#Did the batman have a yellow Cape

[snaileer]

We Didn’t Start The Fire

“See man, the moon!” Kid Flash said as they came outside, standing on the pile of rubble.

“And Superman! Do we fulfill our promises or what…” his voice trails off as a grinding clanking sound echoes behind them.

They turned around, confused to see a tricked out pale yellow Volkswagen bug trucking its way up the rubble and crumbled building blocks. It stopped before it got too steep, a man in a familiar white lab coat stumbling out.

Immediately, they were on guard, the man haphazardly climbing towards them.

Robin drew two batarangs in each hand, standing in front of Superboy as he got closer. It didn’t even matter that the Justice League had just landed behind them, if this CADMUS scientist tried something, Robin would be the first to defend Superboy. Without hesitance.

The man stopped in front of them, huffing for breath.

“You’re-!” He stopped, leaning over his knees with gasping breaths, “Sorry, one sec!” He held up a finger, gasping for another few seconds before stepping forward-

Chains of water surrounded him before they could blink, Robin looking back surprised to see Aqualad standing with extended weapons and a grim face.

“This is odd.” The man looked at the water wrapped around him, wriggling a bit before shrugging. His eyes zeroed in on Superboy, “You’re okay!” He said with a blinding grin.

Superboy recoiled and Robin immediately stepped between them.

“What.”

The man glanced at him briefly before looking back over Robin’s head, “You are okay right? I mean I tried my best but I couldn’t figure out a way to get you out- I mean if I’d known you were there to begin with I’d would have never-but then I wouldn’t have-

“Who are you?” Superman asks, suddenly close from behind them.

The man’s mouth clicks shut, looking between them all before a grimacing smile rises to his face.

He extends his hand at the elbow between the liquid chains, “Dr. Danny Fenton, ex-biochemical engineer of CADMUS labs Mr.Superman,sir.”

Flash zips forward, the eyes of his cowl narrowed, “Ex?”

The grimace turns into a wince. “Oh.. heh, yeah, I’ve found that arson is usually a pretty good kickstart of sudden unemployment,” there’s a thoughtful pause as he looks over the rubble, “It’s usually accidental though.”

Nobody responds.

“What? You didn’t think that lab fire started on its own did you? How else was I supposed to get you here?”

“There’s a Justice League public phone! That’s literally its entire purpose!” Kid Flash shouts, throwing his hands in the air. At this point, Aqualad cautiously lowers his water bearers, releasing Fenton.

“Oh, sure, I call a bunch of superheroes and tell them my boss is doing a Grow-Your-Own-Superman in the boiler room. That’d go over well.” He pauses, “Though the sidekicks was a surprise.”

The comment goes uncorrected, as the rest of the league has snapped to face Superboy the moment he says it.

Superman looks stricken as Superboy reveals the logo on his torn shirt.

Fenton unceremoniously breaks the tension, “Sorry I never asked, do you have a name? I’d feel really bad just calling you-“

“… They called me.. Superboy..” He says, still not looking away from the man of steel in front of him.

“That’s not-“ Fenton rubs his temples and sighs harshly, “Okay, I can fix that later, whatever-“

“You’re not gonna be ‘fixing’ anything, Doctor.” Robin snarls.

Fenton blinks. “Huh?”

Batman steps forward, “Green Lantern.”

Green construct cuffs snap around the Dr.Fenton’s wrists, though he looks at them puzzled.

“Superman, check for survivors in the damage, Flash find some salvageable evidence before it finishes burning. The rest of us, we’ll continue this interrogation at the hall.”

“Wait what?” Dr. Fenton says, perking up like a meerkat even as Batman turns away with swirl of his cape.

“What about me?” Superboy asks, desperation in his hesitant step forward.

Batman looks to Superman. Superman nods, and then shoots off into the rubble and emergency vehicles.

“For now, you come with us.” Batman says, and Superboy’s shoulders loosen just a hint.

The dark knight pauses again before turning completely, “And don’t think we’ve forgotten the rest of you,” he says, cowled eyes narrowed over his shoulder, “Robin.”

Robin shirks back, “Heh.. Right.”

“Wait what’s going on?” The Fenton scientist yelled back over his shoulder as Green Lantern pulls him away.

He starts to say something but the construct fully engulfs him now, shifting from a platform to a soundproof bubble.

It seems to shock him enough, Fenton tapping at the walls and looking like he wants to take it apart and take a sample.

Robin grit his teeth.

He was not gonna let these CADMUS freaks touch Superboy again.

Not Fenton or anybody else.

[patronsaintofpink]

it must've been weird for Dick for a while to not have a cape on his Nightwing suit because surely Bruce taught him some tricks and stuff that he does with the Batman cape. You think he probably did the cover the body with the cape thing sometimes when he's trying to dodge something but he remembers he doesn't have the obnoxiously bright yellow cape anymore?

[avayarising]

DPxDC prompt: Here is the News

“You’re watching CDTV Now, and I’m Ace Atchinson with a special feature. Last week, the nation was shocked when a team of junior heroes affiliated with the Justice League apparently vandalised one of America’s most beloved national monuments.”

A short, jerky video plays, showing an explosion on a large stone face – one of four carved out of the side of a mountain. The smoke clears to reveal a large hole where the nose used to be. Several figures fly out of the stone and are caught by some sort of flying vehicle. It swoops across the mountain and away.

“With me live in the studio this afternoon are some of the members of Young Justice, here to tell us their side of the story. Superboy, Wonder Girl, Impulse – did you destroy Mount Rushmore?”

“Yeah, we did,” says the boy with black curly hair and a leather jacket over his brightly coloured hero suit. A bar appears across the bottom of the screen. Superboy, it says. Member of Young Justice. “On purpose, too.”

The girl, with stiff black hair and large square glasses, scowls in his direction. “We weren’t trying to destroy it,” she says as the camera closes in on her. The bar across the bottom of the screen now reads Wonder Girl and Member of Young Justice. “We were rescuing our friend.”

“She’s a ghost you see and the apes captured her and held her in this secret base –” The brown-haired boy in goggles stops when he is nudged by the girl beside him. The bar flickers for a moment to say Impulse before returning to Wonder Girl.

“OK, so, we need to go back, like, five steps here. There was a secret government base inside Mount Rushmore where they were conducting inhumane experiments on ghosts.”

The host laughs in a strained, nervous way. “Ghosts?” he asks.

They nod. “I’d like to introduce you to another member of our team,” says Wonder Girl. A mist forms behind her as she speaks, and swiftly coalesces into the form of a pale, slight girl, hovering behind the sofa. “Um,” she says nervously. “My name is – I mean, I go by – Secret, and… I’m a ghost.”

-––––

“Danny! Turn on CDTV now!”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it!”

–––––

“–torture and imprisonment, and she hadn’t even done anything! They’re just prejudiced against ghosts because they think they’re dangerous!”

“She is dangerous,’ says the black-haired boy proudly. The label Superboy appears on the screen again, in case anyone had forgotten. “She can shape-shift and go through walls and even possess people –”

“K– Superboy!” hisses Wonder Girl. “Not helping!”

“I’m right here,” says the ghost girl. The people who do the labels have obviously been hard at work, because she now has one too, saying Secret and Alleged ghost. “And I can do those things, but that doesn’t mean I want to hurt people or –”

There’s yelling from off camera, and a crash. A bolt of blue-white energy flies past the camera and the image whites out. There’s a scream, and a burst of static. The image returns, fuzzy and striated. Another bolt of energy. A large man wearing white rushes into view. Someone in green boots and a yellow and black cape lands on his head and knocks him down. A bang, and the image turns sideways as the camera crashes to the floor. The sound cuts out. There’s smoke, and running feet, and suddenly the side of the studio sofa, before another flash of blue-white light and the screen goes dead.

Nothing happens for almost a minute, and then the TV starts playing a rerun of the highlights of last week’s sports game.

––––––––

“Well, shit,” says Danny.

Superboy here is not in fact Kon but Match pretending to be Kon and trying to sabotage the team. Robin was hiding in the ceiling behind a lighting rig because Batman is going through one of his ‘we are cryptids’ phases and wouldn’t allow him to appear on screen. Anita hasn’t joined the team yet, which is good because her dad is one of the agents and it would have been awkward.

[satoshy12]

Danny learned from the Ghost Writer that other worlds exist, even his favorite world. The Justice League!

However, Ghost Writer has always been hesitant to use his portals to explore other realms. This is due to the immense power and danger lurking on the other side.

Danny's curiosity gets the better of him, and he can't resist using Ghost Writer's portals to go into the DC universe.

Danny was here to have fun, so he decides to dress up as various DC villains, but with his young age, it has an adorable twist: he appears as a tiny child version of them.

To his surprise, Danny realizes that these costumes give him access to the powers of the villains. He seemed to mimic them, like he did in a few of his fights against his enemies attacks.

Like Ghostly wails with Dan or Cloning with Vlad.

And just seeing this would be much more fun! He started his playful journey to meet iconic heroes and villains.

The first one Danny met was the Flash family while dressed as Reverse Flash. He stumbles upon a face-off between Flash, Kid Flash, and the real Reverse Flash. With his childlike innocence, Danny manages to confuse all three speedsters, much to Kid Flash's chagrin. Danny began to tease Kid Flash about a prank he played on him. "It was me, Wally; I shoved the coffee table ever so slightly so that you would stub your toe right before you were sent off to school." "It was me who made your mother and father see your adult magazine!" Thawne laughed as he heard what the boy did. Leaving after Eobard was defeated, leaving very confused Speedsters behind.

Next, Danny decides to become Ares, the God of War. This leads to a comical confrontation with Wonder Woman. Ares is perplexed by how this young boy possesses his godly powers, and Diana is equally confused by the mysterious demigod child.

The one he had most fun was the Ra's al Ghul cosplay, complete with a sword. Danny found himself entangled in a battle between the League of Assassins and Green Arrow with his sidekick Speedy. Ra's was puzzled by this unexpected child version of himself, and Green Arrow can't help but be amused and confused by the whole situation. After the battle, Danny poured the ectoplasm from his bottle on the ground and jumped into it. Which made it look like Green Arrow and Ra's that Danny just jumped into Lazarus water and was swallowed by it.

Sinestro and Hal Jordan were bewildered by the appearance of a child wearing a Yellow Lantern ring. The notion of such a young Yellow Lantern throws them off balance during their battle. Sinestro and Hal Jordan are utterly baffled as to why a child could even wield the power of fear.

Dressed up as the Ocean Master, Danny intervenes in a conflict between Aquaman and Aqualad against the vengeful Ocean Master. Initially mistaking him for Orm's son, Arthur planned to talk with the boy, only for him to leave after the fight.

When Danny dons the Lex Luthor Warsuit, he finds himself in a confrontation with Superman, catching the attention of Lex Luthor. Lex is intrigued by the young boy's capabilities and is somehow proud of him, even though they aren't fighting on the same side. If Lex sees potential in him and contemplates offering some guidance, the boy would go far. The Suit was like his own.

At Last, The Mr. Freeze Costume, Danny intervenes in a showdown between Batman, Robin, and Mr. Freeze in Gotham City. The Caped Crusader is intrigued by this young "villain" and contemplates whether the boy can be taught to use his abilities responsibly. As Danny was just talking about Dr. Victor Fries inventions and theories, Victor saw that the boy had good ideas and theories.

Danny had his fun, and he tried to return home, only for the portal not to work.

He used it many times and had to wait a short time. Well, what are a few days here?

[mysterycitrus]

hihihi! tim drake in college real?

oog indeed mein freund

so ur tim drake, ur seventeen, and ur dad has just come back from the dead. u hollowed urself out until there’s nothing left and ur ribs are broken but you’ve never felt better. if u stop moving for more than a second the weight of the world hits u. there’s another kid wearing ur uniform and u have to watch as this new robin and bruce, the bruce u fought for, the bruce u left everything behind for, the bruce u nearly died for, debut as gothams dynamic duo. but it’s fine. u did what u had to do. u feel great, actually.

then ur brother who u love more than anything sits u down and tells u he’s enrolled u in college in california. ur so angry ur spitting. he trusts u and now he’s not even giving u the choice to stay. u want to kick and scream and hold on till ur hands are bloody, but he tells u that he’s worried. he’s been so scared for u since ur dad died. he thinks ur losing urself. he wants u to make choices for urself without bruce. he wants u to spend time with ur friends who are alive again and miss u. he wants u to take a chance to live ur life away from gotham, away from that burden.

he tells u: robin is never truly gone, alright? it’ll never leave. i need u to trust me that it’ll still be u no matter how many other kids wear the cape. i need u to trust that i love u more than what ur able to do in tights.

and he knows this better than anyone. he’s asking u to extricate tim drake from robin and batman and red robin. to remember what it felt like to choose. and after all these years u can’t say no, so u pack ur bags and leave for the west coast.

college is fine. u keep changing majors. u pick up photography as a joke, thinking about snapping photos of the boy wonder from a distance, to print in the basement dark room after school. it’s a laugh, and ur gonna drop it until donna troy finds out, and u spend a long time on the roof of the tower with her taking photos of the sunrise. it’s been a while since the sunrise was the start of ur day. it feels….. unfamiliar. she tells u about how ur brother became nightwing. she tells u about the heartbreak of having to move on. she tells u about choices.

kon’s right down the hall. he can hear u but u can’t hear him, so sometimes you’ll whisper a question for him to shout back. he obligingly poses for ur still life class. he and steph make fun of how u can’t decide what to study. it’s painful to become tim drake and nothing else again, but it happens in increments. u make friends with people in ur tutoriasl. ur less pale — u pinken under the sun easily, peeling flesh turning red and painful, but u look less like a corpse. ur hair is longer, and bart buys u a claw clip shaped like an avocado.

the new robin is growing up, and he explains colour theory to u for one of ur classes. he’s an asshole, but he’s trying. when asked politely, he draws character sheets for bart’s dnd group with minimal grumbling. red and yellow suit him, and looking at him in the costume feels less painful, and more nostalgic.

u brainstorm new ideas for urself, new roles, new ideas for the team, but there’s no rush. u have time. if u see bruce, u kno there’s someone else at his back, watching him through the night. dick texts u life updates, but they’re funny, not desperate. the world continues to spin. u, tim drake, are still alive.

