“So let’s not forget that Damian and I are still the only legitimate deaths in the family,” Jason said, pulling Damian closer with one arm around his shoulders; squeezing. Albeit sour-faced, Damian allowed himself to be man-handled into Jason’s side without objection, save for the usual unimpressed “Tt.”
“Hey, it’s not like I faked my death,” Timothy objected, before side-eying Dick next to him as he mumbled loudly into his third – already empty – coffee cup, “Like some people.”
“Are we never moving past that?” Dick asked, sounding almost exasperated.
His brothers seemed to freeze, Tim and Jason sharing a look before facing Dick’s expectant expression with blank stares; “No,” they chorused.
“I concur,” Damian declared; at the floor.
Dick made a noise; sighed, and threw up his hands in defeat.
“Still, Timmers,” Jason was speaking again, ignoring Dick, “You didn’t die for real, so you don’t count.”
Damian nodded.
“But I would have died for real,” Tim countered, “If I hadn’t been unceremoniously kidnapped, thank you very much.”
“‘Fortuitously’ kidnapped, you mean,” Dick said.
“Boys,” Bruce appeared, as he so often did, out of seemingly nowhere, to interrupt whatever Jason or Tim might have replied to that, heavily placing a hand on each of his middle son’s shoulders. “It’s not a competition.”
“Because we’ve already won,” Jason said.
“Please,” Bruce intoned, “Can we change the subject?” he asked, giving Jason a meaningful look. The younger man’s throat worked. Damian’s gaze lifted to watch Jason as carefully as Dick and Tim were doing.
“…Sure,” Jason said easily, slapping the back of his hand against Bruce’s chest. “Why don’t you share the good news with Tim.”
“Good news?” Tim said, to Bruce, as he spoke, at Jason.
Dick snorted into his drink, and Damian groaned, rolling his eyes.
“This,” Jason said, impatiently, as he pried Bruce’s left hand from his shoulder by the ring finger, practically shoving the digit in his face, “You unromantic oaf.”
“Oh!” Bruce said, too loudly, and slipped his finger from Jason’s grip. “O-of course,” he cleared his throat.
“Do I need to be concerned?” Tim was stage-whispering at Dick, who made a see-saw motion with his free hand in reply, before pinching an inch of air between his thumb and forefinger. “Little bit? Alright,” Tim concluded, returning his attention to Bruce with an expectant grin on his face.
Bruce glared. Briefly.
“I have asked Selina to marry me, and she has accepted.”
“Oh,” Tim said, not hiding his surprise. “Oh…wow. Okay. Congratulations,” he offered his hand to shake, and Bruce clasped it firmly.
“Thank you; Tim.”
“You’re alright with this?” Jason asked, apparently incredulous. “She’s a villain—”
“You’re a villain,” Damian declared, shooting daggers at Jason from where he was still tucked in against the older man’s side.
Jason held the boy tighter, “So I’d know best—”
“You’re not a villain, Jason,” Bruce said firmly. “And neither is Selina.”
“Ignore him, Bruce. It is good news. I think you and Selina will be good for each other.”
“Thank you, Tim.”
“For the record, I agree,” Dick threw in.
“Suck-ups,” Jason said.
“Stupid,” countered Tim.
“Nice come-back.”
“You’re all idiots,” Damian said, before Tim could make another reply, as he shoved Jason’s arm off his shoulders and marched off.
“I—take it he’s less than accepting…?” Tim ventured.
“His issue isn’t with Selina so much as his mom…” Dick replied, “I’ll go—”
“Perhaps it should be me, this time,” Bruce interrupted.
“Yeah, okay,” Dick smiled. “I think he’d like that.”
“Excuse me.”
“Me, too, kiddos,” Jason announced. “I got to go see an Amazon about a backwards Superman.”
“Bizarro still—” Dick began,
“A total smarticle? Yeah, it’s awesome.”
“Like how smart?” Tim asked.
“On a scale of ‘one to Tim?’ Timothy,” Jason said, with a lopsided grin.
“Where ‘one’ is equal to ‘Jason’s lame, nonsensical jokes?’ Gotcha,” Tim replied.
“You’re adorable,” Jason said dryly, ruffling Tim’s already messy hair. Tim punched him in the bicep. Hard.
