From Gold To Mold

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 7: The Realization

A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s enjoyed this series! When I had the idea for this, I had NO idea it was going to be as well loved as it’s become. I love and appreciate every like, follow, reblog, and ask!

As Bruce walks down the staircase and steps foot on the foyer’s marble floor, he realizes that something’s wrong. Well, he’s known that something’s been wrong for four years now, but he’s attributed it to his pile of never-ending cases, particularly the murder of the Joker and Harley Quinn, which has been eating away at him ever since that night and has occupied every corner of his mind. It’s been four years since he discovered their remains and he’s still in the dark, the only piece of evidence he has is some strange substance reminiscent of mold found within Joker’s remains.

What he’s currently feeling, however? It’s not the need to solve a case that threatens his city. It’s as if something is wrong with the manor itself, like there’s something missing. Something that he’s never paid much attention before but has always known is there, and now that something’s wrong, he can’t help but rack his brain for what it could be.

As he tries to thinks, he walks to the kitchen to find a snack (something pre-made, Alfred’s permanently banned him from ever cooking in his kitchen ever again) when he hears voices. Three voices, to be precise, and they’re definitely amused by something. As he gets closer, he can make out what they’re saying.

“I can’t believe he of all people would have this,” Tim says, an obvious smile intertwined in his tone.

“Hey, we’re all free to do what we want in our spare time,” Dick responds. “And if anyone in this house has earned spare time, it’s Alfred.”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t do stuff he likes on his time off,” Tim quickly counters. “I’m just saying that I never would’ve expected him to be into stuff like this.”

“For once, I agree with Drake,” Damian, the third voice, interjects. “Pennyworth is a man of refined taste. For him to indulge in this childish entertainment is entirely unexpected. Only mindless buffoons would subject themselves to this drivel.”

“Hey,” Time exclaims, offended. “I happen to enjoy this ‘childish entertainment.’”

“My point stands. Once again, you prove your inferiority and poor breeding, Drake.”

That’s when Bruce decides to step in before a fight can break out in the kitchen (again) and enters, all three of his sons, who are crowding around something on the kitchen island, turning to him.

“Hey, B,” Dick says with his usual smile adorning his face.

“Hey,” Tim adds, glaring at Damian.

“Hello, Father,” Damian says, not sparing a glance at Tim and a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Hello, boys. Is something wrong? I heard something about Alfred.”

“No, we just learned something amazing,” Dick answers, practically buzzing with joy. “You’ll never guess what Alfred’s into!”

This certainly catches his attention. He’s known his faithful butler his entire life and likes to think he knows everything about the man who raised him after his parents were killed. To find something out about the man he didn’t know before is something that’s definitely worth his attention.

“What,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

The three of them part, revealing a laptop on the granite top. More specifically, it’s Alfred’s laptop. It’s strange enough that the man who takes the care of his kitchen as gospel would leave something like his laptop out in the open (especially since he’s always on their case about snooping on each other’s personal lives), but what really blows his mind is what’s on the screen: the menu for what appears to be a video game. It features what appears to be a derelict ship floating in space with soft music playing in the background and several options on the lower part and what he’s assuming is the title on the upper part: Salvage Rights.

“Alfred plays video games,” he asks, completely bewildered at the discovery.

“That’s what I said,” Tim exclaims. “I mean, I think it’s great if he wants to do that. I just didn’t expect him to be a gamer.”

“Don’t group Pennyworth in with your group of pathetic mouth breathers who don’t know what is fiction and what is reality.”

“So, what’s it about,” he asks, trying to stop a fight from breaking out in the kitchen that will net all of them in trouble.

“I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers, but from what I can tell you, it take place in the future after the sun imploded, forcing several fleets of ships to flee to a nearby star cluster, but only a few planets in the cluster can support human life naturally and several of them hold valuable resources, causing a war between three different factions to break out for control over the cluster,” his explains excitedly, making Bruce smile at the sight of his third son acting like a young man his age should. “You play the captain of a prospecting vessel that salvages derelict ships and during a salvage of a ship that dates back to before the sun imploding, you find something valuable that could determine who wins the war.”

“How absurd,” Damian mutters. “That story is utterly ridiculous. Whoever wrote it should be ashamed.”

“Who should be ashamed, Master Damian,” Alfred asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Whoever wrote the story for this absurd game you are apparently fond of,” his youngest son retorts.

“None of us thought you were into video games, Alfred,” Tim adds.

“I wouldn’t say that, Master Timothy, but I know its creator and I know he worked very hard to make the game you see before you. It makes me so happy that he finally achieved his goals and I want to do my part to support him. I hope he gets all the acclaim and recognition he rightfully deserves deserves.”

“Whoa, you know who he created Salvage Rights,” Tim asks, mesmerized. “Who?”

“It’s someone you all know: Master Y/N.”

Y/N? All of a sudden, he realizes a mistake he made earlier: Tim isn’t his third child, Y/N is. Wait, when was the last time he talked to his firstborn? Hell, when was the last time he talked to you? Wait, what do you even look like? How old are you?

This starts a cascade of realizations: he’s never celebrated your birthday. Or Christmas. Or even had a gala for you like all his children got to welcome them in his family.

“Y/N’s a video game developer,” Tim asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, that’s because none of you have ever had a conversation with the poor lad,” Alfred retorts, his look of disapproval returning. “I never knew it was possible to not say a single word to someone you’ve lived with for years, but you showed me such a thing was possible.”

