#bruce would have a field day

[mysterious-trail-of-goop]

[kizzer55555]

Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Danny was being harassed in broad daylight.

He can’t get the guy to take a hint and frankly he’s going to be late for his new job if he can’t get through the door.

Just when he was starting to think that he would have to hit him, a hand gently rested on his shoulder.

“Hey Chum sorry it took me so long to get here but traffic was a killer! Is this man bothering you?”

Turns out His boss Bruce Wayne is actually a nice man.

Too bad Gotham gossips worst than a small town.

Seriously guys, this isn’t funny, it stopped being funny the third time he got picked out of a crowd as the “new Wayne.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

in lieu of having posted any writing/headcanons/asks in the past few days because i have been *so* busy and unable to do anything fandom-related which is terrible and evil, i have a poll out of morbid curiosity and self-indulgence. i've been meaning to ramble here about how i feel about DC's lack fo Deaf representation and which Batfam members i would personally make Deaf, but i am mildly curious about the larger opinion and now i will subject you all to the question, i would love to hear thoughts/opinions/headcanons on any specific choices. (would love d/Deaf/HoH opinions esp but i'm mostly expecting this to reach the hearing crowd, so opinions from hearing ppl are ones i'm very curious about. if you've never given it thought before you are going to now or else /lh)

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Field trip.

Some people would call gothamites petty, but given that most of the USA population treated them as scum, they believed that their behavior was justified.

They didn't like tourists, to put it mildly. Therefore, after learning that in their city were people on a field trip from Amity Park who could not leave Gotham for several days due to weekly escape from Arkham, the news channel immediately decided that a short interview from the guests would definitely amuse the locals. The reaction of outsiders never ceases to be ridiculous.

Reporter: ~Good afternoon~ Gotham News! May I ask you to share what you liked most about our wonderful city?

Mr. Lancer*still in a cold sweat and looks at every passerby as a potential villain*: Uh, no, me..It's so unexpected. Well, first of all, people here are very…

Danny *is high after the tasting samples Dr. Crane gave him for free and is extremely eager to share his happiness with others*,* picks a microphone*.

Danny: Gotham is the best city in the world! Like seriously, damn, I'd like to die here. Although there are constant shootings somewhere, half the time people don't even shoot at me! I haven't been this relaxed since middle school! And in the evenings, there is often such a pleasant scent of fear and despair on the streets. This fear toxin of yours is a real miracle! It's sooo good!

Sam *decides to take the initiative in her own hands before Fenton says too much*: Personally, I am very pleased with the number of green spaces you have in your city. It's nice to see that here eco-activists are really being listened to. Also, the fact that most restaurants have a thoughtful menu for vegetarians left a very pleasant impression.

Dash in his favorite T-shirt "it's not gay if he's dead": Four words. Hips of Red Hood. The fact that it is not marked in the guidebook as the main attraction of the Crime Alley is a real crime. This dude clearly never skips leg days. My respect.

Tucker: What can I say? The speed of internet here, even during villains attacks, is absolutely  unbelievable. I don't want to leave this place.

Jazz: I love Gotham! Finally, I was able to buy all the works published by Dr. Harleen Quinzel. *girl picks up an impressive stack of books* For some reason, they are not available online.

The camera points at a red-haired guy with a twitching eye.

Wes: I'm 85% sure Bruce Wayne is Batman. I have a proof and I am ready to provide it.

A girl with a "Good Guess" pin from Riddler enters and takes camera away from conspiracy theorist.

Star: Sorry, he slipped out at night and went to look for problems. Again. Don't pay any attention to him. He's always like this when he drinks more than two energy drinks in a row.

[strawbuddy-luv]

Love the difference between Superman saving Bruce vs Superboy saving Tim because Clark is trying very hard to act like he's never seen Bruce Wayne a day in his life and has no idea who this celebrity billionaire is while Bruce tries to pretend like this isn't the most humiliating moment of his entire existence. Kon, on the other hand, is an immediate threat to anyone in a 6 mile radius because his human has the survival instincts of a wet paper bag and would sacrifice himself for a child's balloon animal at the drop of a hat. Tim's probably already trying to crawl out of his arms to start working on a solution to whatever he needed saving from to begin with. Reporters have a field day with it all, though the Batfam arguably has way more fun.

[witherby]

what would be littlest wayne's first word be?

I was thinking of something simple or sweet, but then I got the funniest idea on the planet.

The Littlest Wayne: First Words

You were babbling a lot more lately. Your family all knew it meant you were likely going to say your first words soon, and the fighting over who got to have your attention increased tenfold. It had gotten to the point that your brothers were practically kidnapping you to monopolize your time and attention. Bruce put his foot down and ended that whole charade when it stopped being endearing and became dangerous.

("Really, Damian? Your skill in combat is not in question, it has never been in question, but you cannot bring them on patrol with you on the off-chance they happen to say their first words in the middle of the night!")

So, Bruce takes you to the Watchtower anytime he has a Justice League meeting. It pisses off all of his sons, but he's arguably bringing you to the safest spot in the galaxy. Also, he's your father. It's not kidnapping if you're kidnapping your own child. Okay, it is, it very much still is, but that's not the point.

"Okay, Mouse," he murmurs, easing you onto the floor and handing you a stuffed teddy bear. "The meeting's only an hour, then we're going back home. Dada will take you home."

(Maybe he wants to steer you towards your first word himself. Sue him, he's just a man at the end of the day.)

You take the bear, staring openly at your father. You don't see him often in the Batman suit, so he's very visually appealing at the moment. Bruce allows himself a small smile, gently pinching your cheek, then he steps out of the way when Diana arrives.

"The babyyy!" She whisper-yells, kneeling next to the playpen. "Hello, little one! It's such a treat when Batman brings you around!"

You make some soft, babbling noises. Mostly you're making raspberries. It's a fascinating sound. Diana melts and wipes some drool from your chin.

"Someone's getting close to their first words. My mother said mine was "maim." I remember that conversation fondly..."

Bruce has to remind himself that Diana grew up on an island inhabited by immortal warrior women. "Maim" is a perfectly normal first word for an immortal warrior baby.

The other Leaguers start quickly filing into the meeting room, each of them stopping cheerfully to greet you. It makes something fond bloom in Bruce's chest, and you coo and openly admire all the people with bright, primary colors all over their bodies. You're busy trying to chew on Superman's cape when a glowing, green light enters your periphery, and you drop the fabric in favor of staring at the Green Lantern.

"Oh, bring your kid to work day, huh, Spooks?" Hal actually scoops you up out of the pen and cradles you to his chest, grinning down at you. "Hey, kiddo!"