“Say ‘hi’ to Artemis for me,” Dick said, in part by way of breaking up a potential slap-fest before it started.
“Not if I conveniently forget to,” Jason replied with a wink. He extended a hand towards Tim. “Timothy. Always a pleasure. And congratulations on not being dead.”
Tim took the hand, “Gee, thanks.”
“Try and keep it that way.”
“You first.”
“Hardy-har,” Jason slapped him lightly on the back of the head, skipping away fast enough Tim’s retaliation missed. He kept walking, throwing them a last jaunty wave, “See you.”
“Yeah,” Tim mumbled, waving back. Dick slung his arm around Tim’s shoulders, and they watched their brother disappear into the depths of the cave.
“At the risk of sounding like Jason,” Dick said eventually. “Wanna swap near-death experiences?”
“That your clever way of asking me if I want to talk about it?”
Dick shrugged, “Maybe.”
“I’ve already typed up everything in my report—”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Tim crossed his arms, let the resulting silence linger a moment. “Is there a pumpkin-spiced latte with extra caffeine in it for me?”
“Of course!” Dick replied at once, swinging Tim around with him and walking them toward the elevator. “Just, you know, without the caffeine.”
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It loosely fits, so. Yeah. This is for @caramelmachete, who asked for some Dick and Wally bromance. Thanks for donating!!!
Summary: The puzzle pieces aren’t fitting. Dick doesn’t know what’s happening. But one thing that he does know is that he has to get to Bruce. He has to.
Dick doesn’t know where he is.
Well, that’s not completely true. He’s sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, somewhere in the middle of Gotham. There’s not a lot of people, but the weak sun is still occasionally breaking through the clouds, so Dick thinks it must be before rush hour. The people around him give him a wide berth, but Dick hardly notices. He keeps getting distracted by the shadows in the corner of his eye. He could have sworn he saw—
No. Batman doesn’t come out during the day. Not unless there’s an emergency. And Dick can’t think of anything that’d be classified an emergency when it seems so calm. Actually, Dick’s having trouble thinking at all.
But he knows for sure that it’s not Batman. Can’t be. He wouldn’t be scared of it if it was, right?
There’s—something. Something he’s supposed to remember. Something to do with Bruce. He thinks that maybe he should find Bruce. Or call him. Maybe it’ll help him remember, think. He’s supposed to tell Bruce about—about—
Something to do with water. Other than that, he can’t grasp it. He can’t make his thoughts form anything coherent.
There’s another—it’s not a flash. It’s more a growing embodiment of fear and darkness on the edge of his vision, creating a dark mass that catches his attention. But when he turns his head to look at it, it’s gone. Nothing there. Poof.
Unease grows in his stomach, and Dick thinks that maybe he should get up now. There’s something seriously wrong, and he needs to get to Bruce to tell him about the water. He hopes that the shadow doesn’t follow him all the way home. Dick doesn’t know how to get rid of it, so if it does, he’ll have to risk exposing his family to the danger of it.
That thought makes him slightly sick, and Dick makes no move to get up. People pay him no attention besides a cursory first glance. Dick watches the shadow creep closer, morphing and contorting as it makes its way towards him.
When his phone rings, Dick barely hears it. He keeps his eyes on the shadow, but it starts to feel like he’s falling apart. Like his grip on reality is slipping and sliding all over the place, and it takes a few more minutes for Dick to realize that he is literally shaking apart.
He’s sitting on the sidewalk, shaking and sweating as he watches a shadow he can’t take his eyes off of, and his cell phone rings. There’s something wrong. He just can’t figure it out.
Dick picks up this time without looking. “Hello?”
“Dick!” a voice says, and behind the distortion, there’s relief. Dick listens to the voice babble on about something before he realizes that whoever’s on the line is trying to talk to him. “—are right now and I’ll come get you. We can get pizza and eat our hearts out to drown out whatever’s on your mind, bro.”
“Wally?” Dick asks, his forehead crinkling in confusion. Why is Wally calling him?
“Yeah,” Wally says, his words a beat slower this time. “Yeah, it’s me. You okay, man?”