Bruce looks to his sons and upon seeing their expressions, he knows that none of them have talked to you, either. This definitely doesn’t bode well for them. Or you.

“Well, we should go talk to him,” Dick pipes up, trying to stay upbeat, but he’s obviously upset at this realization. He moves to leave the kitchen. “Is he in his room?”

“His room isn’t in the family wing,” Alfred responds, stopping Dick’s stride.

That’s when Bruce realizes that he’s never seen you coming or going from any of the bedrooms in their part of the manor. If your room isn’t with theirs, where do you sleep?

“His room is on the other side of the manor,” Alfred says, as if he read Bruce’s mind.

And with that, he leaves the kitchen and all four of them follow the butler, their steps heavy and slow from guilt. Bruce’s guilt only grows as they walk through corridor after corridor, eventually replace clean and pristine for dirty and decrepit. With a manor as large as Wayne Manor, cleaning is a battle, requiring an army to maintain it, but with Alfred being the only one, Bruce told the man to leave the uninhabited wings alone and only clean them when they have guests, which Bruce tries to keep to a minimum as someone in his position in Gotham’s high society can get away with.

Have you been staying in this forgotten part for the manor ever since you came to live here? With only dust and pests for company?

After he talks to you, he intends on moving you to the bedroom next to his; it’s been empty for years and has been going to waste. When you move into that room, he’ll check on you everyday, waking you up himself and walking you down to the dining room for breakfast every morning.

“Why is his room so far from ours, Pennyworth,” Damian asks.

“Well, when he first moved in, none of the rooms in the family wing weren’t fit to be slept in,” Alfred explains. “By the time I prepared a room for him, Master Timothy came to live with us and Master Y/N said he could have that room. Every time I finally got a room prepared for him, Master Bruce had a new addition to the family. By the time you joined the family, he insisted he remained where he was.”

That stopped all further questions, leaving them to process the new information in silence.

“Here we are,” Alfred announces when they reach a door on the far side of the manor.

Bruce decides that he needs to be the one to talk to you first, so he knocks on the door.

“Y/N,” he says after knocking once. “Can I come in?”

That’s when Alfred opens the door and before Bruce can say anything, he looks inside to see not only you not in there, but your room’s the size of a broom closet compared to the rooms all of them enjoy. One thing he notices is that the room’s surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the wing it resides in; based off the lingering smell of cleaning products, Alfred must’ve cleaned it recently.

“What a hovel,” Damian remarks as they enter, looking around.

“Indeed,” Alfred responds. “This is a guest room we specifically use for guests who are unwanted.”

Those words hit Bruce harder than Bane ever could. When Damian first moved in, he complained that the size was “insufficient” and he needed more room; so, he had a perfectly good bedroom be added on to his room, doubling its size to accommodate his pets, weapons, art supplies, and whatever else he keeps in there, instead of going to you and leaving you to rot in a guest room they use for people that aren’t wanted here.

He looks over at the bed to see the painfully small mattress is definitely past its prime, worn out from years of use. The bed frame isn’t a better, either based on the fact it looks like it’ll break at any moment. He presses a hand on the mattress and winces when he feels the large indention and hears the loud squeaking.

Good god, how did you even sleep on this thing for a day let alone for years? Not only does it look uncomfortable, but it’s barely big enough to hold a child, let alone… whatever you are.

“It’s pretty empty in here,” Tim remarks as he examines the dresser. “Guess there’s not a lot of room for decorations.”

“While there were very little decorations in here while he was living here, he took almost everything with him when he left, Master Dick. Very little was left behind. He told me I could destroy everything he left behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away anything of his.”

Every second in here makes Bruce feel more horrible at how he’s treated his son. He needs to find you. Immediately.

“Where is he, Alfred,” Bruce asks, eager to find you and find some way to make amends.

“I’m afraid he doesn’t live in the manor anymore, Master Bruce. Master Y/N left us some time ago.”

Once again, Bruce feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, leaving him breathless. You moved out?

“When,” Dick asks, clearly upset.

“Four years ago. The night he graduated from Gotham Academy.”

“That’s when I graduated,” Tim realizes.

Bruce remembers that: four years ago on the night Tim was set to graduate, he and all of his children (well, all except you) were busy combing Gotham for Joker and Harley’s killer, listening in on countless criminals celebrating the Clown Prince of Crime’s demise.

Christ, he can remember that, but not his own son? He knew he wasn’t the best father in the world (despite the mug that says otherwise courtesy of Dick), but he had no idea he had failed one person so much. How much he failed his firstborn son.

“Wait,” Bruce spits out. “If he graduated and none of us were there, who was with him?”

Oh god, if Alfred says no one was with him, he actually cry in front of all of them. To know that his son had no one to celebrate his big night would drive him off the edge.

“I was, Master Bruce.” Hearing that makes him feel a bit better, but not enough to really do anything about the pit of guilt building in his stomach. The butler pulls out his phone and types on it before holding it up for them to see. “This is him walking with his classmates.”

He watches the video of you (fuck, you’re so much older than he remembers) wearing the traditional black and gold gown for all Gotham Academy graduates (he sees the usual black and gold cap has been decorated, but he can’t see from this angle), walking in line with your fellow classmates, all of them wearing caps and gowns.

That’s when he realizes that there’s no pictures of you anywhere in the manor. He instantly thinks of the last family portrait he had commissioned (around the time Damian moved in) hanging above the mantle in the living room, which has him sitting in an elegant white and gold trimmed cushioned chair in the center with a ten-year-old Damian on his right, Barbara in her wheelchair on his left, and behind him from left to right is Cass, Steph, Tim, Jason, Dick, and Alfred.

