#Bad Dad Bruce

[brucewaynehater101]

About Tim's kill count: I think Tim tries really hard to be okay with murder. He's accepted that's something other vigilantes do, that sometimes it's the most practical answer. He knows that self defense is a thing, when it's you or them... Well, no one can be blamed for choosing themselves over a villain. He is the smart, logical Robin. He can be rational about murder. Stars know someone has to, and B is too much of an emotional mess when it comes to that particular subject.

So when Tim has to blow up Ra's bases, he tries really hard to be okay with it. He gave them a three minute warning (it's not much, but he knows how fast they are), so technically it's not like it's his fault if they decided to stay. He had to do it, it wasn't even just self defense, he had a civilian hostage to take into account. It was the only logical solution that allowed him to save Batman too. So yeah, he knows his reasoning was completely sound despite the circumstances. Honestly, he deserves Kudos for not losing it considering the amount of stress he was under and the fact he nearly died and lost an organ.

So yeah, he is pretty sure he's okay with it. He knows that if Batman ever truly catches up un his RR reports of that time he's not gonna be happy. He figures he can deal with that (he can't, he can barely deal with his own guilt. Deep down he knows he'll collapse like a wet napkin).

But instead of Batman the one to confront him is Jason having heard from Talia or finding the evidence on an outlaws' mission. And Tim is relieved because this should be easy. Not only is he a master manipulator: Jason is okay with murder, extremely emotional and still feels guilty about Titan's Tower. He's not even on talking terms with B. Tim has the upper hand in this encounter.

Cue to Jason's pov and it's just so painfully obviously that Tim is trying to rationalize the guilt away. Jason doesn't know whether to acknowledge it (the kid looks like he needs to actually talk about it, sue him) or to let him be delusional for a bit longer. He isn't the biggest expert on healthy but that doesn't look like it.

Tim succeeds in getting him to promise he won't tattle to Bruce, and is really proud of himself for handling the situation. Jason is now panicking thinking about what would Bruce do if he finds out (Tim doesn't know the extent of Batman's reaction to Jason killing at first).

(I got a little carried away with the idea of Tim being convinces he's okay with murder and Jason, who is pro murder for certain people, seeing right through him like "Oh honey")

Oh!!! I've seen some fics that cover what would happen if the Bats found out about Tim's kill count or the bases, but I haven't really seen ones with dark/abusive Bruce.

Tw: abuse, murder

Here's what I'm thinking:

Jason is fantastic for being the first to find out. He'd be supportive, understanding, and non-judgemental. He'll have no moral issues with murder. Perhaps he could have some mental breakdowns on the fact his younger brother had to resort to that or the high number of deaths or that someone younger than him had to stain their hands (which could also lead into him finally processing Damian's kills as well), but he wouldn't have any issues with Tim commiting murder.

Then we contrast that with Dick. He doesn't blame Tim. He's fiercely protective of his brother and will beat up anyone who gives Tim shit for it. On the other hand, he does have moral issues with murder. He'd probably have an internal debate with himself. He wants to support Tim, but the kid killed so many people (in this AU). Tim killed in self-defense. Dick has a particular understanding due to his time as a cop, but his vigilante rules have always contrasted with his cop ones (not just killing. Breaking laws, how civilians are treated, who your "allies" are, and whether you can trust your coworkers to do what's right). He's devastated that Tim was in that position and blames himself (maybe even takes those deaths upon his own moral conscience).

Both of them love, care, and support Tim in this. They also have very different ideas about murder.

Tim is also trying very hard to deny to himself how much death is actually on his hands. He's struggling to pretend he's fine and trying to logically convince himself that the deaths are acceptable.

In this AU, Bruce obviously flips the fuck out and acts like a piece of shit. Feel free to hc how far he takes that shit.

However, this has important ramifications against Damian. Whatever his feelings are about Tim at this point, watching his father abuse a kid he adopted (and considers his own) for the sin of killing? For self-defense? What if Damian ever kills again? Would Bruce react the same? What if there was no other choice? Also, does this mean that his father will never truly love him? Will his past always be held over Damian's head? Will Bruce ever forgive him? Is his father's love conditional? To add on, Damian has complicated feelings about LoA as well. He'd need to process the extreme destruction Tim enacted against the LoA. Just Damian having mental breakdowns.

Cass's confliction with murder and her love for Tim could also be added into this. I don't know much about the arc where she becomes a villain, but that would add to her turmoil.

Now, Alfred is a confusing one. How dedicated is he to Bruce? Is this the characterization where he sasses the man, not so subtly hides his guns around the Manor, and will stand up to the man? Or is this the one who will follow Bruce's lead even if it means psychologically torturing his grandkid? Is he somehow both at the same time? Can the kids trust Alfred to protect them or choose them over Bruce?