Dick thinks about that for a minute. He licks his lips and thinks about the growing shadow he can’t stop tracking. He thinks about the bad feeling in his gut. He thinks about how he can’t tell whether he’s shivering or shaking. He thinks about the need to get to Bruce and tell him about the water, but the absolute fear of bringing the shadow into contact with the people he loves. And then he thinks about how absolute none of those pieces seem to make any sense when he tries to fit them together. It’s like they don’t even belong to the same puzzle, though he’s sure that he’d gotten them from the same box.
“I don’t think so,” Dick says, and he’s feeling a little dizzy now, too. Light-headed. Everything but the shadow has gone fuzzy around the edges, and finally—finally—it clicks into place what’s happening to him. “I think I’ve been drugged.”
Wally sucks in a sharp breath, blows it out, and speaks slow enough that even Dick, in his hazy, drugged state, can follow.
“Okay,” Wally says. “Okay, first things first. Do you know where you are?”
“A street,” Dick tells him. Easy question.
“Which street?” Wally asks.
Harder question. Dick doesn’t know. And he doesn’t get to answer before he’s shuffling back from the middle of the sidewalk to press his shoulders against the wall of the building behind him. The shadow—the one morphing and contorting and growing—shoots out a tendril and almost curls around his ankle but—he jerks it away at the last moment, and the shadow retreats for the moment.
He’s left with his lungs feeling tight. Like he can’t get enough air. Wally’s small and tinny voice sounds from the phone still clutched in Dick’s right hand, but Dick can’t pay attention to him right now. He’d just talked to Wally for a second and the shadow had made a grab for him. He has to watch for it, make sure it doesn’t try to—
Wally’s in his face in a moment, shielding him from the shadows, and Dick blinks. Wally’s hands are like steel as they grip his upper arms, and Wally’s presence is just so much. Like a hot bath after sleeping in the snow. It’s overwhelming.
“Breathe,” Wally orders, and Dick does. Wally doesn’t seem satisfied, though. “Again.”
Dick tries to suck in another breath, but his chest hitches and his eyes screw up and his hands grip the front of Wally’s jacket and there’s just too much. Any moment now, Wally is going to move and the shadow will come roaring after him. It’ll grab him and drag him into the unknown, and he doesn’t think he can handle that.
Not after it’d already practically consumed him last time.
Wally cups Dick’s face in his hands. “Hey, hey. Hang on, Dick. Bruce is on his way. He’s going to fix whatever’s wrong with you.”
“Water,” Dick manages to choke out. “It was—water. Bruce.”
Shaking his head, Wally brushes away tears Dick hadn’t even realized were falling. “Dick, I don’t—I don’t know what that means.”
“Move,” someone else says.
Wally’s head snaps up, but when Wally’s eyes go wide and he makes to pull away, Dick shakes his head and grips Wally’s jacket harder, whispering, “No. No, no, no,” over and over again, until Wally covers Dick’s hands and squeezes, shuffling to the side to make room for the new person who—oh.
Bruce is here. Dick thinks that maybe he’s going to cry in relief, but then he remembers that he’s already crying.
“Hey. Look at me,” Bruce says, his voice low and calm and gentle like it is in his memories and those quiet moments just after a life or death situation. Bruce’s eyes don’t waver, and Dick focuses on his dad’s face, his fingers uncurling from Wally’s jacket to reach instead for Bruce’s. Bruce pulls him in slowly, gently, and Dick falls forward and buries his face in Bruce’s chest, closing his eyes against the dizziness.
He can’t remember what’s happening, but he knows—just like he’ll always know—that he’s safe here. He’s okay. The shadow—it can’t get him as long as Bruce is here.
“Let’s get you home,” Bruce says quietly, and he pulls Dick to his feet, supporting his weight when Dick’s feet threatening to collapse out from underneath him. Bruce’s arms are around him, Wally’s hand is on his back, and Dick keeps his head tucked Bruce’s shoulder as they lead him towards the street.
Dick still feels dizzy and light-headed, and he can’t put the puzzle pieces together very well, but he manages a sharp breath and a quiet, “The water, Bruce.”
And Bruce tightens his arms around Dick and says, “I know. Tim’s taking care of it as we speak.”
And, of course, that’s when Dick collapses, darkness taking over and the echo of his name in his ears.