"Mmmnnn," you mutter intelligently, reaching for his mask. Every time you manage to pop it off, he just wills another one on. You think this is the most entertaining game ever.

"The kids are taking them out into the field, now," Bruce sighs. "They all want to be the one to hear their first word. Which is fine. It's adorable. I love that they love the baby. But the baby does not belong on Gotham's streets in the middle of the night, especially if guns are involved."

"Oh, yeah, that's pretty bad," Hal says, smiling at you. You pop his domino mask off again, squealing when it dissolves in your fingers and another one materializes over his face. "Uncle Hal would never do that to you, would he? No! No he wouldn't! That's very dangerous!"

"Huh...Hal!"

Everyone freezes. Bruce's jaw actually drops.

"No fucking way," Barry blurts across the room.

"Language. There's a whole baby here, Flash," Oliver says, but he's grinning like an idiot.

"Hal!" You chirp again. "Hal!"

Bruce sinks to his knees. Clark looks like he's trying not to laugh. Barry and Oliver are definitely laughing. Diana is pouting over the fact that your first word was so tame and boring. J'onn doesn't understand why your first word is so important when it just means you'll eventually learn to say more.

Hal is nearly trembling with the flood of emotions. His thing with Bruce is very new, and he's been by the Manor often enough that you obviously know him, but he really hadn't anticipated his name being...being...

"The boys are going to kill me."

"Maybe," Bruce admits, still on the floor. "...it couldn't be dada? It couldn't be uppies? Or Mouse, or any of the other words you hear ten thousand times a day? Even Alfred thought you might try his name first."

"I think we're going to need to postpone the start of the meeting," Clark declares, coughing as a way of clearing his throat and definitely not to disguise his amused huffs. "Let's push it back fifteen minutes."

"Hal!" You chirp again, delighted. You finally pulled Green Lantern's mask off and it didn't disappear. You win!

[rainclues]

And they were roommates 👀

[rizzanon]

00 | AND SHE CRIED OVER NOTHING

m.list | next

You weren’t supposed to be out here tonight. You knew that very well. The injuries that you sustained from your previous few night patrols hadn’t fully healed yet. Leslie warned you not to go out that night.

Yet you still went out.

Why?

Because you finally had a lead on the drug ring you had been tracking down for who knows how long. And if you didn’t act now, they’ll get away. Again. You couldn’t allow that.

You could have asked for some backup, but that wouldn’t suffice.

Not because you didn’t want help—actually no. You didn’t want help. This was your mission. Your lead. But backup would have been nice. Though you knew no one would come.

Dick? He was busy juggling his duties in Blüdhaven. Even if he wanted to help, his plate was always overflowing, and he wouldn’t drop it all just because you asked.

Jason? Yeah, right. You could already hear his sarcastic laugh if you dared to call him. “Why? Can’t handle it yourself for once?” he’d sneer, probably adding some comment about how this was why you didn’t belong in the field, before handling the whole situation himself. You weren’t about to give him more ammunition.

Tim? He was neck-deep in some case he swore was more pressing than anything else. The last time you’d asked him for help, he’d given you that look—the one that screamed—You can’t do this without me?—before ultimately brushing you off. You didn’t want to go through that again.

Damian? He’d probably make some cutting remark about how you lacked the skills to deal with it on your own. And while he might grudgingly show up, it wouldn’t be out of concern—it’d be just to make sure you didn’t screw up his father’s reputation. Or make things worse to clean up.

Cassandra? She had her own priorities, her own missions that rarely overlapped with yours. And truthfully, you didn’t even think she noticed how much you struggled. She always seemed so focused, so capable. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit how lost you felt in comparison.

Duke? He might’ve come if you asked, but it wasn’t fair to rely on him. He already did so much during the day. You didn’t want to drag him down with you.

And Bruce? Your father? Well. He was offworld with the Justice League. Besides, he never showed up unless it was absolutely critical. And let’s be honest—he didn’t think your leads were ever “critical.”

So you didn’t bother calling. You didn’t want the dismissive tones, the passive-aggressive remarks, or the lingering sense of being an afterthought.

This was your lead. Your mission. And if you didn’t do it, no one else would.

The warehouse loomed in front of you, its shadow stretching long across the damp pavement. Your heart pounded as you slipped into the shadows, your injuries screaming in protest with every movement.

You moved silently through the shadows, the dim light from the flickering bulbs overhead casting long, jagged shapes along the warehouse floor. The stench of oil, dust, and something far more pungent hit your nostrils as you crouched behind a stack of crates, eyes scanning the scene.

A small group of men huddled around a table near the back, laughing, their voices low but unmistakably clear. The bags of white powder scattered across the surface of the table made your stomach churn.

They're pushing more than just drugs this time, you thought.

Weapons, too.

A rough-looking man passed a large duffle bag to another, his fingers brushing the edge of the table. You could see the gleam of a few pistols tucked in the bag, alongside the drugs.

This was more dangerous than you thought.

You couldn't risk waiting for backup-you had to end it now.

You moved, a blur of motion, cutting through the darkness, your body fluid and quiet. The first guy was an easy target—a simple kick to the back of his knee sent him collapsing forward. You grabbed his collar and shoved him into the crates with a muffled thud, silencing his surprised yelp with your fist. He slumped, unconscious before he could make a sound.

Two more men turned at the noise, and before they could react, you were on them, one swift strike to the throat with your elbow knocking the wind out of the first. He staggered back, choking, and you took the opportunity to jab your fist into his ribs-hard enough to knock the breath out of him but not enough to take him down completely.

The second man lunged for his gun. You didn't give him a chance. Your leg snapped out, sweeping his feet from under him. As he crashed to the floor, you were already on top of him, wrenching the weapon from his hand and twisting it behind his back, forcing him to the ground with a grunt.

Three down.

But there were more.

You heard movement behind you. The fourth man was charging. You spun, ducking just in time to avoid his swinging fist. Your foot came up, landing a solid kick to his stomach. He doubled over, gasping for air, but you weren't done. Before he could recover, you snapped your knee into his face— cracking his nose with a sickening crunch. He crumpled, blood pooling beneath his head as you quickly swiped the gun from his belt.

But more men were flooding into the warehouse now, alerted by the noise of the fight.

You dove into the next move, tossing the gun to the side and using your momentum to launch yourself into a roll, just narrowly avoiding a swing from a fifth man. Your leg shot out, sweeping his feet out from under him. As he crashed to the ground, you were already on him, pinning his arm behind his back.

Your breathing was heavy now, muscles straining from the effort, but you didn't stop.

You couldn't.

Another man tried to rush you from the side. You twisted just in time, grabbing his arm and using his own momentum to throw him into a stack of crates. He hit the ground with a crash, dazed. You didn't waste time, hitting him hard with a knee to the chest.

