Damian and Danny with all their clones(bonus if it's also a demon twins au)? Like Ellie, Respawn, Heretic, and Dan. Because Damian actually loved all of his clones, he had a while island for the ones who misformed and needed a home, and he seemed to be happy about Respawn, but Respawn hates him and the Al Ghuls. And obviously, Heretic killed Damian, but he was also working under his mother's(Talia's order).
I saw you asked for inspiration, and this is what I could think of. Love your art!
Demon twin Au with their "living" clones
Honestly I think both Danny and Damian have way too many clones, like Danny has more dead clones while Damian has the most living clones.
summary: Set in Absolute Universe, where Bruce Wayne became a father of a twin children. And how tragedy seems to target him all the time. Taking his father from him, and now his children.
word count: 2.2k
tags: batfam x fem!reader , batfamily x slightly!neglected!reader
Absolute Earth, June 16, XXXX
Bruce Wayne had learned long ago that ordinary days could still end in ruin. That was the oldest lie Gotham ever told. That if a morning started warm enough, if the coffee was still hot, if the sun broke through the cloud cover just long enough to touch the kitchen floor, then maybe the city would let the rest of the day stay small and human. It never did.
The apartment was quiet when he left that morning. Not silent. Never that. Gotham did not grant silence to anyone who lived honestly within it. There were always the sounds of pipes in the walls, someone arguing through a thin window, a delivery truck backing up in the street below, the distant siren of a police cruiser moving somewhere through the damp gray air. But the apartment itself was calm. Lived in. Warm in the way only a place filled with people you loved could be warm.
He had never learned how to love quietly. Not until the twins came to his life, born from a one night stand to a woman who died after giving birth to them. He was young and he knew he wasn’t ready to be a father. But they need him, someone who will care for them. Regardless if he wants them, no normal person would even considering abandoning a child especially if its their child. He doted on his children in ways that made people stare, in ways that made Rhys roll his eyes and Y/N laugh and tell him he was doing too much again. The two maybe twin but they have their differences. Rhys who have his mother’s appearance with whitr hair and green eyes, while Y/N almost identical to him in characteristic. With raven black hair, but still have her mother’s eye. He remembered everything as much as he can—what they liked, what they avoided, the exact tone of their voice when something was wrong even if they insisted it wasn’t. He checked on them more than necessary. Cooked more than he needed to. Stayed awake longer than he should have, just to hear the front door open and know they were home.
If there was one thing Bruce Wayne did right, it was that he loved them without restraint.
And that morning, June 16, began like any other.
The apartment was warm when he stepped out of his room. Not physically, Gotham rarely allowed that, but in the way it felt lived in. The faint smell of coffee. The sound of movement in the kitchen. A cabinet door closing too loudly. Someone muttering under their breath.
His home. His children. Bruce paused in the hallway for a moment, listening.
Y/N’s voice came first.
“I’m telling you, it was on the table last night.”
Rhys answered immediately, dry as ever. “And now it’s not. Which means you forgot it.”
“I didn’t forget it.”
“You forgot it.”
“I strategically relocated it.”
“That’s not—” Rhys stopped, exhaled. “That’s not how memory works.”
Bruce stepped into the kitchen.
Y/N stood near the counter, hair slightly messy, holding a mug like it personally offended her. Rhys leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, watching her with the patience of someone who had been through this argument too many times. They both looked up when Bruce entered.
Y/N smiled first.
Always first.
“Morning,Dad!” she said.
Bruce nodded, already moving toward them, his gaze scanning her face automatically. “You didn’t sleep.”
She frowned. “I did.”
“Not enough.”
“I slept enough.”
Rhys snorted. “He’s right.”
Y/N shot him a glare. “You’re not part of this conversation.”
“I live here. I’m always part of the conversation.”
Bruce reached past her without a word, adjusting the coffee filter she had somehow managed to misplace. His hand brushed her shoulder briefly—casual, familiar, grounding.
“You’re packing for your field trip?” he asked.
“Yepp,” Y/N said, then hesitated.
Bruce tilted his head slightly.
“Your journal.”
“It’s in my room.”
Rhys made a small, victorious sound.
Bruce sighed, but there was no real irritation in it. He reached for the granola bars in the cabinet—the ones she liked and set them beside her.
“You’ll take these.”
Y/N blinked. “You remembered.”
“You mentioned it yesterday.”
“I mentioned it once.” Bruce gave her a look.
She smiled, softer this time.
Rhys watched the exchange, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he masked it with a shrug.
“You do realize,” he said, “you treat her like she’s still twelve.”
Bruce didn’t look at him. “I treat both of you like you forget things.”