[haveihitanerve]

Bruce watches Steph, at his side, and memorizes the lines in her face, the tilt of her smile, the spark in her eyes, and tries to pull it away from the images before her. All those who wore the red green and yellow. There is such anger in her, anger he can see in the curl of her fists, in the tenseness of her shoulders. But she covers it, buries it. Replaces it with a smile, a laugh. Unfurls her fingers to help someone to their feet, to give someone a high five, to twine them with his, instead. Bruce can see Jason in every aggressive exhale, every backflip and jump, trusting Bruce to be there to catch her. He can hear Dick in every pun, every funny quip, every bit of sass she throws at him, as easy as her smiles, when he says something she disagrees with. She’s never shy with her opinion of him. He can feel Tim in every hug, with every cock of her head as she scans a crime scene, the way her fingers drum against his thigh, or his head, or his back when she’s thinking. And it hurts. These memories, these reminders of the Robins that have come before. Of the Robin that have all fulfilled their namesake and flown from the nest. Robin means moving on, but Bruce is selfish. He wants her to stay, wants them all to stay, huddled beneath his cape. He knows, probably before she does, that she doesn’t need the Robin cape. That she’s ready for a different color. That the yellow and red and green don’t suit her. He wonders, idly, in the back of his mind, if black would. But he lets her pretend, lets her run at his side, and he treasures every comment, every sly smile, every hug. She craves the touch the way Dick did, the way Jason and Tim did. And he hates it. Hates how they all needed it. That he was the first one to actually offer it to them. Comforting touch. Safe touch. Non violent touch. He keeps her, selfishly, at his side, keeps her beneath the Robin colors, keeps her at the Manor. She deserves more, she deserves to fly free, just as the others have done, but she is content, for now, to follow his lead, to grapple a second after him, instead of before. And Bruce is selfish. And he lets her. He knows, deep in his heart, it will not last. That she will tire of the colors as all the others have, but the thought settles in his chest, cradled and nurtured by his heart, protected by his ribs. Robin moves on. But she has not. Not yet. And he will keep her for as long as she allows, he will admire her in the cage that is Gotham, the cage that is his presence. “Batman?” Her chirp, as much the bird as she is named after, is cautious, but fond. “You still with me B?” He smiles, because he can, because she’s here, because she deserves it, and she offers him one of her grins in return. “I’m with you.” He confirms. And as she loads her grapple gun, cocking her head at him in question, he knows it’s true. He fires his own, letting the sound of her shot comfort him, thrum through his body like a second heartbeat, and whispers the words to himself, to her, a promise. “I will always be with you.”

[comicchats]

My biggest comic pet peeve is whenever artists draw nightwing/jason/tim as Robin when someone's already taken over the mantle, and they use the wrong design.

Like, if Robin has long green pants instead of scaly shorts, I will assume it is Tim Drake. Not Dick Grayson.

While Dick (left) and Jason (right) had near identical outfits, their builds and facial shape are the biggest giveaways for which Robin we're dealing with. Dick is a lot leaner and taller, where Jason is a big shorter, but naturally more bulky. And even that is so inconsistent that 9/10 times I just end up guessing

Tim started the trend of having a long pants, as well as a blacck cloak for decreased visibility. This is partially attributable to Tim's Robin having been largely a solo stint, solving most of his cases on his own, while Bruce did the same elsewhere in town, instead of being the bright perskn contrasting Batman's dark blue. This suit stayed mostly the same, except that in the final years before he took on Red Robin (2007-2009) his suit became red to match the animated series. (In universe, this was the "I'm so emo everyone is dying" phase)

Damian's main alterations are immediately clear, as he clearly favours black and red colours, limiting the green.

With all that said, which Robin is depicted in the image below?

This image from worlds finest: Teen Titans, and it depicts Dick Grayson.

The fully yellow cape might've given away that it wasn't Tim, and while Damian did have a double sides yellow cape, his pants were black.

In fact, the only time I recall ever seeing the fully yellow cape combined with green full-length pants was in a pre-crisis story where Jason Todd grew up as a blonde circus kid with Dick, so he put on Dick's old trapeze costume.

While it shouldn't be consequential at all, I wish the authors tried to give the Robins distinct constumes as kids, or at least kept the main elements from when they were actually Robin.

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking (reader and steve get drunk lolz), random guy at a bar being an asshole

summary: in which it's a halloween night full of partying, fun, and maybe one too many drinks

author's note: ohohoh this was so fun to write !! happy (almost) halloween<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have laughed.

Because doing so did not help in convincing Steve that the costume he was wearing did not look ridiculous, and instead your laugh only made him frown at you.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just a bit surprised to see how you looked.”

You didn’t expect the Robin costume you got for Steve to shock you as much as it did, and it was mainly because of the green pants he had on; because perhaps they were a bit too green. It confused you a bit because the pants hadn’t looked that overbearing and bright when you bought them from the costume shop— but, granted, it had still been in the bag with the rest of the clothing items for the costume, so you didn’t get to see too much of the pants. And with the red shirt he had on that had the signature “R” logo in the corner of it, for a split second, Steve looked more like Christmas personified than Robin, and that was what made you laugh. It wasn’t even a full laugh, it was more like a breath of a laugh. 

“Why can’t I be Batman and you be Robin?”

“Because that’s not an accurate representation of us,” You answered him immediately. “I’m clearly the Batman in this friendship. And I’m older.”

He rolled his eyes at you and you knew exactly what that eye roll said— “You’re only two fucking months older than me.”

“Why can’t Robin be Robin?” He asked. 

“You already know the answer to that. She and Vickie are doing some vampire couples costume thing.”

Robin being a part of the costume had been the initial plan— Steve would’ve been Batman, Robin would’ve been Robin, and you would’ve been Catwoman. But, when Robin bailed so that she could do the couple’s costume with Vickie, you refused to be Catwoman anymore because you didn’t want to spend the night constantly telling people that you and Steve weren’t dating and just decided to do a duo costume that looked way too obviously as a couple’s costume for “fun.”

“And we can’t even change the costumes now because we have to be at The Hideout in an hour,” You reminded him. They were having a Halloween party there and Eddie’s band would be playing at some point during the night, they were all going dressed as zombies, and a handful of other bands were going to be playing too. “You should’ve tried this on yesterday when I bought it.”

Steve only rolled his eyes at you again even though he knew you were right. You hopped off the kitchen counter and followed him as he walked back into his room. You sat down on the side of his bed and he went into his bathroom, looking in the mirror and running a hand through his hair. 

“Robin’s the cuter one of the duo, anyway,” You told him. “Girls will love it.” 

Steve still didn’t say anything yet, so you took that as your cue to keep going. “You should change the pants. These ones are way too bright and they kinda hurt my eyes. Maybe put on those darker green ones you have. People will still easily understand the costume, so it’ll be okay. And the rest of the costume is perfectly fine. Also, when you put the yellow cape on it’ll tie everything together.”

He still stayed quiet so you got up and walked over to where he stood still looking at himself in the mirror, and you poked his arm. “Can you please say something so I can stop giving you an ego boost by rambling about how good you’ll look tonight?”

Steve laughed a bit. “No, you should keep going.”

That time you rolled your eyes at him. “Ha ha. Fuck you.” You walked out of the bathroom and started heading to the bedroom door. “Anyway, I’m gonna put my costume on and then we should take a few shots before Vickie and Robin come get us.” 

“I thought we were gonna keep things mostly PG tonight?” Steve asked as he began rummaging through his closet for the pants you mentioned. “Because of what happened two nights ago.” 

Somehow you simultaneously winced and laughed at the mention of that Wednesday night. Where you and Steve sat in the living room drinking and watching random bad movies he brought home from Family Video; the alcohol actually managed to make the movies somewhat bearable to watch. It was an impulsive decision that left you both with horrific hangovers in the morning as you forced yourself to go to class and Steve begrudgingly went to his twelve o’clock shift.  

“Okay, I know that we’ve still only barely recovered from that night, but you don’t have to work tomorrow, and I’m not gonna have any school shit to worry about, so tonight we can just have fun without any of the consequences of what happened last time.” You turned around and smiled at him. “The type of fun that involves a lot of alcohol. And it’s Halloween so I feel like it’s bad luck if we don’t partake in underage drinking.”

“Very solid points.” 

“I’m gonna pretend that you weren’t being sarcastic right then and instead just believe that you actually do agree with me,” You said before finally leaving his room and walking toward yours. 

Your costume was already lying on your bed— a black cropped shirt with the signature Batman emblem on it, a black cape, and black jeans that were probably the tightest pair of pants you now owned but they made your butt look great so you overall counted them as a win. Getting dressed took no longer than five minutes, but then you spent an extra five minutes rummaging through your closet to find your black hightop Converses until you remembered that they were probably buried in the heap of shoes that always sat by the front door. You knew that wearing anything other than sneakers would’ve probably been better for the look of the costume, but last year you made the mistake of wearing heeled boots with your pirate costume, and although they did make the outfit look great, your feet were absolutely dead in the morning and you never wanted to experience that pain again. Therefore, tonight, sneakers would be the way to go.

You noticed Steve in the kitchen— with his pants changed and the rest of the costume on— when you left your bedroom and started heading toward the shoe pile by the front door. You reached into the pile, pushing aside a pair of his Nikes and then grabbing your Converses. 

Steve opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out the bottle of tequila. You stopped tying your shoes for a second and looked up at him, immediately noticing how the bottle was close to empty. 

“Jesus, I didn’t think that we devoured so much of it the other night,” You said as Steve opened up a different cabinet to grab two mugs to use as makeshift shot glasses. 

“I vaguely remember us saying that if we drank more, the bad movies we were watching would start to actually make sense,” He said with a laugh as he started pouring. You couldn’t help but laugh with him because that sounded exactly like the type of drunken logic the two of you would have. “Also, I really wish Robin hadn’t bailed on the group costume because you look much cooler than me right now.” 

You only laughed more at his words as you went to grab two sodas from the fridge. “Next year, you can take full reign over our costume decision and I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

He smiled at you. “I will fully hold you to that.” 

“I’m already scared for whatever you end up deciding,” You said as you picked up one of the mugs and then Steve grabbed the other. “But, anyway, cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn’t remember exactly where Steve or Robin or Vickie were, but with your slight inebriation that realization didn’t worry you that much.

You had tasked yourself with grabbing more drinks for yourself and Steve from the crowded bar, but before you could even walk up to the counter, a guy dressed as a cowboy stopped you and decided to start a conversation. 

It was pretty dark and the music was loud, so you could barely make out what he was saying after he said his initial “hello,” but with the way he was smiling at you it was fairly easy to tell that he was flirting. And even though you were tipsy and he was a little bit cute, you weren’t in the mood to reciprocate. 

“I should go,” You interrupted him for the first time in the past five minutes. You attempted to make your voice sound as nice as possible because it was easier to say that excuse instead of the entire truth, which was that you simply didn’t want to talk to him. “I gotta get back to my friends.” 

Either the guy didn’t hear what you said or he decided to completely disregard it all because he said, “I’ll buy you a drink.” 

“No, thanks,” You told him, making sure your voice was loud enough so that he could clearly hear your answer.   

“Come on, let me be the Robin to your Batman, or better yet you be the Robin to my Batman,” He said and before you could scoff and roll your eyes and simply walk away, he reached out to firmly grab your waist. 

You immediately pulled away from him and were about to say something along the lines of “Fuck you,” but you were interrupted by arms circling around you from behind; it was a touch that felt so familiar that you instinctually leaned into it. 

“She already has a Robin to her Batman so fuck off,” Steve said and you had to try your hardest not to laugh at his words. It was always in moments like these, where guys were being dicks and didn’t take no for an answer, that you’d happily play the fake dating card with Steve. 

When the guy walked away, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t make out, you turned to face your friend and leaned in close to him so that he could hear you over the music. “Thank God for you, Steve Harrington.”

His mouth was close to your ear. “I knew that I shouldn’t have let you go alone to get the drinks.” 

“You were chatting up that girl dressed as Tinker Bell, so I thought I’d be a good wingwoman and walk away.”  

“She left with her friends.”

From the sound of his voice, it was hard to tell if he was sad about it or didn’t really care. “As your wingwoman, should I help you go after her?”  

He shook his head. “No, it’s okay, she was a little boring.” 

“Got it,” You responded with a quick nod. “Can we get a drink now? Talking to that asshole sobered me up too much.”

Steve glanced at the bar. “Eddie’s supposed to be on in five minutes and the bar looks even more crowded than it was ten minutes ago.”

It was your turn to look in that direction and you immediately knew that with the amount of people surrounding the counter, you and Steve would be waiting there for much longer than just a few minutes. 

“Fuck,” You mumbled and then looked back at Steve. “Okay, let’s go back to Robin and Vickie. Aside from helping to get that random guy away from me, I’m even more glad you’re here right now because I fully don’t remember where we were standing.”

“I had a feeling that would happen too,” He said with a small laugh before slipping his hand into yours and leading you toward your other two friends. 

There was no way you would’ve been able to find the semi-secluded corner near the stage that Robin and Vickie were standing by if it weren’t for Steve, and you made a mental note to not leave his side for the rest of the time all of you were at The Hideout. 

“Woah, no drinks?” Robin said when she noticed you two. She and Vickie were holding hands and once again seeing them in their matching vampire costumes made your heart squeeze at how adorable they were. “Are you two actually gonna be sober like us for the night?”

“I’m sorry, but that won’t be happening. But, I do promise that I’ll be the best and most functional drunk person ever so you don’t get super annoyed with me,” You said, smiling at her, and when Steve laughed at your words, you playfully elbowed him. 

“I love you, truly, but I kinda doubt that will happen,” Robin responded but still smiled back at you. “Oh, also, like five minutes ago, Vickie ran into this girl she knows and she told us about this party happening two towns over. We should go to it after Eddie’s set.”

“I don’t know the guy throwing it, but apparently, his house is huge,” Vickie chimed in and you nodded.

That was probably one of your favorite parts about this stupid little holiday; how quickly plans could change or be adjusted, and most of the time it would lead to you having more fun than you had initially anticipated. And plus you’d rather have free drinks at the house of this random guy than buy more at this bar or any other one.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The time was inching closer and closer to midnight and the party seemed as if it was at its absolute peak. So much so that Vickie had to park on a completely different block because of how crowded with cars the actual street was. 

Steve was carrying you on his back as you all walked to the house; he had been reluctant at first but ultimately couldn’t say no to your persistent “pleases.”

“This reminds me of last Halloween when your feet were hurting because of your shoes, so I also gave you a piggyback ride then,” He said and then glanced down. “This time you’re wearing sneakers, though, so this feels a little unnecessary.”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you. “This is always necessary, Steven.” 

