#the rest of the gotham set are all tied to Batman

[lectorel]

Cass and Bruce have fascinating parallels - Bruce witnessed an act of terrible violence as a child, and seeks to prevent anything like that happening, with a heavy emphasis on stopping crime and punishing criminals. Cass was manipulated into an act of terrible violence as a child, and also seeks to prevent something like her experience from occurring, but (at least in her initial run) her focus leans far more toward protecting people from harm.

Functionally, their actions are often very similar - both refuse to kill, both use violence to deter crime and risk their lives to protect others. But the difference in focus is why I feel Cass is the natural successor to Batman, and why she seems like the only one who could thrive in the role long term. For the rest of the family, every crime that's committed in Gotham is a personal failing. But for Cass, what stands out is the people she's protected.

One thing that is important to me when discussing Cassandra Cain is the fact that she didn't develop her anti-killing moral position because of the bats. Neither does she have her moral code because she's Bruce's obedient golden child. Instead she decided at around age 8 that killing anyone (even some random criminal like in the 2000 batgirl series) was fundamentally wrong because it made them feel fear and pain. Finding out the bat-code had a similar perspective about killing was more validation than anything else. She would be saving everyone she could with or without batman.

She created her own moral framework against that her (in the 2000 series at least) white father. In spite of the fact the fact that her father literally objectified and dehumanised her, she fought to speak and be heard. She chose her own destiny, Babs and Bruce just helped her along the way.

As an Asian character it's important to me she wasn't 'taught' morals by white Americans, but rather she has a code that she developed herself. She doesn't listen to Bruce half the time, and she's more loyal to the concept of the bat symbol than anyone who wears it. She consistently disobeyed him in her original run. All these things aspects help her avoid being just a character with white saviour undertones, and allow her to instead be a heroic beacon of life and compassion in her own right.

[ultimate-marysue]

My personal body headcanons for the Batfam

Bruce: He is a tank made of pure muscle. Like many other users have put forward (recommend especially @frownyalfred posts on the matter), that's not an easy feat to pull off. It is a testament to Bruce's willpower and dedication to Batman that he's even able to maintain it. Also, I think he took really good care of his scars in the beginning so they would be as inconspicuous as possible when sleeping around as Brucie. Once he gets older and leans more into the father persona he stops caring as much for anything that's going to be covered by his suits and shirts.

Barbara: I hated the fact that her disability got completely erased, so that's the first difference. If you want to have her be Batgirl again, you should do what Gotham Knights did and make it so there are lasting effects and limitations. I'm sorry, but it feels so cheap to me that they just erased disability rep cause they didn't know how to write a strong disabled woman. Skill issue. Also Barbara is built like a brick in my heart of hearts, she's a rectangle with the density of a neutron star. I also think she has one of the healthiest and normal diets of the Bats, mainly cause the physical requirements of Oracle aren't nearly as demanding.

Dick Grayson: I'm not going to reinvent the wheel here by saying Dick Grayson has the perfect acrobat's body. My headcanon is that he gets it naturally. Not that he can just do whatever you want, sadly with their line of work you need to meet a series of requirements. I mean it in the sense of 1) proportions 2) really high metabolism from constant exercise since he was a child, probably the fastest tied with Cass 3) he doesn't need to work out as much outside patrol as the rest to keep his body mass. Every single robin after him low-key hates him for creating a fighting style that only he can do effortlessly.

Cassandra Cain: like mother like daughter, my girl is thick. None of that waifish, delicate ballerina shit. She's short and she has muscles most humans haven't heard of. Average goon tries to knock this 5 feet nothing girl only to be met by an unmovable object. Also, probably contender for top most scarred bat of all. She just looks like she could fuck your shit up without breaking a sweat and that's probably because she could. Also I think she has short legs, giving her an even lower center of gravity. She's just a brick wall.

Jason Todd: my man is one of the few bitches in this family with a normal, healthy, percentage of body fat. He's built like a strong man instead of a body builder, and the fact that he can be sneaky with all that mass is terrifying. I think for a minute there he wondered what he was doing wrong and why he didn't look as lean as Bruce. Then he figured what Bruce had to do to keep Batman's body in line and Jason said "fuck that, I'm not doing all that". In his villain self destructive era that waist was snatched, but the second he started taking actual care of his body it did what body's do. Considering how he mixes so many fighting techniques I can see him building his fighting style around his needs instead of the other way around.

Steph: she's the curviest of the Batgirls, which is why she favors so much the "indistinct blob" silhouette. As any woman with a boobs size above an B cup will tell you: people get disgusting really quick. I think part of her struggles with Robin was trying to wrangle her developing body into a fighting style designed for a very naturally lean boy. Balancing is harder when you have a large set of bazonkers, they don't tell you this in the comics but it is the truth. She also lacks the super fast metabolism other Bats have, and I can see her trying really hard to fit in the mold only to realize as she grows older that she can do her own thing.

Tim: I think Tim, growing up as society kid and then forcing himself into the Robin role, never learned what eating healthy is. I headcanon him having some sort of ED (I think he would evolve through a few of them as he grew up), not because I like throwing angst at characters (though I do) but because it makes sense to me giving his background and personality. EDs are not only about "looking thin", but also about feeling in control. Also, Tim hanging onto the Robin title reminds me of child actors trying to force their developing body's to stop at a kid size so they can keep playing their character. I could write a whole post about it, but for what's relevant, the ED headcanon doesn't mean Tim is just super thin. I think his body is fluctuates the most out of any of the Bats, depending on where he's at mentally and age wise.

Duke Thomas: my boy is built for parkour. He's got the longest limbs in the family, he's got the reach. He keeps waiting for puberty to hit him like a train and give him Jason/Bruce levels of muscle mass, but he's just too tall. Like, yes, he can bench press Jason, but proportionally he's so much taller than all of them by then he just looks noodly. When he puts on the body armor though he makes Batman look like a Barbie doll. Anytime he's looming about, Jason accuses him of overcompensating. Duke just pretends to not be able to hear him from up above. Also pls DC give him long hair that floats around him in the same way Batman's cape does?? Pls, just give him magic girl hair that defies gravity.

Damian: I've said this before but this poor child grew up being told he'd one day be as huge as his dad but grows up to be Talia 2.0. I think he does inherit Bruce's height, but is distraught to never be hulking mountain of muscle like OG Batman. Little does he know Bruce isn't naturally that big either, and it's only through frankly unhealthy means he maintained that body. Everyone else agrees to never tell Damian about it so he won't even think to try it, and instead focus on reassuring him he's more than strong enough to inherit the title if that's what's bothering him. It ends up playing in his favor, Cass is proof that you don't need to be huge to instill the fear of God into people. And the way he moves, like a panther stalking his prey, is more than enough to make the rogues quake.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Love your Bale Batman shop girl series! Was wondering how shop girl would feel if Catwoman or some other kick-ass woman came on the scene?

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Sure thing! I did go with a different kickass woman, since Catwoman does show up in the Nolan trilogy

Warnings: Light angst; fluff added for tasty goodness

You don’t really worry about the tabloids anymore. At least, not in the way that you used to. Michelle still sends you the odd article, but it’s usually accompanied by several 😂 emojis (the most notable is the one that suggested that you, Bruce, and Liz are in a throuple, and Grant is your collective beard). Whatever the press says about Bruce becomes white noise. 

But…What the press says about Batman still tends to seep through. 

You can’t help but notice the Gotham Gazette where it’s spread open on Rose’s desk. She’s turned away from it, reading through the approval form that you’ve brought over to her. You can’t help but reach out, turning the newspaper toward yourself and eyeing the grainy image of Batman. Your brow furrows as you draw the newspaper up to get a better look, scanning it more closely. He’s tied up in what look like vines, and nose-to-nose with a stunning, smiling, partially-masked woman. 

“You haven’t seen that yet?” Rose asks, glancing up from the document. “It’s been all over the papers for weeks.” 

“Has it?” You ask dazedly. You’ve managed to miss it. You haven’t been following mentions Batman as closely on social media since you started your new job—you just haven’t had time. 

“Mhm.” Rose folds her arm on her desk and leans in, peering at the picture. “Apparently it’s a real love-hate-cat-and-mouse kinda thing. Hot, right?” She waggles her brows. “I’d love to see what’s under that suit.” 

“Which?”

“Either.” 

You force a smile at the sight of Rose’s salacious grin, but you can’t help glancing back down at the article and skimming it. You commit the name to memory and make a mental note to look her up on your phone when you get back to your desk—

Poison Ivy. 

--  

It’s probably not much of a surprise that Bruce hasn’t mentioned her to you. For the most part—apart from the odd knowing glance, the bruises on his body, and the night he spilled into the penthouse half-dead—he keeps that side of himself to himself. Alfred doesn’t discuss it with you, either, and perhaps that’s why he seems so surprised when you slam your laptop shut as he comes into the kitchen that Saturday morning, hiding your googled articles of Poison Ivy and Batman. 