But then, something shifted. You were surrounded. More men had come from the back, the entrance-everywhere.

You counted at least seven now, all armed, all ready for a fight.

Your heart raced, pulse pounding in your ears. You fought harder, faster, but exhaustion was creeping in. You could feel the weight of your injuries dragging on you, slowing your reactions, dulling your reflexes.

One man landed a punch to your side.

Pain exploded, sharp and brutal, as your ribs cracked under the force. You staggered, trying to keep your footing, but then another slammed his fist into your jaw, sending you spinning. Your head whipped to the side, and for a moment, everything blurred.

You barely managed to catch yourself before hitting the floor. Focus, you thought, shaking your head to clear the fog. But it was too late.

Gunfire erupted.

The sound echoed through the warehouse, deafening, sharp. You barely had time to react as the first shot rang out, grazing your shoulder. You cursed under your breath, trying to duck behind a crate for cover. But then another shot-this time, it struck you in the side. The pain was unbearable, like a fire burning through your skin. You fell to your knees, the force of the blow knocking the wind out of you.

You tried to rise, but the pain was too much.

Blood pooled around you, your body screaming in protest as you desperately tried to keep your eyes open.

But it wasn't enough.

Another bullet pierced through your side, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping, your body going cold. Your vision dimmed, the world around you fading into darkness.

Damnit, this couldn't be the end. This couldn't be the way you die.

You gritted your teeth, trying to will your broken body into motion, but it was no use. Your muscles betrayed you, trembling under the effort to even inch forward. Blood pooled beneath you, sticky and warm, and every movement sent a sharp, searing pain radiating through your torso.

Your hand, slick with blood, dragged itself forward, reaching for the comms device tucked at your side. Come on.

Just one call. Someone has to be there.

With a shaky grip, you brought the device to your lips, gasping into it. "H-hello? Anyone... anyone copy? Oracle? Batcave?"

The comms buzzed faintly, then fell silent.

Nothing.

Your heart sank, a cold weight settling in your chest. No one was coming. You pressed the button again, harder this time, as if that would somehow force a response. "Please... anyone..."

Still nothing.

Tears blurred your vision as the reality of your situation hit you like a freight train.

You were dying, and you were alone.

The sounds of movement around you grew louder. The men you'd fought earlier were groaning, pulling

themselves up off the ground. You heard their footsteps, slow and deliberate, growing closer with every second.

You swallowed hard, your breaths shallow. No. No, no, no. This can't be happening.

But then, the distant wail of police sirens pierced the silence, growing louder by the second. The footsteps halted. You could hear hurried whispers, curses under their breath. They weren't going to stick around to get caught.

And just like that, they were gone.

You lay there, helpless, listening to their retreating footsteps echo through the warehouse. The mission was a failure.

The drug ring was slipping through your fingers, and you could do nothing but bleed out on the cold concrete floor.

Your vision blurred further as tears fell freely down your cheeks, mixing with the blood beneath you. You felt hollow, a deep ache spreading through you that had nothing to do with the gunshots.

Flashes of your life played out in your mind, each memory sharper and crueler than the last.

You saw yourself as a child, training relentlessly, throwing yourself into every practice, every drill, every mission. You wanted so desperately to prove yourself.

To make your father proud. To make anyone see you. But no matter how hard you worked, how much you pushed yourself, it was never enough.

You saw the countless patrols where you'd fought harder, faster, and smarter, hoping for even a flicker of recognition from your father or your siblings. But they always moved past you, as if you were nothing more than a shadow in their much larger, brighter world.

Your father's dismissive glances, your siblings' subtle comments, their silence—it all piled up, brick by brick, until you were buried beneath it. And now, you were dying under that weight.

Tears kept falling as another thought crept in, sharper than the rest.

You shouldn't have put on the mask.

You weren't cut out for this life. You never had been. Maybe you were too stubborn to admit it before, or maybe you'd known all along but refused to face the truth. You wanted to be like them-to belong. But maybe you were never meant to.

After all, even your own mother didn't want you.

That thought cut deeper than any bullet ever could. If your own mother had abandoned you, why did you ever think Bruce or the others would be any different?

And then there were your friends.

Adrien and Caitlyn.

The only two people who had ever cared about you, who had tried to stop you from breaking yourself for a family that didn't care. You pushed them away—no, you drove them away. They saw through the cracks in your armor, saw the truth you didn't want to face, and you hated them for it.

You remembered the arguments, the cruel words, the way you shut them out of your life, thinking they didn't understand. You'd been so stupid, so blind. And now? You'd give anything to take it all back. To tell them you were sorry.

What would they think when they found out about this? Would they cry? Would they be angry? Or would they feel nothing at all?

They didn't have to care anymore. You made sure of that.

And then your family...

Would they even care? Would your father see your death as another failure? Would your siblings mourn you, or would they move on, like you were just another casualty in the war they'd chosen to fight?

You'd never know.

At least now, maybe you could finally see Alfred once again.

Alfred… the man who was your family’s butler, and someone who was more of a parental figure to you than your actual father.

Everything changed when he died. God, you missed him so much. Everything was so much harder, so much lonelier without him. At least now, you could finally see him again.

As the world around you dimmed, your thoughts grew quieter, like the fading notes of a melancholy song.

Your chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, each breath weaker than the last.

The pain ebbed away, replaced by a strange, cold stillness.

And with one final, trembling breath, everything went black.

Everything felt peaceful for a moment.

But then, you heard a sound.

The sound was faint at first—a low, rhythmic ringing cutting through the darkness. It didn’t make sense. Everything had gone quiet, hadn’t it? The fight. The blood. The cold, creeping sensation of death. Yet, the ringing persisted, growing louder, sharper. It was unmistakable now. An alarm clock?

Your mind scrambled for understanding as the sound grew deafening. And then—

Your eyes shot open.

You were staring at the ceiling. Your ceiling. The familiar, faintly cracked white plaster of your bedroom greeted you, sunlight streaming in through the blinds. It didn’t make sense. Wasn’t this supposed to be—? No. You were bleeding out in that warehouse, weren’t you? The pain, the hopelessness—it was too vivid to have been a dream. Wasn’t it?

Your heart pounded as you sat upright, your body reacting before your mind could process. Your hands flew to your torso, desperate to find the bullet wounds that had felled you. But there were none. No blood, no pain. Nothing but smooth skin under your shirt.

But something was wrong. Your hands trailed over your arms, your fingers tracing the faint scars you’d accumulated over the years as Batgirl. Only… there weren’t as many as there should’ve been. You froze. Your heart raced as you stood up, scanning your room with frantic eyes.