“I don’t forget things.”
“You forgot your jacket yesterday.”
Rhys opened his mouth, then closed it.
Y/N laughed.
Bruce let himself smile, just barely.
That was how their mornings went. Small arguments. Familiar rhythms. The kind of ordinary that felt permanent when you were inside it. He checked their bags before they left.
He always did.
“You have your phone?” he asked.
“Check!”
“Charged?”
“Check!”
“Both of you.”
“Dad,” Rhys said.
“Text me when you get there.”
“We always do.”
Bruce looked at them both, lingering longer than necessary.
“Still.”
Y/N stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him without hesitation. Bruce held her instantly, one hand at the back of her head, steady, protective.
Rhys joined a second later, awkward but present, his shoulder pressing into Bruce’s side.
“You’re worrying too much,” Rhys muttered.
“Because I’m a father,” Bruce replied.
Y/N smiled against his chest.
“Relax,” she said softly. “We’ll be fine.”
Bruce exhaled slowly.
“I know,” he said.
But something in his chest tightened anyway.
4:23 PM
The call came just after noon. Bruce was in the middle of work, hands grease-stained, mind focused on something mechanical.
His phone rang once.
Then again.
Then again.
He ignored it the first time.
Didn’t ignore it the third. Especially, when it came from his mother.
The caller ID read: Mom.
He answered immediately.
“Ma?”
Her voice came through uneven, strained in a way he had never heard before.
“Bruce—”
He straightened instantly. “What happened?”
There was a pause.
Not silence, he could hear noise behind her. Voices. Movement. Something chaotic.
“I got a call,” she said. “From a Gotham Police. A responder.”
Bruce’s grip tightened around the phone.
“A responder for what?”
“The university bus,” she said, her voice breaking just slightly. “There was an accident. A police chase—Bruce, they said the bus was caught in it.”
Everything inside him went still.
“…the kids?”
Another pause.
Worse than anything.
“I don’t know where are they, they might be still trapped in the bus. But, the police, they’re asking for you,” she said. “You need to come there. Now.”
Bruce didn’t remember ending the call. He didn’t remember leaving. He only remembered moving. Everything feels blurred and fast that he can’t cope up whatever is happening.
4:48 PM NEAR VINCEFINKEL BRIDGE
Blue.Red.Blue.Red.Blue.Red
That was the color around the place where Bruce found himself. The light that comes to the police car, was completely reflecting in his eyes as he search for his children.
The bridge was in chaos. The school bus was still there but its tilted and in it is now in the cliff near the bridge. Lights too bright. Voices too loud. People moving too fast with the kind of urgency that only came when something irreversible had already happened.
Bruce pushed through it all without stopping. Someone tried to speak to him. But, He didn’t hear them. He reached the police line and saw his mother first who is talking with some police officers. She stood near in the middle of the crowd, coat still on, hands clenched tightly together. When she saw him, something in her expression broke—not fully, not yet, but enough.
Bruce crossed the distance in seconds.
“Where are they?”
She swallowed. “They’re… still near the bus. But I can’t go in, they won’t let me”
That was not an answer. Bruce didn’t wait for more. He immediately talked with the police to confirm that his children were there.
“Sir, you are not allowed to be in this area!” One of the police tries to hold him back as they saw him crossing the police line.
“I am one of the father of two children in the accident, please just let me see my children” Bruce tried to talk the police out.
But before the police stopped him again, a surge of reporters along with parents surged towards him. And Bruce took that opportunity to immediately went to the accident site.
When he was finally within the area of the bus, he saw other parents crying beside the bodies of their children which is covered by a white cloth. While some are comforting their children who still traumatized on what happened in the last couple of hours. He started walking around to check if they are there. Oh, how he hope they weren’t there. That for once the twins decided to not attend their school trip and just went to the local coffee shop, Y/N, usually asked him to go with. Bruce knew before he saw them. When he was near the front part of the bus, thats when he saw two bodies covered in white cloth. He almost missed them not until he saw one hand is left uncovered, the hand shows having a bracelet—a blue beads with a small seashell hanging in the middle. He would never not know who owns that bracelet. His daughter created that when they went on vacation two years ago.
He knew the moment he stepped near the body and felt the absence of something that should have been there. Bruce’s hands shook as he pulled the sheet back. Rhys was first. Covered in white.
No.
No.
He wasn’t supposed to be looked like that. His son is supposed to be looking at him annoyed because he disturbed his sleep like usual every morning.
But, Rhys lay still, his face pale, his features wrong in the way only death made them. Not dramatic. Not violent. Just… gone. Wrong. His white hair who he always check every morning was stained with red, his blood.
