Lydia

All they know is that there’s a zero floating above Bruce’s head

Everyone but him can see it, so they think it’s best if they don’t say anything and figure it out themselves

Through some shitty translating, they are under the understanding that the note says: “the number of people you love will show.”

They are livid, which is, of course, just a mask for being hurt and devastated, and without explaining anything to him, they start being horrible

Bruce has no idea what’s happened, and he’s trying to make up for it (which is a hard thing to do when you don't know what you're making up for), but anything he does makes them treat him even worse

They don't want to fall back into loving his kindness. Either Damian gets taken by Dick, and Bruce is beyond devastated, or Damian is aggressive to Bruce and purposely avoids him. Bruce is drowning in self-hatred and isolates himself because of the wrongful treatment

Eventually, Zatanna is able to come over and attempt fix it

She asks for the note to know what she's dealing with and correctly translates it to: “the number of people you believe love you will show.”

Now they have to deal with what they’ve done and realize they were completely unfounded in what they did

Jason spoke first, his face taut, his anger barely contained.

"Read it again. There must be a mistake."

Zatanna didn't flinch. She merely raised an eyebrow. "I've only been studying this language for over thirty years, Hood. Of course, let's assume I'm wrong, not the newbies who know nothing about magic."

Newbie hit harder than she thought. Jason was about to respond, but Dick stopped him with a wave of his hand.

Jason was ready to yell at him when he saw how deathly pale his brother was. Dick looked like he was about to throw up.

"Hey, you're not going to believe this shit, are you? It's obviously not..."

"I took Damian away from him," Dick interrupted, not even looking at him, his breath coming in short gasps. "I told him he's a terrible man. I called him...a manwhore who can't take responsibility. And I was glad to see him suffer...I thought he deserved it..."

Dick put his hands to his face and groaned, "God, I was glad I made my..."

He didn't finish the sentence. But Jason knew what he was going to say. My dad.

But Dick couldn't say it, he couldn't. Not when he felt unworthy of using the word, not after everything that had happened.

Zatanna showed no sympathy. "Did you really think the number indicated the people he loved? Really?"

"Hey, you don't know mister feelings are an obstacle to the mission..."

"You are right, I'm just a childhood friend, ex-lover, and now friend of the League, but go ahead, Hood, I'm all ears," if looks could kill, Jason would be dead again, "Bruce is like a brother to me. I know him like I know myself. And that man has a damn bleeding heart and too much love inside him."

"And yet, there's no number to prove it," Jason repeated petulantly.

The sorceress's expression turned sad. "It's hard to convince someone they're loved when they're being punished for everything, don't you think?"

Jason was about to call out her bullshit, but Dick muttered, "We proved his point..."

Jason looked at him, Dick continued, "We proved him the damn point, that we didn't love him. God, the things we did to him... all of us... we fucking abandoned him."

"You're exaggerating..."

"Jason, what do you call isolating someone from their...from their family, from their life, throwing so much shit at them that a lot of the hero community now isolates Batman? We...ostracized him to the point that...that Tim was about to take the WE from him out of spite. He couldn't do it just because Lucius stopped him and... who the hell would do something like that?"

"Horrible people," Zatanna replied, oblivious to Dick's complete meltdown, "Selfish, wicked people who assume the worst and are just waiting to unleash some kind of holy vendetta to make themselves feel good. You assumed the translation because it was something you all thought deep down, without even waiting for a damn expert. You just needed an excuse to... well, do what you usually do."

Jason snorted, "What we usually do? We're not like that..."

Zatanna interrupted, "Aren't you? You're the one talking? Who planted a bomb under his car? Who tried to force him to kill after months of terrible, near-breaking moments, not caring about the consequences? Who wanted to destroy him for the twisted proof that he was loved?"

Jason had never felt so naked in his life. "I... I was right..."

"You were right? Is that how you justify your shit? Are you surprised Bruce thinks he's unloved? You've been giving him hell for years, and you've never apologized. You continie blaming him for what you did. Dick, for example. How many times have you said Bruce turned you into his soldier, when you were the one pretending to be Robin, the one trying to kill a damned mafia boss? He wanted to save you... he wanted to save all of you. And this is the result. Nothing. You can't teach an old dog new tricks."

Dick wanted to protest. He wanted to say they loved Bruce, they were grateful for what he'd done for them. But the words wouldn't come out, they tasted like ash in his mouth. He couldn't say it.

Because he knew they were lies. You don't do this to someone you love. You don't abuse them out of a twisted sense of justice, thinking you were right.