Babs would be protecting Tim (and the others in their support of Tim) to the best of her ability. In my mind, she's chill about murder due to her dad being a cop and her working with murderers (like Harley). She'd run interference to protect Tim until Bruce finds out, and then she'd be trying to get him away from Bruce.

Anyways, I'd love to see all of the characters, their feelings/experiences, and the conflict expanded on.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hello!

Is The Drakes Spoiled Brat set after the events of Mama Bird?

Like, uh..

Did Mama Bird come first, causing the Batfam to break apart and then the events of The Drakes Spoiled Brat happen so that doesn't happen again?

Hi!! While I get it can be confusing because of the fact they are put together in my Batfam series

BUT

The two fic's are completely unrelated- Mama bird is Bad dad (and really shitty person) Bruce with a much closer Batfam, ignoring a lot of canon.

Drakes Spoiled Brat is based more in canon (with a lot of fanon inspo) for the events leading up to the whole time hand wave bs. Which more stuff will be touched on later.

[allovesthings]

...Are we meant to understand that Bruce hit him there ? I hope not but the panel is similar to the one where he hits him after Jason's death.

[abyssal-ali]

The Best Bat (?)

R: T+

WC: 1.8k

TW: There is a discussion about death and could be seen as having suicidal undertones.

The small gathering of low-level Justice Leaguers crowded the two more magical members anxiously.

"I wish for the best Bat to come," chanted the one leading the teleportation/summoning.

"Wasn't that a little open-ended? And are you *sure* that won't summoning, like, a flying mammal?" Inquired a Leaguer nervously.

The chanter stared at the asker. "My power is luck. We will get the Bat we want," said the chanter confidently.

Several Leaguers seemed uneasy about leaving Bat-picking up to such a fickle thing as *luck*.

In a poof of smoke a tall figure appeared. Choking, the Leaguers brushed away the smoke...and groaned. "Uh, you're not a Bat...and we wanted someone useful..."

The summoned form glared around the room. "Firstly, rude. I am too a Bat," they rasped, gesturing to their chest piece. "Secondly, rude. The 'real' Bats are useful, but of course I'm Villain and only good at decapitating people and shooting my Jericho. 941's. Well lemme tell you something, 'kay? Villains are people too, and *some* of us are a little more competent than others. So why'd you summon me, I mean, a Bat?"

"We have two different species of alien warships heading for us, and we were hoping for maybe...Batman? Red Robin? *Someone* trusted their luck and asked for the 'best Bat,'" one of the Leaguers explained.

The Red Hood laughed long and loud at that, though the laugh came out rather scratchy and unsettling through the voice modulator.

"Hah, that's a good one. So you were hoping for a hacker or maybe a diplomat? This may surprise you, but I'm not always shoot first, ask questions later. I'm a tactician, and since you asked so nicely, I'll help out of the goodness of my heart."

A Leaguer snorted. "You call getting beat by Batman *tactician planning*?"

Hood fixed his stare on them. "Yes. There's a reason you can't reach any of the Bats right now, and it's because I shut down the city two days ago, the last step in my 10-month 'screw with Batman' plan."

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances and were immensely relieved when Wonder Woman walked in.

"Ah, you are...here to...help?" She asked, sizing up his defensive stance and the Leaguers who weren't terrified, if not a little wary.

"Yeah, I got summoned so I figured I may as well help. Never hurts to be in the JL's good graces," drawled Hood.

He turned to the leader of the little group of Leaguers. "So, what are the aliens and what exactly do you know about the situation?"

Wonder Woman watched carefully from her corner as Hood took charge and began commanding everyone around. He was orderly and aware of issues, he seemed to be skilled in delegating and not overwhelming his subordinates, and his diplomatic interactions interested her greatly.

As ambassador from Themiscyra, she had experience dealing with issues like these and so, once the connections between the ships and Watchtower were set up, she sat beside him to help.

Hood turned in surprise as Diana joined him, not expecting her to do anything more than watch and maybe drag him to a cell once the negotiations were over. She smiled and motioned to the setup. He nodded and they began.

●○●○●○●

Once the negotiations were completed Diana pushed her chair away and stood, extending her hand to Hood.

"Would you like a drink?"

"I wouldn't mind a stiff one, but I don't think certain people up here would appreciate seeing my helmetless face."

"...why not?"

"Well, when blood isn't getting pumped everywhere for several hours, your skin tends to get pale and your features don't look the greatest..."

"What?"

"I was recently revived from a sliced jugular just before I was yoinked here, so my circulation isn't quite back to normal yet."

"You were dead," Diana said flatly, and Hood nodded. "And now you're alive?"

He nodded again and shrugged.

"Just happens sometimes. I always come back--Death seems to enjoy flirting with me more than she should."

"You...die...regularly?" Piped up Superman, the eavesdropper.