Alfred’s brows raise, and you offer him a nervous, guilty smile as your face goes hot. You know that you weren’t fast enough—you’d been so honed in on reading that you hadn’t heard him until he was passing right behind you. 

“...Is he awake yet?” You ask lightly, desperate to break the awkward silence. 

“Only just.” 

“‘Kay.” 

“It seems you and Master Wayne are researching similar topics these days,” He comments, swanning around the kitchen counter and setting down the empty breakfast tray. 

“Oh?” 

“Mm. She's proving to be a tougher nut to crack than he thought.” 

You consider for a moment. You could let the conversation go, of course. You’re certain Alfred wouldn’t press it. But: 

“Has he got any leads?” 

“A few,” Alfred nods, bracing his hands on the counter, “Though I would recommend asking him about his ideas and methodology.” 

You bristle before you sigh and slouch dejectedly, resting your chin on your hand. 

“He doesn’t talk about that stuff with me, Alfred.” 

“He doesn’t like for you to worry.” 

“I worry whether he tells me or not. Not knowing just makes me worry more.” 

“Then perhaps that’s something you ought to tell him.” 

You glance up at him warily, and some of your nerves ease as he gives you a warm smile. 

“Now,” He straightens, clapping his hands together and looking around the kitchen. “Despite the hour, Master Wayne is tucking into his breakfast. Shall I get something together for your lunch?” 

You consider for a moment, eyes darting down the hall before you stand, shaking your head. 

“Let’s put a pin in that. I think I’m just gonna…Go steal some of Bruce’s toast.” 

Alfred smiles knowingly, giving you a wink before you turn fully from him and head down the hall. 

-- 

The blackout curtains have been raised just enough to let a little bit of light into the room, but it’s still quite dim. You can see the empty smoothie glass on the bedside table, and the plate of toast that Bruce has put on the wide headboard behind him. Bruce looks preciously rumpled, scrubbing his eyes as he sits up in bed. You can see a few light bruises on his bare chest and arms, but nothing too egregious. His eyes are still narrowed with sleep as he lowers his hands, and his hair looks as ruffled as a baby bird’s. He perks up as you come in, a sleepy smile pulling at his lips as you come closer. 

“Hey, baby,” He murmurs, opening his arms as you climb into bed beside him. 

“Sleep okay?” You ask, cuddling into his side. 

“Fine. I thought you were seeing Michelle for brunch.”

“Got moved to drinks this evening. She had a work thing come up.”

Bruce hums in understanding, tucking you close and pressing a kiss to your head. You bite your lip, grappling with how to bring up the conversation. 

“Late night?” You finally ask lightly. You're relieved when you don’t feel Bruce tense, or reel away. He just rubs his hand gently over your arm.

“Mhm.” 

“Later than usual?” 

“...About on par.” 

“Mm.” You eye the steady rise and fall of his chest for a few moments before you hedge: “Hope you don't mind my asking–” 

“It’s fine—” 

“—You’ve just seemed a little tied up lately.” You give Bruce a sly, teasing smile, and it widens to a grin when you see him fighting back his own smile. 

“Is that why you came in here?” He asks dryly.

“Of course not. I saw Alfred bringing you toast.” You straighten up, reaching over his shoulder, taking up a piece, and biting into it. Bruce chuckles, and you grin as he leans into you, nuzzling against your neck. You hum as you chew, your skin prickling at the feeling of his thickening stubble. 

“How’s it going, anyway?” You ask. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You have any leads?” 

Your stomach drops when you feel him go tense. He sighs softly, leaning away to get a better look at you. You reach back, setting the toast down and dusting crumbs from your fingers before you fold your hands in your lap, waiting patiently. After a few moments, you can’t help but wring your hands subtly as Bruce observes you, and then lowers his gaze to the sheets. 

“I’m not sure I want to discuss that with you,” He finally admits. You swallow thickly, fighting to keep from shifting and fidgeting with nerves. 

“Can I ask why not?” 

Bruce pushes a sigh out through his nose, giving a small shake of his head. 

“I can’t keep it out, huh,” He mutters. 

“Well…You did for a while. Didn’t go so well,” You remind him lightly. Bruce nods, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he mutters, “I know.”

You tentatively reach out, resting your hand atop his. He turns his hand over, taking a gentle hold of yours. 

“I’m not asking you to make me a suit and teach me to fight, Bruce. I just want you to let me in.” 

His lips twitch with a smile as he reaches up, cupping your cheek and sweeping his thumb across your cheekbone. 

“I think…That her name is Pamela Isley. She’s a botanist.” 

“Why is she doing…what she’s doing?” 

“That’s what I still need to find out.” 

You nod, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you.” 

He hums, grasping your jaw and drawing you in for another long, warm kiss. 

“That’s never happening,” He adds as the kiss breaks. You frown, brow furrowing. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Making you a suit, teaching you to fight.” 

You pout, cocking your head to the side. 

“I ought to know how to at least throw a punch, right?” 

“We’ll see about that. It’s a slippery slope,” Bruce chuckles, patting your cheek before nodding over his shoulder. “Eat your toast.” 

Next Part

[mzminola]

Bruce sets up an elaborate mindfuck for Tim's birthday in an attempt to make Tim less trusting of even allies, giving him a mental breakdown. Bruce claims this will make Tim a better vigilante.

Tim, upon figuring it out, throws his Robin uniform literally in Bruce's face, cussing him out (like, actually censored swears, which Tim usually doesn't use), and quits. He talks with Steph about how messed up it was, and she empathizes out of her own messed up experiences with Bruce.

An unclear but short time later, probably a few days, Tim un-quits and states to Bruce that he doesn't expect an apology (not because it's unnecessary, but because he knows Bruce).

~

Stephanie returns from presumed death, finds Bruce, and accepts his orders to not reveal herself to everyone else & to take extreme actions to, once again in Bruce's estimate, make Tim a better vigilante.

This includes running around town in her original costume so Tim thinks his dead friend has a copycat, hiring people to attack him, working with a bomber, and even after knocking all that off, not sharing pertinent information about it with Tim, resulting in Tim being caught in an explosion.

Tim yells at Stephanie and says "Don't let me catch you wearing [the Spoiler] costume ever again." When she tracks him down a little later, he refuses to speak with her.

An unclear amount of time later, probably a few months, Tim is willing to work with Stephanie to stop a supervillain plot.

~

Some fans treat Tim's word-choice in the confrontation with Steph as him trying to control her. As him thinking he's got the authority to decide who can and cannot operate as a vigilante, at least in Gotham.

But. Like. One, aside from this one conversation, he takes no actions to stop her. He doesn't steal her gear (like Bruce sometimes steals people's uniform), he doesn't go and tell other people to stop working with her, he doesn't even go snitch to her mom.

Tim just. Tells the friend who got him very badly hurt while mindfucking him that he doesn't want to see her in the field again.

Two, it's a pretty dang similar response to when Bruce mindfucked him in the first example. Tim is the one who insists Batman needs a Robin. And here he is depriving Batman of Robin.

Yet if I tried to claim "Tim quitting Robin is his attempt to control Batman, is Tim acting like he has authority to stop Bruce from being a vigilante" you'd laugh in my face. Because that is a huge leap to make, with convoluted logic, and isn't supported by the rest of the text.

Bruce & Stephanie both screw Tim up really badly.

He confronts them and says he's breaking ties.

Then after a little distance, he goes right back to working with them.

And some people think this is...controlling? Don't get me wrong, Tim has some controlling tendencies, they all do, but it's usually teaming up with Alfred to stop Bruce patrolling while injured, and lying his ass off to everyone so he can do what he wants.

This? Is not that.

[klbwriting]

Not Romeo, Not Juliet

Chapter 11: Enrage It

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: violence, blood, the usual

Summary: Jason goes looking for YN

Taglist: @amberpanda99

Let grief / Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it

— MACBETH, ACT 4 SCENE 3

Jason couldn’t do this alone. He knew he would need Dick’s help, but he wasn’t sure if Dick would do it. For the first time since he had come out of the pit he considered turning towards Old Gotham, towards Wayne Manor, towards Bruce and Batman and all the pain that would be involved with seeing his father again. He kept driving, hoping that Dick wouldn’t make him to go back there, not yet. He would do it for YN, but he desperately wanted to wait, to not be so scattered and angry and terrified when he saw Bruce again. By the time he got back Dick was already up and dressed in his Nightwing getup.

“Dick…” Jason said softly. His brother walked over and hugged him, Jason sagging against him as he let go, just a little bit.

“I’m not going to let her get hurt, no matter who she is she’s innocent right now,” he said. Jason nodded.

“She’s not going to be Maroni’s heir…” Jason said, trying to make sure Dick understood. He held up a hand.