Everything they'd done, they'd done under the guise of "I'm better than you."

It was so fucking wrong. They'd...he'd...God, what had he done?

"What can we do?" he croaked, not trusting his voice, "I'll talk to the others and explain what happened..."

"What, so you can go back to normal and pretend it never happened? Make him wonder what he did wrong?"

"No, to...to make up for it..."

Zatanna frowned. "And why would you do that, Dick? To see the numbers increase? For vanity? And when the spell lifts, will you go back to the way you were before? Treating him like shit, isolating him, going to him when you need him, yelling at him for being too present, slut-shaming him?"

She moved closer, face to face with Dick, smelling of ozone and sulfur, bluish skin, eyes like burning embers. "I've seen this before, and I don't like how it ends. There's always going to be something else, some other misunderstanding, some other excuse to hurt him. Can you promise it won't happen again? Can you?"

Neither Dick nor Jason spoke. They knew they couldn't do it.

They get hit with a YouTube video entitled " Batman being an absolute dad for 1 hour straight"

he decides he wants the fear factor back and in all his brilliant genius, he decides the best way to go about that is to invite the league round for a fancy dinner party, specifically so he can use all his ‘brucie wayne’ acting skills to channel the essence of every creepy-rich-guy-in-haunted-manor movie he has ever seen in his life. it is the only time his kids have been fully onboard and willing to contribute to one of his plans without any complaints. they almost seemed more eager to pull it off than he was.

they spend the entire day making the manor look old and slightly abandoned, much to Alfred’s displeasure, and ensure that the only lighting is a fuck ton of candles, just enough to light the halls while leaving the corners and edges shadowy and ominous. Damian is allowed to have some of his more ‘skittery’ pets roam the manor freely for the night, causing occasional scritches and scratches to come from the ceilings. all of the kids dress in their best funeral attire, apart from Jason who gleefully pulls on an old white shirt stained with blood from when Tim crashed through his window with a stab wound, requesting a medkit.

when the league arrive they’re greeted by all the kids lined up on the staircase, staring at them blankly and ominously, while Bruce gives them all a large grin and ushers them into the creepy looking dining room. the league are somewhat nervous.

during the dinner the kids act completely different than the league have seen them in-mask. polite, cordial, and refusing to show an ounce of emotion. they pick at their food and only speak in vague sentences that refer to various horrific events of their past. Bruce has never been prouder.

the first close call they have to breaking character is when Bruce presents a bottle of red wine without any kind of label. as he pours a slightly disturbed Diana a glass, she asks where he got it from. Bruce happily gestures to Jason as says ‘my second eldest procured it especially for you, earlier today.’

Diana looks across the table at where Jason is grinning eerily at her by candlelight, still visibly stained with blood, eyes glowing slightly green. she pales, and Tim knows he can’t watch her shakily lift the glass to her lips without bursting out laughing. he refuses to be the one who fucks up first, so he dramatically stands up and declares he must ‘go feed the experiments’ before storming out the room. ‘the experiments’ are in reference to the pen of rabbits outside that glow in the dark because Damian rescued them from a testing facility, but given the environmental context it sounds much more sinister.

Jason joins him by the pen to also start wheeze-crying in private about 20 minutes later, because apparently after Oliver Queen had finished with his bbq rib, Damian had leaned over and without blinking stared into his eyes to blankly state ‘i would love to feed your bones to my animal friends, if you don’t need them anymore.’ and from the other end of the table Jason had snorted wine up his nose from how hard he was trying not to break.

amazingly, they never break character, although it came pretty close when after hearing another skitter from somewhere above, Stephanie climbed up from the table into the crystal chandelier and deftly returned to present the table with a large tarantula cradled in her hands, to which Damian stood up and declared, ‘ah, dessert! i will help pennyworth prepare it.’ before taking the animal and leaving to put his beloved spider back in it’s enclosure. the league genuinely seemed to be under the impression they were about to be served a tarantula-based desert, and upon seeing their faces at this realisation Dick had to pretend he’d dropped a fork on the ground so he could duck by Bruce’s chair and stuff a napkin in his mouth while he got his laughter under control. Bruce pats his shaking son’s back below the table cloth, determinedly staring at their guests with that same creepy-grin he’d kept up the entire night.

every member of the league makes their excuses to leave early, much to Bruce’s exaggerated disappointment. the second the last of them is out the door Alfred turns to face the family and says ‘mission accomplished. now get this manor back to it’s proper state.’ and they have the spend the rest of the night cleaning.