Robin and Vickie were a few feet behind you two, hands intertwined as they went into a conversation that went unheard by you and Seve because you were laughing at him saying that him carrying you right then proved why he should’ve been Batman tonight.  

“And they’ve never dated before?” Vickie asked and Robin immediately shook her head. 

“No, it’s never happened. It’s weird. They’re weird,” She answered as she continued looking at you and Steve. Sometimes she felt as if the idea of you two dating was something that she could see as clear as day— it did seem like it would just make so much sense. But nothing ever happened, and at this point of knowing the two of you, she honestly didn’t think it ever would. “They seem like they’d be perfect together, but I also think the world would implode if they ever tried something.”

Vickie laughed a bit at her girlfriend’s words. “Aw, well, I think they’d be cute.”

It was only thirty minutes into the four of you being at the party and you could finally say that you were no longer just tipsy. You’d probably end up regretting this in the morning because of the hangover that was imminent, but right then, you were glad you were drunk because it finally made your pants feel completely bearable. And Steve was as intoxicated as you were, maybe even more so because it somehow took little to no convincing to get him to play dumb games with you. 

It started out as truth or dare, but then one of the dares was to do a round of hide and seek, and then you decided to do more rounds of it because since both of you were drunk, it made the childish game even more fun to play. And since you were in a place that you two were completely unfamiliar with, it also made it funnier to play.

You weren’t sure whose turn it had been— who was the hider and who was the seeker— but you and Steve somehow ended up outside in the backyard, lying side by side on the grass and staring up at the sky. And you were laughing at a joke that you now couldn’t remember if it had been you or Steve who told it— you honestly couldn’t even recall the joke itself, but you just knew it had been funny. 

You shifted and turned on your side to face Steve and after a moment he did the same. 

“Thank you. For always being there for me,” You told him and then lifted your head so that you could kiss him on the cheek. “You’re quite literally the best person in my life.”

He shook his head at you, a small smile gracing his lips. “You always get so sentimental when you’re drunk.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s the only time I let myself get super cheesy with you, Stevie.” Your drunkest of moments were also usually the only times when that nickname would come out. “But, I do hope you know that even though I don’t say it all the time, I always do feel this way. I always think about how insanely fucking glad I am to have you in my life.” 

“Don’t worry, I know.” He nodded at you and then smiled wider. “And I’m insanely fucking glad to have you in my life too.” 

He was Steve. Your Steve. Your best friend Steve. The Robin to your Batman. That couldn’t change. Ever.

So, why the fuck did you get the sudden urge to kiss him on the mouth instead of that all-too-familiar spot on his cheek again? 

Of course, you didn’t do it, and, of course, neither did Steve. Instead, a silence settled over the two of you for a bit.

“Come on, let’s head back in,” Steve said after a few moments. Somehow he was always the logical one in moments like these. 

Still, though, you felt the tiniest bit disappointed. But, you’d completely forget about that feeling, that fleeting thought, by the morning. 

Steve stood first and then reached out to pull you up. One of your hands was still intertwined with his when you walked back into the house. 

The party was still in full swing, and when the front door opened and a handful of new people walked in, that didn’t necessarily shock you. But it did make you smile widely at the people coming in because you recognized a familiar face. 

“Eddie!” You immediately went over to him, practically falling into his arms as you hugged him.

Since, due to your drunkenness, you’d actually forgotten that you all told him about the party after his band finished their set and he said he’d meet you there later, it felt like so much more of a coincidental, happy accident that he was there right then. You weren’t even fazed by his zombie costume, which had freaked you a little earlier because of how good and realistic it looked. 

“Hi!” He exclaimed, matching your enthusiasm while also smiling and laughing at your current antics. “You’re drunk.” He then looked at Steve who was behind you. “Wow, and you are too.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

Eddie laughed a bit. “I can just see it all over you, Harrington.”

You stopped paying attention to their conversation and let your mind wander as you looked around at all of the random people in the house that were dancing and laughing with their friends.  

I should get another drink.

“That’s a bad idea,” Eddie said to you. 

You laughed as you looked at him. “I didn’t even realize I said that out loud.”

“Another reason why both of you need to be cut off for the rest of the night.” 

You knew that he was right, but that didn’t mean that you had to outwardly agree with him. Instead, you smiled at him and said, “I never thought I’d see the day where Edward Munson became the mom of the group.”

“Sometimes I like to turn over a new leaf,” He gave you a wry smile back and then poked your side which only made you laugh. “Where are Robin and Vickie?”

“That’s a good question,” Steve said and looked around for a quick second before meeting your eyes. “Do you remember the last time we saw them?” 

“I’m pretty sure it was right before we started playing truth or dare,” You answered and tried to think about exactly how long ago that was, but failed to do so because your memory felt too fuzzy right then. “I have no perception of time right now, so that could’ve been hours ago, honestly.” 

“It’s actually kind of funny how you two always somehow end up playing that game whenever we go to parties,” Eddie said. 

Steve shrugged. “It’s a stupidly fun game to play when drunk.”

“We also played a lot of hide and seek tonight,” You added and smiled.

Eddie only shook his head and laughed a bit. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Eddie, if you’re feeling left out, we can play another round of hide and seek with you.”

He playfully rolled his eyes at you. “Don’t worry, I’ll live.”

“Oh, there they are,” Steve said, and when you looked in the direction of where he was pointing, you saw Robin and Vickie sitting on the couch in the living room and watching the movie that was playing on the huge television. The most random scene was on right then, and the sound coming from the TV could not be heard over the loud music that was playing throughout the house, but you immediately recognized the movie as Friday the 13th; which was actually pretty fitting because even though it wasn’t literally Friday the 13th, it was at least a Friday.

You then realized that the time was probably so far past midnight, so maybe it actually wasn’t fitting anymore. But, it was still a Halloween party, so technically any scary movie could work. 

Your mind then started listing off other scary movies you didn’t mind watching— Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining—  and you suddently couldn’t remember why you were even thinking about scary movies in the first place.

Eddie was definitely right; you really didn’t need another drink. 

“Hey,” Steve said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Eddie was now sitting with Robin and Vickie and watching the silently playing movie with them, and you and Steve were turned around leaning back against the couch. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Batman?” 

You laughed for no particular reason aside from how nice it felt to do so right then. 

“I think I’m starting to hit my peak. So, I need to capitalize off of this feeling before things start going downhill and I start begging Vickie to take us home so that I can pass out in bed.” You looked up at Steve and met his eyes. “Are you down for a few more rounds of hide and seek?”

His mouth quirked upward in a small smile. “Always.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt like you were choking, and that feeling was what pulled you out of your sleep. Your eyes were still closed as you reached up to touch your throat and immediately felt that your cape was still buttoned around your neck, but it felt so much tighter than how it did last night.

Your eyes opened just a bit and you saw Steve sleeping next to you, and you also noticed that you were in his room. He was on top of the blanket, still fully in his Robin costume, and you were under the covers. Somehow your cape had gotten tangled up underneath the pillow Steve was laying on. You groaned as you unbuttoned it, finally breathing normally. 

You shut your eyes again, trying to will yourself back to sleep because you felt like you could use a thousand more hours. But, for some reason, you couldn’t fall asleep, and instead all your mind could focus on was Steve’s soft snoring. 

Anytime you two ended up sleeping in the same bed or same room, his snoring rarely ever annoyed you, but this time it managed to do the opposite. And now you also needed to pee. 

With a sigh, you got out of the bed and padded over to Steve’s bathroom. You kept the light off because you refused to see how you looked right then, and also because the abrupt brightness would’ve only contributed to your growing headache. 

Steve was awake when you exited the bathroom. He was on his back, eyes open as he looked up at the ceiling. 

“You almost woke up next to a corpse,” You told him, your voice actually sounding much more hoarse than you expected it to be. 

He turned to look at you. “I feel like a corpse.”

“You were sleeping on my cape. I was almost strangled to death.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“I don’t really understand why we didn’t change out of our costumes when we got home. I also don’t remember why I decided to sleep in your bed,” You said as you got back in bed and pulled the blanket over you again. You tried to think back to last night, when you and Steve got back to the apartment, but right then it felt too hard to put the pieces of what happened together and you felt too hungover to do so. “Where are my pants?”

“I slightly remember you saying something about how much you “fucking hated them,” so you took them off before you got in my bed,” Steve answered.

You laughed. “Okay, yeah, that sounds familiar.”

He sat up, letting out a tired groan in the process, and started getting out of bed. “I need a shower.” 

“Me too,” You agreed with a nod but still leaned back and let your head fall against the pillow. “But, I also really wanna go back to sleep.” 

“We can be lazy on the couch all day,” Steve suggested. “Watch random sitcoms and order takeout for lunch and dinner.” 

His words were enough to get you of the bed and you smiled at him. “I love that idea.”

It wasn’t until you were in your room that you finally noticed that the time was somehow only nine in the morning. A part of you felt like it should be illegal for you to be up this early after the night you’d had, but your shower was helpful at washing away most of your tiredness and dull headache. 

When you emerged from your bathroom thirty minutes later wearing your favorite hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, you smelled coffee in the kitchen. 

“You’re awesome. You’re amazing. I love you. Thank you so much,” You said to Steve when you walked into the kitchen and he handed you a warm mug.  

“No problem,” He told you before taking a long sip from his own mug. “Also, while I was in the shower I had a thought; no more drinking for us. Not until Thanksgiving when we have to deal with our families, and alcohol is the only thing that will make getting through that holiday bearable.”

You nodded at that. “I completely agree.”

You were about to open the fridge to grab the carton of milk so that you could add some to your coffee, when you noticed the new polaroid picture that was hanging on it, pinned up by the Statue of Liberty magnet you and Steve got in New York when you took a trip there back in June.  

“When did we take this picture?”

Steve looked at the polaroid and his eyebrows furrowed. “I honestly can’t remember.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “We look so drunk, holy shit.”

So drunk but also so happy. Your cheeks were squished together so that you both could fit in the frame and happy drunk smiles took over your faces. You could tell by how much of a close up the picture was that you were the one that took it. 

It was a little funny, but also sort of fitting, seeing that picture among the other ones already on the fridge— including a group photo of the kids when they spent the night over at the apartment just a week ago, and one of Eddie smiling and holding your and Steve’s shared pet hamster, Harold. 

You grabbed the black Sharpie that was someohw always sitting on the kitchen counter— perhaps it was for this exact reason— and you wrote on the empty white space at the bottom of the new polaroid. 

Halloween ‘85. Batman & Robin.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[ao3sbatfamily]

'Free Range Criminal Collection' by mauvera

Author: @mauverawrites

“No.”

“He's literally right here. Just take ‘im.”

Jim looks down at the man that is indeed right there. “No.”

While it is difficult to tell under the helmet, Jim is pretty sure that the Red Hood is staring at him, mouth agape.

“Gordo,” Hood tries, “this is literally your job. And I already did the hard bit. He’s been got. I got him. Now you take him. That's how it works.”

Jim doesn't move an inch. He just picks one of the blank white lenses in front of him and stares right back. 

“I'm not on duty.”

The vigilante in front of him doesn't twitch, but Jim remembers a much smaller boy in a bright yellow cape who used to try and bum smokes off of him when Batman wasn't looking. So he doesn't really have it in him to be intimidated by a shiny red helmet and a bunch of muscles. 

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

One Bad Day....Jason's Death

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 8. Panic Attack, 12. Character Death, 23. Begging, 31. Crying, Alt. 13. Grief Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Batmom, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd Summary: Before Red Hood rescued her, before she was in prison, before she killed The Joker, Batmom experiences one of the most devastating losses of her life. Word Count: 5587 TW: Canon Character Death, Mentions of Torture, Brief Description of Injuries, Grief, Breakdown, Tears, Anger, Character Picks Up Reader Note: This is part of the One Bad Day.... series but can be read as a one-shot (though best to be read after Part 3)Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event.

Series Masterlist

It has been three days since you have heard from either Bruce or Jason and you are starting to get worried. Actually, you are way past worried—you are terrified. Something is wrong, you can feel it in your gut. A gnawing queasiness deep in your stomach that has you unable to eat or sleep while you wait for some sort of news.

Usually, you wouldn’t give this radio silence a second thought. While Bruce tries to send some sort of word as often as he can while out of town, it just isn’t always possible. Especially when he is away on this kind of work. Batman is a force of secrets and mystery. He can’t always risk finding a way to call his wife to tell her he is alright. 

You pull the blanket that is draped over your shoulders tighter around you and continue pacing. Alfred had placed it there a few ago, the last time he had come to check on you. When you had first begun to worry, the butler had remained by your side providing constant reassurance and support. But after a while, once it became clear you wanted to be alone, he retreated upstairs. Occasionally, he returned to the Batcave to bring you some food, water, or something to keep you warm, but otherwise, he had been keeping his distance. However, you know the second you call for him, he will instantly be there to get you whatever he possibly can. If only he could get you the one thing you truly wanted right now….

As if summoned by your silent wish, you suddenly hear the distant roar of a familiar engine growing louder by the second. Whirling around, a huge smile of relief on your face, you turn just in time to see the Batmobile burst into the cave and come to a stop in its usual spot. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe again as the driver-side door opens up and you catch a glimpse of Bruce, still in his Batman costume though he has removed his cowl and gloves.

Throwing your arms open wide as you approach the car, you exclaim, “There’s my boys!” Bruce doesn’t look at you as he climbs out of the Batmobile and walks slowly over to the passenger side. “I was just about to send out a search party. How was Ethiopia? Did you find–”

You stumble to a halt, your smile slipping from your face. An icy vice clamps down on your heart as you see Bruce lift something out of the Batmobile: a small limp figure wrapped in a torn yellow cape that reveals small glimpses of the red suit underneath through the holes and tears. Though the cape is also draped across the person’s face, you know immediately who is under it.

“No….” you gasp as your blanket slips from your shoulders to pool at your feet. “No, no, Bruce, no. Please, no.” 

As you wait for Bruce’s response, you cling to that last fragile shred of hope that it’s not what you think, that maybe he’s just hurt under there or sleeping or…or…….

But as your husband silently walks past you and lays the body on one of the nearby tables, the drawn, pained expression on his face coupled with the tender care he takes carefully arranging it is the final confirmation you need. 

Dropping to your knees, you let out an almost inhuman wail as the truth of the situation slams into you like a nuclear blast. Your baby’s gone. Jason is dead. And you have lost yet another child. 

You collapse forward, your forehead pressing hard against the cold cave floor as another wail tears through your chest. No. It can’t be true. Jason has to be alive. He has to be. Oh please, God, please don’t tell me you’ve taken my baby from me. Not again. Please.

