. I have no qualms with Elmer, and think he would look fantastic on a beer can. But what about Elmer's campaigns? Who is the power behind the throne here, and how have they managed to find such breakout success on this competition?
A handful of wealthy donors are trying to buy this competition.
At the end of the day, all donations are good donations here. This is a charity event so every penny earned is going to help animals in need. But it's not lost on me that Elmer's current ranking is thanks entirely to a few individuals with the financial means to put their thumbs on the scale.
Tylenol's donors, comparatively, are small and numerous, mostly $1-10 donations from many passionate believers in what she stands for (autism and pain relief I think).
Overall, the donations tell a very different story than what the base ranking shows you. Elmer is held aloft by just 24 donors and bolstered by a few wealthy patrons, whereas Tylenol has won the hearts of literally hundreds of people. Even the current third place, Abby, owes her ranking to numerous small contributions rather than one or two large ones.
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