Batman is the silent and stoic, watching from the shadows, smiling softly

While Catwoman is twirling on the rooftops, laughing into the wind. Flirty and dramatic and dancing around him

And he follows her because he always will and pulls her in by her waist and

But then-

Bruce is the wild one, free and laughing, throwing it back on the dance floor and pointing to Selina and blowing kisses and flirting

While Selina is watching from the sidelines, smiling softly at her idiot and brushing off his wooing attempts but falling for them anyway. 

And Bruce runs into the rain and she follows him because she always will and pulls him in by his tie and

—

“No chum, I thought you grew out of this.” Bruce let out a frustrated huff as Dick was practically glued to his side. He just wanted to go take a quick piss and maybe have some alone time in the bathroom. So what if his arm was in a sling? He’s had worse.

Instead, his oldest was whining and trying to stop him. When he closed the door to the bathroom, thankfully alone, Dick was sticking his fingers underneath the door and begging to be let inside, just like he did when Bruce first adopted him.

Bruce truly thought his eldest had grown out of that particular habit. It had only happened when Dick suffered terribly from separation anxiety and couldn’t bear to let Bruce out of his sight for long. He never did it again when he got to double digits, but now- “Tati, open the doorrrr! I miss you!”

Bruce sat on the closed toilet lid and held his head in one hand, already exhausted. “Dick, just give me ten minutes!” He pleaded, silently hoping that Dick would listen to him. What a fool he is.

Bruce ignored Dick’s cry of anguish and turned on the shower to drown it out. Ten minutes, that’s all he needed alone.

—

Bruce was trying to move around the kitchen and make himself something to eat, but it was especially hard with a grown man taller than he was clinging to his back like a koala. It was truly lucky that Bruce was Batman and worked out consistently, so he could give his massive baby a piggyback ride.

“Jay baby, please go wait at the dining table.” Bruce tried to request nicely, but was only greeted with a muffled whine in response. “I can’t just keep carrying you around.”

Bruce sighs and continues to suffer as he makes the two of them omelets for lunch. “Extra cheese and ham on mine, pa?” Jason requested, hooking his chin on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce sighed, but started doing it.

He should’ve never fallen into the harbor and gotten that cold. It was a bad one. Must’ve reminded Jason of some dark times with his mother. Bruce was barely conscious and coherent for a week.

At the dining table, Jason moves his chair to be right next to Bruce’s. At least he wasn’t trying to squeeze into the same chair as him. Small mercies.

The moment Bruce was done with his food and stood up, Jason was once again clinging to his back, grumbling softly about something Bruce didn’t bother to try and decipher.

Lucky for him, he had a reinforced spine.

—

Tim frowned and poked at the eyepatch Bruce was wearing for a temporary period, for the fourth time.

“Sweetheart. Stop thinking about it.” Bruce scolded softly, gently pulling his son’s hand down and letting out a huff of air. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Tim didn’t say anything but snuggled himself deeper into Bruce’s side. Since Bruce had temporarily lost sight in one of his eyes, he’s been confined to his room and forced to lounge on his bed till his vision returned.

Tim pressed himself even closer, squeezing Bruce, even as he had a scowl on his face. “I’m gonna hunt down those mother-“

“Stop that.” Bruce sighed and ran his fingers through Tim’s hair, messing up the careful comb job his son most likely did that morning. “I just need a few days, and my sight will be back to normal. When that happens, we’ll work on the case again.”

Tim nodded. “You’re not allowed to get up.” He stated, grabbing Bruce’s blanket and tugging it over both of their bodies.

Bruce chuckled, but stopped when he saw Tim’s serious expression. Damn, he was hoping to at least walk around his room for exercise. Now that he has an octopus clinging to him, he definitely wouldn’t be able to.

—

“Baba, hold my hand.” Damian insisted, grabbing Bruce’s hand as he tried to make his way down the stairs.

Bruce barely resisted rolling his eyes right in his son’s face. It was cute how caring he was the first few times, but now it was way too much. Damian was acting as if he were an invalid.

“Qalbi, I’m just going down the stairs.”

“But you’re hurt!”

Bruce sighed and ruffled Damian’s hair. “It’s a grade 1 muscle tear that’s basically healed. I’m more resistant than you think.” Bruce tried to reassure, not mentioning the fact that it was almost a grade 2 muscle tear.

Damian pouted and looked up to Bruce with tears in his green eyes, widening them to make them look even bigger. “Please, Baba? Let me help you.”

