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Batfam turns into cute tsum Tsum, reader recation

I hope I wrote what you wanted 

Little Tubbies

Going back to the front door, I hear little footsteps at the top of the stairs. “Aw, no.” I chuckle.

Your POV

“Boys?!” It echoes throughout the mansion. “I’m home!” I walk to the kitchen to dump bags of food on the counter. Rummaging through the bag, I pull out a bag of Pods to snack on whilst I have a search for the boys.

I walk upstairs to have the boys and Bruce tumble over each other to stand at the top of the stairs. I put the Pods down next to me as I kneel in front of them. “What happened?” I cooed.

Stretching out my hand, palm up, they all fight to who stands on me. I stretch out the other one to have all of them tumble onto my hands, the boys on the sides of Bruce.

“Afternoon, Miss. (L/N).” Standing up, I see Alfred walk towards me, myself greeting him back. “Do you know what happened?” I life my hands up a bit. “I believe the Joker gave them some sort of gas that made them turn into these TsumTsums.”

“Do you know how long they’ll be like this?”

“24 hours, I believe.” Thanking the butler, we walk off our different ways. At the bottom of the stairs, I put the boys down. They waddle behind me. “Dinner will be finished shortly.” He calls out. I thank him again.

“Okay, babies.” Small noises come from them as I open my bedroom door. “I am going to do some work.” I sit on the middle of my bed with my laptop in front of me. 

~5 minutes later~

Small tugs are being pulled on my blanket. I sigh as I lean over the side of my bed to check out the boys wanting to come up onto the bed.

Cocking an eyebrow, I get up to walk to the connected bathroom, watching the Tsums follow me. I notice that Damian has a small scratch on his cheek. “Baby boy.” I pick him up and walk into the bathroom, the four following.

I settle Damian on the edge of the bathtub before doing the same to the others. I put the plug into its hole before running the water, it slowly filling up the tub.

The bottle of bubbles falls over, the liquid pouring itself into the water. “Thanks for scaring the shit out of me. Now stay here. I’m going to go get changed into my togs.” I go back to my room to do so.

After a few minutes, I turn the faucets off and settle in the nice, warm water. The Tsums either slide down or jump into the water.

Damian pops his head up in front of me. I scoop him up in one hand, water falling down the sides. His cheek nuzzles against my index finger. I gently stroke the scratch.

Minutes pass, the Tsums whining.

Drops of water drip from my body with the sound of the water gushing down the pipe.

The Tsums follow me as I dry my body off. I scoop them up and place them onto the bed. I throw the towel over them to quickly change into comfier clothes.

Just as I slipped my (shirt/singlet/tank top) on, knocks fill the room, the door opens to show Alfred. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” The Tsums heads’ poke out from under the towel. I grab the hoodie from itself being draped over the back of the chair, the hoodie being Jason’s. “Come on.”

Damian and Tim are in the one, big pocket, Bruce in the hoodie and Dick and Jason being on each of my shoulders.

Arriving in the kitchen, I settle the Tsums on the table. They surround a piece of homemade pizza as I eat my plateful.

Jason must be full ‘cause he jumps onto my lap and into the pocket. All of them waddle away from the crust to have Tim and Damian fight each other. I scoop up Bruce and Dick to have them on my shoulders, the part where my shoulders meet my neck.

“I think all of us are tired. Thanks, Alfred, for dinner!” I pick up Tim and Damian by the collars of their shirts to have them wiggle around. 

Dick and Bruce jump onto my bed once I sit down on it, Jason crawls out and Tim and Damian are settled with the others.

I crawl up my bed to be under the covers and shifting to lie on my side, facing the other half of the bed. The Tsums get comfortable; Bruce on the other pillow with Tim, Dick being up against my stomach, Jason in the joint of my neck and Damian being in the crook of my arm, which is resting on my side.

“Night, boys.”

~Morning comes in~

“You guys eat too much!”

‼️TWIN SHENANIGANS‼️

Platonic Damian Al Ghul-Wayne x Twin!Reader

Imagine having two demons that are from the league of assassins…but only one of them is a true menace to society while the other is just …normal?

Two robins? Double trouble for Bruce because Damian is the older twin while you are the younger one. Of course you will follow him without a doubt.

You two paint, draw, and do anything together, it’s a nice sibling bonding. Sure what if Damian was a bit jealous and almost booby-trapped Dick when you started calling him “brother.” So what?

You need help? He’s helping you, not by just giving you straight up answers but mostly letting you understand.

Someone picks on you, immediately they have a bruised eye and lip. But that’s when Damian is having a nice day though, if he isn’t. He almost sent them to the hospital and got expelled.

Sometimes you two hold each other hands as if you both were the girls from “the shining”😭

When you can’t figure out what outfit you want to wear, don’t worry! Your twin Damian is gonna lay you out straight! He immediately makes you match with him as he smirks at you two looking the same.

You both do combo moves with each other. Literally training each other to see what moves you can pull off at the same time.

Tim was scared of you, like he personally thought you were gonna try and kill him only for you to make him a drawing and he immediately calmed down. That was until a certain demon popped up talking about “Twin, let’s go.” And you left. Making Tim confused before realizing twins exist…man coffee was getting to his brain.

I won’t lie, Damian may be a small bully towards you. But when you cry, that’s when he stops and show his soft side. You are his other part of him, it hurts to see you cry.

Literal definition of “only I can mess with my sibling…”

Gotham News @ 9

Can you IMAGINE the Gotham newscasters? No, not CNN, NBC, or CBS style with money and sets.