Bruce stared.
He didn’t breathe.
He can’t even move.
Didn’t understand how something so alive that morning could now be reduced to this unbearable stillness. His hand hovered before finally touching Rhys’s hair and then face.
Cold.
Bruce shut his eyes.
Then forced them open again.
Y/N. His little girl.
He turned to the second body. Slower this time. As if delaying it would change something.
It didn’t.
He pulled the sheet back. And the world ended quietly for him. She looked smaller. Compared to the last time he saw her that morning. When she was giving her usual morning energy that filled their small home.
That was the first thing his mind gave him.
Too small.
Too still.
Her one hand rested at her side, fingers slightly curled as if she had been trying to hold onto something. While the other is laying on the ground where her watch can be seen.
Bruce reached for it. Held it hoping that this time she would hold it tighter just like how she tries to assert her not so strong energy.
She didn’t. And, it was cold.
“…no,” he whispered.
The word came out broken.
There was no answer.
No movement.
No breath.
Only silence. When he tried to open her hand who is seems to holding something. He saw a button. his button the one who seems missing on his favorite shirt. Her daughter who loves to kept something unnecessary such as this small button.
Behind him, his mother covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she tried to stay standing.
Bruce didn’t turn.
He couldn’t.
If he looked away, even for a second, it would become real in a way he couldn’t survive.
So he stayed.
Hands trembling.
Eyes fixed.
Heart breaking in a way that felt too quiet for something so violent. His children are dead, one of the main reason why he wants to make gotham safer for them is gone.
DAYS PASSED
The funeral came too fast. Everything did. One moment they were alive. The next, they were gone. And the world expected him to accept that.
The caskets were small. Too small. Bruce stood in front of them and felt something inside him hollow out completely.
His mother stood beside him, her hand gripping his arm tightly, as if anchoring him to the ground.
Rain fell steadily.
Of course it did.
It always did.
They were lowered into the ground one after the other. As fast as they arrived in his life, they were also fast to be taken from him.
Rhys.
Then Y/N.
Bruce watched both disappear beneath the earth. And something in him went with them.
He came back the next morning. He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t need to. The cemetery was quiet. Empty.
Still.
Bruce walked toward the graves slowly. Then stopped. Something was wrong. The dirt. It had been disturbed. His chest tightened. He moved faster.
Closer.
Then he saw it.
The graves which is supposed to be still freshly laid out are now disturbed. The graves is still open.
Empty.
For a moment, Bruce couldn’t process it. His mind refused. Then the truth forced itself in. Someone had taken them.His children.
Taken.
Bruce dropped to his knees, hands digging into the soil deeper. Nothing. still Nothing.
Just empty space where they should have been.
UNKNOWN LOCATION.
Y/N woke to white.
Blinding.
Artificial.
Wrong.
Her eyes opened slowly, vision struggling to adjust.
The air smelled sterile. Cold. Unfamiliar. Her body felt heavy. Weak. Like it didn’t belong to her.
She tried to move.
Pain flickered.
Her breath hitched.
A voice spoke somewhere nearby.
“She’s awake.”
Y/N’s heart started racing.
She turned her head slightly.
White walls.
No windows.
Machines.
Figures behind glass.
Fear crept in slowly.
Then all at once.
Her lips parted.
“…Rhys?”
notes: Please accept this chapter as a form of apology, everyone! Will this chapter affect the storyline? hmmm….maybe? I did enjoy writing this chapter. So I hope you will enjoy too! I apologize again for I can’t tag some of you anymore.
Nobody asked for it, but let's talk about my Pink Robin idea.
No neglected reader here, you are the mercenary Pink Robin. Sure, at sixteen you're not even old enough to drive legally in Gotham, New Jersey, but you can proudly and honestly claim yourself one of the world's top mercenaries. Deathstroke even commended you more than once!
"Not bad, little bird." –Slade Wilson, alias Deathstroke, world's #1 mercenary and your idol
"I'm still the superior blood son." –Respawn Wilson, alias Respawn (unoriginal much?), Deathstroke's son, apprentice, and annoying little brother figure
As a mercenary, the scope of your work naturally is wider than an assassin. Besides assassination, you offer the service of escort (non-sexual only!), retrieval, delivery, sabotage, espionage, and a lot other jobs that might or might not be legal. Don't worry, you still have bottom lines you abide by so you can rest easy at night. Or like, in the morning since your work mostly happens at night.
Now, as the mercenary Pink Robin, naturally you shouldn't have a lot of positive interactions with the Bats of Gotham. For some reasons, however, they're quite... Hmm, you don't want to be vain, but you're preeetty sure these guys are obsessed with you?
