SamaRob1999



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    “What the hell is that, Batman.” Kal’s still not moving but he does look back now. “Because if I didn’t know any better I would say that was me.”

    “We have intel from a deserter at LexCorp that Luthor had gotten ahold of some of your DNA.” Bruce doesn’t know how to explain this without it … without it being terrible. “Through a fight, through his own strange methods, through kryptonite, who knows. He tried to clone it, but failed-”

    Kal’s jaw tightens “Bizzaro.”

    “This is a combination of your genes and a human donor, with some of J’onn’s DNA to hold it together.”

    Bruce can trace the Martian's contribution with the barest hint of the way the clone’s eye is shaped. Just an impression, a barest hint that would never be connected if Bruce hadn’t seen the files for himself.

    Kal bites in a terrible sound that emits from somewhere in his chest, a pitched keen that makes the hair on Bruce’s neck stand straight up. “Where is he?”

    --

    Sure, Kryptonians look human enough, but underneath all that flawless tanned human skin rests a creature that came from the stars.

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    05 Aug 2026

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    Now, worst case scenario: What’s so bad you call Jason?

    Easy. You call him when you need someone beaten, killed, or otherwise met with incredible violence. You call him when you’re running away for a week because Bruce is being a dickhole. You call him when you want to eat food by someone who can cook Gothamite comfort, and to yell really really loud.

    When she spoke again, it was with a whisper, strained as if it were creaking its way out of her body, wasting away all the air in her lungs and splintering on the last word in her mouth.

    Don’t tell Bruce.

    You call Jason when you need to hide a body.

     

    This fic contains graphic depictions of violence/gore, mentions of sexual assault (NOT to Steph or Jason), and POV dissociation. Proceed with care.

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    03 Aug 2026

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    Clark has a problem. A can't-have-sex-because-of-his-indestructible-body problem. Bruce has yet to encounter a problem he can't fix by applying enough brainpower to it.

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    01 Aug 2026

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    Bruce doesn’t know what’s wrong with his child, but he’s pretty sure kids aren’t meant to work like this.

     

    From the day he had looked up into the tops of the circus tent and saw a frightened mirror image of a boy who had just experienced the worst day of his life, Bruce had instantly gone into emergency mode.

     

    The Gotham PD had wanted to pass the boy off into the care of the circus. The circus had mumbled underneath their breaths about superstitions, about not having a boy like that with them, about not being able to handle something like Dick. So GCPD, not knowing what to do, had started talking about one of the handful of overburdened boy homes that handles a majority of Gotham’s unlucky orphans.

     

    All the while, the camera lights flash bright and loud, wanting to know everything.

     

    Bruce couldn’t let that happen.

     

    Not then, not ever again.

    -🦇-

    Bruce is trying his best to protect the city that he loves. He doesn't know how exactly his Robins came to be- they're not fully human, not even at all. All he knows is that he wants to keep them safe.

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    29 Jun 2026

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    They were quiet for a long moment, two birds nesting on a rooftop under the haze of the Gotham fog.

    “You’ll catch me?” Robin whispered, words almost lost to the night air.

    Robin watched him in a way that was different to the circus, different to Batman, different to the people he saved. He watched and he mimicked and he looked up to Nightwing in a way that made it all feel worth it.

     “Every time,” Nightwing promised.

    .

    Dick Grayson was eighteen when he got a baby brother.

    He was twenty-one when he lost him.

    (He is twenty-five when he gets him back)

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    19 Jun 2026