As you continue to sob—worldless howls of grief and pain—you feel Bruce drape himself over you as if trying to shield you from this agony….but it’s too late. The damage has already been done and you have been irreparably broken.

In what seems like hours later, once you have exhausted yourself to the point you no longer have the energy or tears left to cry, Bruce sits back and pulls you carefully into his lap. As you lay curled in his arms with your head resting on his chest, you can feel his heart beating beneath you—so strong and steady—and it hits you that you will never again feel Jason’s heartbeat or hear him take a breath. All of those little signs of life you take for granted are just gone…and so is he.

Lifting your head to gaze up at your husband, you force your words through your aching throat, torn raw from all your screaming, and you ask, “What happened?” 

“The Joker,” Bruce says as he brushes a tear off your cheek. “He used Jason’s birthmother to lure him in, then he placed both of them in a warehouse that was rigged to explode. I arrived just as the bomb went off. I….I was too late to save him.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice breaking and the tears in his voice sends another jolt of pain into your heart and you nuzzle your head into his neck as you squeeze his hand. He silently squeezes back and you have to stifle a groan as you feel the bones in your hand shift and crack in his grasp, but you don’t say anything. You just let him continue to squeeze your hand long after the point it turns numb. 

You haven’t seen Bruce fall apart since the two of you lost the baby. Regardless of what heartbreaks or fights had come your way in the years since, Bruce had remained calm and stoic through it all. It’s just who he was. He was your rock, your lifeline in the roughest of waters, your source of comfort when you needed it the most—so the sight of him breaking adds another layer of grief to your own.

When he finally loosens his grip and you can tell he has regained some of his composure, you whisper, “Did he…. Did he hurt him before…?”

Bruce hesitates for a moment before murmuring, “You don’t need to know the details.” 

Which means yes. The Joker had probably tortured and beaten your baby bloody before blowing him up. Another sob threatens to tear from your lips, but you manage to quell it so it is just a whine deep in your throat. You had cried enough for the moment. Right now, you need answers and to come up with a plan. But first…you need something else.

Untangling yourself from Bruce’s arms, you unsteadily get to your feet and begin walking over to the table. Bruce leaps up when he sees what you are doing and he gently grabs your shoulders blocking your path. “Don’t. Sweetheart, just…just don’t. Trust me.”

“Let me go. I need to see him.”

You try to shrug him off but he holds you firmly in place. “No. You don’t. Don’t let that be the last image you have of him—I wish it wasn’t mine. He’s gone and seeing him like that won’t bring him back. So, I’m begging you, don’t.”

“Get out of my way, Bruce,” you growl as you glare up at your husband. “I need to see our son. I need to see what that monster did to him.”

For a moment, you aren’t sure what Bruce is going to do. His eyes flit across your face, trying to find the slightest hesitation he can grasp onto. But when he doesn’t find any, he sighs and slowly lowers his hands as he bows his head and whispers, “Please…Don’t look.”

But you have already pushed past him before he finishes his sentence.

You approach the table with a determined stride, yet you hesitate once you reach it. Jason was always a slight kid, even verging on scrawny, but he had never seemed smaller or more vulnerable than as your hand hovers over the cape still draped over him. Even that first night Bruce brought him home to you, he had so much fire and spirit in his little twelve-year-old body that his presence filled the room. Now, three years later, that fire and spirit had been extinguished and it hits you all over again how young he truly was—how young he would always be.

You feel Bruce come to stand just behind you but he doesn’t say a word. He has tried his best to stop you so now all he can do is wait for you to live with your decision and be there for the aftermath. Knowing he is right there for you gives you a renewed sense of strength and as you take a deep breath, you pull back the cape to look at your son. 

Bruce was right. You shouldn’t have looked.

Some of the damage you are expecting based on what Bruce told you. Burns litter Jay’s face and neck as well as his hands. In some places, they are light, almost invisible unless the light catches them just so. However, in other spots, the burns are so severe you can almost see down to the bone. His hands are the worst, so charred and blackened that you fear touching them despite the longing in your chest to hold his hand once more in yours. Looking at the burn patterns, it seems heartbreakingly clear that Jason had tried to protect himself from the blast by throwing his hands in front of his face…he had seen it coming.

Yet as horrible as that realization is, far worse is the damage you weren’t expecting to see on your son.

Beneath the burns and debris from the bomb, Jason’s body is broken, bruised, and bloody in ways that an explosion couldn’t have caused. One arm and leg jut out at odd angles and there are dark bruises all over his face, neck, and the parts of his torso you can see through his ruined suit. One eye is swollen and black, his nose is bent sharply to one side, and his lip is split open wide. You have seen enough blunt-force trauma up close and personal to understand what had to have caused all of this. 

Casting one last longing look at your son, you turn to face Bruce. You are visibly shaking, and when you speak, your voice is dripping with venomous fury, “Where is he?”

“Clark is tracking him down and he’ll alert me the second he finds him.”

“And then?” Bruce glances away, unable to look at you. Disbelief washes over you and you step closer to your husband. “Bruce, don’t tell me you are thinking of letting him live.”

“It’s not our place to–”

“He killed our son!” you hiss as you point to the body of the child you both loved. “Jason is—Jason is dead because of that maniac! We can’t let The Joker get away with this!”

“We won’t.” Bruce takes your face between his hands and bends over so his forehead is almost touching yours. “I swear to you, we will find him and throw him back into Arkham where he belongs.”

Wrenching from his grasp in disgust, you snarl, “For how long? A few weeks? A month if we’re lucky? Then he’ll just find another way to escape like he always does and he’ll hurt more innocent people, more people we love. How can you not see that this has to end? That it should have ended years ago.”

“My heart—” Bruce tries to take your hand but once again you snatch it away from him. “I know you don’t always agree with it, but we have a code. A code you agreed to follow when you joined me. And that code means that no matter what The Joker or anyone else does, We. Don’t. Kill. Otherwise, what makes us any better than them?”

“Maybe I don’t care about being better than them anymore. We’ve done things by the book, followed your rules, and where has that left us? Two dead children and a third who barely survived being shot. And you still talk about trusting the same system that allowed it to happen in the first place. Well, who’s next, Bruce? Who will be the next victim in your moral war? Alfred? Dick?....Me? Whose death will it take for you to realize that this won’t end unless we make it end?”

Bruce stares at you as if he is looking at a stranger and not his wife of ten years. Shaking his head slightly, he says, “I understand you’re hurting right now and you’re not thinking clearly. But once some time has passed and the feelings aren’t as raw, you’ll—”

“I’ll what? Forget my son is dead?” you snap.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean? Give it time and things will just go back to normal? That this pain will fade and I won’t care that my son was murdered?”

“Our son.”

“What?”

“Our son,” Bruce says. His voice has a sharp edge to it that momentarily takes you aback. “You keep saying ‘my son’ like you’re the only one who lost him. I know what you and Jay had was special but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him too, or that I’m not in agony right now. I had to watch, helplessly, as that warehouse exploded knowing I was too late to save him. Then, I dug with my bare hands for almost an hour through the wreckage praying for a miracle only to find—” Bruce presses his hand over his eye as he takes a long, slow, shaking inhale then continues “And then I had to fly home watching vigil over our son’s body, all the while dreading this moment. Knowing I was coming home to shatter the woman I love. But the only thing that made that thought bearable was knowing we could mourn together and lean on each other for comfort. Yet all you can focus on is revenge and murder!”

“No, Bruce. I’m focusing on keeping the family I still have safe. I’m focusing on protecting this city just as you swore to do. I’m focusing on ending terror and chaos in the streets. And if that means one psychotic clown has to die to make that happen, then so be it.”

“We do not cross that line. Ever. No matter who we think deserves it. That’s just how things have to be.”

“Don’t you get it! Jason would still be alive if you had just—” All of your fury evaporates instantly and you inhale sharply as you realize what you were about to blurt out. Bruce’s expression hardens into a stone-cold mask usually reserved for the most lowsome of criminals and, stumbling back, you stutter, “I-I mean…I—”

“If I had what? Say it. Say it!” Now it is your turn to not meet his eye yet he pushes on. “You were going to say that if I had just killed The Joker years ago, Jason would still be alive!”

“I didn’t mean it. It just slipped out,” you whisper. “I know this isn’t your fault, Bruce. You told him not to go but I encouraged him to do what he thought he had to do. That I would support whatever decision he made.” Your voice cracks as you choke out, “I sent our baby off to his death, not you.”

It is the thought that has been nagging at the back of your head since you saw Bruce lift Jason’s body from the Batmobile. The unbearable truth you’ve been unable to face. Bruce had known something felt off about the situation and he insisted Jason stayed home. But when Jason came to you saying he had found his birthmother and needed to go see her, you put your foot down and forced Bruce to take him. If you had just listened to Bruce, if you had just really examined the facts instead of wanting to show Jason you were supportive, your son would still be alive.

Suddenly, it felt like the walls of the Batcave were closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath. Stumbling back a few steps, you say, “I-I can’t do this. I have to get out of here.”

The anger in Bruce’s face disappears as quickly as it appeared. He reaches out to you with a soft, “Sweetheart—” but you continue to back away.

“No. No, I need to go. I-I need to be alone.”

Bruce nods slowly. “Alright. That’s okay. Why don’t you go take a long shower and lay down and I’ll take care of things down here. I’ll come check on you when I’m done.”

You nod back and hurry over to the stairs leading up to the manor. But just as you begin to climb them, you pause and mumble, “I’ll be in Jay’s room.” then flee up the stairs before Bruce can stop you.

Once back in the manor, you move in an almost trancelike state towards the bedrooms. As you pass the kitchen, you hear a soft sniffling and you realize Alfred must have come down into the Batcave at some point and seen what happened. You have been so preoccupied with your own grief, you completely forgot about the butler who loved Jason almost as much as you and Bruce did. 

Part of you wants to go back and join him. After all, Alfred always knows how to fix anything and everything and maybe, somehow, he can fix this too. Yet as much as it pains you to admit, there are just some things even Alfred Pennyworth can’t do. So you continue walking.

When you reach Jason’s room, you don’t even pause before opening the door and shuffling in. In one fluid movement, you collapse onto your son’s bed and roll over, dragging his comforter with you until you are cocooned beneath the blanket. 

It seems impossible that just three nights ago you were sitting on this very bed with Jason next to you as he told you about how he had been tracking down his birthmother. He had been so scared to tell you for fear he would hurt your feelings. But you had just gathered him into your arms and pressed your lips into his hair as you promised him you would always be his “Ma” regardless of what happened on his search. That you would always love him….

Tears you did not think you could still cry began slipping silently down your cheeks. What would you have done differently if you had known that was the last time you would see your son? What else would you have said to make him understand how much he meant to you? How he had saved you from your grief once before and how you still needed him now?

You bury your face deeper into his pillow as you finally allow yourself to ask the question that you know will haunt you the rest of your life:

Could I have saved you if I had been there?

For the next twelve days, little changes. The only time you leave Jason’s bed is to go to the bathroom, but otherwise, you lay curled in the center of his bed wrapped in his blankets and staring at his wall. Bruce and Alfred take turns coming to check on you several times a day, usually bringing food or drinks and trying their best to coax you into consuming something. You take a little nibble here and there or take a few sips of water, but it isn’t long before you return to your near catatonic state. 

Even when Dick arrives a few days after you learned of Jason’s death, it doesn’t make much of a difference. You do allow him to climb into the bed with you where you wrap him in a bone-crushing embrace, afraid if you let go you’ll lose him just like your other children. But eventually, he has to leave and you resume your solitary existence.

On day seven, Bruce slips into bed behind you and wraps his arms around you. For a long time, the two of you just lay there in silence. Then, softly, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “Please, sweetheart, please come back to me. I know you’re hurting. So am I. But I just lost Jason and I can’t….I can’t lose you too. Please, let me in. Let us help each other through this….Together.”

You know he’s right, and it kills you to know you are only adding to his heartbreak, but you just don’t have the strength or the will to be what he needs right now. So, you remain motionless in his embrace, your eyes never shifting their unseeing stare at the wall.

Eventually, Bruce accepts nothing is going to change. Pressing his lips to the nape of your neck, he whispers, “I love you. Please never forget that. And I’ll be waiting, as soon as you’re ready.” Then he slips from the bed and you are alone once more.

The next major change in your routine comes exactly two weeks after Jason’s death when Bruce and Alfred walk into Jason’s room holding a simple black dress. Silently, you allow them to put it on you before they lead you downstairs where Dick is waiting with the car. No one has to tell you where you are going. You already know.

For the short drive, Bruce sits next to you in the backseat, holding your hand tightly as he presses his lips against your temple with whispers of encouragement and love. You squeeze his hand back but make no other acknowledgment of his presence or support. You catch Dick glancing back at you in the rearview mirror a few times, concern etched on his face, and you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. That thought makes you withdraw even further into yourself in shame.

As Alfred pulls to a stop, you make no move to exit the car. Alfred and Dick both glance at Bruce for some sort of guidance as to how to proceed, and he motions for them to get out. Once you are alone, Bruce pulls you into his arms. “If I could spare you from this, you know I would. But we have to make some sort of public show or it’s going to look suspicious. And people are already asking questions. But I promise, the second we’re done, I’ll take you back up to the house. Okay?”

You nod, knowing he is right however much you despise it, and he smiles softly. Placing his finger under your chin so he can tilt your head back, Bruce kisses your forehead as he whispers, “That’s my girl.”

Then sliding his hand into yours, he opens his car door and steps out before helping you out. Immediately you are met with flashing lights and the whirring click of hundreds of cameras all pointed in your direction. You try to ignore them as Bruce leads you down the path lined with photographers and reporters, your face a blank mask void of any emotion. 

But that mask becomes harder to maintain as you hear the slight tittering of whispers passing through the crowd. And though you have over a decade of experience being the subject of Gotham’s rumor mill to get used to the kinds of things people say about you, these reach a new level of cruelty: 

“Look at the heartless whore. Can’t even spare a single tear for that poor boy Bruce so kindly took in.”

“I heard she didn’t even want to come today but Bruce insisted. Can you imagine? He deserves so much better.”

“She wasn’t even there when he died. Bruce planned a family trip overseas and she refused to go. She would rather stay here to be waited on hand and foot by that butler of theirs than spend time with her supposed family.”

“I bet she had something to do with the boy’s death. Probably didn’t want to share the Wayne fortune with anyone else. Bruce and the older boy should watch their backs. They could be next.”