Bruce felt his heart clench as he looked down at his youngest child, who rarely willingly showed any trace of distress. “Awe- I mean, okay, I suppose I can continue letting you help me maneuver around Habibi.”

Damian let’s put a huff of triumph, it was adorable, but Bruce would never tell him so, and tightly held onto Bruce’s hand as he helped him walk down the manor stairs.

Slightly unfortunate, Damian refused to allow Bruce to let go of his hand for even a second. Adorable, but tiring. Bruce could never refuse him, though.

—

Bruce thought it would be different with Cassandra because he hadn’t seen her in almost an hour, and he was free to relax by himself. It was nice to relax on the one-seater armchair and not focus on the dull throb of his ribs. He should’ve realized that none of his kids could be normal about anything.

“I will find a way to transfer your pain to me,” Cass stated seriously, holding around twelve thick books in her arms and sitting on the ground by Bruce’s feet.

“Please don’t practice dark magic on us, Princess.” Bruce sighed, massaging his brow as a headache started to bloom beneath his eyes.

Cass frowned and set her book to the side. “But Dad-“

“No black magic,” Bruce said firmly, scooting over to one side and patting the cushion. Cass immediately pressed herself into his side, trying to keep her body away from his torso to prevent herself from causing him any discomfort.

Cass stayed silent for a little while before looking up at Bruce with an accusing frown. “You would use black magic to transfer our pain to you.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I’m your Dad,” Bruce stated, hugging his daughter closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“Hold still.” Stephanie hissed, sticking her tongue out as she colored in whatever she was drawing on his arm cast.

Bruce hummed and kept his eyes closed. He didn’t know why she decided he needed a makeover now that he wasn’t allowed to move much until his broken hand was healed.

She had already painted his nails on both his hands, gave him a full face of makeup (which he looked great in), and was now trying to write her name graffiti-style on his cast.

“You done?” Bruce asked, chewing on some snacks Alfred brought in earlier for him and Steph.

“Nah, I can’t figure out how to write the S.”

Bruce blanked. “What? Thats the first fucking letter. What the fuck have you been doing this entire time?” Bruce looked down incredulously just to see his hand case mostly being covered by a surprisingly good drawing of Nyan Cat.

“Like?”

“Hrn.” Bruce lay back down but didn’t close his eyes, just watched Stephanie’s face. She looked a little constipated as she worried on her bottom lip and stared at his cast.

“Sorry about your-“

“I thought you said something about face masks?” Bruce asked, interrupting her with a soft smile. “You gotta wipe off my makeup though, I’m not doing it.”

Steph grinned and grabbed her backpack, which she had thrown into the corner. “Okay, I found, like, a bunch and they’re fruity smelling so I think they’ll be really good.”

Bruce smiled as Stephanie started chattering again, the pained and hesitant look on her face mostly gone. As long as she didn’t try to wax his eyebrows, everything would be fine.

—

Bruce watched with a grimace as Duke choked down another sob, trying his best to get through his slam poetry read, tears streaming down his face.

“Honey bee, you really don’t have to do this.”

“B-but-! You broke your leg cause of me!” Duke flung his body at Bruce and hugged him; his poem, stained with tears, fluttered softly to the carpeted ground.

Bruce gently patted Duke’s back and shushed him. “Next time, I’ll go over protocols clearly for when I work with you during the day. We both could’ve done a better job.”

Duke sniffed and continued to hide his face in Bruce’s shoulder before pulling away. “I need to go write another poem.” He sniffled, a frown set on his face. “But- I can’t let you out of my sight-!”

“Maybe that should wait until your mind is clear?” Bruce laughed, but kept Duke from getting up and grabbing another piece of paper and trying to rhyme as many words as possible with the words ‘sad’ and ‘cry’. “Let’s watch some TV, hm? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Duke chewed on his bottom lip before settling back down next to Bruce, holding onto his arm tightly. “I guess…” Duke agreed.

He didn't know how long had passed before a warm coat was wrapped around him and he was pulled up into someone's arms. It sounded like marbles tumbled to the ground. Everything was a blur, the people, the cameras, the car ride home. At some point Alfred had sat with him on his bed.

He had explained. The marble like sound that had followed him from the alley and all the way home, now turning into a softer plop, it was coming from him. More exactly, it was coming from his eyes . There were pearls softly falling out of his eyes instead of tears.