"Not clockwork regular, but often enough that it's a mere inconvenience."

Clark and Diana exchanged looks.

"Anyways, aren't you going to haul me off to jail or Arkham or something?"

They looked back at him.

"Well, you did save the planet, so I'm sure that earns you a pass this time..." said Diana slowly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Yes, we appreciate you helping out, Hood. But, why?" Clark added.

"Contrary to what Bats would have you believe, I'm not a complete boor with no regard for human life. I simply exterminate the scum that the law lets away. In Gotham, especially, it's a problem, but I do it for the innocents and victims, for *their* lives, so they can live peacefully, or at least with closure. I'm not so uncouth and careless with life that I'd condemn the whole planet to die-- just the guilty. But I had to save the innocents."

Instead of sounding angry or even passionate, like Diana and Clark expected, Hood simply sounded...tired. Defeated, maybe? Of course, that could be after effects of dying and then being summoned and helping an organization that isn't exactly friendly with you.

"...so, what should we tell Batman about today?" Wondered Clark.

"Tell him whatever you want. Bruce will probably just believe I brainwashed you if you say something good. Say you forced me to help in exchange for looking the other way this once, or you tried to bring me to the Hall of Justice after, but I escaped. He won't believe that I helped you of my own free will. He refuses to see that I am capable of good and I'm not a complete monster."

Clark noticed that *this* rant got Hood a little worked up, and at the mention of Batman his heart rate picked up.

He looked meaningfully at Diana, hoping years of working together would help her figure out what he was trying to communicate.

Diana looked thoughtfully at Hood.

"How did you die, most recently, if I may ask?"

"My showdown with Batman. I forced Bruce to pick between me or the Joker. He picked the clown, like he always does, and he bataranged my throat."

Hood lifted his chin and tugged down the neck of his jacket and underarmour to show a thin scar neatly across his neck.

The two superheroes gasped.

"Batman killed?"

"He has no problem with it if they're already dead-- vampires and zombies are both fair game. I'm part both, I guess, so I don't count."

"I think you need a spar," suggested Diana. "Friendly."

Hood led the way to the empty training room, strangely quite familiar with the Watchtower's layout.

Diana and Hood squared off and they began, after agreeing to no weapons or powers. Finally, Hood pinned Diana, using an Amazonian technique with ease.

Clark announced Hood the winner and Hood got up, offering Diana a helping hand.

"Good spar," she commented. "How did you know that move?"

He shrugged dismissively. "I've had many teachers, so I know many groups' styles and moves."

"You trained for a long time before baiting Batman. Why?"

"I needed time to plan, to research, to prepare. I needed to be better than the Bat. And now that I have broken him, my work is done. I'm not sure if I'll wear this again," he looked down at his getup for a minute, "but if I do, I will only be the Red Hood to protect the innocent and avenge the victims, not play with Bruce. I may have taken his old alias, but I will *never* be like him," he muttered the last part, but both heroes still caught it.

"What did Batman do to make you hate him?" Asked Diana compassionately.

Hood laughed shortly, startled. "Hate? No, I don't hate him. I thought I did, but I don't, at least not anymore. The problem is that I loved him. He doesn't deserve any of my attention anymore, so I have relegated him to my 'indifference' list. It's pathetic to waste your life over a man who will never change. Now that I've made my point and accomplished my goal, I'm done with him."

"I'm sorry," Diana said slowly, not quite knowing what she was apologizing for, but Hood seemed to know and understand.

"It's okay. I'm going to my mom's island soon for some R+R. It'll be good to see her and the twerp. Sometimes I think he's a demon brat, but then I remember a lot...I'll raise him okay, though."

Drawn out of her memories of how a curly-haired boy in bright colors would chatter away about anything and everything like Hood seemed to be doing, Diana looked at him in surprise. He was younger than she'd thought. She changed her mental estimate of late 20's/early 30's to early 20's.

Then Hood took his helmet off and kissed her cheek.

"Goodbye, Aunt Di. You were always my favourite."

In shock, Diana let him disappear.

"Jason?" She whispered to the air.

●○●○●○●

Five years later, Robin came onto the Watchtower, insulting everyone and everything quite creatively.

Wonder Woman came to greet the poky child. He deigned to let her hug him and in her ear he whispered, "My brother says to treat you well, for you are a true queen and his aunt. He told me to tell you he is happy and to call him. Here is his number," in Ancient Greek, which Diana was pretty sure even Batman didn't know.

The spiky child slipped a paper into her pocket, then proceeded to detatch himself with colorful insults.

Diana smiled fondly at her nephew's brother and left to make a call.

Over the years she had received packages randomly, with letters, new baking, books (self-annotated), random objects/weapons from around the globe, all signed, "With love from your favorite nephew to his favorite aunt."

The last one had been two months ago and held a patch for a lab coat which said "Dr. J. Todd".