“Not now, let’s get her safe first and then we can talk about it,” he said. Jason went to the loft, getting his gear. “I know the dock she’s in well,” Dick said when he rejoined him in the living room. “Falcone likes it because its just an open warehouse, you can hear pretty much everything in there. The last time I had to deal with a hostage situation there he had them in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, no surprise bombs or anything. He is probably hoping to get the money before Batman shows up, but we are the only ones who know about YN’s disappearance so we can get there first, no crossfire between Falcone and Maroni and no Batman to bring up our traumatic past.” Jason’s mouth quirked up a little at Dick’s joke.

“She doesn’t know about my whole Red Hood thing,” Jason said. Dick nodded.

“Red Hood? That is so much better than Red Helmet, I’m going to get that spreading online before the end of the day,” Dick said, grabbing some gear from a wall safe. Jason put on his helmet and they headed down to the garage to get their bikes. “Before we go, one question, how did you explain getting shot?”

“I didn’t, she was stitching me and then you came in so didn’t really get around to telling her why I had a hole in me,” he said, climbing on his bike. “Should I tell her?” “I have no idea, that will depend on how you feel about her knowing, but let’s worry about that after we rescue her,” Dick said. Jason started his bike and then headed towards the docks.

Dick was right about the warehouse, no matter what Jason did he was loud, so he decided to just go in guns blazing. He would go in while Dick would get YN. Jason wanted to be the person to free her and get her out, but he worried that the rage that was filling him would cause him to screw up, to hurt her somehow, so he was trusting Dick. Jason walked in the front of the warehouse, seeing YN tied to a chair, face bloody, eyes dazed, probably concussed. Falcone was standing over her, asking her a question.

“Go fuck yourself,” she answered, spitting blood in his face. He slapped her, drawing a yelp from her that set Jason’s blood on fire. His vision was tunneling, fists clenched tight in his gloves. Falcone had six guys with him, but Jason wasn’t worried, he didn’t really feel anything other than wrath. He was death incarnate, and he would be taking his fair share of flesh today.

“Who are you?” Falcone asked. Jason just cocked his head to the side, drawing out the gun that Dick didn’t know he had. He wasn’t going to let himself get shot again, wasn’t bringing knives to gun fights again. He fired at the first two gangsters that ran at him, possibly killing them, he wasn’t honestly sure. Falcone waved a hand for the rest of this guys to attack, two had handguns and fired but Dick had lent him some Kevlar, so he just grunted, pushing through the pain and pulling out one of his knives. The first guy to reach him received a stab to the shoulder, Jason twisting the knife and yanking up, slicing through the tendons and muscles. The thug fell, gripping the wound while Jason moved on to the next attacked, backhanding him in the face with his gun, knocking to the ground and firing into his leg. Now there were two left, still trying to shoot him as he moved. He headbutted one before turning to the other and shooting him also in the knee. Just Falcone now.

. “What do you want?” he asked, stepping in front of his hostage, trying to put on a brave face. He must be hoping that Maroni would arrive, and Jason would get distracted. But no one was coming. Jason held his gun to Falcone’s head.

“How much will you give me to let you keep breathing?” Jason asked seeing Dick sneaking behind Falcone, freeing YN.

“Anything, I have endless cash, you want a million? Two million?” the boss answered, voice cut with slight hysteria. Jason chuckled, the sound coming out static and strangely horrifying over the modulator.

Dick and YN were out the back, the door loud enough to make Falcone turn around. Jason didn’t wait, firing into the side of the man’s head. He wasn’t ever going to use YN again. The rage slowly left Jason as he headed out of the warehouse. He looked at himself, his knife, the gun. What had happened? Everything was hazy now, like he’d been outside of himself. He looked back at the carnage behind him, groans of pain, heard the sirens nearby. He needed to get away, but where? Where could he go after causing this destruction? He got on his bike and just started driving.

Dick had panicked when he dropped YN off and Jason didn’t show. He had been sure that Jason would go right to the apartment after changing, but it had been over an hour since she had gotten home, and he still wasn’t around. He sighed, going and changing himself, coming back to the apartment and knocking. YN answered with a knife. He actually chuckled a little.

“I heard about you getting taken, I was going to come offer assistance but it's clear someone else already did,” he said. She opened the door and let him in. “Have you seen Jason?”

“No, my mom said he came by earlier, I don’t know where he went,” she said. Dick nodded.

“He called me, I called the police, how did they get you back so fast?” he asked. She shrugged, looking to the side, clearly trying to come up with some sort of excuse.

“Don’t know, I was passed out from what Falcone did,” she said. Dick nodded. “I might know where Jason is, can you stay with my mom? I’m worried my…father, might come.” He nodded again. “I’ll call you if I find him.”

She wound around the same couple blocks a few times, wondering if Dick would follow her, but she didn’t think so, maybe her mom being sick was helping. Who leaves a sick woman home alone after her daughter was just kidnapped and saved by vigilantes? One of them being her boyfriend. She knew it was Jason who came to save her, could tell in the way he walked, in the swing of his shoulders, the way his body went rigid when he felt anger. She had memorized Jason Todd over the last few months, expecting him to vanish as soon as school was over, leaving her with nothing but memories, so she made sure she would never forget a single thing about him. She could now add the memory of him coming to find her, distracting Falcone while Nightwing, who she was assuming was Dick, came to the rescue.

She slid out of the dumbwaiter into the basement playground to the welcome sight of Jason laying on top of the monkey bars, staring at the ceiling. His helmet was on the ground, along with his jacket and the bullet proof vest he had been wearing. He didn’t move as she approached so she assumed he had fallen asleep. She picked up the helmet and banged it on the bars a couple times, the ringing enough to jar him to life. He sat up and almost got stuck between bars. He looked at her and she waved the helmet at him.

“Fuck…” he muttered, jumping down and taking it out of her hands. “Well, guess this secret is out.”

“It was out the moment you walked into that warehouse; you know that you have a slight limp, right?” she asked. It wasn’t super noticeable, but Jason had taken a bad fall off a rooftop once, shattered his ankle. He was still able to do anything that required his legs but even the Lazarus Pit couldn’t erase four years of walking weird. “You saved me.” She reached out, moving to hug him but he pulled back like she’d struck him. “Jason?”

“Why would you want to touch me after seeing what I did?” he asked, tossing the helmet down. She looked confused. “I killed a few of those guys, I killed Falcone without a second thought, I’m a murderer.”

“I’m sorry that you killing the guys who took me hostage and beat me really doesn’t make you the bad guy,” she said. “I mean look at me…” She peeled off her jacket, pulled her hair up, she was covered in contusions, and cuts. “They dragged me down my apartment stairs by my ankles, my brain is probably just a step above goo at this point. I honestly wish you would have killed all of them.” He frowned.

“That’s something Maroni would say…”

“O fucking hell, don’t you dare act like me being angry at those men and being glad they’re dead puts me on the same level as my asshole father. You were the one person I thought would understand that just because I’m happy those guys who were all terrible, are dead wouldn’t make me a bad person,” she said. Jason looked down, years of Bruce’s talks about the importance of all lives conflicting with the feelings of the moment. “You are a hero Jason; you came to get me when no one else would. Falcone has done nothing but terrorize the Narrows for years and you have now stopped him. Don’t you dare think that you’re anything less than a savior.” She took his face in her hands, gently tracing the scar on his face. “I know its hard, what you did, and I thank you for doing something that is clearly difficult, but you should not be angry at yourself for this, you can be angry at them for taking me, you can be angry at me for being taken, but not at yourself for saving me.” Jason finally gave in, pulling her close to him, breathing in her essence, her very being.

“I love you, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” he whispered. She held him as he let the tension he had been feeling. God he was going to need so much more therapy after today, but right now he was able to let it go and just revel in the moment, the rage was gone and all that he felt now was peace.

[zuzuzuko]

What do you think of Gates of Gotham? Interactions, the ending, you know?

I generally really like Gates of Gotham. I think the writing is really well done. There are a lot of themes and conversations that happen earlier in the story the come back in at the end of the story which is nice to see. I do love a parallel...

(the rest under a cut because I talk too much and post too many panels)

Also love how Dick doubts himself as Batman throughout this story and is basically constantly telling himself that Bruce would have solved this already. I love Dickbats so much.

Love love love this conversation with Dick and Cass (and how the writer comes back to it at the end and ties it in)

Batman: Gates of Gotham #4

I think Damian is especially well done in Gates of Gotham.

Batman: Gates of Gotham #2

Damian feeling the need to say mean things to his siblings because he's insecure about his own place in the family always makes me go insane (in a good way). Bruce... you're giving them all complexes...