Weird.
("So you're holding me captive here because... What? You're desperately in love with me?"
Tim Drake, alias Red Robin, sputters in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "I know you are doing something that muddles my mind! That's unacceptable and I'll find out how you did it and then I will have my vengeance!"
He is toootally in love with you. Poor thing. You take a loud slurp of your unicorn frappe, sighing in satisfaction as the cold sensation enters your body, then cheerfully responds,
"Wow, gross!"
"Don't say it so blatantly?!?!"
"Stalker! Creep! Pervert!"
He chokes. You can faintly discern tears in his eyes behind his cowl's eyeholes.
You ponder a bit, then decide to add just one more word.
"Incel!"
Red Robin sinks to his knees, face in hands, and starts sobbing.)
Oh well, can't blame them. You do be irresistible that way. Just ask all those child traffickers that tried to get you as a child–wait, they're all dead now. Not all of them are by your hands, even, it's that Red Hood who continuously leaves you the decapitated heads of people who tried to prey on you in the past like he's a cat leaving you the dead bodies of birds and mouses.
You suppose it all started because of Robin. The first Robin, real name Richard "Dick" Grayson of the Flying Graysons, whose costume then was a leotard in traffic lights' colours and whose name was meant as a tribute to his mother's nickname for him. Guess his sixteen-year-old self was not particularly happy to have your ten-year-old self strutting around Gotham under the name of Pink Robin, with a full bodysuit version of the uniform in pink and black. All you will say to that is Robin and Pink Robin are different birds.
And that yours is definitely the cooler one.
Well, he's never managed to make you change name, moreover drop the mercenary shtick (it's not a phase, Momma Bird). Though nowadays he wants you to become a vigilante by the name Flamebird and partner with his Nightwing, your answer remains: 💖No💖
Don't get you started on the current Robin, real name Damian (Al Ghul-)Wayne. He's ruined four (4) dates you went to and repeatedly ambushes your babysitting mission as paid by Deathstroke outing with Respawn, acting like some kind of tsundere sibcon little brother #2. When you told him this, he went so mad because he wasn't #1 instead.
And Batman... Oh man. You've lost count of how many times this old man tried to adopt you.
("I'm having a child."
"Another?? You have a problem, Batman. But congrats, I guess!"
Batman nods, then slams the Bat-adoption papers down on the table between the two of you.
"It's you. Sign here."
"No way!!!")
One of these days, you might feel enough pity on him to offer acting as his kid for a day. You have a feeling he's going to hire you forever and cheat you out of the contract, though, so you'll refrain until you have more legal knowledge.
Aside from the obsessive Bats, you live a pretty good life. You're more than good enough now that you can have your pick of a mission at any time. You have enough money to comfortably live on without having to work ever again. You have friends, a boyfriend or girlfriend from time to time (last ex got jailed and you're no good with long distance relationship 💔), interests outside of mercenary work that you can and do regularly indulge in.
That's you, Pink Robin.
A/N: Send me asks about Pink Robin, I want to ramble 🙏
Art dump 😭😭 so sorry but the long awaited Respawn and WW and Talia art. I actually fuck with these two ladies together heavy idk why but it’s sooo cunt.
I’ll probably do more Respawn in the future though because he’s cool. The Jason one was for fun the shirt made me giggle.
At this point Talia is literally becoming my muse I draw her so much I love her and Damian down!!
Danyal returns to league, he was sent to the Fentons for a mission and after gathering all that they know about lazarus/ecto he figured he was in an unique position. Either he revealed himself and was accepted and after that would have to do what he could to keep the league off his back. Or he'd be rejected and he could simply finish his mission and return to the league. Sadly for Danny. The second option ended up happening, and with crushing disappointment and new hardened resolve he made his way back to Nanda Parbat.
At first he's surprisingly at peace with the situation, he misses his friends and Jazz but this is sadly how it's meant to be.
Damian isn't there, he has been sent to train under their biological father. Or at least what mother says. Perhaps now that he's successfully finished his deep undercover mission he'll be allowed to know the truth and go as well.
Ra's doesn't want that, for body snatching reasons. But he doesn't know that Danny is half dead. Nobody at the league does.
It's basically the only secret Danny keeps. After having to stay quiet about it and the explosive aftermath with the Fentons it just doesn't occur to him to speak up about it anymore. After all, here he has everything to lose.
And he feels vindicated when he finds Respawn. Tied up, hanging, looking so much like him and Dami, but wounded, with damning white hair and when he opens his eyes and notices Danny it's only the green green green he sees.