Things weren’t where they were supposed to be. Some of the posters you’d taken down years ago were back on the walls, curling at the edges like they hadn’t moved in years. Old trinkets and keepsakes cluttered your desk—the ones you distinctly remembered throwing away. And the books you’d obsessively arranged last year? They were still in the chaotic, haphazard piles from years ago.

Panic bubbled in your chest. You turned sharply, catching movement in the corner of your eye—a reflection. Your reflection. In the mirror of your dressing table, you saw a face you barely recognized.

Your hair was longer, falling past your shoulders, untouched by the haphazard trims you’d been giving yourself since your late teens. Your face was softer, your features less defined. The heavy eye bags you’d earned through sleepless nights as Batgirl were faint, barely noticeable.

You stumbled closer, staring at yourself like you were seeing a ghost. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t who you were anymore. You looked… younger. Much younger.

Desperation clawed at you as you rushed to grab your phone from the bedside table. Your fingers trembled as you tapped the screen, and what you saw nearly sent you reeling.

The date on your phone.

Four years ago.

You weren’t 20 anymore. You were 16. Somehow, impossibly, you were back in the past.

just a retelling of this

taglist (open): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows | ask to be added <3

(idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

Whenever the Bats would complain about any of their tech malfunctioning, Bruce would definitely be the type of dad to go "Back in the days, I didn't even have that" (and of course he overdoes it) :

Dick : This grappling gun's jammed again !

Bruce : Be grateful. I used to scale buildings by hand with a hook and rope.

Dick : Yeah, yeah.

---

Tim : The encryption program is too slow to crack this file.

Bruce : I cracked codes with a pencil, paper, and a lot of staring.

Tim : [rolls his eyes]

---

Jason : The comms in my helmet cut out mid-fight. How am I supposed to fucking coordinate with the other dickwads ?!

Bruce : When I started, I had no comms. Hand signals and pigeons were my options.

Jason : ... Pigeons ?

Bruce : Yeah, now quit whining.

---

Damian : Father ! My sword tracker isn’t syncing properly !

Bruce : Know what I used to do when I lost track of my gear on the field ? I used this thing called "my eyes" to find it. Maybe try that.

---

Barbara : The Batcomputer is practically prehistoric at this point. Maybe it’s time to invest in an upgrade.

Bruce : Prehistoric ? I started with a notebook and an encyclopedia. Plus, I had to cross-reference everything manually. How’s that for prehistoric ?

Barbara : Sure, Grandpa.

---

Cass : My night vision is acting up. Can you fix it ?

Bruce : When I first started, I had to rely on the moonlight. You’ve got infrared, thermal imaging, and sonar. Don’t take it for granted.

Cass : ...

Bruce : ... Fine, I’ll fix it.

---

In the group chat.

Tim : Just survived another sermon about the olden days and gratitude. I swear, I’ve got a migraine.

Steph : Yikes. What was it about this time ?

Jason : Let me guess. How he had to hack into systems using a pocket calculator and sheer willpower ?

Tim : Close. It was how he used to decode encrypted files by hand and climb five stories to cut the power while it rained.

Steph : Classic. Did he end with the “you don’t know how easy you have it” speech ?

Tim : Oh, absolutely. With a bonus lecture about how he built the Batcomputer.

Jason : Next time, just tell him you don’t care.

Tim : And risk another hour ? No thanks.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)

[justsomestuffreally]

I think the Batkids reaction to a Bruce who isn't de-aged to 8 but rather 29 (pre-Jason death, post his adoption) would be fascinating. 

Their reaction would vary wildly:

Dick: Oh. Bruce is soft again. Bruce calls them ‘chum’ and ‘buddy’ and gives head pats for no reason. He still isn’t perfect, his communication skills are still a work in progress, but compared to his future self? Without actively dying Dick is hugged plenty. Bruce asks him to go to the zoo, unrelated to any case, just to spend time together. Dick is hit with more nostalgia and longing for the past than he knows what to do with.

Also notable: his dad is younger than him. That is something. Second, holy existential crisis Batman, his dad is younger than him and already one adult and one teenage kid??? Dick is not ready to feel this old yet. Third, Dick has absolutely no idea how Bruce managed to stay patient through his no-pants years. He is going to thank reason every day from now on that Damian wears full protection.

Jason: After his death and League he clung to an image of Bruce. One many tried to beat out of him, but he still kept it somewhere close to his heart, buried deep enough even he couldn’t see it. When he came back Bruce wasn’t like this idea of him. How stupid of him to believe the mind of a traumatized kid. Trying to create one good thing before the kid drew his last breath. Making up memories that never even existed.

But they did. Every smile and hug and even his words reflect the image tugged safely against his still-beating heart. His dad very clearly, very deeply loves him. Which is so much worse. Because he can understand why a Bruce, who never cared, didn’t kill the Joker. But he cares. So why the fuck did he not kill the Joker?

Tim: The reason he joined the family, the reason why he became Robin in the first place was because he saw a problem when Bruce started self-destructing and thought ‘Someone needs to fix that!’. Therefore he went and collected Dick, who didn’t seem keen on fixing it. So, the job fell to him to fix it.

He thought he did a good job, he thought he fixed the problem. Except now he sees who Bruce was, and he knows he failed. Their Bruce is less soft, less affectionate, less like he was before. Batman needs a Robin and Tim didn’t manage to be good enough of one to save him. 

[Or: Tim has a guilt complex a hundred miles wide and blames himself for things that aren’t his fault part 52]

Steph: Jason and she are very similar. Both come from the Narrows, both have a mother addicted to drugs and a shitty father. The differences start when Steph keeps waiting on the roof of their apartment for Batman to whisk her away, while Jason tries to steal the tires of the Batmobile and is taken in.

When Steph started out as Spoiler Bruce tried to keep her off the field, and obviously this one would too (even if he would probably be less paranoid about it), but she knows this Bruce would have also taken her in. This Bruce would be the father she always wished for when she sat on their roof and couldn’t see any stars. 

And she didn’t get to have this because Jason went ahead and died. (Of course, she knows she isn’t fair to the guy. Dying isn’t fun… And she knows the only reason she lived is because he died. When Batman rescued her from Black Mask she was in such terrible shape that Leslie managed to convince the World’s Greatest Detective that she died. If Jason hadn’t died Bruce wouldn’t have been as paranoid, wouldn’t have noticed her missing so soon, wouldn’t have been as urgent in his response. Would have been just a minute slower, a minute which would have killed her. Just as it had Jason.)

For her, this Bruce is a distorted mirror into a past which never was. 

Cass: This Bruce and B are not the same person. They don’t move the same. In a fight, this Bruce is younger, faster, stronger. Doesn’t compensate for a previously broken spine. Less experienced. Still one of the most experienced she knows, but less. 