"I have to admit- I'm not impressed" is such an excellent Damian-ism

Also Cass is SO over his shit here it's so funny.. just look at her face 😭 she really said "i'm walking away before I punch you" huh

Batman: Gates of Gotham #2

Tim and Cass commiserating about Damian over the comms is so funny. "yeah he's irritating sometimes but we can't kill him because killing is bad 🙄"

Batman: Gates of Gotham #2

This part where Damian sets off the deadman switch of the bomb and Cass saves him and he's so mad about it. This is peak Damian to me. Whenever Damian feels the need to prove himself (normally to Bruce even when Bruce isn't even there) that tends to be when he makes mistakes. He gets so set on trying to fix an unfixable problem (bomb exploding) that he almost gets blown up. We love an overachiever...

But this moment versus the last issue where he recognizes the deadman switch on the bomb and he and Cass work together to save everyone. It's just... so good.

Batman: Gates of Gotham #3

This is one of my favorite Tim and Damian interactions. Also I felt like this was just good writing. It's a way to show how Damian is feeling to the readers who didn't read-between-the-lines during the Damian and Cass interaction but without making anything out of character and actually spelling it out.

I think the Tim and Damian vibes are done really well. Like they still make comments at each other but they work together and I think it shows a lot of growth from when they met. Not gonna post like the full three pages where they save each other again but that is such a fun moment to me.

Batman: Gates of Gotham #5

Very funny thing to say for someone who has ALSO blown up the batboat, TIM.

As far as the art: I liked the art most of the time but there are some panels/pages where it looks kind of weird and I don't know how to describe it.

My only real criticism is that I generally think the "oh the bad guy is just crazy" thing is such a boring cop out. I wish there had been a more satisfying conclusion than that but other than that I have always really enjoyed this comic.

[riddle-me-ri]

A/N: hey hi hello, sooo I still think about Love and Suds at least once a day and I have an itch to keep writing for it. Idk if it'll be like a long fic or anything but more like a collection of various one offs pertaining to a reader who loves Jervis and cause of that in turn tries to save him from going back to his old ways. 

However, you don’t necessarily have to read Love and Suds to read this scenario, but it may help provide context to the nature of reader and Hatter’s relationship. 

Also, also I did not mean to post two Hatter fics in a row, I just really needed to get this dialogue chain out of my brain lmao

Trigger Warnings: slight angst, so hurt/comfort?, arguing, references to Jervis’ crimes, Batman being Batman (I really tried with him and like his weird stern way of showing concern?). That’s about it.

Word Count: 2.4 k (...oops)

“I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.” - Alice, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

It was pitiful really.

As Jervis was checking himself over in the bathroom mirror…he found himself echoing the mental health checklist they often asked in the asylum. 

“How are you Tetch?” 

Good for once it’d seem. 

“Where are you right now?” 

Gotham, unfortunately. 

“In the past two weeks have you thought of hurting yourself or others?”

No…actually.

“On a scale of 1 to 10…how are you feeling?” 

For once the answer would actually be higher than 5 and he actually means it. He wasn’t being delirious or perpetually thrusting himself in a fantasy to make him happy. 

He actually had something…someone rather that made reality worth being in. 

Jervis scrunched up his nose and furrowed his eyebrows. Debating…dictating. 

Should…should I wear my hat?

It didn’t have any mechanisms or circuitry along the inside, like he initially planned for his newest hat when the rest were confiscated. 

Jervis glanced back in the mirror for another glance. His hair was combed and not greasy, he was able to part it neatly and his bangs didn’t cascade down past his forehead and were less spiky and erratic looking. 

Darting his eyes back to his hat in his gloved hands…he bit his lip. This shouldn’t be as difficult as it was. He knew what the hat stood for, what it-it can represent. As many terrible things it was tied to…the formal headgear gave him confidence. It made him stand taller, walk with his shoulders back. 

It would be nice…to be confident without it…

Inhaling, before he exhaled deeply. 

Would you be proud of him if he didn’t wear it? 

The night was for you after all. 

It had been a couple weeks since you swooped back into his life and pulled him from one of his darkest moments yet. You stayed with him by his side for a week, until��your reality set in and you had to go to work but you were always close by and he got to hear your voice every day. 

As a thank you, Jervis offered to take you out to dinner. While at first you implored the thanks wasn’t necessary, ultimately you couldn’t deny the opportunity to spend time with him. 

He began tracing the rim of his hat in thought. Perhaps he could bring it along and ask for your opinion when he saw you. You were always forthcoming and genuine with him. One of the many things he adored about you. 

Jervis held the hat in his hands, still fiddling with the rim as he took a taxi to your apartment. The taxi driver didn’t seem to fidget or notice a high profile villain was in his backseat…

For all the nerves bundling and firing in his veins from anxiety…he also couldn’t deny the elation he felt at the prospect of finally seeing you again. 

Jervis stood in front of your door, a fresh bouquet nestled in his hand. He rocked his knuckles along your door. 

His blood ran cold when the pressure from the knock caused your door to open slightly. 

Did you forget to lock it? Was it broken? Should he go in? 

You–You knew him better…you knew he wouldn’t break into your apartment for no reason other than to ensure your safety. 

He softly pushed the door open more as he snuck in. 

Should he sneak? 

He called out your name as he crossed the threshold of your door. When he turned on his heel to close the door back, he noticed the broken lock mechanism on your door. He felt himself gritting his teeth. 

No doubt you put in a complaint and they’ve gone ignored…this city couldn’t careless if anything happened to you. He would, he cares, he cares more about you than any wretched being in this shallow city–

“I told you to leave! He’s not doing anything wrong or going to do anything!” 

“You can’t be sure…”

“I am sure. Because I am here now!”

Jervis’ ears perked up at your voice. The other one was too muffled for him to make out. 

Oh, he shouldn’t eavesdrop. That…that was rude. Agh, be polite or be curious…

He at least wanted to know who the other person was. 

Jervis noticed a small streak of the moonlight cascading down the hallway. That was likely your bedroom at the end of the short hallway. Jervis slowly crept down the hallway. He once again softly pushed the door open a little more to have one eye visible to the events unfolding. 

“Jervis Tetch is an extremely deluded individual. He–he is dangerous.”

“Not to me! He hasn’t nor will he ever hurt me! Because I care about him, unlike you and unlike those doctors at Arkham! None of you cared! You just want another punching bag and the doctors want to be able to control the minds’ of their patients. Nothing more!”

Batman? Batman! W-what was he doing here? To discuss him with you? And why did it seem like you two have had this conversation before? 

Batman sighed as he jumped down from the metal railing and properly onto your balcony. You were sitting on the side of your bed looking up at the dark figure.

“I can’t…I can’t ask for you to watch over him. He’s too chaotic and you have your own life to live–” 

You stood up in fury. “Don’t–Don’t! Don’t get chivalrous with me oh, Dark Knight! I know what I’m getting into.”

“Do you? Have you seen his case files? Seen the images of the countless women he-”

“I’m not oblivious to his crimes, Bat. You don’t have to remind me.” You put your hands up to your hips. “I–I know what he’s done. It’s horrible, but it could’ve been prevented…It can be prevented.” You began rocking side to side, contemplating. 

“Tetch was a brilliant man. He could have done amazing things and accomplished great feats. But I’m afraid he’s passed that…and I don’t want you to blame yourself for not being there for him to prevent his crimes–”

“Stop…”

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, and now assign yourself as his guardian…you may know him but so do I-”

“No! No you don’t! If you knew him so well you wouldn’t have constantly called me to findout more about him! You came to me because you knew I knew him better. If you knew him, detective, you would know more than anything he needs help!” You argued. 

Your fists were clenched and held against your chest. Your body shuddered as you fought back tears. Not wanting to show any vulnerability to the Dark Knight. 

“He needs help…actual help, from someone that cares about him. That knows him for more than his criminal history…”

You saw Batman begin to open his mouth but you cut him off. “I know what Jervis did, Batman. I’m not naive. You don’t have to guilt trip me or shame me, it’s not going to work.” 

"If you know what he's done, you know what he's capable of. What happens when your own reality calls for you to…have to leave Gotham, again? You can't always be there for Jervis. I agree he needs help, but help that's much bigger than you…"

"Oh, you mean like you?" You snarled. "Someone who beats him up, throws him around, and locks him up in an asylum that wouldn't do any better! You don't care about him…not like that Catwoman or better yet your precious clown." 

Batman furrowed his brows. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're confused." 

You shake your head defiantly, "Bullshit! You give that clown chances after chances, expecting a change…he's done terrible things too Batman. He's killed men, women, children. Husband's, wives, sons, duaghters…" 

"Enough." Batman snapped. "This isn't about me. It's about you and Tetch. I'm trying to help you."

"You sure have a funny way of helping…" You sniffled, the tears slowly pouring from your eye ducts, no matter how hard you tried to push them down. "I-I-I I know I left when he needed me most…I regret it every day…I-I had no choice.." 

Once Jervis heard your voice crackling from your tears and whimpers, it was like he snapped out of the trance he was in. 

He heard every word. Every single word. Jervis didn't appreciate Batman's input a single bit…even if deep down Jervis knew the Caped Crusader had a point. 

"That's enough!" Jervis intervened. 

