I’d Read This. Any Fics? Feed Me! Feed Me Please! I Haven’t Had A New Fixation In Months And I’m

Tim's Birthday, he's about to open Bruce's gift

Tim, dead stare at Bruce: If there is any form of hologram in here, I am killing everyone in Gotham, including myself

Bruce, terrified: Oh..., uh, well good thing there's not

Tim: Are you sure?

Bruce: Yes

Tim, opening the present: Oh, a new camera. Neat.

Everyone:

Tim:

Everyone:

Jason: Okay, what the fuck was that about

Tim: He knows what he did.

I saw someone say a while ago that Jason attacking Tim at Titans Tower was just Tim hallucinating bc he was feeling guilty about being Robin even though Jason's not dead. Which is great, amazing, I think the whole Titans Tower thing is Bonkers, but I think it would be so much funnier if Jason tried to Gaslight Tim into believing the Titans Tower incident never happened, not because he's like evil, he's just super embarassed about it. like Or Tim did actually hallucinate Jason at TT but thinks it was real, so when he tells Jason about it, Jason's so fucking confused, and Tim thinks Jason's Gaslighting him

Tim: Remember that time when you broke into Titans Tower and beat me half to death while wearing a Robin costume from party city

Jason: What? Tim, I know i'm crazy, but I'm not...Insane.

Tim, pulling down his collar: I literally have the scar to prove it

Jason: Bruce told me that was from Clayface pretending to be me, which, might I just say rude. Tim... are you ok? Did you hallucinate me attacking you? like, I know I've done that before, but...

Tim, frowning: I don't think I hallucinating. I was benched for a while after because I had to recover-

Jason: well, you were benched around the time I was dropping hints that I knew who Bruce was outside of Batman, he probably just benched you to keep you safe. You probably were working too many cases with too little sleep and your imagination started to run wild.

Tim: Are you gaslighting me?

Jason: Are you gaslighting me?

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

I would love to see this in a fic. If ANYONE finds something like this, spill the names. Don’t be shy. I will MAKE an account for that sight if I don’t have one already.

ok but like imagine Starscream in RB

Starscream gets shot down by Megatron over the Atlantic, and ends up washed up on the shore of Griffin Rock. He's disoriented, Energon deficient, and then those forsaken Autobots find him.

But they don't attack.

Heatwave kept saying they should just shoot him on the spot. I mean, it's Starscream we're talking about here, he could wipe them and the island out in a day's work. But yet again, it's Cody Burns, their human companion, who sees potential.

"What if we help him? Maybe he'll be nice if we help him." And so Heatwave ended up having to carry one of the most vicious 'Cons in the galaxy with his team, and house him in his home.

It took three days for Blades to patch the wounds, and three more for him to recover from the stasis and regain his senses completely. By then, Cody'd been itching to see him. So the first day he could, Cody got down into the bunker with all his coolest Earth stuff.

"Hi sir Starscream." He greeted, even making a small bow to the 'Con. Starscream, however, scoffed.

"What do you want, fleshy?" His voice was cold, but his servos gripped his frame nervously. He'd never, other than Miko, encountered a human child that wasn't scared out of their mind. Hell, even less a child that called him sir Starscream! So, against his gruff will, he sat down on the hard, concrete floor. He saw the young boy's face light up, and a strange feeling tugged at his spark. Why was that sparkling so... Happy to see him?

Cody grabbed some of the 'Bot's favourite things: Boulder's art, Heatwave's book on martial art, Blades' cartoons and comics and Chase's law enforcement book. He also grabbed his scrapbook, and some pencils.

"Sir, I'd like to show you some of my friend's favourite things. I know you're probably not very fond of them, since you're a noble Decepticon, but they're not out to harm you. We're a rescue team, and a family."

By the end of Cody's speech and show-and-tell round, Starscream's spark ached. Leaders are supposed to... to like their team? He bit his digit to stay quiet, but the realisation of Megatron's corrupted leadership finally seems to get him.

"He... he's horrible..."

It's out before he realises it, and immediately shrinks back like his leader's about to break down the door and grab his throat. He shuts his optics tight, weapons at ready for whatever happens next.

But instead of cold, sharp digits digging into his frame, he's met by a soft, warm touch. He opens one optic, slowly.

Cody stands next to his arm, and hugs him to the best of his abilities.

"He can't get you here, the 'Bots won't let him get you here."

That simple gesture, after all he's heard about family, is enough to nearly bring him to tears.

«-»

Two years later, Chase's held at gunpoint by a heavily damaged Soundwave. And guess who swoops in, now in a flashing white-blue-red paint job, to protect his brother.

Yooo!! I’m tryna save this! Go check them out!

I love drawing them being all fluffy and domestic

Kon, freezing: you can HEAR ME?!?!

Tim: FUCKING OBVIOUSLY! HOW DO YOU THINK I FIND YOU THREE SO EASILY???

Tim after saying something extremely worrying turns to Dick immediately after

Tim: Please don't put me in a mental hospital

Dick: I'm not gonna lie to you, I consider it sometimes

I think it'd be hilarious if Tim really was Damian's favorite brother and he went about showing it in the most homicidal way possible.

Dick: Why would you stab Tim!

Damian: Joker can't hurt Drake tonight if he's already in the med bay

Dick: You could've severed an artery! You could have killed him! Paralyzed him!

Damian: Look at me, Grayson. Do I look like the kind of child assassin to accidentally kill someone? But now that you mention it, if he's paralyzed he'll be safe at home. Not out endangering himself by making enemies by breathing wrong or however he does it

Tim: Guys I'm right here! And I'm already designing a mech in case you try paralyzing me. With blasters and Bluetooth.

Damian: Dammit! That's so cool!

in fics where luke gets plopped into the prequels i want every jedi within ten metres of him to think hes the weirdest jedi theyve ever seen. he has negative lightsaber form. he doesnt know what a kata is. he handstands when he meditates. his solution to sith is to try and have a chat. hes a political radical who keeps suggesting revolution. you ask him what the jedi code is and he says "kindness and compassion and helping those in need :) ". you ask how he used the force like that and he says some shit about how you are a luminous being limited only by your mind. the councils authority is just a suggestion. he is somehow the new favourite of both qui gon and yoda

Tim is just like, goddamnit Kon. Now I have to kill you.

That's right. You better run.

Riddler: the second one was so much more *fun*.

What do you think the Riddler would say to piss off tim so much that he'd try to kill him in front of the other bats?