It was a closely kept secret of the Wayne family, that once every few generations, a meta would be born. With the Wayne blood, it would always be the same power, always the first born. When blood or tears would leave his body, they would turn into gemstones, specifically blood would turn to rubies and tears would turn to pearls.

Because of this, the decision was made that Bruce would not be allowed to attend the Wayne funeral; for the fear that the power would be discovered.

He was quickly rumored to have completely shut himself in at the mansion.

After returning to the aristocratic society in his early twenties, never having left his ivory tower, publicly at least, the media exploded. The young fragile child, with his delicate doll like features, had turned into a beautiful young man.

The only unexpected thing was the young child by his hip. Richard Grayson.

One child soon turned into two. An old Wayne charity called 'Diamonds in the rough' which focused specifically on Park Row, made the Wayne Bachlor frequent the area, eventually stumbling into a young Jason Todd, newly turned homeless, soon to be turned son and sibling.

The years passed and the Wayne Heir returning into the light had become more and more normal, at least more than the vigilantes and vigilante junior jumping around at night.

The Mantel had been passed on, and a new Robin stepped into the light, with Nightwing taking flight beside him.

At a charity party, like any other, the nobility of Gotham mingled between each other, feigning interest and admiration, while gossiping and poking at each other in secret.

It was at one of these, that a certain set of gems peeked Bruce's interest. "What wonderful set of jewellery, Mrs. Drake."

At his interest she touched them gentle, a look of pride taking over her features "Why thank you, Mr. Wayne, it's from a family mine." The aquamarines sparkled beautifully in the light, her earrings, necklace, bracelet and ring matching perfectly, with her husband's jewelled watch, ring and cufflinks.

Bruce felt his eye twitch slightly at the small smile the woman sent her husband. "I'm jealous, where is it located? I might have to buy one myself."

That seemed to irk her somehow, but she quickly regained her composure, a practiced business smile replacing it. "I don't see why you have to go through all that trouble, you can simply buy directly from us, then all the paper work would be lighter."

Under the table gem distribution? Bruce felt his blood boil.

The two's staring contest were broken when a small child came running. He couldn't have been older than 5 or 6, he was clutching his one hand tightly to his chest, crushing it with his other.

"Mother, I- I fell on the floor, an- and-" Before he could finish Mrs Drake quickly scooped him up.

"I apologize Mr. Wayne, but I have to leave." She turned before getting a reply, but her next hurried whispered sentence was heard nonetheless. "Did anyone see??"

Jason's small head poked into the side room, the rumbling noises of the party continuing in the background was quickly silenced as the boy closed the door behind him. "Look what I found under the snack table."

He threw what simply looked like a pebble onto the mountain of paperwork on the table in the office, Bruce looking away from his computer where files on the Drake family were pulled up.

The light of the computer lit up the gem so it sparkled beautifully.

So! Pre identity reveal Justice League.

They’re on a mission near the island of themyscira. The barrier between the world of humans and gods is thin here and all of a sudden Diana says

“The gods are looking upon you favorably, my friend.” While speaking directly to Batman. She seems overly happy, maybe a combination of being close to home and the mission soon being over.

“I’m guessing it’s the goddess of death in my case.” His humor wasn’t lost on her, but she nonetheless shook her head.

“It’s Aphrodite.”

Hal who was within earshot, damn near fell out of the sky, catching himself at the last second, Flash face planted in the sand while speeding around to release nervous energy. Superman coughed loudly as he choked, while Martian didn’t seem to show much emotion like normal.

“It seems your beauty is to her liking that is a big compliment from someone of her stature.”

Diana moved on, while Batman simply shrugs, nods a thanks to the sky with a bow, before turning around and moving on too.

The rest of the team is damn near vibrating with excitement.