A family portrait that he treasures not including you. Right now, it feels like he can cry and throw up at the same time.

“Here’s him receiving his diploma,” Alfred says as he swipes right, displaying another video.

Sure enough, the video playing shows the headmaster calling your name (Gould, not Wayne), you walking to the man and receiving your diploma with your left hand and shaking the headmaster’s hand with your right, and walking back to your chair. Each new revelation about you makes the cavern of guilt he’s standing in even deeper; finding out that your last name isn’t his and must be your mother’s, telling the world that there’s no connection between you and him, even though half your DNA came from him.

“A staff member was taking pictures of the graduates as they shook hands with the headmaster and she was kind enough to send it to me,” Alfred says as he swipes again, revealing a picture of you and the headmaster.

He only needs a split second to commit your details to memory. H/c sticking out from your cap that he can tell you’ve decorated and e/c that must come from your mother. And that’s when he realizes that while the color is different, their shape matches his mother’s perfectly. And isn’t that just twisting the knife in his gut.

“And this picture was taken after the ceremony.”

That’s when he sees you as perfectly as he can, standing next to Alfred, who is at an event that he should’ve been at, not looking to arrest someone who killed the man who’s terrorized Gotham for two decades. Nothing happened that night, he should’ve taken the night off to see both of his sons graduate, cheering them on and hugging them after receiving their diplomas.

“Is he still in Gotham,” Damian asks, his voice even, but Bruce can tell his youngest son feels guilty, something he’s only expressed a handful of times during his stay here.

“No, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Y/N went back home.”

“‘Home,’” Dick exclaims. “This is his home!”

On one hand, Bruce wants to agree with Dick, that the manor is the only place you should call “home,” but on the other hand, he knows that with the way they treated you, he would understand why you’d want to leave him. Leave all of them.

“I’m afraid he felt differently. He told me that he’d been looking forward to going back to the home he lived with his mother. Apparently, the lack of affection and attention from his so-called family made him plan to move back when he turned eighteen, but I was able to convince him to stay so he could graduate.”

It made sense. After being ignored for years, why would you stay when you could leave? Bruce knows this, but now, all he wants is for you to move back in so he can give you all the love you can handle. He wants to have inside jokes with you, to give you a shoulder to cry on when the world overwhelms you, to take you out on quality time with just you and him.

He wants to do all the things for you that he does for his other kids. Things that he should’ve been doing for you from day one. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts only to find that you’re not only in his house, but you’re not even in his phone. He hasn’t had a single conversation with you in person, why would he think he’s had a conversation with you over text?

“Where is he now,” Bruce asks, his voice hollow and empty even to him.

Right now, all he wants is to learn where you are and try to find some way to make his transgressions up to you.

“I was led to believe Batman is the ‘world’s greatest detective,’” Alfred retorts, an eyebrow raised. “Are you unable to find your son on your own?” Bruce looks at him, making the butler sigh. “He moved back to his home in Goodsprings, Nevada.”

He didn’t even know where you came from before coming to live here. If there was an Olympic event for shitty fathers, Bruce would take home the gold in a landslide right now.

“Of course, you may have a golden opportunity to see him tomorrow night.” Alfred pulls his phone towards him, types something on it, and shows it to them again.

On the screen is a website for something called the Gamer’s Gala, a massive event held yearly where gamers go to see what new video games are planned to be released in the future and where game developers have an opportunity to win the “Golden Joystick,” a trophy given based off their game’s success during the year.

He scrolls through the website to find all the games up for awards and sees Salvage Rights by Gould Games in top contention for Indie Game of the year! He’s so excited to see you’ve found success in your passion and wants to see you walk on stage and accept the award, cementing your place as one of the greatest developers in the world.

According to the website, it’s being held in Metropolis this year due it being hosted completely by Lex Corp and that gets his blood boiling. No doubt this is some attempt to win public favor after yet another failed attempt to kill Superman and he thinks by doing this, people will forget all about whatever illegal activities he was up to his neck in. Had he known this sooner, he would’ve pulled the right to host the event out from under Lex’s feet, sparing no expense to ensure it was the biggest ceremony in the event’s history.

And of course, he’d invite you to stay at the manor the entire time, a room prepared just for you. Right next to his.

“The event is tomorrow night. I believe Batman can take one night off so Bruce Wayne can attend.” Alfred pulls something out from his pocket and holds it up to Bruce. “Master Y/N was kind enough to send me a ticket so I could be there for the biggest night of his life.”

Bruce takes the ticket and looks at it closer. According to the glossy golden ticket, it’s awarding the recipient special seating at a section of the hall reserved only for the friends, families, and special guests of candidates and offering them access to the Developer Lounge, a section of the convention center that only game developers and their guests can enter, where they can eat and drink all they want for free, all of it paid for by Lex Luthor.

When he gets back to the office, he plans on making that man’s life hell. It was bad enough that he somehow came in four years ago and undercut WE with products that he knows for certain were based off his company’s but he has no idea how Luthor was able to get his hands on classified technical specs, costing him and his company several contracts and millions in revenue for that fiscal year, but now, he’s gone and made the biggest night of his son’s life even better, something that he should’ve done.

This ticket is not way of witnessing the greatest moment in your life, but to try to repair his relationship with you.

“Why don’t we all go,” Dick pipes up, looking very uncomfortable. “We should all be there with for him. You know, as a family!”