You remember a time when you would have gone off on these people. Snapped back about how they didn’t know anything about you or your relationship with your family. Caused such a scene Bruce would have had to sheepishly drag you away while his face glowed bright red. But not today. Today all you want to do is curl up in a ball in front of them as you sob, asking how they can be so cruel or heartless to not see your pain or the devastation at your loss. How they could come here—here of all places—just to add to your suffering.

But you don’t. Instead, you allow Bruce to continue leading you forward until you stop in front of the freshly dug grave with the casket placed beside it.

Bruce (well, probably Alfred) had worked out all the details while you were locked in Jason’s room. A plot had been selected in the small graveyard on the edge of the Wayne estate, right next to where Bruce’s parents were buried. The casket is closed so you can’t see how they dressed Jay, but Bruce had promised you in the car that he tucked Jason’s Robin mask into his pocket like you asked. It was the only input you had given on the whole ceremony but it did make you feel a little better knowing he had it with him. 

To the world, this may just be the funeral of Jason Todd, but in reality, today you are burying two people, and you wanted to honor that.

Dick comes to stand next to you so you are sandwiched between him and Bruce. Though you don’t as much as glance in his direction, you are grateful to have your remaining son beside you. It is a calming reminder that not everyone has been taken from you. At least…not yet. 

As the ceremony starts, you hold your head high and stare straight ahead. It is harder than you thought, the weight of a hundred eyes boring into the back of your head, but you manage to remain calm and composed throughout the sermon.

It isn’t until they begin lowering the casket into the ground that everything goes wrong.

Unable to take your eyes off of the box containing your son as it disappears into the dirt, your body begins trembling violently as your knees give out underneath you. Luckily, Bruce catches you before you hit the ground but his touch does little to ease your trembling. 

Still staring at the casket, you begin repeating, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” 

Bruce pulls you tight against his chest, allowing you to bury your face into his jacket to muffle to sound. You claw desperately at the back of his suit, your chanting becoming more frenzied by the moment despite no longer looking at the grave. It’s just too much. All of it’s too much. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” 

Mercifully, Bruce gently lifts you into his arms and carries you back to the car. You cling tightly to him, your arms around his neck, even as you continue shaking and babbling, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

“Shhh….” Bruce coos gently. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You did so good. I know he’d be proud of you, just like I am. But it’s over now, and I’m taking you back to the manor just like I promised. It’s going to be okay.”

You nod into his neck as you finally manage to quiet down some. The words are still swirling in your head but at least they are no longer spewing from your lips. You thought you were stronger than this. You thought you could at least hold it together for an hour for your family’s sake, but you were so wrong. 

Even though it had been a closed casket funeral, knowing Jay was in there, seeing it disappear into the ground forever…it finalized everything in a way you hadn’t felt yet. All those days laying in Jason’s room, numb and disconnected from the world, you had distanced yourself from the reality of the truth. But there was no escaping it now. Jason was gone and there was nothing you could do to change that.

When you reach the manor, Bruce once again lifts you into his arms though you half-heartedly tell him you can walk on your own yet part of you is glad when he ignores you and continues to carry you up the stairs. You are somewhat surprised when Bruce returns you to Jason’s room without even asking. For some reason, you had assumed he would try to take you to the master bedroom to be with him.

You expect him to climb into bed or kneel down beside it, but once again he shocks you as he simply turns and walks to the door. He only pauses a moment to say, “I had Alfred put a fresh change of pajamas on the dresser.” Then he walks out and closes the door behind him.

You aren’t sure what to think about this. Has Bruce finally given up trying to reach you? Was he more embarrassed about your behavior at the funeral than he admitted? Or has he finally accepted you need time alone to deal with your loss? 

Still pondering his behavior, you climb out of bed and slip off the black dress you are wearing. Tossing it to the side, you walk over to the dresser to look for the clothes Bruce mentioned. The sooner you get them on, the sooner you can return to your blanket cocoon and lose yourself to your fog of grief once more. 

But as you spy the pajamas and you reach for them, your eyes land on something on the wall. Despite the fact today is May 11, Jason’s calendar is still turned to April. Since he left for Ethiopia on April 25th and was killed on the 27th, he never got the chance to change it. He would never know which classical author’s picture had been selected for May. Instead, Jason ran out of time and now it will forever be stuck on William Shakespeare.

Time….If only you had more time….

Three and a half years. That’s all the time you had with your son. It seems insane that someone who was in your life for such a short amount of time could leave such an impact on you, but there is no denying it. You know deep in your soul that you could not have loved Jason more if you had given birth to him or known him since the day he was born. He is your son just as much as Dick is, as much as the baby you had lost is, and now he’s gone too.

And it’s all because of The Joker.

For the first time since you had crawled into Jason’s room that first night, something besides sorrow stirs in your gut. The red-hot burn of vengeance that you have let your grief extinguish suddenly flares to life in your veins and your hands clench tightly on the edge of the dresser. 

Memories begin flashing through your mind: Sitting next to the bed, begging God to save an 18-year-old Dick as he clung to life after being shot by The Joker while on patrol; Monitoring the Batcomputer in horror as The Joker released his laughing gas throughout the streets of Gotham; Listening to Lt. Gordon’s sobs as he told Bruce what The Joker had done to Barbara;  Watching Bruce lift Jason’s lifeless body out of the Batmobile as your heart shattered in your chest.

He is responsible for all this death and this pain, year after year after year. He is the reason other villains think they can get away with whatever deadly scheme they have up their sleeves. He is why Arkham Asylum has become a swinging door deterrent that no one fears. He is the one who killed your son.

And he’s not going to get away with it any longer. 

Every cell in your body knows what has to be done, yet you also know the consequences if you do it. Is stopping this lunatic really worth destroying what’s left of your family? Can you really give up everything to ensure no one else ever feels this pain you are feeling?

You think about if your places had been reversed and it had been you who had been killed instead and there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that Jason would have burned the world down if it meant stopping The Joker. And if that’s true, how could you do anything less for your son?

With a newfound purpose driving you and a clear goal in your sights, you flip the calendar to May and pin it in place. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stares back at you as you press your finger to May 27th; 16 days from now and exactly one month after Jason’s death. That will be the day. The day you do what you should have done long ago. The day you will kill The Joker.

Taglist: @juliaarwj, @calsjack, @theclassicvinyldragon, @zebralover, @megumimind, @freerangesweets, @@lapidaverunt-scriptor, @kiryoutann, @charmellaposts, @imperialabysssins, @dawnwriterimagines, @avitute

[cookeybg]

The Colony Possessed - Chapter 2

Title: The Colony Possessed

Main Characters: Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

Narrators: Hal Jordan, Barry Allen, will add others as chapters progress

Honorable Mentions: Wally West

No romantic relationships

Stuff to Know: Cryptid Batfamily, maybe a bit spooky, Hopefully a bit amusing, Gotham LOVES Batman and she always will, it's concerning

[The Colony Possessed Table of Contents]

Chapter 2 - Barry knew he couldn't outrun his shadow

“Uncle Flash,” Wally jumped when an empty cardboard box fell to the ground, “I really think we should leave!”

Barry looked around nervously the hairs on his skin standing on end. He never even liked hearing about Gotham much less stepping foot in the accursed city, but here he was in his flash costume scoping out an abandoned warehouse that he knew was being used by Captain Boomerang. He just needed to find proof, which was proving to be difficult, what with all the spookiness the warehouse provided. How anyone in their right mind would live in this city, he did not know. Wouldn’t the rumors of bats personified and dead children protecting the weak be enough to rule this place out as reasonable living? They heard another echo of something falling and both Barry and Wally hugged each other, a squeak escaping their lips.

“Maybe we should come when there’s more light out,” Barry whispered.

Wally shook his head in the affirmative.

“Are you looking for this?” A clear voice echoed from the rafters.

“Who, who’s there!” Barry exclaimed.

A lithe figure somersaulted into view, landing precariously on a stack of boxes in front of them. From the little they could see of his face, he was extremely pale, black hair that blended with the darkness surrounding them, he was shapeless, shadowy, like a specter. Until he moved to stand up, his black cape, because that is what had been covering his body, revealed a bright yellow lining and his red and green clothes were so bright in contrast to their surroundings that it made the pair flinch. The maybe teenager, Barry realized he was young, lifted a boomerang to the meager light coming from a broken window.

“There’s rarely any sun here, so you would have to wait a while and by then all evidence would be gone. I’m Robin by the way.” Robin said casually, a wide smile appearing on his face, it gave Barry the creeps.

“Uh, yeah we were looking for something like that.” Wally said, slowly extricating himself from Barry.

“Where is Captain Boomerang now?” Barry asked, placing a hand on Wally’s shoulder to prevent him from walking any closer to Robin.

“Isn’t it rude to not introduce yourselves?” He pointed to Barry and then to Wally, “Flash, Kid Flash, it’s also rude to not send advanced notice of your coming.”

“We, weren’t even sure you existed.” Wally said, taking one more step forward.

Robin jumped off the the tower of boxes, they didn’t even teeter, he landed gracefully on his tiptoes the floor seemingly cushioned just for him and he bent towards Wally, his face mere inches from his.

“And now you do.” Robin’s smile widened further, his teeth looked human at least, no fangs.

Robin brought the shadows with him, their surroundings become darker, the figure blurrier, if he focused too intently on him, blackness and color fused like watercolors . Barry’s heart beat an even more rapid pace than it normally did, he wasn’t sure if he should pull his nephew away or push the colorful shadow, either way he was afraid that the thing might find it rude. He apparently already offended the thing, he didn’t want to make things worse. Robin shoved the boomerang to Wally’s chest and then threw a flash-drive towards Barry, who caught it with ease.

“Now leave,” Robin bent backwards slowly, looked at them through his legs, “Gotham doesn’t like trespassers,” He lifted his legs above his head effortlessly and threw himself into the air, the shadows coalesced around him and then his voice came from the rafters, “even less when they’re metas.”

Barry heard laughter to his right making him twist around, were there more of those things? He felt watched at all angles, it was unnatural. Wally on the other hand seemed entranced by the being they just met, he clutched the boomerang to his chest like one would a bouquet of flowers. Barry pulled Wally away and they rushed out of there as if the city had burned them. The shadows were alive in Gotham, a full body shiver ran down him, because there was one thing he knew for certain and that was that he couldn’t outrun his shadow.

[dailycass-cain]

My 10 Favorite Batgirls covers

You know something we never talk about much is some of the stunning covers Batgirls had (would you believe the series had over seventy-two different covers for a nineteen-issue run + Annual).

That's-- A LOT.

What happens when you get regular and virgin #1 covers that were available in other shops. Now these are my own preferences. I mean, to say the least, Batgirls covers never missed really. These are just my favs.

So are ten of my favorites plus a few honorable mentions.

Honorable Mention #1:

Batgirls #16 International Women's Day Variant by Lynne Yoshi. I just love the way everyone is framed in this with Babs being "the Batgirl" but in a past B&W motif while Cass/Steph are the present Batgirls being juxtaposed in color.

Honorable Mention #2:

Batgirls #12 90s variant by Paulina Ganucheau. I love the homage here the splashy page homage with a nice role reversal with Cass subbing for Tim here. My favorite Steph-centric cover.

#10

Batgirls #13 1:25 variant by Rian Gonzales. Her final one for the series, and man did she go out with a banger. Love the Powerpuff Girls homage with most of the supporting cast (Kyle, Maps, and Alyssa) with random Kon and Kate appearances.

#9

Batgirls #3 variant by Kim Jacinto. Jacinto would do a few variants for the series too, and this is my favorite one of them. Love that each had a fluidity with them but that up-close claw of Cass coming at ya is why this one is my favorite of Jacinto's Batgirls covers.

#8

Batgirls #1 the Glass Cabinet Hobbies variant by Dan Mora. This is one of those "store" exclusive variants, and probably my favorite Batgirls cover Mora did on the series.

I love the poses Cass/Steph have here, along with Bab's silhouette. I just LOVE the yellow dips down and to the right even making a rather striking cover. If anything negative I wish Babs was bigger and Dick was taken out of this cover altogether. Still love Bruce on the right though.

#7

#7 Batgirls #1 (though I forget which store had this exclusive) variant by Babs Tarr. If there's one thing I do enjoy about Burnside Batgirl it is the way Tarr drew Steph in it. Just captured that fun attitude perfectly. Also, love the first "official" drawing of her Cass.

I also love the homage to a famous Batman cover but the personalities of each Batgirl stand out in this one. Plus the pink just makes this one stand out and be so striking.

#6

Batgirls #14 variant 1:25 cover by Dan Hipp. Again, the pink is a nice striking contrast but Hipp one-ups it with the little details sprinkled throughout this cover. The easter eggs sprinkled in are PERFECTION here. Probably the best "layered" cover with so much behind it.

#5

#5 Batgirls #18 AAPI variant cover by Crystal Kung. The second of the two AAPI covers Cass got in the series, I love the colors in this one along with the pose Kung gives Cass here. There's that gremlin nature of Cass I love here.

Along with just the wash the background gets further back. I also love the secondary color Kung gives Cass's cape to make it stand out more.

#4

#4 Batgirls #17 cover by Jorge Corona. My favorite cover of the series with all three Batgirls in them. I love how Corona gets the personalities of the three in here while also the starry background along with the Clocktower. Sooo good.

#3

Batgirls #6 1:25 variant by Rian Gonzales. My favorite Gonzales cover of the series. I love the watercolors Gonzales does the most here. Just the wash of Gotham City in the background with Cass/Steph lying in the pool. Also Haley on the little batmobile float. SOOOOOOO CUTE!!!

#2

Batgirls #14 cover by Jorge Corona. The best issue of the entire series and the peak for me of Corona as well with his covers.

Just the somber mood of the cover sets the tone alone. I also LOVE the way Corona has Cass and Steph's capes here. The way each pop sells it all.

So if that's my #2, what can be my #1?

Well... something that just uplifts me anytime I look at it. Something you'd probably not truly expect.

#1

Batgirls #6 AAPI Heritage Month variant by Audrey Mok. There's just something every time that I look at this cover that fills me with a warm glee.

I adore Mok's use of Cass here and the way the traffic around her lights a part of her up. I adore the pose as well that mid-grapple swing too.

I love the "mini story" this one tells too. Just everything about this cover is perfection to me.

So there are my favorite Batgirls covers. This was tough! 😅What are your favorite Batgirls covers? Please share and comment on which ones are yours, or if you share the same as I do!

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

Batman au but Thomas Wayne lives

Thomas lives, and well Bruce has his Uber traumatised ready to murder people father.