Bruce who teaches life advice- showing kids how to tie a tie, how to tie their shoes, braid their hair, teaching young adults to do taxes, to surf, the best lawyers to hire when in trouble, how to avoid scams, he educates the less fortunate on the best places to get free food, where to go in Wayne Enterprises for a hot shower and some toiletries, how to eat at formal functions so the higher elite have one less thing to criticize them on. He teaches people how to do card tricks and make your niece laugh by pulling out a quarter from behind her ear, teaches moms how to rock their baby to sleep properly, teaches teens to do front flips and cartwheels and calculus, educates them on how to write job applications and two weeks notice letters. He teaches people to sew, to cook(alfred helps) to assemble an IKEA shelf, how to work a lawn mower, and all sorts of different things. And when his son dies… Bruce uses his account to share his grief, his story, shares everything about Jason, what a delight he was, how awesome he was, how much he loved to read and school… and then one day, he gets Batman to join a video. And the hero is stiff and everyone can see the exhaustion, the anger and sadness in his joints, his movements, radiating off him. But he sits down heavily into the chair Bruce Wayne had previously vacated… and begins to speak. He tells the story of Robin, his young child sidekick, who just like Jason Wayne, was murdered by the Joker. He tells everyone how his little boy tried to save Jason Todd, and how they both perished in the aftermath. He tells people about his grief, his anger, and why Batman is suddenly harsher and hurts more. “Because I hurt more.” he confesses quietly, and the people finally get to meet the man behind the mask (figuratively) and truly get to see who their hero really is. The account’s popularity skyrockets, and soon Batman is a lot more common to be seen, teaching people how to defend themselves and handle the Batarangs he knows they collect after he fights. Nightwing shows up too sometimes, teaching more elegant flips and tricks and they demonstrate their workout together, and a few months later, Batman shyly introduces his new Robin, same messy black hair as the one before, but slightly smaller, and theres something… more behind those lenses in his mask. But the kid is soon a fan favorite, making sarcastic comments and countering Nightwings witty remarks, and the people get to see a new side of Batman, get to watch as he rolls his eyes at them, as he uses them to teach people how to disguise themselves, ways to use clothes to stem blood, tie tourniquets. 

Then Red Hood returns. And a kid in Crime Alley catches him cursing at his jacket because a button fell off and he cant get it back on. “Um! Mr. Red Hood sir?” the kid pipes anxiously. Red Hood turns to him, angry, but the kid doesn't back down and just goes “You should watch ‘Mr. Wayne How Do I: Sewing’ it'll help.” and then he scampers off. And Jason is pissed and even more angry because of course while he was dead Bruce decides to become a father to everyone in Gotham. But he watches the video. And it helps. And… well, its one of the older videos. And Jason finds another old video. The one about… the one about his death. It shouldn't make his anger lessen, shouldn't make him cry, shouldn't bring him to Bruce’s doorstep where he reveals himself and they hug and cry and catch up and cry some more… but it does. 

--

Bruce: he is here.

Tim: who?

Tim: hello?

Tim: WHO IS HERE? SHOULD I CHANGE INTO RED ROBIN OR NOT?

(Jason came for dinner)

--

Bruce: It is over.

Dick: what is over? Is the world over?

Dick: Bruce!?

(The league meeting ended)

--

Bruce: it has all gone to plan.

Clark: uh what?

Clark: Batman? Bruce Wayne? Bruce!?

Clark: please don't tell me you've gone evil and are planning to take over the world :(

(Clarks surprise birthday party on the watchtower was all set up)

--

Bonus, where daimian who had never used a phone before in his life, also texts like bruce:

Damian: Do not come home

Jason: ...

Jason: why?

Damian: Do not come home.

Bruce: What are those?

Damian: I've been told these are the highest award one can grant for a job well done. See? The star is symbolic for your achievement, the gold is for the standard of work.

Bruce:

Damian: Did I apply it wrong?

Bruce: No, not at all. That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Damian.

They work with a man who dresses like a Bat who's name is Batman. Maybe creativity just isn't Gotham strong suit, who are they to judge.

Dick works fine with the League, they get away with not having to use his name that frequently, and Superman is the only one who really talks to him, so its fine that he calls him chum- the man practically raised him- until one day he's on a mission with the Lanterns and Hal screams "CHUM" at the top of his lungs and Dick just bluescreens for a second because- what?

Jason is heading out with a couple of the outlaws and passes Green Arrow who just smiles, pats him on the shoulder and goes "Have fun Firecracker. Don't hurt 'em too badly!" And Jason is like ??? Thanks??? I guess???

Tim just thinks the League is slightly condescending but also kinda soaks up all the affection because they keep calling him "sweetheart" for some reason???

Steph gets called "Treasure" a total of one time before she shuts that down real fast

Cass gets called "Princess" and is like "??? ok" and when Dick heard about it he zoomed to the WatchTower to rectify that problem immediately- she might be Bruce's Princess but she is the League's Queen, thank you very much

Damian just accepts that he is Princeling, he kinda assumes every Robin gets called that because... Batman is King??? It also leads the League to believe he and Cass are siblings- the only connection they tie from all of the Gotham vigilants

Barbara never visits anymore, but one time Bruce accidentally left her on call instead of hanging up, and suddenly seven leaguers were shouting "hey Doll!" As a greeting. She thought it was hilarious and sent it to the groupchat.