The short note with it said he'd graduated medical school and was helping treat trauma/trafficking victims.

Enclosed was a glossy 3x5" grad photo, which she promptly framed and put by her bed.

Bruce had never been able to figure out why Diana and Clark treated him colder. All of the Leaguers around that day had been sworn to secrecy even though it was likely they knew nothing, but the big two were concerningly different around him. He never figured out why.

[tiger-grace]

Superman: I haven’t seen you at the watchtower for a while. Where have you been the last few weeks, Batman?

Bruce: Rehab.

Superman, worriedly: Oh, I’m so sorry- I never knew you struggled with that. If you don’t mind me asking, what for?

Bruce, grimacing as he watches public footage of Signal and Red Hood starting a dumpster fire out of Pro-Joker merch: ..adoption.

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

Tim: You can't just run around here shirtless! Where's your binder!?

Jason: Shit! Where is my...... Did you forget I'm cis?

Tim:........maybe. It's hard not to when your tits are bigger than mine

Damian: You forgot too, idiot

Jason: Why don't you wait until you're taller than my tits before you run your mouth

Bruce: I will give you each $500 right now to talk about anything else

[anxi04]

tim and bruce have an odd relationship to the rest of the family. they don’t act like father and son but it seems like they have a “deeper” bond than the others

bruce seems to take tim’s advice more seriously, bruce actually takes a break if tim tells him, tim still gets benched but not nearly as much as he should, and most confusingly, tim benched bruce once. not alfred benching bruce, TIM.

normally bruce has to be forced to take a break, and normally by alfred, but if tim says “you’re benched for a week” bruce? listens?

they have no idea why. some of them ask dick if he knows since he was there but he’s just as confused

and then despite all that there’s also such a strain between them? it’s really on the line of a professional relationship and almost a care taker. it’s very confusing. and then the times bruce gives tim a present or anything like that and tim stops and stares at him for a second, like he’s dissecting bruce. no one is able to fully figure it. until bruce is de-aged to tim’s robin era.

tim is very adamant about most of them, but especially jason and damian, do not reveal their names to him. for the time being they have a strictly professional relationship with their father who doesn’t know them.

they finally get some of the picture when they see tim start acting as bruce’s caretaker. tim switches between being gentle “hey, you need to sleep” to screaming at bruce. it always works. tim knows exactly which version bruce needs and it scares the team cause that has to require some practice

they’re then also thrown for a loop when they hear bruce call out jason’s name in a shocked voice, which makes sense cause he doesn’t know jason is alive but jason still has his helmet on so what? and then they hear a voice none of them have heard. except dick goes pale and jason’s breath hitches. and suddenly tim is responding to jason’s name and acting weird, almost like what some of dicks stories described jason as. and it’s so fucked up when they’re watching time act like someone else and bruce going along with it

the dynamic they’re getting is also fucked up once again when, during one of bruce’s really bad days, tim straight up acts like bruce’s parent. and bruce reacts well.

they’re all horrified by this. the realization that tim and bruce’s relationship has so many layers and that they do act like father and son sometimes. except bruce isn’t the father and tim isn’t the son

[averycollector]

N52 & Rebirth canon just continued this trend and people really try and pretend it didn't. And I am not just talking about the erasing of Cass and Steph as characters, or even the Babs... thing. They introduced Harper Row... and then never *did* anything with her. She was made to replace the Steph-gap. But instead, they just jerked fans around and eventually had her 'retire'. Steph and Cass were both (re-)introduced and then it was made blatantly clear that they both had their own apartments. None of the underage female characters have ever lived at the manor. Ever. Like, don't get me wrong, they made some uhm, choices with Duke's character. But he still got 6 months of training at the manor. Like a mix of what Tim (coma parents) and Jason (6 months of Robin training) had in the beginning. I'm fine with the 'found family' trope being applied to the team. Sometimes families are terrible and the things we find are garbage after all. But the fanon/WFA/DC insistence on framing all these people as legally family and shoving them into nuclear roles is infuriating. All it creates is whiplash when fans actually try to start reading the comics. Oh, and for people that want to read comics (in the US at least), I highly suggest checking if your local library has some. Especially check to see what they offer online/on app. Or do that thing we do with tv shows. very similar search terms.

Bruce, picking up a stray: "He reminds me of me!" :333

Bruce, a couple of years later: "Why is he such a stubborn, self-destructive drama queen??"

[sparkoflena]

As somebody who has written Batfamily fanfiction (mostly for myself but I have like two things public), Bruce Wayne's relationship with his kids will always be the hardest part.

Yeah, I could fanon it. But I do try my hardest to be at least vaguely canon-compliant in terms of characterizations/relationships.