When Dick wakes up, it’s slow. And when he opens his eyes, it’s hazy. But not the fuzziness he can hardly remember from before, full of shadows and monsters and puzzle pieces that don’t seem to fit as he sits on concrete in the middle of the sidewalk. All alone and scared of something that’s not actually real.
Well, in a sense. He knows what those shadows represented in his head, and just the thought of them make him unbelievably tired and world weary. So he doesn’t think about it anymore.
Dick’s lying on a medical cot in the Cave. He’s attached to an IV, and Dick wonders just how long he was out. He feels bone tired. Exhausted in a way he hasn’t been since maybe the day he’d been strapped to a bomb and had to stop his heart in order to stop said bomb.
“Hey,” a soft voice says, and Dick blinks at the redhead sitting at his bedside. Wally doesn’t look so hot, either, and he’s looking at Dick with wary eyes. “How are you feeling?”
Dick hums, and croaks out, “Tired.”
Wally chuckles. “You should go back to sleep.”
“The water?” Dick asks instead of acknowledging that last statement. He’ll go to sleep when he knows that everything’s okay. “Did Bruce get to it on time?”
Wally blows out a sigh and leans back in his chair. “You know, I still don’t know what that means.”
“It means,” Bruce says before Dick can even open his mouth to answer, striding into the medical wing of the Cave in sweats and a T-shirt, “that Scarecrow was trying to drug the city’s water supply, and the only reason that he didn’t was because Dick had enough sense in him to activate the tracker at the plant and alert Tim into checking it out when we couldn’t get a hold of him.”
“Tim okay?” Dick asks.
“He’s fine,” Bruce tells him, standing on the other side of Dick’s bed, across from Wally. He looks hesitant about something, but he finally sighs and drops a hand in Dick’s hair, sweeping a thumb across Dick’s forehead in a rare show of comfort. Dick closes his eyes under the ministrations. “You, on the other, are not.”
Dick frowns, but doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m okay.”
“You weren’t,” Bruce says, but it’s Wally that elaborates since they both know that Bruce won’t.
“We almost lost you a couple times,” Wally tells him softly, and Dick feels Wally grab his limp hand and squeeze. “It was—well. Terrifying. We’re just lucky that Bruce and I managed to isolate the new component in Scarecrow’s new toxin when we did.”
“Thank you,” Dick whispers, but no one responds. There’s silence for a while, and Dick feels himself floating away, back into a doze. He only hums when Bruce moves his hand from Dick’s hair to Dick’s shoulder and drops a gentle kiss on Dick’s forehead, like Wally isn’t sitting right there.
“Get some sleep, Dick,” Bruce says.
And Dick, already seconds away from floating back into slumber, lets himself relax. With Bruce and Wally here, and everything okay, he’s safe. No more shadows or monsters or puzzle pieces. Just his dad and his best friend. So, he sleeps.
As much as I love Hogwarts AUs within this fandom, there are a ton of misconceptions out there about which Hogwarts Houses the members of the Batfamily would be sorted into. Most sortings I’ve seen follow these lines:
Dick - Ravenclaw
Jason - Gryffindor or Slytherin
Tim - Ravenclaw
Damian - Slytherin
Barbara - Ravenclaw
Stephanie - Hufflepuff
Cass - Hufflepuff
Bruce - Ravenclaw
While I respect these, I think most if not all of them are taking the characters at face value. They all live with masks - literal and metaphorical - and they might not even acknowledge some of these deeper truths to themselves, but we as readers have a much bigger picture of their actions and their motivations.
I’m not going to get into Tim Drake because I already have written extensively on my brilliant boy and where he would actually be sorted. If you haven’t read The Mis-Sorting of Tim Drake yet, I’d recommend reading it now because I’ll be referencing it later in this piece.
Dick Grayson is brilliant and smart, yes, but the reasons he keeps doing vigilante work are primarily Hufflepuff in nature: “I will save as many people as possible, no matter the heartbreak. If I can save one person an awful fate, then I have saved one person.” Or as a certain musical puts it, “Have I done enough?” Hufflepuffs are some of the scariest people on the planet because you will never see them coming. They are not the couch potatoes of the world - they are the treads on the tank, the pistons in the engine. They are capable of greater nobility than the rest of the world combined, and if their death will save one, two, a hundred people, they will die without hesitation. And who embodies that more than Dick “Self Sacrifice” Grayson?