You felt his familiar glove hands rest on your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. 

You almost jumped out of your skin at his voice and presence.

"Jervis! Oh my god, where…how…when-when did you–?" 

He squeezed your shoulders again. "It's all right, darling. Don't worry, I understand."

"Let them be, Jervis." Batman took a step closer to you two. 

"Don't take another step, Dark Knight!" Jervis stood in front of you now. "I think you've upset them quite enough! I think it's best you make haste to whatever damp dark cave you call home!" 

Your eyes widened as you saw Jervis began walking towards Batman almost going toe to toe with him. 

"Jervis! Its-its–" 

Batman didn't move as Jervis invaded his personal space. He was studying him, looking for any possible signs of the eccentric deluded man he's come to know. 

There wasn't any. His irises were normal, his blood pressure was…normal even considering his angered state, he wasn't rhyming or chortling…and he didn't have his hat. 

Batman began walking backwards away from Tetch and back on to the balcony. 

"Here's some good advice," he looked over Jervis' shoulder and towards you. "I know you care about him, it's admirable. But you can't do it alone. Best to get out while you can before you're in too deep." 

With that he jumped up on the railing and began gliding through the brisk Gotham night air. 

Jervis growled in annoyance as he slammed the door to your balcony shut. 

"Rude. Positively rude! Breaking and entering! Harassing and interrogating an unsuspecting individual! Why I dare–" 

His enraged ramblings were brought to a halt when he heard your sniffling.

Jervis rushed back towards you. He got down on his knees in front of you. He quickly placed your hands in his and squeezed them as he looked up at you sitting on your bed. Tears flowing like a precious stone fountain. 

"Shh…it's okay. I-I…I apologize for listening in…I just…never knew…" 

You shook your head. "No, no I should apologize. I should've told you, but I didn't want you to think that I was siding with him or anything. What you saw was the norm. He comes storming in and asking questions and telling me what I should and shouldn't do with no regards for my actual thoughts and feelings…" 

You squeezed his hands again. "I…I also want to apologize for leaving Gotham! I didn't want to Jervis! It was the hardest thing I ever had to do!" You cried as more guilt driven tears began glowing. You had no choice, you couldn’t find a job pertaining to your field, nor find a part time job that could afford you a room and board in Gotham. 

He tried to shush you, bringing his hands up to run your shoulders and gently rock you back and forth. "Darling, darling, please it's all right. You're here now! You were there for me when I needed you most!" 

You gulped down a breath. "B-But I couldn't…I didn't-" 

"No one could have, if anything I'm…I'm glad you weren't here for all of that." 

Jervis brought himself up from off his haunches to embrace you. You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

After a moment filled with your soft whimpers. You tightened your grip on him as his hand rubbed your back up and down. 

"I meant what I said…" You croaked in his ear. "I-I do care about you Jervis, I want to help you and be here for you." 

He smiled warmly. "I know you did…I must admit it's very rare to see someone defending me.." he pulled away from the embrace to look at you. 

"But I couldn't imagine a better person to have in my corner." He brought his hand up to cup the side of your face and you happily clasped it with your own hand. 

"I'm not going anywhere…despite Batman's advice…" You muttered in disapproval. 

"I know, and I assure you…it won't be in vain. I'll do whatever it takes."

You smiled softly. You closed your eyes as you leaned your head into his hand. Relieved in the peace that wafted over the hostile air in the room when Batman was there. 

You knew what Jervis was capable of, but you were even more aware of his potential to be a better person. 

You opened your eyes slowly too look into his bright eyes that crinkled from his own smile. 

Then you noticed something was slightly off. "Jervy?" 

Jervis giggled, adoring the nickname. "Yes, my dear?" 

"Where's your hat?" 

His eyes widened. Instinctively his hands reached up to his head only to notice what you said was true. He recalled having it in his hand when he arrived. Had he truly set it down somewhere? In his worrisome state for your safety?

"Oh, um…I brought it with me…where?” 

The both of you looked frantically about the room. 

“Here it is!” You opened the door from your room and saw it…surprisingly on the floor. 

You picked it up gently and softly brushed off some dust from the hardwood floor. “I’m surprised you weren’t wearing it.” 

You handed the hat back to Jervis, but he hesitated. 

“Do-do you think I should? I-I mean wear it that is…” 

Your eyes widened. Something really was stirring in his mind if he doubted putting his hat back on. If anyone knew anything about Jervis it was just how precious his hat was to him. 

You glanced down at the headgear and back to Jervis. He was swaying side to side with his head hung low, he stared at the ground.  

You walked over to him, lifted his chin up by the tips of your fingers, and gently placed the top hat on his head. 

“Here’s some even better advice…Just because you’re changing doesn’t mean your wardrobe has to.” You giggled. “Besides, I absolutely adore your hats…they make you look that much more handsome.” 

Jervis couldn’t contain his giddy smile anymore as he chuckled softly. He did feel better with it on, or perhaps he just felt better overall in your presence. 

Who needs good advice from someone who doesn’t know you? When you have someone that knows so much and cares so much more instead.

[iriswords]

Febuwhump Day 22 - Can’t scream

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here   

tw: the Joker, torture (broken bones and carving something into flesh), emotional torture

Fandom: Batman

Words: 2472

Tim and Damian are caught by the Joker while on patrol. He wants to play a game neither of them will like or come out unscathed from.

--

“We’re going to play a game, birdies,” says the Joker as he paces between Robin and Red Robin.

Tim and Damian face each other, tied on chairs in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Gotham, their suits in a poor state and their dominos ripped off. The Joker caught them earlier that night before either of them could send out a signal, and brought them to the warehouse. Damian’s head is still bleeding slightly from the head, courtesy of the blow that knocked him out, and Tim’s own head throbs from a similar wound. 

It is the first time Damian has ever been caught by the Joker, and Tim can see all over his face how scared he is, though he valiantly tries to hide it. It is not Tim’s first time, but he is equally scared. The Joker is always terrible news. He brings with him the sweet promise of cruel and sadistic torture. If no one manages to find them in time, they both know they will die, for the Joker does not willingly leave his victims alive. 

Jason would know. 

“Since I finally managed to catch two birdies at once,” continues the Joker, “I’m going to kill two birdies with one stone.” 

Tim represses a flinch at the word choice. Damian sends him a frightened glance, and Tim is suddenly reminded of how young his brother is. Despite all his training with the League, and despite the amount of pain Tim knows he has endured, Damian is still a kid. A child who should not have to deal with anyone as dangerous as the Joker. 

The Joker stops his pacing right behind Tim, fisting his hand in Tim’s hair and pulling. 

“Tell me,” he whispers in Tim’s ear, “do you care much for your brother?” Tim does not answer. “You know,” adds the Joker conversationally, as though they were old friends catching up, “I love hearing my pets scream. It is music to my ears. But I find those screams all the more delicious when they are properly ripped from their throats, when they scream because they cannot do anything else. When they try so hard not to scream but they still cannot help it.” The Joker lets go of Tim’s hair. “I’m going to start playing with you,” he says, “and if you scream, I’ll switch to your brother. He’s so young. It would really be too bad if he got hurt, birdie, wouldn’t it?” 

Tim’s blood freezes in his veins. He knows his limits. They have increased considerably in the time he spent away from Gotham searching for Bruce, but he knows the Joker will have no trouble reaching them because the Joker does not have boundaries. Tim will scream, no matter how much he will try not to. It is inevitable. 

Damian’s gaze is steady when Tim meets it, his chin set defiantly. I trust you, he seems to be saying. Tim isn’t sure he deserves it. 

A bat swings in the Joker’s grip as he places himself in front of Tim. He will start by beating Tim up until he breaks enough bones that Tim cannot escape. The only thing Tim can hope for is that all the injuries he will sustain tonight will heal without problem. 

Tim braces himself for the first blow and does not so much as grunt when the heavy bat forcefully connects with his ribs. He can feel a couple breaking under the strength of the hit, but it is nothing he hasn’t endured time and time again before. The Joker will have to do worse to make Tim break, but it is good that he starts lightly. The more time he takes to make Tim scream, the more chances there are that someone will find them before Damian can get hurt. 

The blows rain on Tim. More ribs crack and break before the Joker decides to move onto another part of Tim’s body. Tim clenches his teeth hard enough to give himself a headache when the Joker, after many targeted hits, finally breaks his left shoulder, but he does not scream. He doesn’t either when his right tibia falls victim to the Joker’s shattering blows, or when the man catches Tim’s broken shoulder with his bat. He nearly does when he hits Tim’s shoulder a third time, but all that escapes him is a choked whimper.

“You’re a tough birdie, aren’t you?” asks the Joker gleefully as he lets the bat clatter to the ground. His fingers hook beneath Tim’s chin and force him to look up. “Someone got you before I did, didn’t they? They had much fun with you, but I’ll have more.” 