BUT the history of Bruce Wayne as a father changes depending on the author you read, which Robin is Robin-ing at the time, and what trauma Bruce happens to be going through. Is he going to be deeply supportive of his kids and attend their events and be both awkward and proud? Is he going to hit his kids? Who knows, certainly not DC writers.

(I'm of the opinion that Bruce Lost-His-Parents-At-A-Young-Age & Adopted-Kids-Like-Him-To-Build-A-Family-He-Didn't-Have-As-A-Child Wayne ABSOLUTELY should be a Good Parent[TM], albeit a bit Overprotective Dad. But there are only a handful of authors who follow this depiction)

[greenglowinspooks]

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

[noxcheshire]

I think I’d be really funny, if Bruce was a reincarnated Vlad.

This is going to be based off of a prompt I saw (I will find you) where Bruce suddenly remembered his past life as Vlad.

HOWEVER, my take on that is the de-aged Ellie and Dan because the amount of ANGST and self hate that Bruce will go through thinking his past self was not only a villain, but also that sort of person?

It will eat him alive.

It will eat that man alive every time he goes to sleep and another burst of memories pass underneath his eyelids.

It burns him when he wakes up with the phantom touch of a body underneath his hands, of a boy just as young as Damian and thinner too, struggling to escape a grip of a man whose hold was too possessive, and too cruel.

It feels like acid swishing down his throat when he wakes with the taste of oily words filled with threat and something more whispered over the form of a boy. A young boy whose blue eyes blazed furiously back and yet tried to hide the quiet bursts of fear underneath.

It feels like Bruce cannot scrub the man he had been right out of him, even when his skin blisters red until it bleeds. Vladimir Masters had woken spitting and screaming, burrowed like a cold sore underneath everything that is Bruce.

Bruce hates it.

Hates the monster he had once been and still is — because despite the fact Vlad is now Bruce, living and breathing and existing here in Gotham — Vladimir Masters still exists.

He is out there right now in a little place called Amity Park, pulling weight and blood just to get what he wants.

A man who has used and abused for far too long…

Perhaps it was time to see to it, that however and whatever way that Bruce came to be, that it began with Vlad’s unfortunate circumstances back into the Ghost Zone.

[ambriel-angstwitch]

Omg! Tim liking the schedule and Damian’s solemn nod.

I love my little autistic boys. They’re so dedicated to the job. (And they just like schedules)

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him

Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.

How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.

Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.

Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.

Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.

“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.

[abyssal-ali]

Burned my wings close to the sun/But I'll keep on flying/I'm too young for dying

Pairing: None

Rating: M (blood, violence, death, thoughts that could be seen as suicidal)

WC: 1.6k exactly (yes I'm proud of that)

Tired of never knowing exactly where he stands with Bruce, Jason decides to force his hand.

A/N: This was heavily inspired and plotted by a friend on tumblr, so most of the credit goes to @skypalacearchitect.

A note for the tag "Immortal Jason". Technically he can die, but he will always come back. His power is resurrection, not total immortality.

The song for this fic is "Higher" by The Score.

It may seem a little confusing (though I hope not) but more will be revealed in the second chapter, which I hope to work on and have up this weekend/coming week.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: They try to keep me down, but I just get higher

Jason fumed all the way out of the Batcave.

He fumed on his ride back to his safehouse, he fumed as he passed all his security protocols, he fumed as he removed his gear and headed to shower and change. He fumed halfway through his shower, too, until his anger decreased from 'rolling boil' to 'gentle simmer' and his thoughts turned to vengeance.

Mr. 'I-am-Vengeance' himself would get a healthy taste of his own medicine. Jason smirked ominously to himself.

Back in the Batcave, a tired-and-irritated Batman felt a disturbance in the void.

~~~~~~~

After a lovely sleep dreaming and scheming, Jason awoke to the smell of food in the air. Hopping out of bed, he headed to the kitchen with a knife in hand as a precaution (not that he wasn’t a master in several hand-to-hand martial arts) that he put down when he saw who had invaded his kitchen.

“Talia? Why are you here? I thought you were with Damian?”

“I had a feeling my oldest son was plotting something and needed my help.” Talia left two steaming mugs of tea on the island and warmly embraced him. He left the knife on the counter and joined Talia in easy harmony as they danced around his kitchen making the meal.

Once they had begun eating Talia pinned Jason with her slightly unnerving green stare. “Jason. You are not one to hold back your thoughts, habibi. What is it?”

Jason sighed inwardly. Always straight to the point with Talia, and nothing was long hidden, either. He met her gaze. “I want to perform a little experiment on Bruce, and I'd like your help.”

She looked him over calculatingly. “Go on.”

“Bruce said some things last night...I almost shot him somewhere he'd have a hard time recovering from. But then I thought, he's still never recovered from the first time I died. That's what this is all about, anyways, so what if I do something to him he'll never recover from.”

Talia had stopped eating by now and had a wrinkle on her brow as she stared at him and analyzed his body language.

Jason continued, “I want you to kill me in front of Bruce.”

Talia stood up and her mouth was pressed into a firm line. “I did not save my son from that man's brutality just to kill him myself.”

“Look, T, I'm not sayin' this lightly. I know what death is like better than most. But I need to know exactly how he feels about me, if I can realistically continue to work in Gotham or not. You and I know I'll come back, but he doesn't. I- he seems like he wants me dead and gone, so he can still mourn Robin-me. I need to know for myself.”

Talia stood in front of him, carefully scrutinizing his body language and facial expressions. “...this is not a situation like the aftermath of your showdown?”

“No, T, I'm not askin' this 'cause I want to die. I'm askin' because I want to live. I don't feel like I'm really living around the Bats, always keeping an eye out for a potential problem and what I'll be blamed for next. But...I need to know just how big of a chance I have to live with them. And how much they'll look for me if I leave. I'm not asking this of you lightly, T. Feel free to say no; I'll understand.”

“I must think about this, Jason. But if you leave, I will always help you, whether they chase you or not.”

Jason smiled and hugged her. “I know. Thanks, Talia. Take your time, I have drama to plan anyways.”