He still moves differently, outside a fight, less pain. More likely to engage in physical affection, more likely to hug and pat and talk. He talks more than B. B knows what she means without words. This Bruce doesn’t.

She likes this Bruce, warmth, and softness. But not as much as B. He knows what she means, when she wants a hug, when she tells him ‘I love you’ without words. B doesn’t need words. This Bruce doesn’t know her, doesn’t communicate like her. She wants B back.

Damian: At first, when this version of his father seemed uncanny and oddly familiar, he assumed it to be due to the stories of his mother. After all, she always told him tales about his father. He simply did not have the frame of reference to understand the kindness she spoke of. Clearly, the clash between the ideals of the League and the ones of his father causes these feelings, just as they did when he first entered the manor.

He presumed this to be the case until one day on patrol Batman laid a hand on his shoulder and told him he did a good job after no particularly impressive fight and he nearly called him ‘Grayson’. Because the stories of his mother may have painted the picture of this version of his father, however, it wasn’t what made it familiar; no, he knew this kindness. These hugs and compliments one would bestow upon a child. Compliments which, despite the indignity, still warm him. Because Grayson learned how to be a… caregiver from his father.

His father used to be like Grayson, used to be until his grief hardened him. Damian could have had this. Damian could have a brother and father who would- But he doesn’t because of Todd. He loathes Todd. Loathes him for ruining the life he could have had.

Why did he die anyway? Damian certainly wouldn’t have a problem escaping bonds created by the Joker, Damian would have disarmed the bomb in time, Damian would have never thrown this life away like he did.

[Or: Damian is a child who was raised by assassins and has unreasonable standards for fighting abilities and also is a child who needs to focus his rage on someone.]

Duke: He was neither there before Jason died nor in the aftermath [according to my math he was around 4 when Jason died] he joined the family when Jason was already back for 4 years or so. He mostly skipped all the drama. For him, Bruce is the way Bruce is because he is Bruce. It’s weird to see him so different, to see how grief shaped parts of Bruce which Duke assumed were just Bruce things.

He’s glad this Bruce is brighter, or not because it just highlights how much that light will dim? Who knows, certainly not him. 

What he does know is that, with their Bruce, he has a distance which, with his parents still alive, he appreciates. With this Bruce, he can understand why Dick struggled so much whether he wants to be his ward or son, how he doesn’t want to replace his parents but still have this Bruce as a dad. It definitely explained the ted talk Dick tried to give him after Bruce officially took him in as a ward.

He likes this Bruce well enough, but he doesn’t necessarily want him to stay this way. Yes, their Bruce is less happy, less open but he did heal, he did grow. Duke met a Bruce who tried to learn from his mistakes, learned to communicate better, and learned when to pull and when to push. For Tim, Damian, Dick, and certainly Jason there is too much baggage, too much history in their relationships, it’s difficult for them to ever move past- anything really.

Sure, when Dick and Bruce are on the same page they are essentially invincible but then the past catches up again and they don’t talk to each other for months. And honestly? Apart from Cass, Duke’s pretty sure he has one of the best relationships with Bruce simply because he got to know him at a better time.

Duke doesn’t mind this Bruce. But their Bruce loved Jason, cared for him so deeply the scars still show to this day. And he still chooses to open up again even if just a bit by bit. Even if just Duke can see it. He is used to being the only one that can see.

And maybe knowing this care extends to him, this love even grief can’t shake? Maybe it makes him feel just a little bit safer, a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter.

[nightingale-prompts]

Field Trip-DCxDP prompt

(Another Danny the Cosmic Babysitter pompt)

Danny had little patience for the adult heroes with a handful of exceptions. That is most of the heroes are fine but Danny likes to complain because he isn't called to be on missions often.

Instead, he often gets calls on Friday nights to watch Superboy and that means Robin comes too.

Danny is their favorite babysitter and the only people Danny doesn't complain about. He treats the boys with as much care as he does his little sister but he is also pretty negligent. If the boys were unharmed and not traumatized then he lets them do whatever they want. Much to their father's concern.

The boys were dropped off at Danny's portal after school with their bags and Clark gave Danny one of his mother's cheese apple pies and a batch of Alfred's cookies.

Clark wished them luck and reminded them to do their homework and to be respectful to Danny.

Bruce called and reminded Danny to....blah blah blah. Danny wasn't listening he was a busy god.

Danny instead took the boys on a field trip when Jon asked for help on his science homework.

Danny took them to his observatory and showed them just a fraction of the infinite cosmos. The observatory was a place he made to monitor the realms, tracking the path of stars and galaxies, and the life on planets.

"So how does life form on different planets?" Jon asked staring into the rainbow-colored galaxy twisting around them.

"Let's go see!" Danny opened a portal to a far-off desolate world under a purple sun making sure to put a protective barrier on the boys so they would survive the environment.

"Are suns supposed to be that color?" Damian asked.

"They can be any color," Danny said reassuring "Large amounts of potassium salts cause the star to look this way."

The boys looked around on this planet hoping to see new aliens. But there were none. Danny laughed at their puzzled expressions.

"This planet has no life on it. In 5 billion years the right conditions will be met to form organic life when this star burns enough of the potassium around it. Frozen ice in asteroids will hit this planet and water will form and the heat will create an atmosphere. Organisms will form and die and for a brief moment, this world will have life." Danny explained laying out the beginning of life.

"What? So they won't live? Why not?" Jon asked in distress of the idea.

"Haha, don't worry. That's how it's supposed to be. Life is a miraculous thing and the beings that will one day grow here are one of the billions of planets that share the same fate. They will never gain sentience of course but they will live and living in a universe so fickle and absurd is a testament. Think of just how amazingly it is to live on earth." Danny said taking the boys into another portal to a world populated by beasts.

Alien beasts that walked on four legs and birds flew.

Damian marveled at the giant birds that dwarfed any on Earth.

"This is a super planet with enough oxygen to support 50 Earths. Full of life and animals who have evolved from the small bacteria that would have died like on the planet before had the environment been different. Life is a roulette wheel though and even the same environment could yield different results." Danny said as they stood on the grassy clift.

"There really are no people?" Damian asked.

"No, and there never will be. You two are the only people who will ever reach this planet. This world will never know society. No government. No civilization." Danny hummed in thought.

"That's a good thing." Damian said.

"Is it? Maybe. Even a lowly beast still looks up at the sky and dreams of a better existence. But here this world will never know a truly peaceful life. It will always be predator and prey. Survival is all they know. No, they will mostly live short lives knowing only fear and violence. They will not know art or music, things gained from learning and sharing. They have not reached that part of development and they never will know. An ice age will soon come when their planet loses its orbit and they will all die." Danny said as he ushered the boys to another world.