“I agree with Greyson,” Damian adds. “We should all be there.”

“I’ll get us tickets,” Tim says as he pulls out his phone and begins to type on it.

“I think Master Bruce should go alone,” Alfred says, making all of them look at the butler. “This is a very delicate situation and if the entire family goes, it could make things worse. For now, allow your father to speak to your brother by himself.

The pained looks on his boys’ faces makes him feel even worse than he already does. He knows that they want to make up for how they treated you just like him, but right now, he’s not even sure how you’ll react seeing him, let alone the entire family.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home so they can show you the love you deserved back then. And then, they’ll all be one happy family.

“Thanks, Alfred,” he says as he carefully tucks the ticket into his coat, treating it like a precious artifact and not a flimsy piece of paper. “I have to get ready.”

As he leaves, he makes a note to give the butler a pay rise. Not just for giving him the ticket meant for him, but for helping him realize his mistake and for being there for his son.

As he heads to his room to pack a bag, he makes arrangements to stay at a penthouse as the hotel connected to the convention center so he can get there quickly and hopefully get to talk to you before the award ceremony. He also purchases your game in order to have something to talk to you about, hoping you’ll be touched by him supporting your career as a developer (he’ll also carefully analyze the game to high heaven in hopes of learning more about you) and starts drafting plans for Alfred to prepare your new room, allowing the butler to buy anything and everything he thinks you’d like, from furniture to decorations.

He briefly thinks about calling Clark and asking him to monitor the convention hall for any trouble from Lex, but quickly decides against it. Y/N is his son and he’ll protect him with his own hands, not relying on the Kryptonian. If Lex tries any shit during the ceremony, he’ll pull every underhanded trick in the book to buy out Lex Corp only to raze it to the ground and salt the earth where it once stood.

Whatever it takes, he’ll see you accept the trophy you so rightly deserve and after that, he’ll talk to you fact to face and beg you to forgive him, take you into his arms and apologize for not being the father you needed him to be. And after that, he’ll bring you back to the manor, where you’ll stay in a room next to his, where him and your siblings will keep you company from day in to day out. And when he brings you home, he’ll commission another family portrait that’s large enough to take up an entire wall and has you in the center with all of them surrounding you.

At last, they’ll be the family you deserve. The family you should’ve had when you became a part of their family.

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From Gold to Mold

Chapter 6: The Return

A/N: Did this chapter during a slow day in class. Enjoy this mini chapter!

You tried to keep your promise to Alfred about taking regular breaks to stop for food and sleep, but the Megamycete gives you unlimited energy, reducing your need for food and rest and allowing you to focus only driving as much as you can before night because Alfred is no doubt keeping track of when you tell him you’re stopping and resuming your journey.

Finally, after forty hours (you wished you could’ve turned into a giant flying creature and carry your car all the way to Goodsprings, but you’d never be able to explain that to Alfred), you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home and you feel tears swelling up in the corners of your eyes.

(Your feelings for this home are quite profound,) it remarks as you make your way up the driveway. (May we ask a favor?)

“Yeah, of course?”

(Allow us to establish a root system around your house. We promise our roots will not damage anything.)

“Can I ask why?”

(You have longed to return to this house for years. We wish to ensure its protection. With a root system, we will be able to watch over your house and keep out undesirables, be they man or pest.)

“Sure,” you chuckle, bending down and touching the lawn and from your finger, a sliver of mold extends from your skin and disappears into the dirt.

(We thank you. Should anything threaten your home, we will intervene.)

“Thanks, buddy,” you chuckle as you walk up to the front door, pulling out the key that the Clark County Probate Office sent you after you turned eighteen.

As you insert the key into the keyhole, you realize that you’re holding your breath. You’ve dreamed on this moment for years and now that it’s here, you’re worried that the home you’ve wanted to return to won’t bring you the joy you thought it would.

(Do not let your fears stand in your way. This home contains memories of a time of your life that you cherish. You will also be able to walk through the halls of this house without fear. Within these four walls, you will create a new life that will bring you happiness.)

You’re thankful for accepting the Megamycete into your body. Not only has it given you powers and abilities that you could never dream of, but it’s provided you comfort and companionship. It’s been very helpful to have your own Jiminy Chricket, whispering guidance and help from your shoulder.

With that, you turn the key and push the door open, stepping into the small foyer. Sure, the house has that type of smell that says it’s been empty for years and it’s pitch black since the curtains are drawn, but you’re overwhelmed by so many memories all at once. You and your Momma chasing each other down the hall in a game of tag, you sprawled out on the couch in the adjacent living room to watch the latest episode of one of your favorite cartoons, and so many others.

As you make your way through the house and notice every piece of furniture is covered in white sheets, protecting them from being covered in dust. Probably Sheriff Foley, he was the last one here the day your left and from what you remember of the distinguished sheriff, he’d do everything in his power to preserve the house and make sure nothing happened to it.

Finally, you pass throgh the dining room attached to the kitchen, walk down the small hallway and stop at the door on the left.

“Momma’s study,” you say, looking at the door before you.

(A room she spent most of her time. Many hours spent at her desk, working on her books. And you would stay in here to watch her.)

You open the door to see her bookshelves, desk, and chair covered in white tarps and the curtains drawn just like the rest of the house. You walk over to the other side of the desk, pull the tarp off the chair, and plop down on it.

“Feels just like I remember it,” you say, spinning around in it.

(What will you do with this room? Will you keep it as a study, or repurpose it?)