Thomas becomes Batman, his favourite weapon is the gun that killed his wife and a scalpel bc he’s poetic like that.

Bruce being literally 8-10 is like

“dad where are you going don’t leave me!”

He has like really bad attachment issues now.

“Son I have to avenge your mother”

“dad, what-what are you going to do? Can I come with you?”

“no you can’t”

Bruce follows along anyway sneaking out to find his dad, he watches him suit up in his Batman suit it looks scary as fuck but little Bruce keeps following

(Thomas doesn’t have like Uber amazing fighting skills he’s just strong and a doctor”

little Bruce keeps following along making sure he doesn’t lose his dad, until they come to a weird warehouse. It’s old rundown and looks abandoned, Thomas enters little Bruce is still scared but he can’t leave his dad.

Thomas enters the warehouse and pulls the gun from his holster. And starts staring at the man who killed his wife.

“You thought I wouldn’t come back for you huh? How does it feel to be in the same situation again?” Thomas says darkly and loud.

little Bruce is off to the side confused why his dad is doing this, and starts sneaking towards him.

“Man I- I- don’t know what you want! It was a hit! It was a hit!”

“You know what I want.. I want your blood spilled. But it won’t be quick no, it will hurt. It will hurt so badly you’d wish you were dead.”

“Please- ple- I will give you anything you want! Money! Bitches! Smokes! Whatever! Just leave me alone!”

little Bruce has snuck up and starts asking his dad what’s he’s doing?

“Dad! Wh- why are you threatening that man? You, you said all life was-was sacred! That’s not okay! You shouldn’t um kill people! You should turn him over to the police!”

“Bruce? What are you doing here?! You should be in bed!”

“Dad I can’t sleep. I don’t wanna lose you like mom”

Thomas stares at Bruce and back at the man who killed his wife, and he sighs.

“Okay Bruce, okay. Your lucky, your so lucky don’t you ever tell anyone you saw me or your life is as good as gone, trust me I follow through with my promises.”

“Yay! What do, we do now?”

“Well Bruce we are going to take this bastard to the police, and then we are going to have a LONG conversation about what you just did”

“Jesus what the fuck are you doing”

Thomas grabs a tranq and stabs it into the man.

“Okay dad!”

-

flash forward a couple years, Bruce is 12 and he is very very determined to follow his dad out on patrol.

he even made his own version of the bat suit with Alfred’s help!

he dubs himself “batboy”

and starts to follow his dad, his dad isn’t as stealthy as him he’s been practicing for a while now.

but he follows, his little black cape and gray and yellow suit modeled after his favourite show gray ghost, and a domino mask cover his face.

he can barely keep up with his dad but he does, following him through alleyways and up. Eventually he stops and he goes up to his dad to hug him.

“Bruce! What are you doing here?”

“No! Dad call me ‘batboy’ I thought that.. if I made a costume I could join you!”

Thomas stares at him, he looks adorable and so happy.

this isn’t the first time he’s done this and it won’t be the last, the kid sneaky and persistent this is the 4th time this week he’s snuck off to go find him.

maybe it won’t be so bad, but he just can’t fathom anything happening to Bruce.

“Okay ‘batboy’ you can only come on patrol when you finish your schoolwork and are able to fight. I know you will keep following me again and again but it’s just not safe, go home buddy, go home.”

Bruce sulks and heads home, but with a new goal. Learn how to fight! And finish all his school work, if he does it all he’ll be able to work with his dad so much faster!

so we have a training montage of Bruce being taught by Alfred and him getting self defence lessons and learning how to use different weapons and stuff.

by the time he’s 13 he’s completed all his schoolwork and has gotten into college, and learned a ton of different fighting styles and tactics.

he also started learning about forensics and criminal justice and sciences, his dad may be a doctor but he’s not really good with the whole forensics stuff.

he actually just passed it off to Bruce to Learn about, Bruce is estatic about being able to work with his dad.

eventually Bruce tries again and sneaks out to follow his dad, his dad is going to take down a mafia deal. And Bruce feels comfortable with going and helping his dad.

he arrived shortly after his dad and sneaked into the battle field he started running at a goon and thumped HARD against them. Whilst laughing and turning to face his dad.

“Hiya dad!”

“BATBOY WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“I finished my homework. And I know how to fight people now, I did everything you asked of me so why am I not allowed to help you?”

Bruce said while jumping onto someone and start punching their face.

“BATBOY I DONT WANT YOU HERE IT’S TOO DANGEROUS!”

“Dad, this is nothing this is a Tuesday for me!”

Thomas scowls, but let’s him continue to fight.

they quickly defeated the mafia and high-five!

“Maybe I was wrong batboy, maybe you can help me fight crime.. but there’s still more to learn, and I’d prefer if you stuck to your studies.”

“Aw, really wanted to help you dad!”

too be added idk, here you go please write more about them

[beautyconsumer]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 2

A Merciful Angel

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

@whumperless-whump-event Second day! Late but done! Also cross posted on AO3

Relationship: Jason Todd/Grant Wilson

Fandoms: Batman, Batfam, Deathstroke (comics)

Content and TW: delirious behavior, non-graphic injury, hurt/comfort, short & sweet

Honestly? More than painful, or anything else; it was embarrassing.

Being trained to withstand wilderness, taught survival skills, enduring pain and the humiliation of Slade's insults and aggressiveness wouldn't have prepared him for this.

He wasn't even staying there for long, who the hell would want to anyways? Gotham was not a nice city to visit, it wasn't pretty or comfortable to be in. The only reason he was there was because it happened to be on his way.

He should have listened more intently to all the warning and creepy omens about this grimmy place. But Grant knew he wouldn't have listened to a threat until it hit him straight to the face.

In this case, sort of literally.

He groaned weakly, and pathetically writhed over the pavement.

He got hit by a freaking car.

The driver had immediately bailed.

He almost wanted to laugh, but if he did he might rustle his bruised ribs.

He's struggling to catch up with the situation when he takes sight of a figure, the lamp pole of the street illuminated them, creating a halo of warm light over him.

A stark difference among the gritty, blue, gray hues of the city.

Oh man, he must be dying cause he's staring at an angel.

When he finally caught glimpse of the familiar black domino mask and the loud combination of colors, aversion churned in his stomach. The last thing he needed or wanted was Robin witnessing his misery.

Which, of course, Robin's Batman was from freaking Gotham. But from what he last heard the freak had graduated himself from that title.

But these cherubic black curls and kind, worried posture under a bright yellow cape was nothing like the Robin he knew.

A merciful angel taking pity on him.

Grant blinked with drained strength, “Pretty…” he unintelligently mumbled.

The figure looming over him hums, a gloved hand goes over his cheek, and Grant takes in the warmth it produces, then noticing the cold in the rest of his body. His clothes are damp with the dirty puddles of the street.

Another stronger light blinds him, he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Hey now,” a steady patient voice says, “Open your eyes.”

Grant reluctantly obeys if only because he somehow already feels in debt with the beauty he has in front. The light sets on his right eye, Grant takes effort in keeping his eyes open.

“Good,” he says while moving the light to his other eye, voice hypnotizing and soft, “I'm Robin, can you tell me your name?”

Grant felt dizzy, reason not in his reach, yet he somehow knew not to give away information of himself to strangers, despite them looking devine and from heaven itself.

Grant was in casual clothes, he remembers, the lack of his mask noted. He's not overconfident and bold Red X.

Rationally he'd act like Grant Wilson.

But logic is not on the tablet right now.

A giddy crooked smile makes way past his senses.

“You can call me however you want, baby.”

Robin freezes, then quiet tremors rattle his body in what must be chuckles.

Grant's smile widens in satisfaction.

His eyelids feel heavier each second passes.

“No, none of that,” Robin says firmly, “Eyes open. Ambulance is on its way.”

Grant does his best to keep his eyes open, if anything to keep looking at the boy.

Red lights blink accompanied by a loud blaring noise, nausea and shivers set to second plane when said light makes it able to appreciate Robin's features more.

The domino mask can't quite hide his jaw nor the heart shaped form of his face. Those characteristics are gonna be clinging into his mind despite his efforts to keep this damn city out of his hair.

“You're gonna be alright,” Robin says.

Yeah, he's gonna be just fine.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

One Bad Day....Jason's Death

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 8. Panic Attack, 12. Character Death, 23. Begging, 31. Crying, Alt. 13. Grief Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Batmom, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd Summary: Before Red Hood rescued her, before she was in prison, before she killed The Joker, Batmom experiences one of the most devastating losses of her life. Word Count: 5587 TW: Canon Character Death, Mentions of Torture, Brief Description of Injuries, Grief, Breakdown, Tears, Anger, Character Picks Up Reader Note: This is part of the One Bad Day.... series but can be read as a one-shot (though best to be read after Part 3) Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event.

Series Masterlist

It has been three days since you have heard from either Bruce or Jason and you are starting to get worried. Actually, you are way past worried—you are terrified. Something is wrong, you can feel it in your gut. A gnawing queasiness deep in your stomach that has you unable to eat or sleep while you wait for some sort of news.

Usually, you wouldn’t give this radio silence a second thought. While Bruce tries to send some sort of word as often as he can while out of town, it just isn’t always possible. Especially when he is away on this kind of work. Batman is a force of secrets and mystery. He can’t always risk finding a way to call his wife to tell her he is alright. 

You pull the blanket that is draped over your shoulders tighter around you and continue pacing. Alfred had placed it there a few ago, the last time he had come to check on you. When you had first begun to worry, the butler had remained by your side providing constant reassurance and support. But after a while, once it became clear you wanted to be alone, he retreated upstairs. Occasionally, he returned to the Batcave to bring you some food, water, or something to keep you warm, but otherwise, he had been keeping his distance. However, you know the second you call for him, he will instantly be there to get you whatever he possibly can. If only he could get you the one thing you truly wanted right now….

As if summoned by your silent wish, you suddenly hear the distant roar of a familiar engine growing louder by the second. Whirling around, a huge smile of relief on your face, you turn just in time to see the Batmobile burst into the cave and come to a stop in its usual spot. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe again as the driver-side door opens up and you catch a glimpse of Bruce, still in his Batman costume though he has removed his cowl and gloves.

Throwing your arms open wide as you approach the car, you exclaim, “There’s my boys!” Bruce doesn’t look at you as he climbs out of the Batmobile and walks slowly over to the passenger side. “I was just about to send out a search party. How was Ethiopia? Did you find–”

You stumble to a halt, your smile slipping from your face. An icy vice clamps down on your heart as you see Bruce lift something out of the Batmobile: a small limp figure wrapped in a torn yellow cape that reveals small glimpses of the red suit underneath through the holes and tears. Though the cape is also draped across the person’s face, you know immediately who is under it.

“No….” you gasp as your blanket slips from your shoulders to pool at your feet. “No, no, Bruce, no. Please, no.” 

As you wait for Bruce’s response, you cling to that last fragile shred of hope that it’s not what you think, that maybe he’s just hurt under there or sleeping or…or…….

But as your husband silently walks past you and lays the body on one of the nearby tables, the drawn, pained expression on his face coupled with the tender care he takes carefully arranging it is the final confirmation you need. 

Dropping to your knees, you let out an almost inhuman wail as the truth of the situation slams into you like a nuclear blast. Your baby’s gone. Jason is dead. And you have lost yet another child. 

You collapse forward, your forehead pressing hard against the cold cave floor as another wail tears through your chest. No. It can’t be true. Jason has to be alive. He has to be. Oh please, God, please don’t tell me you’ve taken my baby from me. Not again. Please.

As you continue to sob—worldless howls of grief and pain—you feel Bruce drape himself over you as if trying to shield you from this agony….but it’s too late. The damage has already been done and you have been irreparably broken.

In what seems like hours later, once you have exhausted yourself to the point you no longer have the energy or tears left to cry, Bruce sits back and pulls you carefully into his lap. As you lay curled in his arms with your head resting on his chest, you can feel his heart beating beneath you—so strong and steady—and it hits you that you will never again feel Jason’s heartbeat or hear him take a breath. All of those little signs of life you take for granted are just gone…and so is he.

Lifting your head to gaze up at your husband, you force your words through your aching throat, torn raw from all your screaming, and you ask, “What happened?” 

“The Joker,” Bruce says as he brushes a tear off your cheek. “He used Jason’s birthmother to lure him in, then he placed both of them in a warehouse that was rigged to explode. I arrived just as the bomb went off. I….I was too late to save him.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice breaking and the tears in his voice sends another jolt of pain into your heart and you nuzzle your head into his neck as you squeeze his hand. He silently squeezes back and you have to stifle a groan as you feel the bones in your hand shift and crack in his grasp, but you don’t say anything. You just let him continue to squeeze your hand long after the point it turns numb. 

You haven’t seen Bruce fall apart since the two of you lost the baby. Regardless of what heartbreaks or fights had come your way in the years since, Bruce had remained calm and stoic through it all. It’s just who he was. He was your rock, your lifeline in the roughest of waters, your source of comfort when you needed it the most—so the sight of him breaking adds another layer of grief to your own.

When he finally loosens his grip and you can tell he has regained some of his composure, you whisper, “Did he…. Did he hurt him before…?”

Bruce hesitates for a moment before murmuring, “You don’t need to know the details.” 

Which means yes. The Joker had probably tortured and beaten your baby bloody before blowing him up. Another sob threatens to tear from your lips, but you manage to quell it so it is just a whine deep in your throat. You had cried enough for the moment. Right now, you need answers and to come up with a plan. But first…you need something else.

Untangling yourself from Bruce’s arms, you unsteadily get to your feet and begin walking over to the table. Bruce leaps up when he sees what you are doing and he gently grabs your shoulders blocking your path. “Don’t. Sweetheart, just…just don’t. Trust me.”

“Let me go. I need to see him.”

You try to shrug him off but he holds you firmly in place. “No. You don’t. Don’t let that be the last image you have of him—I wish it wasn’t mine. He’s gone and seeing him like that won’t bring him back. So, I’m begging you, don’t.”

“Get out of my way, Bruce,” you growl as you glare up at your husband. “I need to see our son. I need to see what that monster did to him.”

For a moment, you aren’t sure what Bruce is going to do. His eyes flit across your face, trying to find the slightest hesitation he can grasp onto. But when he doesn’t find any, he sighs and slowly lowers his hands as he bows his head and whispers, “Please…Don’t look.”

But you have already pushed past him before he finishes his sentence.