Jason Todd is depicted in the fandom as the impulsive, abrasive hotshot, but one thing everyone passes over is how little he cares for the rules. You don’t steal the Batmobile’s hubcaps? Tough luck. You have to pretend to be a kind of person you’re not when around the Gotham elite? Not a chance. We don’t use guns, and we don’t kill our enemies? Make me. And that, guys, gals, and non-binary pals, is a Ravenclaw trait. For a Ravenclaw, rules are for the sheep not intelligent to find a way around them: “They don’t have a plan, they just hate mine.” Jason is capable of asking if maybe it is okay to kill dangerous criminals rather than have them live out the rest of their corrupt lives comfortable and well-fed in prison. Putting criminals away in jail is doing nothing for their victims, so Jason will go outside of the rules to do what must be done.
For Stephanie Brown, I debated between Hufflepuff and Slytherin with Gryffindor-ish traits. Steph knows what she wants - to be Robin, to work with Cass, to finish her degree - and good luck to you if you get in her way. Unlike most Slytherins, she bulldozes through her problems, but her driving force is her ambition, her desire to be more. As a certain musical says, “I am either gonna die on the battlefield in glory or rise up.” Gryffindors maybe care a little for glory and instant gratification, but the fuel in their souls’ engines is to see justice done. They care about humanity as a whole but have a difficult time caring about small injustices they themselves commit in their quest for Justice, and put simply that’s not Steph. She cares too much for people - real people - to choose fighting Injustice over injustices. She’s a difficult sorting to pin down, and that’s the best I’ve got.
Cass Cain, like Dick Grayson, is a Hufflepuff. When Hufflepuffs snap, they will mow through anything in their path to protect the people they love and get back at those who hurt their loved ones. It takes a lot of passion, conviction, and evidence for Hufflepuffs to rise up, but when they do, the war is as good as over. Cass cares about people, about righting wrongs, but not at the kind of cost a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw is willing to accrue. She aspires to be better, and she will save people until she keels over, and still she will ask, “Have I done enough?”
Damian Wayne, like Stephanie Brown, is tricky. The fandom sorts him into Slytherin because he’s a “bad guy” and he’s sarcastic. Segue: By the way, it ticks me off when people say sarcasm is a Slytherin aesthetic, because sarcasm is mean - it is cruel and ultimately lifting yourself up by putting your listener down. Irony on the other hand requires actual skill, putting the speaker and the listener on the same level and creating a bond instead of a rift - “I’m in on the joke, you’re in on the joke, we’re in it together.” Sure some Slytherins are cruel, but a true Slytherin’s sense of humor centers around irony rather than sarcasm. End Segue. Damian might grump and grouch around most of the time, but he has come a long way from where he was when he first came to the Manor when he was using sarcasm. It takes a lot to get him to care for and open up to people, partly because he’s young, partly because he shares half his genetic code with Bruce "No-Feelings-Only-Justice” Wayne, and partly because he idolizes his father and attempts to be like him in every facet of his life. Damian follows Bruce’s rules - adhering to a code - and his driving force is to excel, to be known, to be remembered. That is why he is a Slytherin, not just because he’s a grouchy little shit.
Barbara Gordon is similar enough to Tim to sort decisively into Slytherin. Again, read The Mis-Sorting of Tim Drake for clarity on this.
And as for Bruce? Ah, Bruce Wayne...the freaking Poster Boy™ for Slytherin House. Gotham is his city to defend, and anyone who stands against that will be taken down both brutally and efficiently. The little flock of vigilantes he’s gathered like chicks under his wing are also his, and he will protect them more fiercely than a mama grizzly. Anyone who hurts his children, be they supervillain, common criminal, or mere scum who broke his child’s heart, will pay the price. Bruce’ll stay within the bounds he’s set for himself (i.e. no killing), but all that means is that he needs to be more creative with his takedowns.