“I can turn it into my own study. With all that money Lex gave me for Bruce’s secrets? I can buy one hell of a PC that’ll be perfect for making games.”

After the study, you head upstairs, which has your old room, your Momma’s room, an upstairs bathroom, and a bedroom she had turned into a storage room. Your old room’s empty since you took most of your belongings when you moved to Gotham, the only things left are a bed that you’ve long since outgrown and a small dresser, so you decide otherwise set up in your Momma’s old room, which has a large bed that’s been covered in a tarp for years, a large dresser perfect for your clothes, and a sizable private bathroom.

(This house seems perfect for your purposes. And your mood has definitely improved since arriving.)

“Yeah, we have the house all to ourselves and there’s no Waynes in sight. This is definitely better than Wayne Manor.” You look around at the dark room and sigh. “We have a lot of work to do.”

And you did. For a week, you worked tirelessly to get the house livable, making calls to utility companies to get power, water, and gas turned back on, airing out the house, taking down the tarps and making everything look presentable, and clearing out your Momma’s belongings. You kept as much of you could, like her books, movies, jewelry, and everything else in between, but her clothes were boxed up and donated, along with appliances that date back to the early 2000s.

You had a lot of shopping to do, replacing the old appliances you donated, groceries for the new refrigerator, and a new mattress for your new room since the thought of sleeping on a decade old mattress made you itch all over. If you could’ve, you would’ve done all the shopping online, but you didn’t want to risk attracting attention to your finances with so many large purchases, so going to stores and paying with cash was your only option.

The best part of all this was converting your old bedroom into your gamer cave, full of your Pokémon plushies, toys, and posters, LED strips lining the corners of the room, and a giant desk and a top-of-the-line gaming PC. As much as you loved your trusty laptop, this PC makes it look like a relic from over a hundred years ago, and you can now play more modern games without any kind of lag. You’re really looking forward to future video game sessions.

After your gamer cave came your office. You boxed up your Momma’s old books and placed them in the storage room, replacing them with a few art books and game guides and bought another top-of-the-line PC full of digital art and video game creation software and placed it on the desk. You also found a fancy pen stand and placed your Momma’s pen on it, retuning the pen to its proper place. Plus, it can give you inspiration while you work.

Thankfully, the Megamycete made this undertaking easier, giving you stamina and energy that allowed you to work for hours on end without getting tired and allowing you to summon tendrils so you can do something upstairs while your body’s downstairs.

“Finally,” you sigh, plopping down on the living room couch after finishing the second coat of paint in the living room. “We’re done.”

(You have turned this house into a place anyone would kill to live in. You should be proud.)

“You helped. Getting this place into shape would’ve a few weeks, probably a month.”

(What is your next course of action?)

“Right now? Rest. Tomorrow? Time to get back to work.”

(That is right, your game. With your new tools, you should create a masterpiece worthy of you in no time.)

“Glad to know you think so highly of me, bud,” you chuckle.

That’s when you hear your phone go off, indicating you have a text. You take the device off the table, which had been playing your playlist of video game soundtracks, and see a message from Alfred.

Alfred: I hope your first week back in Goodsprings and that you’re taking proper care of yourself. I was thinking about you earlier today and decided to make my chocolate chip cookies.

The text is accompanied by a picture of said cookies and you instantly start salivating at the sight of the baked goods.

(Yes, the butler’s treats were very palatable to you.)

That’s a gross understatement.when it comes to any form of cooking, especially baking, the man is a god, able to conjure up food that would bring tears to anyone’s eye. While you’re ecstatic to be back home and away from the Waynes, you miss the man and his cooking. Now, you have to make do with either what little restaurants Goodsprings has or try your hand at cooking your own meals. And while there are many in the Megamycete’s records that were good in the kitchen, none of them held a candle to Alfred.

Me: Looks delicious! Making me drool up a river in my living room.

Alfred: I certainly hope that’s a joke. A young man as respectable as you should never be caught doing something as disgraceful as drooling.

You laugh at the text. Bless him, the poor man really thinks of you as a member of the “prim and proper” Wayne Family instead of the product of a one-night stand. When you first moved in, he tried to teach you all the ways of high society, but none of it ever took. You are who you are and nothing’s going to change that.

Alfred: Is it too early to ask when I can expect a visit from you?

You feel your heart drop a bit. You miss Alfred and would do anything to see him again, but you promised yourself that when you left Gotham, you’d never step foot in that hellhole again. And you know the man’s been trying to get the Waynes to get their shit together and remember the third child brought to live with him, but you hate all of them more than anything and if you never saw them again, it would be too soon.

Of course, you can’t tell him that. It would break his heart and make him feel guilty for not doing more. So, instead, you say:

Me: Sorry, I’m still getting things cleaned up around here and I’m trying to get my game working. Don’t know when I’ll be able to.

Alfred: I understand, my boy. I just ask that you try to carve out a little time to come back to Gotham and visit home when things calm down.

Home and Gotham definitely do not belong in the same sentence. Not for you, at least. Nevertheless:

Me: I promise!

Of course, you have no intention of going back there. You miss Alfred, but that city isn’t a place where good people end up. You were dragged there against your will and if it wasn’t for that drunk driver, you never would’ve lost the best years of your life to it and the Waynes. No matter what, you will never step foot in Gotham again.

You’d rather die.