Jon and Damian when silent in despair. Learning the benign cruelty of the universe was harder when you had to see it.

The next was a world that was a smoking wreckage.

"This world was once populated with billions. The people had evolved from the smallest life forms, surpassed their beastly heritage, and grew into tribes. They built cities and hubs. But they also built weapons. The truth is boys that the progress of a species hinges on the ability to evolve and the greatest driving force is competition. The greatest opponent is yourself. These people chose to give in to that call and they suffered for it. Some turned towards the stars and had long fled to start a new life on another planet." Danny said soberly.

Damian and Jon looked at the space god and noticed he suddenly didn't look like his usual self. He was slightly weathered and creased at the edges.

Danny opened another portal to another world. A city full of lights where below them.

"This boys is a planet of strange aliens. They dream constantly of a better life but don't know how to achieve it. They work together and they break apart, always arguing. But time and time again they come together to prove they care for one another. True there will be those who work against this collective and care only for themselves. Take pity on them, they have succumbed to their instincts from when they were just simple beasts trying to survive. If they can one day look up and see that all they have in this lonely universe where life can be blinked out of existence if the tide shifts differently then they'd truly become a better species. Boys you must understand that your existence is nothing short of a miracle upon miracle. We are all made from stardust and it is next to impossible that you exist at this moment but despite all odds you are here." Danny said as he flew over the city carrying the boys.

As Damian and Jon looked down they recognized landmarks this was earth.

"Will the same thing happen to us as that other planet?" Jon asked.

"I don't know. You mortals tend to surprise us. I can probably predict a billion futures and still be wrong. I'll have to ask the time god. Still, there is no telling what I do know is that the future will have you two and that tells me that it's going to be okay.

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 2

Okay, so I didn't realize how much building I was gonna do around (Y/n's) social life so this chapter is honestly about knowing (y/n). Anyways, the next chapter will be from the batfam's pov and focus more on the yandere bits! Hope you enjoy this chapter tho!

Tag List!: @sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323

The change started slowly on a normal evening, an evening like every other. It was a football season game day, the big match between the Gotham City High Bats and the Gotham Prep Knights. For the rich prep kids, this was nothing more than another game, but for your school, this game was everything. This would help your school get the recognition and funding it deserves, and allow some students to be scouted and rewarded for their talent.

Not only that, but Gotham Prep always, every season goes to state, beating out all the other public schools in the city. They haven’t lost a game since the early 80s so there was a lot riding on this game. 

Your role, funnily enough, was representing the school as one of the Gotham City High school cheerleaders. Turns out that the gymnastics classes you took before were actually useful for purposes other than trying to impress Dick. You surprisingly took to cheerleading like a fish to water, liking the competitiveness and sense of belonging that came from joining the team. 

Anyways, you, the cheer team, and the football team were on a bus headed towards the bigger, better Gotham Prep football field. The bus was loud with music and schoolmates hyping each other up for the big game. Ethan, a friend of yours on the football team was nervously shaking his leg and squeezing his helmet so hard you thought it would crack.

Both you and your friend Arya noticed.

“Ethan, the game hasn’t even started yet and I already see a crack forming on your helmet.” You said jokingly, a gentle arm on his shoulder.

He startled, “Jesus Christ (Y/n) warn a guy next time.” Ethan spoke, offering a nervous smile.

“You need to stop freaking out bro. When you do, it freaks out the others on the team.” Arya gently said.

“I know, I know but— but there’s just a lot riding on this game. For a lot of us, this is our only way to get out of Gotham, and if we screw up the finals, we’ll be stuck here forever.” Ethan said solemnly, looking around at all his teammates.

“Well then good thing you guys aren’t gonna lose. Y’all have spent two years training to make this comeback, to make sure that Gotham City High finally gets this win. I promise you’ve worked harder than those assholes at Gotham Prep, so just go out there and put your training to use. Don’t let your nerves get to you, you have no reason to.” You calmly said.

“Yeah—yeah, we have trained harder, haven't we? Yeah, you’re right! We've just gotta go out there and play like we've practiced.” Ethan exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing why he should have confidence in himself and his team.

“Exactly!” Arya said, matching his enthusiasm and hitting Ethan playfully on the shoulder. 

The rest of the bus ride to the stadium was louder than ever, the coach and other teammates taking turns to hype up the more nervous members, to get them confident for the field. Everything was about normal once everyone made it to the stadium. The band was set up, and people were flooding the bleachers. It wasn’t until the last ten minutes before the game when normalcy died.

“Hey (Y/n), isn’t that your family?” A girl, Maya, says.

Lo’ and behold, Bruce Wayne and his entire gaggle of children were sitting on the home side of the bleachers, sporting Gotham Prep t-shirts. 

“What—oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell are they doing here, they don’t even like football like that!?” You shout in frustration.

It was then when you remembered a conversation Dick, Bruce, and Damian had at the dinner table. Something about how it would help Damian out if he started going to school events and games, getting him acclimated to what being a normal teenager was like. That was all fine and dandy, but you didn't think the entire damn family was going to show up. Oh, the gossip columns are gonna have a field day with this. You could already imagine the headlines, “Bruce Wayne openly isolates daughter (Y/n) Wayne” or even, “The Wayne Family once again publicly shows dislike for daughter (Y/n) Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

“Are you good (Y/n)?” Arya questions softly. 

She was one of the only people who you spoke your sorrows to, one of the only people who actually knows of just how lonely you were. Of course everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his family didn't really like you very much– thank you Vicky vale– but nobody but Arya and Ethan really understood the crux of your situation. 

“Yeah, I'm all good bro, don't worry about it. Just focus on the game.” You said dismissively. It didn't bother you anymore, sure it hurt a little bit, but this was expected.

“Alright, its time to shake hands with the other team, everyone line up!” the football Coach, Coach Daniels, all but yelled.

You sighed, moving to the front of the line for the cheerleaders; you were team captain after all. Both the football teams and cheerleaders made their way to the center of the field where they met. You looked back at the rest of your team, you all knew that this was going to be an unpleasant interaction, it always was. The Gotham Prep cheer captain walked up to you, disdain and poorly concealed disgust on her face. You all quickly shook hands, trying to get this exhausting ordeal done and over with, but of course the other captain had to open her mouth.

“You lower end city girls sure have your own sense of style.” Darla, which was basically code for calling you and your team sluts. Wow, how original.

“You should see what’s underneath the jacket.” You replied, giving her a sharp smile.

She floundered, clearly expecting her insult to rile you and your team up. 