——

Cass knew Bruce.

She knew Bruce more than anyone, only being rivaled by Alfred and Dick, but that was to be expected. Really, the only thing those two had on her was time.

But she could confidently say she understood him in ways they simply couldn't comprehend, not for lack of trying, but for the very makeup of their beings.

They both had darkness within them.

The crippling fear of disappointing another person, especially one that you love, can be debilitating. The strain mentally and physically is beyond taxing. Knowing that you are able to perform correctly in one area of your life yet miss the mark completely in another area that matters more is... hard.

She knew and she understood how hard it was to simply believe that someone could love you, especially after years of being told and shown the exact opposite. Years and years of being told that you’re not even on the level of dog shit on the bottom of someone’s shoes messed with your psyche.

That doesn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating to watch as her Dad simply rejected it.

She wasn’t good with words, just like Bruce. But unlike Bruce, she also wasn’t good at writing down her feelings, not that he utilized that skill often.

For days, she stewed on what she could do, replaying what her siblings and Stephanie had said happened when they told Bruce they loved him, while trying to make it seem like nothing was bothering her.

With the way he appeared to unconsciously hurt himself any time his emotions got too big, she didn’t want to put any more pressure on Bruce. He does that to himself enough. She just wishes he saw what the rest of the family does, what all of Gotham does.

Cass likes Bruce’s hands. They’re big, warm, and gentle, no matter how scarred they were, and have the ability to hurt. And yet, he chooses not to.

He has never hit her unless they were sparring, and even then, Bruce doesn’t go for the kill. He never hurts her because he wants to hurt her. It’s not a fun game for him. He pushes her. Challenges her. Guides her in ways her father that man never could.

He chooses to save people. Her.

She dons a shadow to follow in his footsteps, to atone for the murders she had committed, to become free and be the one people look to for help. She takes his words, his actions, and nestles them right beside her heart so she knows what’s just.

He trusts her. She is not a weapon to be used and discarded till she is needed to inflict pain once more. No.

She is… Princess. Love, darling, gremlin, menace, an older sister, a younger sister, a daughter, and a granddaughter.

She is Cassandra.

And maybe… maybe Bruce forgets that he is Bruce. Maybe he just needs a push in the right direction. She can do that.

“What’s this?” He asks softly, always softly, and takes the flimsy piece of paper from her hand, looking over it seriously. Always so serious when it comes to her and the people he loved.

“Dance trope.” She explained, shifting her feet once, twice, three times. She was filled with boundless energy just thinking of how Bruce would react to her dance. “It’s finished. It’s finally finished. Show time.” She smiled, then did jazz hands. She got that from Stephanie and Dick.

She likes the fluttery movement; it reminds her of when Bruce stops paying attention to how to perfectly control his body and lets his hands flap in excitement or just to stimulate himself.

Bruce smiled back and reached out, pausing for a second just in case Cassandra wanted to duck out of the way, before patting her head. No matter how much he tried, her hair remained fluffy and bouncy, undeterred by the gentleness of her Dad smoothing back her hair.

“Sounds fun.” He crooned, his eyes crinkling at the sides, showing off his crows' feet. That’s how she knew he was smiling, even if the rest of his face remained a stoic mask. “There’s only one ticket?”

“Yes.” Cass nodded, grabbing the ticket and folding it carefully before placing it in the front pocket of his slacks, patting the fabric for extra security. “Just you this time. You’ll come?”

Bruce lets out a soft chuckle, and Cass is unashamed to say it’s one of her favorite sounds. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She could tell that he was still confused about why he had been the only one chosen, but before he could ask, Cass dances out of the study, her socked feet helping her glide and spin across the wood floor, feeling lighter on her feet than she had since the realization with her siblings.

Yes. There’s no way he could possibly misunderstand her.

Despite what Dick claims, Cass thinks she knows Dad best and understands him the most.

And before she knew it, she was backstage. Her hair had been pulled back into a loose bun, letting a few strands frame her face perfectly. Everything was progressing perfectly.

“Remember,” Bethany finished filling in her eyeliner, taking a step back and admiring her work on such a beautiful subject, “this isn’t ballet, there are no rules. You’re meant to have fun. Be loose, express yourself, this is to show your family how much you appreciate them.”

Cass nodded. Of course.

She would express herself like no one had ever expressed themselves. Bruce would understand the love she had for him without her even having to say a word.