In summary:
Dick - Hufflepuff
Jason - Ravenclaw
Tim - Slytherin
Stephanie - Hufflepuff or Slytherin
Cass - Hufflepuff
Damian - Slytherin
Barbara - Slytherin
Bruce - Slytherin
Day 5 of the Batfam Halloween Content War is Haunting/Spooky. The Manor is old, it most have a few ghosts wandering around, the Dead Robins Club was going to find out for sure once and for all.
Words: 1,050
Rating: PG
Gen
AO3
Sitting cross-legged for such a long time was not a good time. Steph grimaced as she straightened her legs out, both of them had fallen asleep. Since she was now half laying across the antique wood table in the library Steph decided to just go for it and laid down. Staring up at the chandelier with its green globes made her wrinkle her nose. Being in the Wayne Manor library always reminded Steph of how obstentiously rich the Waynes were.
“Brown, we are here at your request which means you should refrain from falling asleep,” Damian snapped from where he was curled up in the nearest window seat. Steph sat up to stick her tongue out at him before flopping back onto the table.
Jason got up from where he had sprawled across one of the couches and walked over. Leaning over the table so that he was looking Steph in the eye, albeit upside down, Jason raised a single brow. “Demon Brat’s got a point. What’re we doing here Steph? I haven’t seen or heard anything.”
“I swear! There was a woman in white in here the other day! I opened the door on a hunt for you and she was standing right at this table. She looked at me and then- just- disappeared.” Steph frowned.
“-tt- Are you really trying to get us to believe that you saw a ghost?” Damian asked as he sat up straighter.
“A ghost? Right here in River City? That starts with G which rhymes with P which stands for pool,” Jason grinned down at her.
Steph shoved at Jason’s face which only made him laugh. Getting her feet under her Steph stood up on the table, looking down at the two boys. “My fellow dead Robins, this is a very serious predicament! If the library truly is haunted it is up to us, the formerly deceased, to save this wandering spirit!” She ended her rallying speech with her hands on her hips, chin jutting out, and a light stomp of her foot. Steph imagined that her blonde hair was blowing softly in an invisible wind, making the effect that much more dramatic.
She looked down at the boys; Jason was doubled over with laughter and Damian was giving her his favorite “Brown you’re a ridiculous lunatic” face. Steph crossed her arms in a huff which was when she noticed something, the ends of her hair were lifting up as if they had a mind of their own. She ran a hand through it in an attempt to smooth them down, only for her blonde hair to continue to float.
Steph tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat as her eyes widened. “Guys? Uh, guys? Do you see this?” her voice wavered as her eyes darted to Damian and then Jason.
Jason went pale as his own eyes grew to resemble dinner plates. “Steph… don’t turn around.”
Damian appeared to pull batarangs from thin air and dropped into a fighting position. His brows furrowed at whatever was behind Steph. Taking a shaky breath Steph slowly looked over her shoulder. Standing directly behind her was a pale, vaporous figure. Steph screamed and leapt into Jason’s outstretched arms. He held her to his chest as she continued to scream her head off, loud enough to give even Black Canary a run for her money. Damian threw his batarangs at the woman, only for them to pass straight through her.
“Run. Now. Damian! Run!” Jason yelled as he himself sprinted towards the back of the library and the door to the old servant passage there. Steph was stilled held in his arms, her own were locked in an iron grip around his neck. She could feel her heart pounding harder and faster than Jason’s foot falls. Damian was right on their heels, panting and glancing over his shoulder as they raced through the stacks.
Reaching the panel that hid the door Jason set Steph on her feet and scrambled along the wall for the hidden button that would swing the door open. Steph stared back the way they came, her foot tapping like she was the Flash when he was impatient. A steady stream of “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon” being muttered by her. Damian appeared to regain some of his composure. At the very least color had returned to his cheeks and his breathing seemed to even out.
With a click the wall swung inward and Jason pushed the younger two into the passage ahead of him before slamming the door behind. Steph flicked on her phone’s flashlight and looked around the cramped hallway. Jason inclined his head to the left. “This way,” he said and they all followed Jason.
They twisted through the walls of the Manor, eventually coming out in the kitchen pantry. “Alfred! Ohmygod, Alfred! You’re never gonna guess what just happened,” Steph called as she raced into the kitchen proper. The butler was not there however. She looked to the boys in puzzlement, both shrugged and Jason made his way over to the fridge with a chair to get some of the liquor kept on top of it. Taking a swig directly from a bottle of jack while still on the chair he offered it to Steph. She shook her head and he shrugged, taking another swig before putting it back.