They're local news in Gotham City.

They have their chairs duct taped under their desks and old books making sure their desk doesn't wobble when they stand up to do weather.

Their graphics are mediocre at best; they're the mid-nineties ones that made you cringe, even at the time. They have a special sound effect and graphic for Mr. Freeze, one for Poison Ivey, and another for the Joker and Harley Quinn.

There are two main newscasters.

One grew up in the narrows. She's saw a newslady in the window of a department store when she was eight and immediately connected with the strength the well-dressed woman radiated through the screen. That was when people called her James. Now, the name that everyone calls her by and shows up on Gotham's public network is Julianne McLeod.

The other, Kendall Johnson, recently saw his already ramshackle apartment building collapse when they were on air. His mom didn't make it. He stayed on because there were other casualties and their families deserved to know. The next day, he came back because, "The Batman isn't the only one who can investigate Ggats Metalworks, you know."

The weatherman, Carl Lewis, is almost seventy and living on mostly social security. He got a degree in meteorology at Gotham University back before he lost one of his legs fighting for a war he didn't want any part of.

Their cameraman goes by John Jones, he's a quiet guy who mostly nods and smiles. They don't know much about the guys' past, they don't ask.

You'd never suspect any of it if you didn't know them. On air, off, and during collaborations with their sister network in Blüdhaven, they genuinely laugh at each other's jokes, missteps, and the general insanity of their hometown.

Although they're loved by thousands, the only things keeping them afloat are a meager cut of taxes, kind remarks on the street, and economizing wherever they can.

They were there before The Batman, back when Gotham Police Commissioners were ousted every month or so for corruption charges. Their scathing remarks towards City leaders that looked the other way when gangs ran rampant scared off any possible sponsors. It was a miracle Julianne's sarcasm alone hadn't gotten them sued yet.

During the day, when they're not briefing Gotham citizens about the crimes in their area, they play reruns of Full House and Friends.

This was back before Bruce stayed home with Dick, who had sprained his ankle trying to cartwheel away from one of Nygma's traps.

He figured he'd let his ward, who was grouchy from missing patrol, flip channels until he fell asleep. Except Bruce hadn't remembered his need to sleep, so he ended up groggily waking to Dick shaking his arm and starting intently at the screen.

"B, look, they're talking about us!" Although he had only the light from the TV to see, Dicks smile was plain as day.

Pivoting his head, he saw a man and woman reporting on their latest attempt to stop The Riddler from destroying Gotham's nuclear plant. It wasn't the story that caught his attention, though.

"Chum," he turned face him, "where'd you find this?" He'd been in Gotham for the past four years now and in all that time he never once remembered seeing a local news channel.

"What, the channel?"

He nodded.

"Oh," the boy looked down and fumbled with the remote that was clearly too big for his ten-year-old hands, and pulled up the TV menu, "it's Gotham channel eleven! They're on, it says here, at nine every morning, evening, and day of the week."

Bruce was taken aback, but the young acrobat to his right plucked the words right from him.

"Wow, B can you imagine working every day, twice a day?"

Well, not his exact words.

"Don't give me that look," he chided, "I know you do it, but most normal people don't." He paused for a moment, "When do they get the time to do laundry? Or feed their pets? If they have pets... You know, speaking of pets, do you think we could get an-"

"You know the answer, Dick, Alfred won't take care of an elephant while you're at school."

"Quite so, Master Bruce." As if on cue, Alfred breezed through the doorway.

"But Alfie-"

"Nothing more, Master Dick, I do believe it's a school night and Master Bruce had kept you up long enough."

Had he? Looking at the clock, it was half an hour past Dick's bedtime. Damnit, Bruce.

"That's right, Dickster," he stood up, his back bones cracking and old injuries protesting, picked his surrogate son up, and held him as one would a baby, careful to avoid the boy's sprain.

He harrumphed and crossed his arms, getting ready to make a point, "Only if you go to sleep now, too." He was staring down Bruce with the same intensity as he did towards Nygma just last night. He wasn't giving this up easy.

Well that surely wasn't going to happen, he had to figure out which shell company was connected to Simon Stagg, how to prove it, then hack into and locate the plans for the business's headquarters. Not to mention that tomorrow he needed to talk to Clark about Lexcorp's latest moves into Star City and how to best anonymously fund a public broadcasting station he didn't realize existed until just now.

Turning around, he saw Alfred, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed, and one hand holding a polished silver tray. There was no winning, this was the same man who had literally tried to give him sleep drugs in his coffee earlier that day.

"Alright, kiddo, just this once." After all, it'd the first time in the weeks he'd go to sleep at night and without being drugged by Alfred, a rogue, or after being knocked out.

Dick smiled and raised his arms in victory, "Onwards!" he pointed towards the stairs.

Although all of his actions were oriented towards getting him and his ward to sleep, he couldn't stop thinking about the dedicated news service operating under his nose for the past four years.

He'd have to push back that WayneTech meeting and his investigation into possible aliens in Gotham (which was a far fetched idea in the first place) in order to talk to Clark and get Lucius on the phone. After all, he had no clue what local news stations needed.

"You should talk to Ms. Lane, too," came a tuft of black curls masquerading as a head barely sticking out underneath several quilts.

Had he been thinking aloud again? Shit, he really did need to go to sleep.

"Maybe I will, Chum," he assured the young acrobat as he flicked off the lights and headed down the hall to his Egyptian cotton sheets and silk pillowcases.