The bright lights of the stage, the gaze of hundreds of people, and the deep base of the music that could only be drowned out by the rapid beat of her heart. Exhilarating.

This is it. He’ll see the love and thought and admiration she put into this dance. The months she took to carve each move into her very soul. She bares it all to him, here up on stage, no words needed.

Cass takes her final pose as the music comes to an end; she’s never danced harder in her life. As her breath comes out in short, harsh pants, her eyes lock onto the one man who has irrevocably changed her life forever.

Bruce stood, tallest in the crowd but also front and center, clapping loudly. Even from on stage, Cass could see a few tears slip down her Dad’s face.

The moment she comes off stage, she’s greeted with a comically large yet beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Daphne flowers: grace and charm. White and blue hyacinths: prayers for a loved one, sincerity, and deep care. And of course, roses, just to keep with the tradition of expressing passion.

“I understand,” Bruce murmured softly, pulling his daughter into a hug, “I completely understand.” He whispered, and Cass felt her heart swell as pressure built behind her eyes and her view got a little blurry. The music of the next dance number faded away to a quiet hum. It was only her and her dad.

“You do?” She croaked.

“Of course I do. You were so… magnificent, beautiful, breathtaking… I simply don’t have the words to express how I feel after seeing your performance.” Bruce whispered back fiercely, pulling back to look her in the eyes. Cass reached up and gently wiped away a tear that slid down his cheek.

“You still miss him, don’t you?”

Cass paused.

“I’ve read plenty of books about this and… and I’ve experienced it myself a few times. David was the first father you ever knew. It’s perfectly normal to still miss him, even after everything that he’s done.”

And once again, just like every other important moment in her life, words failed Cassandra.

“Sometimes…” Bruce pauses, wondering if this was the right time and place to be this honest with his daughter, “sometimes I wish I could have had you as a baby. To save you from all that heartache you experienced so young.” Bruce lets a wistful sigh pass through his lips as he closes his eyes to reminisce about what could have been. “I think… I think I would have loved you right. I know I would have tried.”

Cass nodded, burying her face into Bruce’s shoulder and taking in a shuddering breath. “You would have. I know this.”

“I’m sorry you miss your father,” Bruce says instead of acknowledging her words. “I’m sorry I can’t fill that place in your life. I’m sorry… that my love isn’t enough for you.” Bruce says, his voice so mournful that an ache forms in Cass’s chest, so tightly wound she feels like she’ll suffocate. “I’m sorry he wasn’t able to see the dance you made for him.”

“No…” She swallows the lump in her throat.

Bruce looks confused.

“For you,” Cass says forcefully, dropping the bouquet and holding his hands. Those stupid, kind hands. “For you, Dad.” She repeats, looking him in the eyes.

He has to know. He must.

“I…” Bruce takes in a breath and stills, his eyes jumping to every corner in the room before returning to Cass’s, then looking away once more. That’s okay with her; she knows he’s bad at eye contact. “I don’t understand…” he whispers, his voice… scared… scared of love just like Stephanie said.

“That’s okay, I will tell you until you finally do. I will show you from now on.” Cass can feel her own tears starting to slide down her cheeks, ruining the meticulous makeup Bethany had painstakingly put on for the performance. “I’m sorry you don’t understand. I’m sorry I made you not understand that I love you.”

Bruce shuddered, and his body made an aborted jerking motion, as if the words spoken so sincerely rocked him to his very core, and it was instinct to escape such a raw emotion. “I don’t…” Bruce stopped and wet his lips. His fingers flexed in Cass’s hands, trying to dig his fingers into his palm like usual, but Cass stopped him.

“That’s okay.” She repeated, squeezing his hands before throwing herself into his embrace again. Always so warm and encompassing. Bruce should give out hugs more, but then she’d want to keep them all to herself. “I love you.”

Cass pulled away and scooped up her bouquet. “Home?” She asked, squeezing her Dad’s hand.

Bruce nodded silently, his eyes distant as he squeezed her hand back. He was quiet, yet it was obvious his mind was running a million miles an hour. Maybe he had slipped into being nonverbal again just as she often did.

Jason calls Damian Demon Spawn because every time they were on a League Mission together and they would stumble upon the supernatural, Demons would ALWAYS come out from above or below Damian. He was ALWAYS in the place the demons would come from purely by COINCIDENCE. It happened so much that every time they were expecting a supernatural fight they'd turn to Damian ready to attack the demons. And it pissed Damian off every time someone would report the mission and mention in so much that Jason started to call him Demon Spawn.