The Joker slips behind Tim again and unties the thick ropes binding Tim to his chair. As his body moves away from Tim’s vision, Tim’s eyes can finally settle on Damian, whose gaze is much less steady than before. Unshed tears swim in them, and his fierce mask falters when Tim gives him a shaky smile. 

Tim hurts to see his baby brother like that, but he would hurt even more to watch him be tortured. Tim knows Damian will be brave. He just has to be, too, and save his brother the pain of being tortured. 

The rope falls from Tim’s wrists and ankles, and the Joker grabs him by the hair to yank him out of his chair. Tim falls to the ground directly onto his broken shoulder, and pain erupts in his arm. A broken scream leaves him before he can reign it in. He pants through the pain, waiting for the fog to clear. Only when the Joker cackles with delight does he realize what he has done. 

He scrambles forward as well as he can, frantically trying to catch the Joker’s ankle, as though that would change anything to what is coming, but a well-aimed kick sends him falling backward and grunting in pain. 

“No!” he yells, but the Joker doesn’t listen. He prowls towards Damian, faster than Tim’s pathetic crawl, and picks up the bat as he passes it. 

“I’ll give you matching injuries, birdie,” he announces joyfully. “This way, it’ll be poetic. I’ll write songs about the two birdies who hurt each other. But in reality, they only hurt themselves by hurting the other.” 

Damian does not meet Tim’s eyes as the Joker positions himself before him. From where he is prostrated on the floor, Tim can see the tension on his shoulder and the tremors running through his hands. Yet, Robin’s expression is fierce as ever as he waits for the Joker to start the torture.

Tim watches, helpless but festering with rage, as the Joker swings the bat at his brother. Damian does not make a sound. He does not make a sound when his shoulder breaks—the right, a mirror to Tim’s left one—or when the Joker keeps hitting the broken bone. He does not make a sound when his ribs crack some more.

But Damian does not cry out and Tim breaks slowly on the floor. 

Throughout it all, his expression stays even and Tim becomes painfully aware that torture absolutely was a part of his training in the League. He had known it already, but witnessing how long his brother can withstand torture without letting out a single sound is hammering the fact into Tim’s mind.

Tim wishes Damian would just cry out. He wishes the Joker’s attention would shift back to him. He wishes he would get tortured instead of his brother. 

It takes the Joker breaking his leg in two different places for Damian to cry out. Tim has never been happier to hear his brother’s pain manifested. As expected, the Joker turns to Tim, leaving Damian slumped on his chair, breathing heavily. A solitary tear rolls down his cheek, and Tim promises himself he will not scream until rescue comes. 

The Joker abandons the bat on the floor and takes out a knife, small but sharp, and glinting in the warehouse’s faint light. The Joker crouches down next to Tim, his head cocked to the side, and Tim would spit in his face if not for fear of the man reverting to hurting Damian. 

Abruptly, the Joker stands back up and stomps on Tim’s shoulder. He nearly screams because of the searing pain tearing through him, but he grits his teeth and lets tears manifest his pain instead. Without warning, while Tim is still trying to work through the pain, too stunned to struggle, the Joker flips him on his back. Tim’s head hits the hard ground and the room spins around him. 

Then, the Joker sits on his hips, and Tim freezes. The position is uncomfortable on his whole body and terribly painful for his broken bones. But what terrifies Tim is what the Joker is going to do. The warehouse’s cold air hits Tim’s skin when the Joker tears through his undershirt with his knife and exposes his entire back. Tim barely dares to breathe. Fear hammers against his ribcage and constricts his lungs. 

It doesn’t hurt quite as much as his bones breaking so violently did. But the knowledge that Tim is being marked makes it harder to withstand the pain. He forces himself to be brave and endure the pain without a sound, just like Damian did. When his chest heaves and his throat tightens around a suppressed cry, Tim remembers how the Joker tortured his brother, and he swallows his scream before it can leave his mouth. 

When the blade starts cutting through the skin on his back, Tim rests his head against the floor and tries to escape his mind. 

It takes him four strokes to realize the Joker is forming letters. That he is carving something onto Tim’s back. Terror comes back tenfold. His first thought is that he is going to bear the Joker’s mark for his entire life. His second is that at least it will be on his back. His third is that Damian can probably see what the Joker is writing. 

When the Joker is finished with his inscription, he starts again, retracing the letters painstakingly. It hurts more the second time and tears soak the floor under Tim’s eyes but he takes it silently. He muffles all of his pain, thinking only of Damian, even as the Joker flips him around again and his injured back and shoulder slam against the ground. 

The Joker stands above him, bloodied knife still held firmly in his hand, and observes him, calculating. Tim does not have the strength to move his head and look at Damian. The Joker moves so suddenly that Tim cannot brace for it. The knife penetrates his abdomen with a force that steals Tim’s breath away. But not his voice. For the second time this night, he cries out. It lasts longer this time. 

He cannot even protest, cannot beg as the Joker turns triumphantly to Damian. All he can do is curl up on his side, his hand pressed awkwardly against his wound. The Joker unties Damian slowly, singing merrily the whole time. The second the ropes fall to the floor, Damian acts. His elbow slams viciously against the Joker’s nose, and he stands up while the other man recoils back, a hand over his broken nose. Damian hops on one leg and bends down to take the knife that fell to the ground. It is still wet with Tim’s blood. 

Damian does not need to make use of the knife. The warehouse’s windows shatter under the impact of feet, and their family drops to the floor as one. Jason visibly flinches as he catches sight of the Joker, but he does not hesitate when he aims his gun at his murderer and puts a bullet through his skull. 

The warehouse immediately falls silent. Everyone is looking at Jason, but Jason himself is only looking at Bruce, his shoulders tense but his gaze unapologetic. 

“It needed to be done,” says Bruce softly. “He did not want to redeem. His reign of terror has ended, and I’m sorry I could not be the one who did it. I hope you will all understand.” 

Jason nods once and puts his gun back in its holster. Instantly, the vigilantes spur into motion and direct their attention to Tim and Damian. Tim passes out as Dick crouches next to him. 

 Tim wakes in a cot in the medbay, feeling surprisingly heavy. As the heavy fog of sleep slowly dissipates, he looks down at himself and finds Damian latched to his side, uncaring of the casts digging uncomfortably in Tim’s body. Tim finds he doesn’t mind either and raises a hand to card through his sleeping brother’s hair. 

“He slipped out of bed an hour after he woke up,” says Bruce quietly from the side of the bed. “We tried to take him back to his bed, even offered to put you two in the same room, but he refused.” 

Tim smiles. “Did Dick take pictures as blackmail?” 

“Plenty.” 

 When Tim wakes up again, Damian is gone. For the next week, Tim barely catches sight of his brother. He manages to corner him as he is playing with Titus in his room, ten days after they were captured by the Joker. 

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, and Damian reluctantly looks up from his dog. Immediately, his eyes fall onto Tim’s injuries, and his gaze shies away. 

“You were hurt because of me,” Damian whispers, his head hung. 

Tim sits down in front of his brother. He is keenly aware of the thick casts encasing his brother’s limbs. “I was hurt because of the Joker. So were you. Do you think you were hurt because I screamed?” 

“No! I would not ask of you to withstand torture without screaming just to spare me.”

Tim would absolutely ask this of himself. But that is beside the point. Bruce already talked with him about how none of it was his fault, and though he talked to Damian too, it seems it only worked on Tim. 

“Then why would you think I would ask this of you?” he asks Damian. 

“Because I’m supposed to be perfect. Grandfather—”

Tim scoffs. “Damian, no offense, but your grandfather is an abusive piece of shit. I would not take anything he says or expect as something to respect. In fact, I would even advise you to always try to do the contrary of what he wants. It’s a sure way to do the right thing.” 

A tiny smile plays on Damian’s lips. “So you’re not mad?” 

Tim’s heart breaks at the question, and he draws his brother into an awkward hug, their casts getting in the way. “I could never be mad at you for something like this, Damian. Not even when we didn’t get along.” 

@febuwhump

[bowlofworms]

I got the brain worms and I’m returning to my problematic fav, Jason Todd, once again.

I’ve talked a lot about how Robiin: Becoming the Magic ENDS, but nothing about the rest of it!

There are 7 key moments (Well, 6 + 1 we already know, but I’m going somewhere with this I swear) I’d like Jason to have as Robin. Idk if these would actually fit well in a movie as fleshed out as they are but, again, I’m going somewhere with this.

1. What’s inside “Gotham Water Co.” Commissioner Gordon calls Batman and Robin to the GCPD with a case. Several of Gotham’s wealthiest have reported their jewelry and valuables missing after going to the iceberg lounge. CCTV footage shows the victims handing the valuables over themselves, seemingly under no duress. Robin realizes they all ordered the same drink; a wine recently added to the menu. Cobblepot keeps everything above board however and find no suspicious purchases, personal or business. In fact, they don’t find any paper trail for the wine itself. With nothing else to go on, they decide to infiltrate the Iceberg Lounge to find a sample of the wine, but they find trouble quickly. They fight off the goons while navigating the complex network of pipes and machinery that filters, salinizes, and cools water from Gotham Bay to be used for the various aquatics in the Lounge (those penguins gotta have something to swim in!)