~~~~~~~~~

Talia stayed with him longer than her usual day or two, instead living in his apartment for a whole week. They didn’t bring it up again, but Jason figured it was so Talia could keep an eye on him and assess his mental and emotional state before she did anything.

She mostly stayed inside so she wouldn’t alert Bruce to her presence, but Jason caught her watching him from the shadows the two nights he went out as Red Hood.

The next Saturday evening, while Jason washed the dishes and Talia dried them, she casually mentioned his request. “I’ll help you with your plan, habibi.”

Jason turned to her, dripping a few suds on the tile floor. “I’m mentally stable enough to handle you killing me?” he asked wryly.

Talia’s lips thinned subtly in displeasure, but she was long used to his ways of speech and his use of humour as a defence. “Something like that. Are the dramatics of your plan sufficiently plotted?”

“Almost. I was thinking I’d confront Bruce in the Batcave, if possible with his little sidekicks there so he can’t hide anything from them anymore, and then you come in and hug me and stab me in the back.”

Talia frowned.

Jason explained his reasoning and Talia finally acquiesced.

They set the date for Tuesday.

~~~~~~~~~

Jason rode into the Batcave just after the Batmobile pulled in, having followed the Bats through their patrol to figure out the best time to make his dramatic entrance.

The Batmobile had been the last to return, so they should all be gathered now for his…demonstration.

Nightwing, Batgirl, Spoiler, Red Robin, and Batman were all standing around in various mixtures of costumes and comfy clothing, and Babs was on the Batcomputer’s main screen, pointing some information out to Nightwing.

They turned to see him park his bike facing the entrance and approach them, though he stayed a carefully calculated distance away to give Talia more space to flee when they inevitably attempted to apprehend her after she stabbed him. He took off his plain motorbike helmet, having only dressed in civvies to appear more defenceless to appease the paranoid old man.

“Jason? Why are you here? You stormed out last Saturday and haven’t been very active lately.” Bruce almost sounded pleased to see him, but Jason could hear the underlying cold calculation as he wracked his brain to figure out why he had returned.

“I had something I wanted to say to you, Bruce.” He made sure his voice stayed neutral–after all, this was to confirm Bruce’s thoughts and feelings about him either way, though both Jason and Talia subconsciously knew which side Bruce would pick.

"Which is?” Bruce prompted, annoyed that there was an audience that would be suspicious if he sent them away to hear Jason out privately.

“I want to work with you. You were my first family, and you helped me live longer and better than I would’ve as a kid on the street. I’ve come to terms with the fact that we will always share opposing viewpoints on certain subjects, but I still respect that you have a code. I’ve even compromised on my own views when I could to make myself appear in a more palatable light.”

Bruce stood stiffly, body language as cold and closed-off as ever. His sidekicks were all huddled in a group, whispering amongst themselves. Jason was pretty sure they were betting on how this would turn out. He and Dick had used to do that–no, focus on the present, Jason. Don’t be a Bruce and live in the past.

“But why is it always me compromising? I’m more than willing to accept your unwillingness to kill, but why must you be so coldly against anyone killing? Even if I stopped killing permanently, you’d never see me accurately, would you? I’d always be viewed through a blood-red lens. I would never be your son.”

“Once a killer, always a killer. You enjoy these executions you perform, Jason. My son died when he was fifteen.”

Jason sucked in a breath, trying not to show how much those words hurt him. “Thank you for confirming my hypothesis.”

The watching circle of sidekicks looked incensed (Dick), concerned (Babs and Cass), and shocked (Tim and Steph). They didn’t have a chance to act, as the exit to the Batcave beeped.

Talia easily entered, using Jason’s passcode, striding determinedly up to Jason and Bruce, nodding reassuringly at Jason. “Habibi.”

Of course, Bruce took the address to mean him and not his son and angrily questioned her why she had broken in.

Talia laughed lightheartedly. Jason had to hand it to her, she was a good actress. You’d never know she was about to stab her son in the back.

“I just had one final thing to accomplish before I left Gotham for good.”

She turned to Jason.

“If this will hurt you after or you just can’t do it, I’ll understand,” Jason whispered in the League dialect.

“I appreciate your concern, habibi, but I will be alright. This is for you.” She wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"I love you, Ummi.”

“I love you, ya albi.”

She took a deep, steadying breath and raised the dagger in her hand, swiftly piercing him through the heart. He lurched a little in her arms but turned to face Bruce, who was staring at the scene in shock.