“I wonder where Pennyworth is,” Damian said as he settled into a seat at the island.
“Hopefully not the library,” Jason twitched his brows as he replaced the chair.
What they didn’t know was at that moment Alfred was flinging open the library’s large double doors. “Master Jason? Master Damian? Miss Stephanie?” he called as he entered. The ghostly woman was still there, she turned to Alfred and held up her arms in a shrug. “Miss Loraine, did you scare them off? My my, please refrain from doing so again. There is enough of a strain on all of their hearts without you giving them a fright.” The woman seemed to hang her head in shame. “Now, I must track them down. If you’ll excuse me and wish me luck as I’m sure calming them down is going to be a task.” With that Alfred turned sharply on his heel and left the library in search of his wayward charges.
Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Lian Harper, Jon Kent, Iris West II, Jai West, Bruce Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Talia al Ghul
Summary: "Over the years, Damian grew to be a wonderful young man. He was everything a man could ask for in a son, and more. He…."Father faltered in his speech. “ What he's trying to say, Damian, is that he loves you very much, and he is proud of you. He just can't get it out of his mouth,” Gordon picked up neatly where Father left off.
______________________________
Damian turned 21. Shenanigans ensued
A/N: For Halloween Content War, day 2: Celebration
Damian was turning twenty one today. He was an adult. He had lived long enough to be considered a legal adult. That thought gave him a moment pause. He had lived.
Along the years, there had been several bumps along the way, but he lived a mostly happy life. He had Father, Grayson, Pennyworth, and the rest of his family. He had his team and his friends, not really mutually exclusive. He had everything he never thought he would have as a child in the League.
Oh, he knew by now that his childhood was not exactly a normal one. But still, the fact remains that what he had now he would never had dreamt of having a mere ten years ago. He was exceedingly grateful for that.
Damian would have stayed where he stood, relishing that fact when a voice brought him back to reality.
‘‘You are expected to attend your own birthday party, you know?’’ Grayson put his hand on Damian's shoulder.
‘‘I know, Grayson. Can't I just have a moment alone before I have to entertain all of the guests?’’ Damian retorted back.
Grayson laughed. He pulled Damian into an embrace. ‘‘Come on. They're all waiting for you.’’ Grayson smiled lovingly at Damian. ‘‘You're the man of the hour after all.’’
“Tt.”
“Come on. It is your birthday.”
Grayson manoeuvred Damian into the room. Inside was all the people he had come to care since coming into Gotham, not that he would ever say that in so many words. The moment he walked in, all the activity in the room ceased. They all turned to Damian and congratulated him one by one.
“So, twenty one at last, huh? I can finally take you out drinking without Mother Hen over there taking it out on my hide,” Todd said.
‘‘As if I want to go drinking with you, Todd, " Damian replied without missing a beat.
Todd chuckled. “Happy birthday, kid.”
Then, Todd was shoved over by a women wearing purple (eggplant) dress. “Dami! My little Robin's all grown up now!”
Cain followed behind Brown in a more sedate pace. She simply offered a smile and hugged Damian so quickly, Damian could only bear it.
‘‘Hey Cass! Give me time to hug the kid too!’’
“How many times must I tell you, Brown, I'm not a kid.”
“Oh, of course. You're twenty one now!” Brown smiled mischievously. “Not a kid anymore, huh?”
“Shut up, Brown.” Damian mumbled.
“Hey, Damian! Come over here!” Damian heard Kent (John) called for him. Feeling grateful to be spared a full blown teasing session from Brown, he quickly sauntered over to where his team was standing around.
“Happy birthday, Damian. Never thought you'll live this long.” Harper raised her glass.
“Never mind her, Damian! You'll be able to bring us booze and everything now!” West exclaimed.
“Tt. That's all you have to say, West?”
His sister smacked him in the head. “Sorry, Damian. You know how he is. Happy birthday, really.”
“Oh, I know exactly how he is. Always wondered how you could live with him for this long without doing any permanent damage.”
“Hey!”
Damian laughed. That kind of teasing continued until they all heard a cough.