“Ugh, as expected of Bruce Wayne’s biggest embarrassment. You sad Daddy doesn't like you? Or maybe she’s just glad she gets to mooch off of him before he ends up disowning her.” Another girl pipes up, drawing mind grating giggles from the rest of their team. You recognized her, she was the daughter of some hot-shot CEO.

You just tiredly look back at your team, a few of them getting angry on your behalf while others looked to you in concern. 

“What, not going to say anything?” The other captain haughtily questioned. 

“I mean, what exactly is the response you’re expecting? Yeah, Bruce Wayne doesn't like me, but at least I didn't have to buy my way into the cheer team or have my daddy pay to make sure I wasn't held back.” You stated boredly.

She was silent in shock, right before the anger came bursting through.

“You whore! I’m going to fuck you up, take you to court and sue you!” She shrieked.

“You’re going to sue me? You mean sue Bruce Wayne?” You snorted, “Like that’ll ever happen. And bitch, you couldn’t fight if your life depended on it, so next time you threaten me remember–I can and will beat the ever-loving shit outta you.”

That must have sparked some fear in her because she just turned around and led her team back to their side of the field. You’re sure others noticed your altercation, obviously having no idea what was being said, but it was clear to both sides of the field that nothing good was said. You’re ready to turn back to your side when you accidentally make eye contact with Tim. The cold, calculating look in his eyes has you shifting in discomfort, you quickly look away as the cheer team and football players head back to their respective sides.

The players took their place onto the field while your team got into formation.

“Aright guys, this’s the big one! Give it all you got, just like we practiced!” You yelled.

Just like that, the whistle blew signaling that the game started. 

By the time you reach half time, Gotham Prep is fifteen points ahead of Gotham High. Your school does its low budget halftime performance which pales in comparison to the extravagant Gotham Prep performance. Your side of the stadium grows louder, louder in support of the football team. Before you know it, the boys are lining up for the second half of the game. Thankfully, Gotham High shoots up in points, the score now becoming 34 to 29. The issue is, the game is starting to come to an end with only two minutes on the clock. The crowd is loud, but everyone knows it'll be damn near impossible for Gotham High to win now. The only way to win would be to score a touch-down, which would bring Gotham High to 35 points.

It isn't until the 36 second mark when Ethan sees an opening and makes a run for it with the ball. The crowd is booming, your own voice adding to the mix of cheers and shouts. 

“Come on Ethan! Come on!” You yell, voice undoubtedly hoarse.

There's 5 seconds on the clock when Ethan dives over an opposing player and rolls into the other team's touchdown zone. The score board changes, the numbers now showcasing 34 to 35. Gotham City High with 35. Everyone goes crazy. You and Arya are holding each other jumping up and down. Holy shit, yall won! The football team was celebrating on the field, as they’re announced as the winners, a big trophy being handed into Ethan and his team's hands. And by tradition, you, Arya and the coach go grab the large gatorade barrel and proceed to soak the football team with it. There are yelps and laughs but everyone knows what it means, it means “you’ve won”. You and Arya run up to Ethan launching into him, uncaring of the gatorade now soaking your uniforms. 

It was a good day, a happy day. Everyone started loading up into the buses, starving for the victory dinner at Taco Bell. You honestly, truly forget that the Bats were even here. Shit hits the fan however, when you're in the middle of messing up a chalupa and Bruce Wayne and the rest of his brood walk in, making awkward eye contact with you. You promptly proceed to choke, Arya hitting your back to get you to stop. You do, but holy shit was that embarrassing. Also, what in the ever-loving fuck were they doing here!? 

Before you could voice your utter disbelief, another familiar face barrels into your table. Oh great.

“Hey ladies, how’d you like the game? Betcha I looked good on the field.” The voice of Adrien, a freshman player on the team, made itself known. 

He even made it a point to flex his arm muscles, hoping to impress you and Arya. You both just looked at each other before bursting out laughing. This poor freshman has been trying to get with y'all all year, despite you and Arya being sophomores. His god-awful attempts at flirting were absolutely adorable and downright hilarious. 

“Guys please don't laugh, I promise I have better pick up lines.” he begs, his demeanor that of a kicked puppy.

“I'm sorry man, you're just too adorable, we can't take you seriously.” Arya says amused.

“Why don't you go talk to one of the freshman cheerleaders? I'm sure I heard Hiba and Darla talking about how good you did on the field.” You pipped in.

“No way! Are you serious!? Oh-uh, gotta blast ladies! See ‘ya around!” Adrien stutters, excitedly scrambling off to go find the girls you mentioned.

You and Arya broke off again into a fit of laughter.

“Were you guys teasing Adrien again?” Comes a lighthearted scold from Ethan.

“Not anymore than usual. Plus, I think we finally got him to pursue girls in his own grade.” You responded, a smug smile on your face.

Ethan just chuckled before sitting down with you and Arya. You all talked and laughed some more, your mood only being slightly soured by the Wayne family’s presence at the table across from yours. You did your best to avoid their not-so-casual glances in your direction. Why they were here is a can of worms you had to marinate on later. But for now, you'd just enjoy the rest of your night.

It didn't take long before everyone started getting ready to leave. Some students had their parents come pick them up, probably to go celebrate the school's victory with their families, whilst everyone else was getting ready to load back up into the buses and head to the school where parents would be waiting for their kids. You, however, would be biking back to the manor on your own. Sure both Arya’s and Ethan’s parents had offered you a ride, but you had declined. There was no need for them to go out of their way for you, especially when they should be spending their time celebrating with their children. You’d honestly just ruin the mood with your shitty circumstances.

So as you threw away the last of your trash and started walking to leave the restaurant, you were not expecting to be stopped, let alone stopped by Bruce Wayne. You froze, not knowing what to do. What did he want?

“(Y/n),” He started, voice lacking any tell-tale emotions, “no need to get on the bus, you’ll be riding home with us.”

You noticed immediately how he didn't really give you a choice, just an order meant to be followed. You swallowed nervously, you did not, under any circumstances want to be in a car with any of them.

“There's no need for that Bruce, I–um actually left my bike back at the school and I can't just leave it there so…yeah. I’ll–I'll see you back at the manor.” You said nervously. You weren't used to talking to him and to be quite frank he scared you.

Bruce of course took note of the fact you had not called him “dad” or “father” and had called home, “the manor” instead. This is when Dick decided to chime in.

“What, you're not going to bike all the way back home, are you?” Dick jested sarcastically.

“Uh, yeah? It's how I get back home everyday.” You mention abashed. Did they seriously not even know how you got home? Whatever, you’re too tired for this.

Bruce and Dick glance at each other, their shared look holding a meaning you couldn't understand.

“Well, it doesn't matter. You’ll just ride home with us from now on.” Dick stated, faux cheer in his voice. 