“This knife in my back hurts less than the figurative one you shredded me with time after time. Congratulations, Bruce, your son is dead.” He choked and spat scarlet blood at Bruce’s feet. “His blood is on your hands.”

Bruce stared at him, then the blood, still stunned at the spectacle.

Talia gently laid him on the floor, his head in her lap, combing her fingers through his hair.

“See you soon, T.”

Talia’s hand rested tenderly over his eyes, brushing his eyelids closed.

[on-the-clear-blue]

So you know how there is a common fan theory that ghosts go through their death again on their death day? What about Jason going through it?

Feeling angsty crew, prepare yourselves

Trigger warnings: Jason death and all that comes with that, SA implications.

---

The first time it had happened it was in a LOA base, still catatonic and barely speaking, Jason was forced to train through the dark bruises that slowly appeared on his body, from his ribs and chest, to his fingers getting bent and crooked.

His trainers watched, not filled with concern but curiosity, an effect such a this had not been seen in the leauge in some time

As smoke was coughed up from his lungs and as bits of his flesh turned the same ghastly green as the pits, they watched, documenting it, unable to look away as the man boy seized and went still, finally.

---

The second time it happened, Jason was in Gotham, set up in a safe house, sirens and gun shots ringing out into the night, the sounds of his childhood.

He hadn't planned to stay long, only stopping by the safe house to grab a restock of ammo

Then came the phantom pains, tightness around his wrists, a deep, ever increasing sense of dread.

Jason staggered at the first ghostly strike to his head, hands flashing to his guns, scanning the room for what ever invisible foe that had struck him.

The next blow brought Jason to his knees, it hurt, oh God did it hurt, his head was pounding in a way that he barely remembered.

The feeling of his ribs crack robbed him of breath, a bone spur puncturing his lung, then came his hands, finger bones broke one at a time.

Jason curled himself up in a ball, just as he tired to years ago, tears streaming down his face under the metallic hood. The ticking demination of a clock ringing cruelly in his ears.

Then came the explosion, leaving his ears bleeding, eardrums ruptured, brain addled even more than the blunt force trauma caused.

With broken hands, Jason struggled to take off his helmet, as smoke poured out of his already damaged lungs. Smoke that clogged the helmet filters, that trapped it all around his face.

Jason Todd died a third time, the same way as the first two time that night.

---

It was a few years after the first time (that he remembered), that he found himself on a very bad day, he had found out that it always happened on the day he died, and he still didn't know what God had cursed him to relive it over and over again.

To add even more crap to his shittiest day, he was stuck in Wayne Manor.

The sense of dread was running though him, his hands were shaking terribly as he tried to just get away but his body wouldnt listen, he needed to leave get to his room, any room, hid away from his family, he didnt want them to see him like this didnt need them to be worried for him, he was so stupid, so idiotic to have forgotten what day it was, so wrapped up in having his family again that he forgot his curse.

---

Dick had a smile on his lips as he was about to jokingly throw a gaming controller at Jason, knowing he would likely start something to get his gaggle of siblings to do something together.

Yet it never left his hands, as he noticed Jason's eyes had gone glassy, a distant look in them, and a dull green sheen emanating from them.

Fear wormed it's way through him, Pit episodes had become less and less of a thing with his brother, something he was more than happy to see, but...this didn't seem to be the same thing.

Sending a concerned look to Tim, who has just walked into the room, even though he hoped (he thought they were over these, that Jason was getting better) Dick waved him back, if this was actually a Pit episode, he didnt need Jason to go off on Tim anymore than he had in the past.

Slowly approached his brother, Dick saw his eyes look into the middle distance, lost in his own head, "Littlewing? Jay I-I didnt..." His hand moved cautiously, coming into Jason's space and-

He flinched...Hard. Eyes flashing up at Dick but not seeing him, stuck deep in something else

Dicks heart dropped, Jason hadn't flinched when he had tried to touch him in years, not since a small boy in a ratty red hoodie was in Dicks old room, crying as he begged to not be sent back to the streets for them to "P-please don't t-touch me...I-Im sorry I-ill be good I promise"

But the words that came from Jason were far more haunting than what he uttered in fear, a voice hoarse and small came from him, slurred and heady with pain "Just...just let her go...C-can do anything to me...j-just let mom go..."

Bile, that was all Dick could taste as he held back what wanted to come up, he knew in a second what Jason was seeing, who Dick was to Jason's mind, trapped in memories.