I love from gold to mold but now I'm wondering from one of the ask what if reader was tortured to death and just kinda wanted to die so when the deal happens he just kinds of say sure have my body, I don't care, just let me die. So they do, maybe his conscience it's still there somewhere in a coma they don't want to wake up from, but the megamycete is the one in complete control and they decide hey, maybe the polite thing is to notify, so they go to the batfam and spill the entire beans.

And then shit hit the fan. Completelly

It’s a nice thought, imagining the Megamycete recreating Y/N’s body and exacting revenge on his behalf, but unfortunately, that couldn’t happen. If it could, it would’ve left that cave years ago. No, in order to leave the cave, it requires a living host and if you had died, it would’ve just absorbed your corpse to add to its biomass and archived your memories into its records. Once you die, you lose that spark of life, making you just food to the sentient mold and unable to commune with it like you did in Chapter 3.

However, if this were to happen, the process of absorption and archiving wouldn’t go as normally as it normally does. See, most corpses it gets ahold of have long since gone cold, so when it gets through the body’s memories, its sensations and feelings aren’t as powerful (think of it like watered down alcohol).

You, however, are freshly killed, your body still warm and your brain still active, leaving memories fresh. As it absorbs your memories, the rage and sadness you’ve experienced for years hit it like a freight train. It’s been alive for over 400 years and this is the first time in its long existence it knows the feelings of hatred, depression, grief, and loss.

It’s thanks to this that the Megamycete holds you in high regards, valuing you more than the countless corpses its absorbed.

As it goes through your memories, it sees how much you hated the Waynes and wanted nothing more than to make them miserable and so, it seeks to grant your wish as thanks for allowing it to feel for the first time in years.

While it can’t assume a corporeal body, it can expand its roots, burrow them underneath the foundation of Wayne Manor and Wayne Tower and cause significant damage, even causing them to collapse entirely.

And when the roots infiltrate the Batcave? It’ll use them to attack them, whipping them or wrapping around their bodies and crushing them into powder. While I can’t say if the Megamycete could kill them or not, it would provide them with quite the challenge.

so I just finished the post about ic reader was in a coma(?) kind of thing, and it got me wondering what or how he would react when he wakes up and suddenly everyone is all affectionate with him and he trys to decline the actions but he can't do much cause it's been awhile since he'd last physically moved, or something like that.

Thoughs?

Oh and I love this series, please never die, live a long healthy life😄

Had another question just like this, so hopefully this satisfies both. Note: this will allude to character feelings in future chapters. Read at your own peril.

Alfred enters your new room just like any other morning, blended breakfast in hand, when he sees you moving.

“Alfred,” you say when you notice him.

That’s enough for him to drop the trey and rush towards you, bringing you into a tight hug, afraid you’ll go back into that state if he lets go.

You’re stunned as the normally composed butler lets out soft weeping and begs for forgiveness.

He fills in the gaps in your knowledge, that the family had found you just after being shot and had you brought to the manor to receive treatment and that you’ve been in a vegetative state for over a month now, all of them taking care of you.

You’re shocked, of course. Both at surviving a gunshot to the head and the Waynes actually gave a damn about you.

When he says they felt so guilty at how they’d treated you, it made sense. They weren’t doing this out of the goodness of their hearts, but because they’d feel guilty if they didn’t.

You go to say as much when the door opens and Bruce walks in, who stops mid step upon seeing you now awake.

“Y/N,” he says in disbelief. “My baby boy.”

The sight of him pisses you off. You’ve lived in this place for years and it takes you almost dying for him to give you a second glance.

You go to stand up, eager to go back to your room and finally leave Gotham, not caring that you’d have to find a way to graduate, when Bruce and Alfred stop you.

“Where’re you going, baby? You need your rest!”

“My room,” you spit at him. “I’m getting my stuff and finally going home.”

“But this is your room,” he responds, making you now realize that all your belongings have been moved into this extra large bedroom. “And you are home.”

“No, this place isn’t home. It’s never been home and it will never be home. Goodsprings is my home and now that eighteen, I can go back to my house.”

First, Bruce is shocked to hear that you’re eighteen. For god’s sake, you’re so small! You’re even smaller than Tim!

Second, you plan to move out of the manor? He knows that they haven’t been the best family, but to move on the other side of the country?

He tries to convince you to stay, to recover from this awful ordeal, to let them make up for the years of mistreatment…

But you made it clear that you want nothing to do with them and that you believe they only did this because they feel guilty and they’ll go back to ignoring you.

It’s only then that he realizes the depths for his mistake. That you hate them so much that you’ve planned to get away from them for years.

He didn’t think he could feel lower than he has been ever since the accident, but you proved him wrong. He actually wants to curl up and die.

You make it clear that you’re leaving right now and there’s nothing they can do to stop you. You’re eighteen, after all.

That’s when something in him snaps. He wants you to stay here and he’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

He pulls Alfred out of the door and locks it, making you yell from the other side, saying that he can’t keep you in here.

He knows what he’s doing is wrong and that he has no right to make you stay, but he doesn’t care. You’re his firstborn and he’ll keep his family together, no matter what it takes.

He and Alfred call a family meeting in the room and fill them in on recent events.

At first, they were elated to hear that you’d finally awakened and they could talk to you. That quickly faded when they said you hated them and that you’d planned to leave them.

They agree that you can’t leave and they’ll all work together to get you to change your mind about them and want to be a part for the family.

Bruce went back up, thinking that the could appeal to you using whatever father-son relations that may be left.

That plan quickly died when you said he wasn’t your father, but a sperm donor and how your Momma made a huge mistake allowing him to sleep with her.