You approach the table with a determined stride, yet you hesitate once you reach it. Jason was always a slight kid, even verging on scrawny, but he had never seemed smaller or more vulnerable than as your hand hovers over the cape still draped over him. Even that first night Bruce brought him home to you, he had so much fire and spirit in his little twelve-year-old body that his presence filled the room. Now, three years later, that fire and spirit had been extinguished and it hits you all over again how young he truly was—how young he would always be.

You feel Bruce come to stand just behind you but he doesn’t say a word. He has tried his best to stop you so now all he can do is wait for you to live with your decision and be there for the aftermath. Knowing he is right there for you gives you a renewed sense of strength and as you take a deep breath, you pull back the cape to look at your son. 

Bruce was right. You shouldn’t have looked.

Some of the damage you are expecting based on what Bruce told you. Burns litter Jay’s face and neck as well as his hands. In some places, they are light, almost invisible unless the light catches them just so. However, in other spots, the burns are so severe you can almost see down to the bone. His hands are the worst, so charred and blackened that you fear touching them despite the longing in your chest to hold his hand once more in yours. Looking at the burn patterns, it seems heartbreakingly clear that Jason had tried to protect himself from the blast by throwing his hands in front of his face…he had seen it coming.

Yet as horrible as that realization is, far worse is the damage you weren’t expecting to see on your son.

Beneath the burns and debris from the bomb, Jason’s body is broken, bruised, and bloody in ways that an explosion couldn’t have caused. One arm and leg jut out at odd angles and there are dark bruises all over his face, neck, and the parts of his torso you can see through his ruined suit. One eye is swollen and black, his nose is bent sharply to one side, and his lip is split open wide. You have seen enough blunt-force trauma up close and personal to understand what had to have caused all of this. 

Casting one last longing look at your son, you turn to face Bruce. You are visibly shaking, and when you speak, your voice is dripping with venomous fury, “Where is he?”

“Clark is tracking him down and he’ll alert me the second he finds him.”

“And then?” Bruce glances away, unable to look at you. Disbelief washes over you and you step closer to your husband. “Bruce, don’t tell me you are thinking of letting him live.”

“It’s not our place to–”

“He killed our son!” you hiss as you point to the body of the child you both loved. “Jason is—Jason is dead because of that maniac! We can’t let The Joker get away with this!”

“We won’t.” Bruce takes your face between his hands and bends over so his forehead is almost touching yours. “I swear to you, we will find him and throw him back into Arkham where he belongs.”

Wrenching from his grasp in disgust, you snarl, “For how long? A few weeks? A month if we’re lucky? Then he’ll just find another way to escape like he always does and he’ll hurt more innocent people, more people we love. How can you not see that this has to end? That it should have ended years ago.”

“My heart—” Bruce tries to take your hand but once again you snatch it away from him. “I know you don’t always agree with it, but we have a code. A code you agreed to follow when you joined me. And that code means that no matter what The Joker or anyone else does, We. Don’t. Kill. Otherwise, what makes us any better than them?”

“Maybe I don’t care about being better than them anymore. We’ve done things by the book, followed your rules, and where has that left us? Two dead children and a third who barely survived being shot. And you still talk about trusting the same system that allowed it to happen in the first place. Well, who’s next, Bruce? Who will be the next victim in your moral war? Alfred? Dick?....Me? Whose death will it take for you to realize that this won’t end unless we make it end?”

Bruce stares at you as if he is looking at a stranger and not his wife of ten years. Shaking his head slightly, he says, “I understand you’re hurting right now and you’re not thinking clearly. But once some time has passed and the feelings aren’t as raw, you’ll—”

“I’ll what? Forget my son is dead?” you snap.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean? Give it time and things will just go back to normal? That this pain will fade and I won’t care that my son was murdered?”

“Our son.”

“What?”

“Our son,” Bruce says. His voice has a sharp edge to it that momentarily takes you aback. “You keep saying ‘my son’ like you’re the only one who lost him. I know what you and Jay had was special but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him too, or that I’m not in agony right now. I had to watch, helplessly, as that warehouse exploded knowing I was too late to save him. Then, I dug with my bare hands for almost an hour through the wreckage praying for a miracle only to find—” Bruce presses his hand over his eye as he takes a long, slow, shaking inhale then continues “And then I had to fly home watching vigil over our son’s body, all the while dreading this moment. Knowing I was coming home to shatter the woman I love. But the only thing that made that thought bearable was knowing we could mourn together and lean on each other for comfort. Yet all you can focus on is revenge and murder!”

“No, Bruce. I’m focusing on keeping the family I still have safe. I’m focusing on protecting this city just as you swore to do. I’m focusing on ending terror and chaos in the streets. And if that means one psychotic clown has to die to make that happen, then so be it.”

“We do not cross that line. Ever. No matter who we think deserves it. That’s just how things have to be.”

“Don’t you get it! Jason would still be alive if you had just—” All of your fury evaporates instantly and you inhale sharply as you realize what you were about to blurt out. Bruce’s expression hardens into a stone-cold mask usually reserved for the most lowsome of criminals and, stumbling back, you stutter, “I-I mean…I—”

“If I had what? Say it. Say it!” Now it is your turn to not meet his eye yet he pushes on. “You were going to say that if I had just killed The Joker years ago, Jason would still be alive!”

“I didn’t mean it. It just slipped out,” you whisper. “I know this isn’t your fault, Bruce. You told him not to go but I encouraged him to do what he thought he had to do. That I would support whatever decision he made.” Your voice cracks as you choke out, “I sent our baby off to his death, not you.”

It is the thought that has been nagging at the back of your head since you saw Bruce lift Jason’s body from the Batmobile. The unbearable truth you’ve been unable to face. Bruce had known something felt off about the situation and he insisted Jason stayed home. But when Jason came to you saying he had found his birthmother and needed to go see her, you put your foot down and forced Bruce to take him. If you had just listened to Bruce, if you had just really examined the facts instead of wanting to show Jason you were supportive, your son would still be alive.

Suddenly, it felt like the walls of the Batcave were closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath. Stumbling back a few steps, you say, “I-I can’t do this. I have to get out of here.”

The anger in Bruce’s face disappears as quickly as it appeared. He reaches out to you with a soft, “Sweetheart—” but you continue to back away.

“No. No, I need to go. I-I need to be alone.”

Bruce nods slowly. “Alright. That’s okay. Why don’t you go take a long shower and lay down and I’ll take care of things down here. I’ll come check on you when I’m done.”

You nod back and hurry over to the stairs leading up to the manor. But just as you begin to climb them, you pause and mumble, “I’ll be in Jay’s room.” then flee up the stairs before Bruce can stop you.

Once back in the manor, you move in an almost trancelike state towards the bedrooms. As you pass the kitchen, you hear a soft sniffling and you realize Alfred must have come down into the Batcave at some point and seen what happened. You have been so preoccupied with your own grief, you completely forgot about the butler who loved Jason almost as much as you and Bruce did. 

Part of you wants to go back and join him. After all, Alfred always knows how to fix anything and everything and maybe, somehow, he can fix this too. Yet as much as it pains you to admit, there are just some things even Alfred Pennyworth can’t do. So you continue walking.

When you reach Jason’s room, you don’t even pause before opening the door and shuffling in. In one fluid movement, you collapse onto your son’s bed and roll over, dragging his comforter with you until you are cocooned beneath the blanket. 

It seems impossible that just three nights ago you were sitting on this very bed with Jason next to you as he told you about how he had been tracking down his birthmother. He had been so scared to tell you for fear he would hurt your feelings. But you had just gathered him into your arms and pressed your lips into his hair as you promised him you would always be his “Ma” regardless of what happened on his search. That you would always love him….

Tears you did not think you could still cry began slipping silently down your cheeks. What would you have done differently if you had known that was the last time you would see your son? What else would you have said to make him understand how much he meant to you? How he had saved you from your grief once before and how you still needed him now?

You bury your face deeper into his pillow as you finally allow yourself to ask the question that you know will haunt you the rest of your life:

Could I have saved you if I had been there?

For the next twelve days, little changes. The only time you leave Jason’s bed is to go to the bathroom, but otherwise, you lay curled in the center of his bed wrapped in his blankets and staring at his wall. Bruce and Alfred take turns coming to check on you several times a day, usually bringing food or drinks and trying their best to coax you into consuming something. You take a little nibble here and there or take a few sips of water, but it isn’t long before you return to your near catatonic state. 

Even when Dick arrives a few days after you learned of Jason’s death, it doesn’t make much of a difference. You do allow him to climb into the bed with you where you wrap him in a bone-crushing embrace, afraid if you let go you’ll lose him just like your other children. But eventually, he has to leave and you resume your solitary existence.

On day seven, Bruce slips into bed behind you and wraps his arms around you. For a long time, the two of you just lay there in silence. Then, softly, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “Please, sweetheart, please come back to me. I know you’re hurting. So am I. But I just lost Jason and I can’t….I can’t lose you too. Please, let me in. Let us help each other through this….Together.”

You know he’s right, and it kills you to know you are only adding to his heartbreak, but you just don’t have the strength or the will to be what he needs right now. So, you remain motionless in his embrace, your eyes never shifting their unseeing stare at the wall.

Eventually, Bruce accepts nothing is going to change. Pressing his lips to the nape of your neck, he whispers, “I love you. Please never forget that. And I’ll be waiting, as soon as you’re ready.” Then he slips from the bed and you are alone once more.

The next major change in your routine comes exactly two weeks after Jason’s death when Bruce and Alfred walk into Jason’s room holding a simple black dress. Silently, you allow them to put it on you before they lead you downstairs where Dick is waiting with the car. No one has to tell you where you are going. You already know.

For the short drive, Bruce sits next to you in the backseat, holding your hand tightly as he presses his lips against your temple with whispers of encouragement and love. You squeeze his hand back but make no other acknowledgment of his presence or support. You catch Dick glancing back at you in the rearview mirror a few times, concern etched on his face, and you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. That thought makes you withdraw even further into yourself in shame.

As Alfred pulls to a stop, you make no move to exit the car. Alfred and Dick both glance at Bruce for some sort of guidance as to how to proceed, and he motions for them to get out. Once you are alone, Bruce pulls you into his arms. “If I could spare you from this, you know I would. But we have to make some sort of public show or it’s going to look suspicious. And people are already asking questions. But I promise, the second we’re done, I’ll take you back up to the house. Okay?”

You nod, knowing he is right however much you despise it, and he smiles softly. Placing his finger under your chin so he can tilt your head back, Bruce kisses your forehead as he whispers, “That’s my girl.”

Then sliding his hand into yours, he opens his car door and steps out before helping you out. Immediately you are met with flashing lights and the whirring click of hundreds of cameras all pointed in your direction. You try to ignore them as Bruce leads you down the path lined with photographers and reporters, your face a blank mask void of any emotion. 

But that mask becomes harder to maintain as you hear the slight tittering of whispers passing through the crowd. And though you have over a decade of experience being the subject of Gotham’s rumor mill to get used to the kinds of things people say about you, these reach a new level of cruelty: 

“Look at the heartless whore. Can’t even spare a single tear for that poor boy Bruce so kindly took in.”

“I heard she didn’t even want to come today but Bruce insisted. Can you imagine? He deserves so much better.”

“She wasn’t even there when he died. Bruce planned a family trip overseas and she refused to go. She would rather stay here to be waited on hand and foot by that butler of theirs than spend time with her supposed family.”

“I bet she had something to do with the boy’s death. Probably didn’t want to share the Wayne fortune with anyone else. Bruce and the older boy should watch their backs. They could be next.”

You remember a time when you would have gone off on these people. Snapped back about how they didn’t know anything about you or your relationship with your family. Caused such a scene Bruce would have had to sheepishly drag you away while his face glowed bright red. But not today. Today all you want to do is curl up in a ball in front of them as you sob, asking how they can be so cruel or heartless to not see your pain or the devastation at your loss. How they could come here—here of all places—just to add to your suffering.

But you don’t. Instead, you allow Bruce to continue leading you forward until you stop in front of the freshly dug grave with the casket placed beside it.

Bruce (well, probably Alfred) had worked out all the details while you were locked in Jason’s room. A plot had been selected in the small graveyard on the edge of the Wayne estate, right next to where Bruce’s parents were buried. The casket is closed so you can’t see how they dressed Jay, but Bruce had promised you in the car that he tucked Jason’s Robin mask into his pocket like you asked. It was the only input you had given on the whole ceremony but it did make you feel a little better knowing he had it with him. 

To the world, this may just be the funeral of Jason Todd, but in reality, today you are burying two people, and you wanted to honor that.

Dick comes to stand next to you so you are sandwiched between him and Bruce. Though you don’t as much as glance in his direction, you are grateful to have your remaining son beside you. It is a calming reminder that not everyone has been taken from you. At least…not yet. 

As the ceremony starts, you hold your head high and stare straight ahead. It is harder than you thought, the weight of a hundred eyes boring into the back of your head, but you manage to remain calm and composed throughout the sermon.

It isn’t until they begin lowering the casket into the ground that everything goes wrong.

Unable to take your eyes off of the box containing your son as it disappears into the dirt, your body begins trembling violently as your knees give out underneath you. Luckily, Bruce catches you before you hit the ground but his touch does little to ease your trembling. 

Still staring at the casket, you begin repeating, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” 

Bruce pulls you tight against his chest, allowing you to bury your face into his jacket to muffle to sound. You claw desperately at the back of his suit, your chanting becoming more frenzied by the moment despite no longer looking at the grave. It’s just too much. All of it’s too much. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” 

Mercifully, Bruce gently lifts you into his arms and carries you back to the car. You cling tightly to him, your arms around his neck, even as you continue shaking and babbling, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

“Shhh….” Bruce coos gently. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You did so good. I know he’d be proud of you, just like I am. But it’s over now, and I’m taking you back to the manor just like I promised. It’s going to be okay.”

You nod into his neck as you finally manage to quiet down some. The words are still swirling in your head but at least they are no longer spewing from your lips. You thought you were stronger than this. You thought you could at least hold it together for an hour for your family’s sake, but you were so wrong. 

Even though it had been a closed casket funeral, knowing Jay was in there, seeing it disappear into the ground forever…it finalized everything in a way you hadn’t felt yet. All those days laying in Jason’s room, numb and disconnected from the world, you had distanced yourself from the reality of the truth. But there was no escaping it now. Jason was gone and there was nothing you could do to change that.