In Danny's mind the league must know, they are bidding their time or... or Danny was always meant to end up like he did or this is yet another damn clone someone made of him.
None of Danny's thoughts about this are good, and it figures, he's aware of what this place is. Jazz did a good job deprogramming him. So perhaps the thought that things would be better here was laughable. But somehow, for some reason he thought blood relation meant something.
So far all parental figures are bad, the Fentons. Vlad, now Ra's and Talia. So what does that mean for his twin, what does this mean for Damian?
Well, at the very least finding out who his biological father is and where he lives isn't hard with ghost powers. Neither is freeing Respawn.
And after that all that's left to do is making sure Damian is safe.
And by the ancients, may the gods help Batman if it turns out he's not.
what if we threw respawn in the mix? half-brother of damian, who is aggressive towards the scientists. due to his behavior they hypothesize that reader could help him acclimate to the tank and possibly the other mers
(in my mind/headcanon the scientists adore reader + see them as a way to get mers to open up to them or at least observe them with little resistance)
scientists sedate damian for a time being before transferring reader in respawn’s tank. it takes a while but respawn is less aggressive than before (good job reader! extra food for you!) and reader is sent back to damian, much to respawns annoyance, and damian is now awake. awake and furious. holds reader tightly and wonders what the weird lingering smell (smell? does smell travel through water like that?) is on reader and why it smells familiar (probably growled and tries to bite the scientists if they get too close now)
it’s not revealed until respawn, who acts better now in case he can see reader again, gets placed in the big tank and sees reader calmly eating and immediately goes over to them and holds reader tightly. not knowing damian is sleeping not too far away. respawn has his moments with reader before he is rammed into the glass by an angry damian. fight ensues
what happens next is up to you if you like this idea. i love mermaid damian and jon so much. they’re so cute
The day these mers catch a break is the day I’m dead
Contains: Respawn basically having the same arc Damian did, our favorite sunshine reader, a bit of jealousy my favorite, some brotherly dynamics, and just Mer stuff
Enjoy!! 💚
You woke up one morning in a new tank. You’d thought it was another experiment with you and Damian, but quickly realized he wasn’t around.
After swimming a bit, you run into a new Mer- he had several of Damian’s facial features, acted like him, but instead of the dark hair and scales on his tale, they were a white color. He was clearly a hybrid mix of deep sea Mer and something else.
He was fairly aggressive and closed off- similar to a certain someone you know, but after a while, he warmed up to you.
Respawn, you learned his name was. He’d cling to you a lot, lay out in the sun with you, all the things you and Damian did when you both first met. He got attached.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
You were dropped back in your original tank after a couple weeks. Damian quickly clung to you, checked on you, made sure you weren’t injured, then threw a few kisses in the mix. He missed you a lot.
After a bit, you noticed he’d sniff you a good bit.
“What is that?” He huffed.
“What’s what?” You smiled and tilted your head.
“That smell…”
He kept sniffing you like some animal.
“That tickles!” You laughed, making him relax a bit. He pulled you closer and smiled.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
You were swimming alone one day while Damian was napping, playing with some of the guppies in the water, when you were suddenly tackled.
“What the-“
You looked over and saw a familiar face-
“Respawn?”
He looked at you, arms stuck around you like steel, the same way Damian’s did.
“I missed you.” He whispered. “You disappeared.”
“Were you alone?” You tilted your head. He nodded.
Of course, a minute later, Damian swims out of the cave, sees this scene, and he is not happy. He swims full-force into Respawn, managing to deter his death-grip on you.
Then starts a full-on fight. Claws out, fangs, sea-sand everywhere. Flatline and Jon watch with some interest, you looked horrified, and it took about ten minutes before the two were broken up.
“Okay, let’s calm down-“ you start before two pairs of arms grab on you, both growling.
“Alright- c’mon!” Flatline pulls you out of their grip. “What’s the deal?”
“He wouldn’t let them go!” Damian glares.
“What? I knew them first!” Respawn fires back.
“Like hell you did! Besides, I am their partner!”
That makes Respawn pause.
“Their.. what?”
Damian gave a prideful smirk. “That’s right!”
Respawn huffed, but then swam off.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
You found him pouting in an empty cave- the same one Damian retreated to when he first came here.
“Hey.” You whispered.
He turned to you.
“Hello.”
You settled down by him. “I’m… sorry about Damian. He can be protective. He means well.”
Respawn let out a sigh. “I know.”
You perked up. “You do?”
“He’s my brother.”
You sat still for a few seconds.
“Ohhhhh.. that makes sense.” You whispered, remembering all their similarities.