He stands there, taking insult after insult, watching as your face turns blood red from anger and eyes start treating tears of rage.

He wants to make it up to you, but knows that right now, he’s only going to make things worse, so he sends Dick up.

“Hey, baby bir—“ you cut off his greeting by throwing a heavy book at him that misses his head by half an inch.

“Fuck off, asshole,” you growl, practically foaming at the mouth.

He tries to calm you down, saying that he knows that he hasn’t been the best big brother, but—

Again, you cut him off, saying that he was a big brother to everyone else because he cared about them and that he made it clear you weren’t a little brother to him and that he’s not your brother. He’s nothing to you.

Ok, that stung a bit, but he’s determined to make amends!

“Everyone makes mistakes, little bird, and we’re ready to fix ours.”

You reward him with a backhand to the face and he takes that as his sign to leave.

Jason comes in, trying to think of something to say that won’t earn him a pimp slap like Dickhead.

“Look, kid, I get that you hate us. Really, I do.”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are you saying I can go, get the fuck out.”

He knows where you’re coming from; for years, he despised Bruce and the others, but he learned to let go of his anger towards them and be a part of the family. And he wants that for you. It’s not safe out there and you could get hurt again.

But, when you say for him to go to hell, memories of the night Joker killed him resurface and his eyes flash that damn Lazarus green.

This causes you to tackle him, sending you both to the floor, and you wrap your hands around his neck in an attempt to strangle him.

He could get out this easily. The hold isn’t strong and you’re still weak from not moving for a month and even if you had recovered, you’re not trained in combat like them.

But he lies there, because he can see the rage in your eyes and as he listens to the hate in your voice as you hurl insults and threats at him, does he finally understand just how much he failed you.

He’s accused Bruce of replacing him with Tim and everyone of forgetting about him because he was too angry, too careless, and too brutal for Batman’s methods.

But because he was so pissed at them, he did the same thing to you. If he had just pulled his head out of his ass, he would’ve seen how they were treating you and taken you with him.

But he didn’t. And when you two met for the first time, he gave you a black eye because he thought you were just some brat Bruce was trying to replace him with, instead of a victim.

He’s only freed from your “hold” when Steph and Cass rush in, the two girls separating you two and pulling him out of there, closing the door when you start throwing anything you can get your hands on.

Tim’s been watching everything unfold since Bruce went up there using a camera he place in there when you were first moved in there. It was him that told the girls to go in there and rescue Jason when it looked like he had accepted to meeting his end by your hand.

He knows he has nothing say will get a better response from you and he’s never been good at emotions. That’s Dick’s specialty.

But he knows how to observe, to find ways to improve hopeless situations into his favor.

And that’s what he’ll do. You’ll eventually say something he can use to make you calm down and try to get you to give them a chance to prove themselves to you.

And if that fails? Stockholm Syndrome will eventually kick in and that’ll be the perfect chance to strike.

Finally, Damian comes in after an hour after Jason’s rescue.

“Oh what fresh hell is this,” you wonder as he closes the door behind him.

“Hello, brother. How are you today”

As he expected, you go into a rage, spitting insults and swears at him.

Only when he pulls out you Mother’s pen do you stop, completely shocked at seeing him in possession of it.

He understands why you’re acting like there’s an active bomb in the room instead of him. The last time he held this pen…

He brushes the memory of the even aside. That won’t do him any good here.

“I’ve been holding onto it for you since the accident. The others wanted it placed in the vault, but I insisted I could protect it.”

You swipe it from him and he allows you, knowing that pen means more to you than anything. After all, he remembers how you responded when he took it.

Looking back on it, he should’ve respected you for standing up to him like that, not knowing what would happen to you.

“I know my past actions are reprehensible at best, but i hope you will allow me the opportunity to make amends with you, brother.”

When you two first met, he hated you because you were a threat to what he believed to be his birthright. And when he realized you were untrained in any form of combat or self defense, he deemed you an embarrassment to the Wayne lineage.

But after living with Father and his siblings, learning what it means to be a real family, he knows he has something the others never will: a brother bound to him by blood. Someone he’s connected to at the genetic level.

“We’re not brothers,” you say. “We may share DNA, but we’re not brothers. You made that clear when you gave me this scar.”

That scar will serve as a permanent reminder of his mistake. How he hurt someone he should’ve cherished. And he’ll spend the rest of his days trying to fix that mistake and make you see him as a brother, as someone you can trust, as someone you can love and be loved by.

You may have broken free of being held captive in your mind, but now you’re in another prison and your “loving family” are the wardens. And they have no intention of letting you go. One way or another, you’ll take you rightful place in the Wayne Family.

hey, I wanted to ask a couple of obvious or non-obvious things about the so-called "mold" because the very idea of it the first time I read it seemed very strange to me and I read it constantly interrupting myself to think whether it was really good or bad, BUT, the further it went, the more I started to like it terribly and as a result I had questions about this... thing.

Abilities and knowledge are good, but what about the other side of all this? Are there any side effects, so to speak? And what about weaknesses, both obvious and perhaps not obvious? Can this somehow greatly affect ordinary life? And if there are weaknesses and they can be used well in general, then could the BatFamily use them to their advantage?

(Sorry if it’s not coherent, I’m writing in a rush of questions and feelings...)

I’ve thought about doing a detailed report on how the Megamycete affects you, so thank you for asking this!

Powers

Mycokinesis: with the Megamycete in your body, you can call upon its mold from within and create weapons like tendrils and armor composed of hardened mold. You can also control the roots that are all around Gotham and use them however you see fit.