Empty handed and a little bruised, they have no proof anything illegal happened— and nothing that can tie it to Cobblepot either. While Batman goes over the CCTV footage again, Jason is left to go back over the paper trail. It’s boring work, until he notices several business purchases from Gotham Water Co. The Lounge pulls water from the Bay and from the Gotham Public Water Supply, so what’s really in the trucks from Gotham Water? Batman, Robin, and the GCPD stop and search the next shipment. It’s full of wine and testing reveals it contains a drug that makes people susceptible to suggestion. Best of all, “Gotham Water Co.” is a subsidiary of a shell company owned by one Oswald Cobblepot— he can’t dodge jail this time!

2. Saving the son of a Gotham City Council member. The 15 year old son of a Gotham City Council member is kidnapped. Commissioner Gordon knows this could go south fast and there are too many dirty cops in the GCPD to risk it getting into the wrong hands, so he sets Batman and Robin on the case.

There’s a lot of ground to cover, so they split up. Batman suspects the Council member is holding something back and interrogates him. The Council member breaks under pressure and reveals he had a bargain with the rogue, but didn’t follow through on his end and shows Batman a tape of his son tied to a chair in a warehouse, with the rogue threatening the Council member to hold up his end of the deal. The camera moves to show a newspaper, a clock showing the time, and bomb. The timer starts counting down. Tick Tock.

The council member begs Batman, “Please, he’s just a boy. He doesn’t deserve to be caught up in all of this. He’s my whole world. I’d do anything just to have him home safe. I’d do anything to take his place. You could throw me to the rogue and let them kill me for all I care, just save him! Save him! Please, don’t let them kill my son.”

Batman cuffs him and promises, “Your son will live,” As this is happening, Jason successfully locates where the boy is being held and rescues him— his first solo rescue. They get to about 50 yards away before the warehouse blows.

3. The Lion’s Gate Apartment fire. An apartment building near Gotham Bay, called Lion’s Gate Apartment, caught fire. Batman, Robin, and the GCFD arrive and help evacuate civilians. The GCFD declares the building to now be unstable and pulls the remaining firefighters from the fire. However, a woman says she hasn’t seen her neighbor, a paraplegic man who lives on the top floor. Robin hears her.

Bruce tells Jason it’s too dangerous, the building is unstable and they don’t even know if he’s still alive, or even there in the first place. Jason doesn’t listen and, after his grapple wasn’t able to catch anything stable on the building, grappled to the building next door, then jumped from the roof into a window in the apartment building. He finds the man, half conscious next to his upturned wheelchair, the rubber wheels melting into the floor. He picks him up in a fireman’s carry, but his exit gets blocked by a collapsing beam. The only way out remaining is a window overlooking the bay. He adjusts his hold on the man, and jumps. Jason manages to swim them to shore, where he then collapses. It’s the first time he disobeyed a direct order from Batman, and the first time he’s gotten seriously injured. He has several 2nd and 3rd degree burns, broke his leg from hitting the water from so high, and smoke inhalation. The man was critically injured, but pulls through. Jason later sees a newspaper article about the fire, including an interview with the man he saved. The man says he owes Robin his life and hopes that “the Guardian Angel who wore all black, a domino mask, and a leg cast, who would appear outside his hospital room window late at night when [the Guardian Angel] thought he was sleeping, was doing alright.”

[And in the picture, the first clear picture of Robin, (Photo Credit; Alvin Draper) the fire blazes, brick and brimstone, black smoke fuming into the night sky, the water pitch black and full of the reflections of the fire, looking unfathomably dark and deep and endless. Embers whisping through the air. One of a few scattered moonbeams shines on them as they fall. Robin’s tattered yellow cape fluttered up behind him like a halo, his single bare foot pointed. They are dirty and hurt, but they look less like they are falling and more like they are rising. He looks like an angel desperately carrying a soul up from hell, no matter how much it will hurt him. No matter how the ash clings to his halo, the fire burns his skin, how hell sullies the grace within him; he rises. He will drag himself through the fires of hell to save just one soul.]

4. The Soup Kitchen. After the apartment fire and article, Batman and Robin became less urban legend and more icons. It’s the first time reports of Batman and Robin were reported as truth, rather than speculation. With that and the picture of Robin, falling and desperately trying to use as much of his small body as he can to protect the man he’s carrying, like a guardian angel, up to 75% of Gothamites now believe Batman and Robin are real. [When Dick was Robin, they were more urban legends with a cult following. The idea of Batman and Robin was popular, but even though more and more people claimed to have seen them or been saved by them, they were still pretty firmly in urban legend status. Most people had heard of them, and some people did believe in them, but pictures were often considered hoaxes and accounts from people claiming to have been saved by Batman and/or Robin were written off as adrenaline induced delusions or just plain fake. Towards the end, more and more people believed, but once Batman no longer had a human traffic light Robin next to him, he was harder to spot and since the stories stopped including Robin, it made the lore seem inconsistent and caused it to lose credibility] Now, we start to see Batburgers here and there. Batman and Robin almost become mascots, of sorts— and Robin is very popular among the youth. Kids like to dress up as Robin! They play Batman & Robin on the playground! Robin (and Batman) is on Lunch Boxes! And Backpacks! Water bottles! Posters! There’s action figures! And posters! And shirts! And Hoodies! And PJs!

Because Robin is magic!

Parents tell their kids that Robin looks both ways before crossing the street and Robin washes his hands before dinner. Robin is kind, and generous, and good. Robin is a role model. And Jason has suddenly become someone to look up to. His voice has impact. Yes he’s one Brucie Wayne’s little orphans, but that doesn’t hold the weight, the meaning (the magic) that Robin does.

And Jason thinks. He thinks about what’s important to him. He thinks about what he could do for the city, not by fighting, but by being a role model. He thinks about the influence he now has. He thinks about what the whispers about Robin meant to him when he was out on the streets (out on the streets where The Bat-Man and Robin were more real. Where more people believed. Where a little bit of hope went a long way.)

He thinks about when he was hungry.

So, from the passenger seat of the Batmobile, Robin tells Batman he’s going to volunteer at the soup kitchen in crime alley (and maybe he’s been there before, maybe within those walls he has eaten for the first time in days), and when he hears Bruce say “I think that’s a great idea, chum,” he clarifies that Robin is going to volunteer at the soup kitchen in crime alley and, well, it’s one thing when Jason Todd-Wayne volunteers at a soup kitchen, but Robin? That’s dangerous. And Jason’s stomach turns at the idea of leading a rogue to a room full of the very people he protects (one of the people he once was).

He grapples with this. How can he help as Robin without endangering people? How can he help as Robin because he can’t do nothing, he can’t do nothing now that he can do something.

Jason sneaks out one evening. He buys a Robin T-Shirt, green athletic shorts, a pair of green sneakers, and a “superhero mask” which is just a plastic domino with white elastic to keep it to his head. He glues white mesh over the eye holes, just in case (so Bruce won’t be as mad if when he finds out)

DIY Robin appears at the soup kitchen the next day. He has a name tag, one of those Hi, My Name is _____ ones, that says “Robin” with the signature R, and maybe his belt looks a little too real but no ones paying that much attention. He fills plate after plate after plate, (getting some weird looks here and there, but what kid doesn’t want to be Robin?) And when the kitchen closes, he plays with the children (that kid never breaks character, huh? Some of the young ones are convinced he’s the real Robin and when the older ones ask where he got his costume, he just shakes his head, laughs, and says “I am Robin”) And when they leave, he scrubs dishes and stacks trays. He mops the floors and wipes the tables. And when all that is done, he asks another volunteer for a favor. Would they please take a picture of him in front of one of the signs? Then, DIY Robin goes home.

The next night, Commissioner Gordon has been doing paperwork in his office for all of five minutes when he gets the living daylight scared out of him when he glances at the clock and sees Robin on top of his shelf. He grumbles about creepy little boys who shouldn’t be out this late. Commissioner Gordon, used to seeing him in the shadows and politely ignoring what he sees about those damn vigilantes anyways, gets a good look at him and mumbles about how he’s younger than the first one when he started, and Jason, Jason who heard Bruce say Gordon is smart enough to figure out their identities, that Gordon is a good man, that Gordon is trustworthy, Batman trusts Gordon, and Jason tells him he’s 12. And Gordon huffs and says “sure, kid,” and Jason knows he doesn’t believe him and while he’s a little miffed he does know how it looks and in a calm little voice he tells Gordon it’s malnutrition. The doctor said he’d be lucky to break 5’7”.