“Wha–what? Hold up, I can’t just leave without my bike! It’s gonna get stolen or–”

“We’ll get a new one, now stop fussin' and get a move on,” Jason grumbles, cutting you off.

You just sigh in defeat. Why the hell are they doing this? Why now? In the end, your questions don't matter as you get marched over to the waiting Rolce Royce Limo. That was when Arya and Ethan noticed you walking away from the bus, not even noticing the Waynes in their hurry to catch up to you.

“Hey (Y/n), why are ‘ya–oh.” Arya yells out before going silent after noticing the intimidating figure of Bruce Wayne and the even more intimidating figure of Jason Todd.

“Oh, hey guys. So–uh, I actually have a ride back to the manor now so I'm all good.” You say awkwardly.

“That's–that's great! But, what about your bike bro?” Ethan questions worriedly, the awkward and almost tense energy affecting him.

“I'm just going to pray and hope that it's still there when I come back for it tomorrow.”You answer tiredly.

“Damn, well, get home safe and get some sleep. We’ll see you soon girl.” Arya says, hugging you.

You hug her back.

“You too guys, get home safe. And Ethan, good job on the field bro, we’re all super proud of you.” You voice, a small smile on your face while you give him a hug.

“Thanks (Y/n), couldn't have done it without y’all hyping me up.” He says.

“Alright, alright no more sappy, corny lines. Now get on the bus before Coach Daniels pops another blood vessel.” You joke.

“Shit, I didn't even realize that was him yelling! Ethan, we gotta go! See ya (Y/n).” Arya exclaims, practically dragging Ethan to the bus with her.

You wave at them, your smile slowly disappearing as you realize you're about to have the worst fifteen minutes of your life on this car ride. The staring you were trying to ignore when talking to your friends was more prevalent now, making you anxious as you entered the car, squirming and fiddling uncomfortably in your seat as everyone else piled in.

You internally sighed as you heard the door shut and the car engine start. Perhaps it’d be better if you drank acid and died instead, but alas, it was too late for any of that. 

You’d just do your best to stay quiet and avoid the eyes boring into your very being.

[qcomicsy]

I think a thing that people get wrong about Jason's anger is that it's not explosive.

It's cold. Jason isn't the type of person who storms off at every little thing or goes throwing tantrums and setting things on fire blindfully.

He's the type of person who's very practical. He keeps to himself, always. You rarely see issues where Jason's anger is reactive at the moment where the trigger happens to him. If you see his character up close, most of the time when he's triggered his reaction is calm. Even cold.

He gets triggered -> He keeps to himself → He makes a plan → And then he reacts.

Jason's anger being something explosive and out of character and out of place is actually how other people (characters) see it, because they have no idea on how it's playing out on Jason's head.

And that's a thing you can see operating since he was a child.

Where the only exceptions about this effect is either when someone he believes needs his help is involved.

See Nightwing Annual (2021)

But In Batman #411 when Jason learns the fact that Two-Face was responsible for his father's death and Bruce was keeping that from him as a secret his first reaction isn't to blow up on him.

Was to seethe.

Bruce goes up home after dealing with a Two-Face case (in my field we call that poetic irony) and asks Alfred where Jason is, Alfred's answer is that he's been sleeping all day (which is a conclusion that Alfred drew probably after going to check on Jason and seeing him in fact on his bed all day).

But when you see the next panel, even though he is on the bed, He's fully awake and both his expression and his body language shows that he's in fact angry.

This is the first time he appears again in the comics after learning that Two Face killed his dad.

Jason doesn't go towards Bruce immediately to demand an explanation or ask why he did this, or even to throw the truth on his face.

(Which could be debatable that that's something the Dick would usually do, but I'm not that literate on Dick's comics)

His reaction wasn't immediate.

His reaction was to go to his bed and stay quiet. Jason stayed calm and collected the whole trip until meeting Two Face again.

But the moment Jason as Robin has the opportunity to get his hands on Two-Face he does this

From Bruce, and maybe Alfred's perspective it could be interpreted as out of place or him storming off.

But it isn't. Jason was able to keep his cool (even though he shut off), until he was face a face to Two Face.

Does that mean he planned that to happen?

That's debatable, in any moment of this issue it is shown that Jason was actually planning to get to Two Face and do this. I my personal opinion, other and much more plausible explanation is: That he was in fact trying to keep to himself but couldn't hold back the moment that he saw his dad's murder.

You can see the same thing happening as Jason learns that Batman got another Robin in Red Hood: Lost Days.

Talia asks "You all right?" and Jason's first answer is "Sure Why Wouldn't I Be Alright?"

When he's alone he finally has the moment to break down.

(Actually both Red Hood: The lost days and Batman: Under the Red Hood are great case studies on how that usually play out on Jason's head.)

Jason is way more in control of his emotions than people ever give him credit for. The thing is that Jason holds it back until he either blows off or is capable to throw it back in someone's face.

[azulhood]

Conversations between best friends has often led to some reckless/stupid/not thought out at all decisions. Like one conversation the amity park trio had where Danny said that he couldn't see Tucker as a doctor (the medical kind) to which Tucker responded with "Alright, bet." and enrolled in medical school. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Bruce Wayne and Tucker Foley somehow by coincidence *cough* clockwork* became friends. And stayed friends even after Bruce dropped out and Tucker went on to finish med school. It was a strange friendship that was mainly just Bruce calling Tucker from the weirdest locations and asking things "Out of curiosity, if an immortal nutjob wanted you to marry his daughter and become his heir what would you do? uh-huh, uh-huh, really? ok, thanks." and meeting up for coffee every now and then. It was during one of these coffee meet-ups that Bruce confessed that he wanted to adopt a recently orphaned child by the name of Richard. There was currently push back from people who didn't think 'Brucie Wayne' would be a good parent and from others who didn't want a random kid having a chance to inherit the Wayne fortune, the media was also having a field day. Everyone kept asking him to "reconsider" and doing everything they can to stall/stop the adoption process. Tucker, being the good friend he was, said "Don't worry, I got this" Stood up from the cafe table, walked to the nearest library and politely asked to use one of their computers, spent a good ten minutes on it, printed something out on the library's printer, walked back to the cafe where he left Bruce waiting. And finally, he handed over the paper with the words "Take this." and continued drinking his now cold coffee. Bruce was, understandably, confused. "What is-" "Trust me, it'll work." Tucker assured him. That is how Bruce Wayne adopted one Richard 'Dick' Grayson.

And after that, Bruce went to Tucker whenever he came across a kid that he wanted to adopt, which was often. It's one reason why Tucker will do everything in his power to make sure Danny and Bruce never meet for fear that the Gothamite might try to add the Halfa to the growing army of children. Aka

Tucker Foley is The Guy