Quorum Sensing: the roots of the Megamycete have spread all throughout Gotham for over four-hundred years, serving as its eyes and ears. You can tap into the roots and see anywhere you wish just by thinking of it, even if you’re far from the city. This is also seen when you turned into a murder of crows; while you were composed of multiple birds, they shared a single consciousness and you were able to see from all their perspectives all at once.

Record Access: the Megamycete has absorbed countless corpses over the centuries, both man and beast, and assimilating their memories, knowledge, and even DNA into its archives. Thanks to this, you can call upon this living repository and use it as if it were your own. Because of this, you technically have the knowledge and qualifications for many kinds of occupations and diplomas that would take years to obtain.

Shapeshifting: thanks to the Megamycete bonding with you at the genetic level and its vase records, you can call change into any form you desire, be it a bird, a beast, or a long-dead human (and you have even assume their voice if you desire). You can also make modifications to your real body, such as making a pair of functioning wings without assuming a bird form.

Regeneration: thanks to the Megamycete’s mold, you can heal from even the most serious wounds, such as gunshot wounds. You can lose a limb and you can just stick it back on your body and you’ll be as good as new (or just grow another one if the old limb can’t be recovered).

Superhuman Stamina: as stated in Chapter 6, the Megamycete gives you incredible stamina, reducing your need for food or rest (though you can still feel mentally fatigued as stated in Chapter 4). You still consume food and sleep because you actually enjoy these, but they don’t sustain you like they did before. The Megamycete’s all you need.

Superhuman Strength: the Megamycete makes you far stronger than you ever were before and gives you more strength than any normal human could ever have. Don’t misunderstand, you’re not Superman, but you could throw Bane around like a rag doll.

Benefits

In conclusion, the Megamycete makes you far faster, stronger, and smarter than any normal human.

Weaknesses

Unsurprisingly, the Megamycete’s mold has a vulnerability to fire. If we go by video game logic, it makes sense that a “plant-type” monster like the Megamycete could easily be hurt by.

Following the same video game logic, the Megamycete’s also vulnerable to the cold. Mold (normal, non-sentient mold) can still be found in cold environments, but it becomes dormant in freezing temperatures. While the Megamycete is more powerful than regular mold, it went into a kind of hibernation when it still resided in Gotham as it gets very cold in winter.

And while this is a bit of a spoiler, the Megamycete can be vulnerable to forms of toxins/poisons. While it can metabolize any hazardous substances and survive, if a specially designed toxin is designed to target its strain of mold, it could pose a very serious risk to the Megamycete. But, it would require special equipment, extensive knowledge in mycology and toxicology, and lots of money. Know anyone that fits that description?

Every single thing you post about the batfam ignites tons of emotions inside me. I just read the 2nd part of the coma asks and was outright shocked with how the rage was shown from y/n. I was just thinking what would happen when the reader is constantly shown affection from the family, y/n find the camera Tim hid in his room. Would he berate Tim too and try and escape after that if they hadn't barred his windows?

What would happen?

Love the whole series, and excitedly waiting for the next part

When you discover the camera, you destroy that thing without hesitation.

You may be trapped in this horrible manor like a damn animal, but you refuse to be put on display for all to see.

Tim understands why you don’t want to be watched, but he needs to know how make you see reason and he can’t do that without information.

He sneaks into your room while you slept (bypassing Alfred’s ever watchful gaze) and plants a micro camera, the type they use during patrols.

Imagine his surprise when he opens up the feed the following morning to see you discovering the camera without a problem.

“None of you are as smart as you think you are,” you shout at the device before crushing it.

Ok, did not expect that. This raises even more questions, mostly: how the hell do you know about their micro cameras?

His need for more information grows and he decides he must speak with you directly, so he goes to your room.

“Oh look, if it isn’t Red Robin,” you taunt as he enters. “Forgive me if I don’t say ‘yum,’ that food is overrated.”

First question: how? Second question: the fuck?

“Surprised I know your little secret? I lived here for twelve years, dumbass. Did you really think I was so stupid not to notice you all coming and going?”

Not dumb, but inattentive. Though, with them basically forgetting that you were in the manor, it would stand to reason that you probably saw all sort of things.

“Y/N, I know you’re angry, but I promise you that we won’t make the same mistakes. We love you—“

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking twink, what do you know about love? Your own parents didn’t love you and Bruce sure as hell doesn’t know shit about love. He’s a cold, unfeeling bastard that’s dead on the inside and you’re just like him! No wonder he took you in!”

Ok, if you calling him a twink wasn’t bad enough, you had to go and bring up his parents.

“I know what you saw when Scarecrow dowsed you in his fear toxin. That Bruce doesn’t really love you because you blackmailed your way into making him adopt you, and that no one here loves. That’s not a fear, that’s the truth. You’re fucked in the head and anyone with eyes can see it! Who would ever love you?”

Ok, now that definitely stung.

“My Momma loved me, too bad you can’t say the same. You ever think she died just so she could get away from you?”

Ok, now that’s below the belt and he’s reached his limit.

He leaves your room and calls a family meeting, telling them that you know their secret, causing them all to gasp.

They were determined to keep you here until you accept their love, but now, you can never leave.

Knowing their secret puts them and you at risk.

But don’t worry, with Bruce’s money, he can get you anything you want and you don’t even have to lift a finger.

And Tim will be in the background, determined to find out everything you know about them.

He thought he was good at stalking, but you may be able to teach him a thing or two.