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A VERY MERRY BATMAS TO YOU | CLOSED
Who: Damian Wayne ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
batricide and the (extended) Batfamily, plus any plus ones they want to bring along
What: Damian finally reveals himself to his family.
When: December 21st, 2022
Where: An abandoned warehouse in Central City
Content Warnings: Damian playing mindgames with his family.
It starts with... a note.
( It actually starts with a conversation about a month earlier with an exasperated wizard and secretive young man. The young man mulling over how to introduce himself to yet another family he's never really known, and an offhanded remark about a nice family dinner slowly spinning itself into something much more... complex. Solution to his problem. A way to introduce himself and what he is all about, while seeing precisely what they are made of.
Because Damian, whether he likes it or not, his Bruce Wayne's flesh and blood. And this means he does not do anything at half-measures. )
But for the rest of them, it starts with an innocuous little note. Many notes, in fact. Left at various points in their patrol routes. The note has two numbers written on it, longitude and latitude. And at that location, different for all of them, is another set of coordinates left somewhere subtle. A puzzle for them to solve. Scraps of paper torn up and left in every corner of the room. An optical illusion they have to stand at just the right angle to decipher.
Honestly, he's beginning to understand why Gotham's criminals are so stupidly extra. It's surprisingly fun to put his family to the test without the need for fists or bloodshed.
All of it leads to here - an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The table is lain out with no shortage of delicacies - all home cooked, all his own work. Damian himself doesn't bother with a costume. His long hair is pinned back away from his face. The clothing is downright casual - for a Wayne, at least. A black turtleneck, a nice pair of dress-pants, shoes that were probably much nicer before he scuffed them all to hell in a fight. Of course, he's not unarmed - but his weapons as of late are his fists and the fire living just under his skin. Better than a sword through the gut.
His family will find their way here after a thoroughly headache inducing evening of solving puzzles and riddles. Damian himself is seated at the head of the table, feet up, head down as he scrolls through social media.
There's enough food for everyone, and it isn't poisoned - though he won't deny the thought did briefly cross his mind. Damian is a surprisingly gracious host, thanks to Alfred, and so they will want for nothing. Save for perhaps an apology for exhausting them all night, which they absolutely will not get.
Feel free to arrive with all the back-up you thought you needed! It's gonna be a long, awkward family dinner.
batricide and the (extended) Batfamily, plus any plus ones they want to bring alongWhat: Damian finally reveals himself to his family.
When: December 21st, 2022
Where: An abandoned warehouse in Central City
Content Warnings: Damian playing mindgames with his family.
It starts with... a note.
( It actually starts with a conversation about a month earlier with an exasperated wizard and secretive young man. The young man mulling over how to introduce himself to yet another family he's never really known, and an offhanded remark about a nice family dinner slowly spinning itself into something much more... complex. Solution to his problem. A way to introduce himself and what he is all about, while seeing precisely what they are made of.
Because Damian, whether he likes it or not, his Bruce Wayne's flesh and blood. And this means he does not do anything at half-measures. )
But for the rest of them, it starts with an innocuous little note. Many notes, in fact. Left at various points in their patrol routes. The note has two numbers written on it, longitude and latitude. And at that location, different for all of them, is another set of coordinates left somewhere subtle. A puzzle for them to solve. Scraps of paper torn up and left in every corner of the room. An optical illusion they have to stand at just the right angle to decipher.
Honestly, he's beginning to understand why Gotham's criminals are so stupidly extra. It's surprisingly fun to put his family to the test without the need for fists or bloodshed.
All of it leads to here - an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The table is lain out with no shortage of delicacies - all home cooked, all his own work. Damian himself doesn't bother with a costume. His long hair is pinned back away from his face. The clothing is downright casual - for a Wayne, at least. A black turtleneck, a nice pair of dress-pants, shoes that were probably much nicer before he scuffed them all to hell in a fight. Of course, he's not unarmed - but his weapons as of late are his fists and the fire living just under his skin. Better than a sword through the gut.
His family will find their way here after a thoroughly headache inducing evening of solving puzzles and riddles. Damian himself is seated at the head of the table, feet up, head down as he scrolls through social media.
There's enough food for everyone, and it isn't poisoned - though he won't deny the thought did briefly cross his mind. Damian is a surprisingly gracious host, thanks to Alfred, and so they will want for nothing. Save for perhaps an apology for exhausting them all night, which they absolutely will not get.
Feel free to arrive with all the back-up you thought you needed! It's gonna be a long, awkward family dinner.
no subject
People have tried it my. Whole. Life. More times than you even know about. In ways you don't know about. Especially when I was younger, before I knew you, or after I knew you but before we got close.
[His face gets a dark look that isn't on it often.]
[God, how many people screwed with him? He's lost count, honestly. He's lost count of the ways, of the manipulations. They even came from people like Rex, who he still cared about, but like. It was still messed up it took so long for the guy to stop being so...Hollywood. To decide to try to be more decent and stop seeing him as a meal ticket with legs.]
Look, we can talk more about it when we're not at some whacked out, creepy family dinner. But it just sucks, okay? So can you just stop trying it already?
And If you want, I'll leave. But I want to stay at least long enough to make sure the toerag doesn't try anything. If it's okay. I can just shut up and stand here.
no subject
God, it would be nice, instead of pissed whispers out of the corner of his mouth. ]
I wasn’t trying to control you. I was trying to protect you, and I’m not even doing that anymore.
[ Lumping Tim in with the likes of Luthor and CADMUS is a deep cut. Tim can’t walk that one off. Even if he was ready to start shouting - Kon hasn’t listened. Won’t, if that’s how he sees it.
Really, if Tim breaking down crying before didn’t sway him, Tim has no moves left on the board. He hopes he’s wrong. That’s all he has. ]
I won’t ask what you’re up to, so there’s nothing to talk about. If we don’t talk about it, you know I won’t intervene, and I won’t have nightmares about whether Atomight’s going to rip your heart out of your chest.
[ Kon isn’t the only one in a bad place, but Tim is used to feeling at war when he himself is in a bad place - like he’s being forced into an oppositional role. Is it a surprise that it’s Kon? … no more than it was a surprise when Dick was at odds with Tim. He’s so tired of being put through the wringer. ]
Do what you want.
[ Have his blessing to ignore what Tim wants. Might as well pretend it’s by mutual agreement. ]
no subject
[But he has no words for it. He's a superhero and the concept of "trauma" even applying is lost on him. Trauma is a thing that happens to people who need saving. It's a thing that happens to people living in Gotham. Even when it happens to heroes, does it still count when it's Superboys?]
[Clark never seems traumatized.]
[But he doesn't want to fight and "do what you want" isn't a no. So clams up, stays, and leans against the wall, arms crossed.]