When you reach the manor, Bruce once again lifts you into his arms though you half-heartedly tell him you can walk on your own yet part of you is glad when he ignores you and continues to carry you up the stairs. You are somewhat surprised when Bruce returns you to Jason’s room without even asking. For some reason, you had assumed he would try to take you to the master bedroom to be with him.

You expect him to climb into bed or kneel down beside it, but once again he shocks you as he simply turns and walks to the door. He only pauses a moment to say, “I had Alfred put a fresh change of pajamas on the dresser.” Then he walks out and closes the door behind him.

You aren’t sure what to think about this. Has Bruce finally given up trying to reach you? Was he more embarrassed about your behavior at the funeral than he admitted? Or has he finally accepted you need time alone to deal with your loss? 

Still pondering his behavior, you climb out of bed and slip off the black dress you are wearing. Tossing it to the side, you walk over to the dresser to look for the clothes Bruce mentioned. The sooner you get them on, the sooner you can return to your blanket cocoon and lose yourself to your fog of grief once more. 

But as you spy the pajamas and you reach for them, your eyes land on something on the wall. Despite the fact today is May 11, Jason’s calendar is still turned to April. Since he left for Ethiopia on April 25th and was killed on the 27th, he never got the chance to change it. He would never know which classical author’s picture had been selected for May. Instead, Jason ran out of time and now it will forever be stuck on William Shakespeare.

Time….If only you had more time….

Three and a half years. That’s all the time you had with your son. It seems insane that someone who was in your life for such a short amount of time could leave such an impact on you, but there is no denying it. You know deep in your soul that you could not have loved Jason more if you had given birth to him or known him since the day he was born. He is your son just as much as Dick is, as much as the baby you had lost is, and now he’s gone too.

And it’s all because of The Joker.

For the first time since you had crawled into Jason’s room that first night, something besides sorrow stirs in your gut. The red-hot burn of vengeance that you have let your grief extinguish suddenly flares to life in your veins and your hands clench tightly on the edge of the dresser. 

Memories begin flashing through your mind: Sitting next to the bed, begging God to save an 18-year-old Dick as he clung to life after being shot by The Joker while on patrol; Monitoring the Batcomputer in horror as The Joker released his laughing gas throughout the streets of Gotham; Listening to Lt. Gordon’s sobs as he told Bruce what The Joker had done to Barbara;  Watching Bruce lift Jason’s lifeless body out of the Batmobile as your heart shattered in your chest.

He is responsible for all this death and this pain, year after year after year. He is the reason other villains think they can get away with whatever deadly scheme they have up their sleeves. He is why Arkham Asylum has become a swinging door deterrent that no one fears. He is the one who killed your son.

And he’s not going to get away with it any longer. 

Every cell in your body knows what has to be done, yet you also know the consequences if you do it. Is stopping this lunatic really worth destroying what’s left of your family? Can you really give up everything to ensure no one else ever feels this pain you are feeling?

You think about if your places had been reversed and it had been you who had been killed instead and there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that Jason would have burned the world down if it meant stopping The Joker. And if that’s true, how could you do anything less for your son?

With a newfound purpose driving you and a clear goal in your sights, you flip the calendar to May and pin it in place. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stares back at you as you press your finger to May 27th; 16 days from now and exactly one month after Jason’s death. That will be the day. The day you do what you should have done long ago. The day you will kill The Joker.

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @mayhem24-7forever, @hjgdhghoe, @dazaisleftballsack, @simp027, @animefan3223, @mysticchopshop, @eternalharry, @edgycatx, @lanatheawesome, @yandere-batfamfan, @zsalvatore-mikaelson, @constantshitposter, @lauramb7, @thedumbgirl, @leonielaufeyson, @ultraxavbo, @chrismarium, @joceymoo, @shanksfav, @leyleyinpijamas, @notwonderlandsworld, @redsakura101, @outdated-titty-milk101, @lariclifford, @seoulnights5, @makhaia, @tardisin221bst, @imurdaddypromlems, @kesskirata, @roro707-blog, @scrappybear89, @homosexualjohnwayne, @dweeb-central, @sunshineflowerchild789, @happinessricardotapia, @nefariousghostbabe, @mikyapixie, @angelicadiabolus, @hotleaf-juice, @saltedcoffeescotch, @hermosavidagg, @iveofficiallylostmymarbles, @avengersftspn, @pantasticalcat, @staynctzen127, @yunho-leeknow, @blue-aconite, @leyleyinpijamas, @y-napotat, @jadynchronicle, @redrydersrequiem, @violet2507, @venomsvl, @time-shardz, @kimmib13, @sapnapbitches, @thedazzlingburglar, @yunho-leeknow, @nina-isabelle, @melancholicmooosic, @rayofsarkasm, @deppresseddyslexic

[ladytauria]

Would you consider writing 13 and/or 18 from the prompt list for jaytim?

i would!! <3

i wrote them both bc i thought they worked very well together, though. i did change the wording of the second prompt to make it fit. (it is still bolded tho.)

i went through… 3 or 4 different concepts for this fic before i finally settled on reverse robins, bc i have been thinking about another reverse robins au (i blame @bi-bats). this is not that au, but instead a different one which ran away with me as soon as i got into the flow of writing it <3

there is also a part in it that is inspired by something @deepwithintheabyss said in a chat once. (which i’ll clarify in the tags & end notes on ao3 lol).

ANYWAY. this is more in the gen/pre-slash vein as it technically covers tim & jason’s first time actually meeting / speaking to each other, &. as it ran away with me the way it did, probably kind of messy? ^^; but i hope you like it, nonny, & thank you very much for the prompt!

It isn’t very often that Tim comes across Robin. Both Batman and Nightwing do their best to keep them separate and—so far at least—the little Robin hasn’t made an attempt to circumvent their efforts. Except tonight, though he has a feeling that the little bird didn’t necessarily mean for their paths to cross.

He’s sitting in an alley; canary yellow cape wrapped around his body. Tim drops, silent, from the roof, landing six feet from him. This close, he can see the tremors wracking his frame.

“Robin,” he says.

Robin flinches, hard; nearly smacking his head back against the brick. Guilt rises in Tim’s throat. There are shiny tears trailing down his cheeks, though the white-outs of his domino are still down. Tim feels the moment Jason’s eyes lock on him.

He immediately shifts into a non-threatening stance. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, holding up his hands, fingers spread wide.

“Hood?” Robin’s voice wobbles.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says; crouching down to Robin’s level. “Are you alright?” There’s a mild strain of fear toxin being sold right now. Tim’s been working on tracking down the source, but so far, all of his leads have led him to dead ends. Could Robin have been hit with a dose? That would explain his upset—maybe the lack of Batman, too.

Robin shivers. He draws his cape tighter around him. He shakes his head—though whether in answer or not Tim couldn’t say. He buries his face in his knees again, muffling a soft sob.

Tim’s chest twists. “Do you want me to call—”

Robin’s head jerks up again. “No!” he says, immediately, the desperation in his voice nearly knocking Tim back. “Please, please don’t—”

“Okay,” Tim says, gentling his voice. He doubts it does much with the voice modulator in the way. “Okay, I won’t call anyone.” He bites his lip. He can’t leave him here. Whatever’s happened, whether it’s fear toxin or not, it’s affected him deeply. “Do you feel safe enough to come with me?” He offers his hand.

Robin stares at it, biting his lip. Then he nods, taking Tim’s hand. His grip is tight—almost too much so.

They rise to their feet together.

“I’ll call my bike,” Tim says, still in that gentle tone. “Do you think you can hold on?” The hand not holding Tim’s is still clutching his cape, holding it around himself. He’s still shivering. Even the fingers in Tim’s hand are trembling.

Robin nods. “Y-yeah.”

He gives his hand a squeeze. He hopes it’s reassuring. Then he pulls out his keys and presses the button that will summon his bike to them. It takes less than ten minutes for it to roll up to the mouth of the alley. Robin finally lets go of his hand when he goes to climb on the bike. As soon as Tim is settled, he climbs on behind him; his arms snug around Tim’s waist, his front plastered against Tim’s back.

Tim drives. Not to his Nest, but to one of the well-equipped safehouses he has on this end of the Narrows. As soon as they’re off the bike, Robin drifts close to him again; so close their arms are almost brushing. He walks them around to the alley. He offers an arm to Robin automatically, and though Robin’s own grappling hook—and the spare—sits on his hip, he steps into Tim’s arm, against his chest.

Tim is not a tall man. Despite that, and the fact that there are only three years between them, Robin barely comes up to his shoulder. Tim secures his grip on him, holding him close, and grapples up the fire escape.

When they land, Robin doesn’t move; staying pressed against Tim’s side, his forehead pressed to his shoulder. Tim doesn’t make him move. It’s easy enough to wrap both arms around him, let him stand within the circle of them as he disengages the security on the window.

Then he nudges him. “C’mon, Robin. Let’s get inside.”

A beat passes before Robin moves. Tim follows right behind him, re-engaging his security after he shuts the window. He pulls off his helmet with a soft, mechanical hiss, letting it dangle from his fingers. Robin has pulled his cape around him again. He stands, something almost unsure in the stance of his body.

“C’mon,” Tim says, laying a gentle hand on Robin’s back. He leans into it, but doesn’t resist when he walks them forward, until they reach the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us something to drink.” Something warm, preferably, but even just water or a sports drink would suffice.

Then he’ll get to the bottom of whatever’s going on here.

He finds some tea; one of the few herbal blends he keeps. He brews two cups. While he waits, he takes off his domino, gloves, and the most prominent of his weapons. Then he takes the cups to the living room. Like Tim, Robin has removed his gloves and domino, alongside his boots and gloves, leaving Jason Wayne sitting on his couch. His cape is wrapped around him again, and he’s tucked all of his limbs into it, curling into a ball so small he takes up only one of the couch cushions.

Tim’s chest pangs.

“Here,” he says, offering Jason the cup.

Jason takes it, both hands curling around it and pulling it to his chest. His eyes are rimmed with red.

Tim hesitates a moment—and then sits right next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Jason melts into his side.

“Sorry,” he says softly.

“For what?” Tim asks, stroking Jason’s bicep with his thumb.

“Being difficult. I didn’t— I know you’d rather have called someone. I. I promise I won’t stay for long.”

Tim turns his head, tucking his nose into Jason’s curls. It’s not the most pleasant of smells—he smells like sweat, like Gotham night air. Under that, there’s a hint of soap. “You’re not being difficult, Jason,” he says gently, carefully. “And you can stay for as long as you need.”

Jason exhales slowly. “Thanks,” he says.

He doesn’t sound convinced. Tim tightens his arm. “I mean it. It’s not… I don’t mind having you here.” He doesn’t. He may not be on the best terms with the bats, but that animosity, that strain, doesn’t extend to Jason. He may not be happy that some other kid took on the cape he died in, but he could acknowledge that Bruce and Damian had learned from their mistakes. Jason patrolled far less than Tim ever had, and almost never on his own. He was kept away from the worst of the rogues, too. Most of his life was focused on the non-cape side of things; school and hobbies and friends, and, recently, working with the Martha Wayne Foundation.

Tim would have despised it.

Jason thrives.

And Tim admires what he’s accomplished. He’s a good Robin. A good person. The only reason he’s never reached out—

Well. Bruce and Damian barely tolerate his presence, reaching out only when there’s no other choice. Cass— He’s not sure she’ll ever forgive him for choosing this path. His relationships with Steph and Alfred may be fine, but the other three could easily make things difficult, and— Honestly. He has no idea what Jason has been told about him.

The way he’s curled against him suggests it may not be all bad.

There’s also his philosophy on vigilantism. He’s chosen a different path than the others; a path with far more blood and violence. It’s no secret that Jason has fought with Bruce about methodology before, and Tim— As tempting as it is, sometimes, to steal Batman’s partner right out from under him… Tim won’t make that worse. Spending time with him could very well fan those flames higher.

He’s not going to explain all of that right now. Or maybe ever. Instead he says, “My problems with Damian and Bruce have nothing to do with you. They would probably rather you avoid me—and that’s fine—but… you’re not unwelcome in my territory, or my safehouses,” he says. “If you need a place to go, back-up—you can call me.” He pauses. “And that goes for civilian life too. You need me, you call. I’ll answer.”

Jason twists. He presses his face against Tim’s shoulder. It can’t be comfortable—he’s still wearing his armor, a sturdy kevlar-weave. “Thanks,” he says, and his voice is watery again.

Tim moves his hand to cup the back of his head. He kisses Jason’s crown.

They stay like that until Jason pulls away.

By now the tea has cooled. When his cup is about half gone, he asks, “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”

Jason bites his lip and shrugs. “I dunno. A lot,” he says, quietly. “Bruce an’ I are fighting again. About my mom.”

Tim hums. Steph has complained to him about Sheila Haywood more than once. He’s never met the woman himself, but from everything he’s heard—and looked into—he’s… not impressed, to put it mildly. “Sounds stressful,” he says.

“Yeah. He thinks— He says she’s taking advantage.” Jason sounds disgusted. “But— He doesn’t get it. She’s had a hard life. The system fucked her over, and she didn’t have the money to fight it. She just needs a little help, that’s all, and—” He cuts himself off. “I just wanna help her. Like I couldn’t help my other mom, the one that raised me. An’ it’s just— Every time I bring her up now, Bruce gets this pinched look on his face. Damian’s no help. Steph’s no help. Even Cass isn’t any help! I just— It sucks. An’ we fought about it again today.

“So I— Tonight, I told him I wanted to patrol on my own. Clear my head. ‘Cause he said I could now. An’ it was fine, it went fine, until. There was this robbery, an’ I guess— I guess they had that new fear toxin— an’... I just…

“What if he gets tired of fighting? What if— What if he— What if he decides that he doesn’t— My mom can’t. She can’t afford a kid right now, an’ I— Damian— He’s in this too, and Steph, an’—” He’s working himself up now, voice cracked and wavering, little hitching sobs threatening to burst with every word.

Tim puts his mug down—takes Jason’s, too. Jason lets it go without a fight. Then he pulls him into a hug; tight and all-encompassing, like he can shield him from all the hurt he’s feeling. “Bruce will never kick you out,” he says, voice quiet and sure. “He gave you his name, he signed the papers. You're his now, permanently. He’s not going to go back on that. It’s the same with Damian. You’re family to him now, and Damian— If he’s nothing else, he’s loyal to his bones. Steph adores you. Cass does too. Fighting— It’s not going to change that.” He pauses. “But if I’m wrong. If they kick you out, or— If you just can’t stay there anymore—

“You have a place with me.”

Jason sobs, then.

Tim holds him.

He’ll keep holding him—as long as he needs.