“Can I borrow him for a moment, ladies and gentlemen?" Father's voice was loud and clear even in the busy dining room.
“Sure, Mr. Wayne. He's getting boring anyway,‘’ Harper answered.
“I am not boring, thank you very much,” Damian replied.
“Eh. You are," Harper shrugged her shoulders.
Father had the audacity to laugh. He nodded his thanks to the rest of Damian's team, and guided Damian to the center of the dining room.
“Can I have everyone's attention, please?” Father called the room at large. Everyone inside the room quited down. Nobody wanted to risk the ire of Batman, even if he was Bruce Wayne at the moment.
“Today, Damian turned twenty one," Father began his speech. Damian could already feel his ears getting red. “Ten years ago, I met him for the first time. I know it's not how most father met his son, but that meeting turned to be one of the happiest moment in my life.
Over the years, Damian grew to be a wonderful young man. He was everything a man could ask for in a son, and more. He…."
Father faltered in his speech. “ What he's trying to say, Damian, is that he loves you very much, and he is proud of you. He just can't get it out of his mouth,” Gordon picked up neatly where Father left off.
Everybody laughed. They all knew how closed off Bruce Wayne was. Father glared at the room at large, but most of the people in attendance have grown an immunity to the Batglare, so the laughter didn't die for quite some time.
“Happy birthday, Damian. May you live a long and happy life,” Father said after all the laughter had died. He had that half-smile on his face. Damian felt his heart soared.
“Happy birthday, Damian!” the room chorused as one. Damian ducked his head, ashamed by all the attention.
“Thank you, ” Damian said softly.
***
After the party, Damian went to his room. The party itself was a pleasant enough affair. After Father had delivered his speech, the party continued on, with a few people coming over to Damian to congratulate him personally.
Then the party slowly dispersed. One by one, the guests went home after congratulating Damian again. After that, Pennyworth declared that there was to be no patrol tonight and asked everyone to rest. Father did not argue.
So, Damian went into his room with his heart full of contentment. There was only one thing that still weighed in his heart. His mother had not came.
Damian had not expected her to come. He knew that her relationship with his father was not ideal. He knew that most of the guests in attendance considered Talia to be a hostile presence, if not an outright enemy. But she was still his mother, and on this particular day, Damian missed his mother.
He sat down on the bed, and then promptly stood up again. There was a package on his bed. Damian picked it up warily.
It was a sword. An engraved sword, fit for the heir of the Demon's head. On the sword, there was a note. It said, ‘Happy birthday, my little Alexander’ in Mother's elegant handwriting. It was not signed, of course, but Damian knew his mother's writing.
Damian smiled. “Thank you, Mother," he said to the room. He knew that his thanks would reach his mother.
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Hey everyone! So, I know you’re as excited as I am about the upcoming Halloween Content War (I mean, who isn’t excited about Halloween and the Batfam? It is honestly the perfect combination). So, in order to give you as much time as possible to come up with content it’s time to announce the themes for each day of the content war this October!
As a reminder, the war will take place during the last week of the month from October 25th to October 31st and the tag we will be using for it is #halloweencontentwar. Remember to use that when tagging any works that will be posted during the war.
The themes for that week will be:
October 25th: Autumn
October 26th: Celebration
October 27th: Monsters
October 28th: Zombies
October 29th: Haunting/Spooky
October 30th: Death
October 31st: Free Day
It is a content war, so that means that even with the themes we want you to feel free to create anything you’d like. Our hope is that the theme for each day will give you a wide area to work with, and still let you have fun creating batfam content. And, like Cam said when announcing this, we’d like you to keep content mostly batfam related, but feel free to bring in some other characters as well.
As always feel free to ask any questions you might have.We hope these themes will excite and inspire you to create some great content!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), DCU
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Alfred Pennyworth, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Dick Grayson, Kate Kane, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Harper Row
Additional Tags: halloweencontentwar, batfamcontentwar, Theme: Autumn, Minor Swearing, Alfred wants a batfamily photo, Family Shenanigans
Summary:
Alfred decides he wants multiple new portraits of the family and of their "work associates" to hang in the manor. He has the camera set up, the outfits ready, and food waiting to be eaten. Now all he needs is for everyone to show up on time.