He didn't know when he took a step back, didn't know when he had pulled away from his little brother until his back hit the wall, taking a shaky breath he forced himself back, He needed to be there, be there for his brother unlike...unlike last time.

"Jaybird it's me, Dickie? Jason..." he reached out agian, only to cringe back as his little brother flinch back, curling in on himself, his head tucked between his legs.

Dick didn't know Jason could look so small still, a distant thought bubbling up about maybe that's why he got so big, so he could never be that small again...but yet he was...

And Dick Hated It.

His hands fumbled for his phone, his fingers felt like lead, and all he could do is dial Ina number.

"Dad? Jason needs you..."

---

Bruce tore through the halls of his home with a fervor, his mind spinning with thoughts, from Dick’s description of what was happening this was a Pit episode of some sort, far different than any he had seen before.

The halls of his home never felt so long and never felt so claustrophobic.

Old demons in his mind cackled, bringing back the doubts of himself...if only he was just a little faster, a little less prideful...

Coming into the den, Bruce scanned the room, seeing his eldest kneeling by Jason, trying to be soothing while not touching him.

Dick face was hard and worried when he looked up at Bruce.

They shared a silent conversation, ending with Bruce taking Dick place on the floor, Dick in turn leaving to try and figure what was happening.

"Jaylad, Sweetheart, you have to breath, Jason?" It hurt to see his son flinch as he reached out, but Bruce pressed on, his fingers softly pressing against his son's pulse point on his wrist.

Dread spreads across Bruce's mind as he can hardly find a pulse, pulling his hand back the dread turns to horror as he see red and deep blue bruises start to from across Jason's face.

His eyes were open, dull instead of the bright they should be, his breathing sounded forced and-

It was his nightmares all over again.

Pushing past the fear, Bruce forced himself to pick Jason up, holding his dear boy so...so close to his chest, jaw shaking as he rushed through the halls once again.

He can't let his son die in his arms yet again.

---

Hours later, Bruce watches as Leslie called time of death, they did everything they could but it wasnt enough...his mind is disconnected from his body, a deep dark numbness burns within him and he just can't understand why...

Why the world seems to determined to make his family suffer? What had he done other than try and help, to cure the throbbing cancer that is Gotham? To help his fellow man live better and be happy...

His numbly looks around the med area, his children gathered, Dick is crying onto Cass's shoulder, Cass herself has tears but she refuses to shed them, Duke held his head in his hands, small shakings in his shoulders could only be crying, Stephanie was by Leslie, demanding answers and what happened with emotions think in her voice

Tim wasn't there, he was on the other side of the cave, running through data files, looking for anything that could cure this...Bruce would need to tell him to stop, that it was already over.

And Damian...his youngest just stood there, arms crossed and...politely blank was all Bruce could see, no mourning as the others. Just...waiting.

He was the only one not shocked when Jason groaned, sat up, cursed and promptly fell back onto the bed.

---

Damian sauntered over to where they had placed Todd, all of them still so careful with him, as if he would up and fall dead if someone was to as much as sneeze in his direction.

"Tt, Honestly it is as if they don't know this happens every year..." His own reliving of his deaths was far less dramatic.

Todd had the gall to look at him with confusion, and it took a moment for Damian to realize what his look ment "You never told them did you, Tt...Typical" shaking his head, Damian sat next to Jason's has-been death bed.

"Not all of us brought back from the dead suffer so spectacularly as you do Todd, as Jon would say...I believe this is a *Skill Issue*? Hashtag get good?" He didn't use the lingo lightly,

And of course, instead of being offended as he should, Todd just stared dumbly at him "This is when you banter, or has your repeated blunt force truama to the head bludgeoned you into stupidity?"

Shaking his head, Damian tutted "Clearly I have to do everything in this poor excuse for a social interaction" clearing his throat Damian put on a deeper voice as to mimic Jason "Shut it Demon Brat. I do truly hate that nickname. Oh woe is me why am i just a little bitch that can only suffer. Worry not dearest fuck up of a human being I can help you. Oh glory be you, you turly the greatest Robin. Oh only you say it now~"

Damian gave a dead pan stare at Todds slackjawed look, "Shut it, Jon is rubbing off and me and i cant for the life of me make it stop...but honestly if you wish to know more, seek out Phantom, though...you look pathetic enough that he might just find you first."