(4’6” is the average height of a 10 year old boy and 87lbs is the average weight of an 11 year old boy who doesn’t have the muscle mass of a vigilante and Jason was 15, he was 15, he was only 15)

Gordon is, of course, a little startled, but this is Gotham and he’s seen a lot over the years. He can see that, yes, this kid may be the size of an 8 year old, but he’s got muscle on his body and baby fat on his cheeks. That a doctor told him he would be lucky to break 5’7” And he pointedly doesn’t think about Brucie Wayne and his little Crime Alley boy. No, Gordon is fine with not thinking any further past the knowledge that the kid isn’t starving now. That the kid has seen a doctor, probably a nutritionist too. He’s done thinking about that, which now leaves the arduous task of finding out why, exactly, Robin is in his office. He looks back at his paperwork, then happily shoves it in a drawer to give Robin his full attention. Jim has priorities (paperwork is not one of them.)

“I want to make a difference, Commissioner Gordon. I want to make a difference and I want to do it before I have to punch someone. An’- an’ kids look up to Robin, ya know? But I can’t go out and talk to people and lead by example and stuff when I’m dressed like this. My costume is for fightin’- and if there ain’t a fight, there’ll be one sooner or later. Batman trusts you, and I trust you. I know you can give this to someone who can do right with it.” He gives Gordon the file, and leaves.

Inside are two pictures, one of a small black-haired boy wearing a DIY Robin costume in front of Park Row Food Kitchen. The other, is of Robin, in an unidentifiable area with rough stone walls, holding the mask from the first picture, and a flyer for the Park Row Food Kitchen. Side-by-side, it’s clear to see they are the same boy.

Tucked in with the pictures is a single piece of paper with these words typed: “I am Robin, born again. The alley is my home; she is all I’ve known. I know her streets; I know her struggles. I know her hunger.

I am Robin and I have been hungry. When I think about what it means to be Robin, I think of the time before I flew in Gotham’s skies. When Robin was but a rumor, when it was the only hope I had, when I was hungry— and when I was hungry, the Crime Alley Food Kitchen fed me. They gave me hope. If Robin is hope, then within the very walls of the Crime Alley Food Kitchen, the essence of Robin nests.

I am Robin, and being Robin gives me magic.

The magic to give hope.

I am Robin, born again, and it is under these tenets that I fly;

No one should be hungry.

Education is a right.

There are no crimes committed in actions of survival.”

It’s signed ROBIN, the same as the name tag of the Robin at the soup kitchen, with the signature R and everything.

And Commissioner James Gordon, who may be affiliated with the Police, but who works with vigilantes, who has not adapted his moral code to that of the GCPD, but factors the GCPD into his moral code, who knows he can only do so much from his position, who has met many, many, people over the course of his career, he agrees.

The next day, every newspaper from Gotham, to Star City, to Metropolis, to National City, and every single newspaper and news channel within the damn cursed city that is Gotham, has Robin’s message across the front page.

(Bruce was not happy.)

[and in the Narrows, little Duke Thomas sees a picture of Robin! Robin!!! The same Robin from his lunch box and his PJs and his sweater!!! It’s Robin! And he’s in the newspaper!!!!! And Elaine Thomas puts her 6 year old son in her lap and reads it to him. This will later become one of Duke’s core memories. Later, he will keep that newspaper safe, rolled up in a cardboard tube at the bottom of his bag, and take it from foster home to foster home. He will look at the yellowing front page, trace over the words, and hear his mother say it along with him: I AM ROBIN)

(and it’s not just Duke who sees those words and holds them close. It’s not just Duke who thought about what it means to be Robin. And It won’t be then, it won’t be for a while, but later, when the little Robin who wrote those words for the whole world to hear hasn’t flown across the Gotham skies in two years, it is then that Duke and all of those kids, all over Gotham, who took that message to heart, will think about that article. They will think about that bold proclamation, “I AM ROBIN!” and they will remember the message within that article and they will band together for the people of Gotham and say “WE ARE ROBIN!”)

5. The Icy Bay. Batman and Robin are facing Mr. Freeze. They have diverted him out away from the city and towards the Bay. On the frozen water they fight. It’s difficult. There’s not a lot of cover or places to hook a grapple, and fighting on the slick, uneven ice is difficult. Not only that, but this is Mr. Freeze’s territory. They are at an extreme disadvantage.

Batman takes a rough hit, and gets knocked unconscious. The tall looming figure of Mr. Freeze and tiny little 13 year old Jason. The odds aren’t great, but his dad Batman is down and oh god is he okay, so it’s up to Jason now. It’s a rough fight, but Jason wins [so many allusions to David and Goliath]. Jason wins, but it was a rough fight and only gave a little more than he got. He’s exhausted after the long fight. He’s weak— and so is the ice. Jason falls into the icy bay.

The water may not look it, but just as Gotham has a quick and brutal underside, so does the bay. He quickly loses where he fell through. He looks up through the murky water and desperately, desperately tries to break the ice, but he’s exhausted from the fight and the ice is stronger over here. He can’t break it. His lungs burn. Is he sinking? No that’s his vision getting dimmer. His vision getting dimmer and a looming shadow over the ice.

The ice explodes downward from a punch on the surface (and gosh does it really look like it explodes) a black gauntlet reaches down towards Jason, and pulls him out of the icy water.

“Jason!” Bruce sounds anguished, he pulls Jason to his chest. It’s the two of them, alone in the large icy expanse that’s currently Gotham Bay. Bruce is on his knees clutching him, shaking (he’s crying, oh he’s crying), Jason is a wet puddle against him. He’s all of 13 years old and the shock wears off quickly and he starts crying too.

“Oh, God, Jason. Never do that again! I thought I lost you.”

And Jason thinks about Bruce, prone on the ice, unmoving, and thinks about desperately banging on the ice and the empty aching void that was his lungs, and mumbles into his chest, “I thought I was gonna lose you too, Dad”

It was Jason’s first time facing a rogue on his own, his first time fighting without Batman being a call away. The first time he was out on his own in the cold with no back up.

“I thought I was gonna die,” He says.

“I’ll never let that happen,” Bruce replies.

“But you were out when I fell through. How did you know? How did you get there in time?” Jason asks. He’s so scared, God, he’s so scared.

“Because you’re my son,” Bruce says with conviction, “I’ll always get there in time.”

6. Blind Fear. Toxic green gas (so many purple neon lights) seeps through the streets, we see a figure running away from it, but the gas billows and swallows them up. It’s quiet, just for a moment, then there are screams. Terrified screams.

Batman and Robin in rebreathers. They find many a couple people screaming in fear, that jab with a sedative, not enough to knock them unconscious, but enough to get them drowsy (there’s only so much sedative they can carry, after all) and then zip cuff so they won’t hurt themselves or others. As they go through the city that number increases, but the two of them work well together and make quick work of subduing them. As they go deeper into the gas, the people get more violent, require more sedative. Then that number starts to go down, replaced by figures laying prone on the Gotham streets. They zip cuff some and hope they were just knocked unconscious, others they don’t have to cuff. They’re gone. Their zip cuffs are needed less and less, but not for lack of finding people. They get to an open man hole, green gas seeping and swirling from it. Batman looks down at it, and then at Robin. The rebreather looking large, muzzle like, on his face. He tells Robin to rescue as many civilians as he can, giving him the rest of his sedative, then jumps down the manhole.

Montage of Robin cuffing and sedating as many people as he can, trying not to hurt them as he tries to restrain them. We see him administering the sedative (to the thigh muscle because we can have a little medical accuracy, as a treat) One time, see him have to give a defensive hit and look super guilty about it. He apologizes to the unconscious body, because he’s still a kid, even out doing this important job, and we need to see that little bit of childhood peek through- even during the intense moments.

[I’m imagining bcos the Bats probably have to routinely give anti-toxins and sedatives to a large amount of people, they have a device that takes a large amount of medicine, auto injects a controlled amount (I imagine they can adjust the dosage to administer more or less.) After the dosage is injected, it automatically pops the needle up, then into a small biohazard container, and cycles a replacement needle into place. Each machine contains enough needles to administer the entire volume of medication at the smallest possible dosage + 5 extra. It also, when pressed down to administer, stamps a date, time, dosage, and medication name onto the person. It automatically pops the needle up as soon as the dosage finishes administering so one can’t accidentally get scratched with the used needle, pops it into a reinforced biohazard box so it’s contained and out of the way, then cycles in a replacement to reset it. The stamp is for emergency responders so because that knowledge can be super vital. There’s a reason EMS wants to know what medication you take, and if you’ve taken anything else, whether it be OTC or… others. EMS aren’t cops and they won’t snitch. In the U.S. at least, HIPPA protects you as long as you’re not under arrest when EMS arrives. Even then, better to be honest with EMS and go to jail, than lie and go to the dev team. Okay rant over…)

(the stamp has a bat on it too.)

We see him administer a dose of sedative, and his machine makes a quick series of clicks, a green light turns red, and a new needle doesn’t cycle in. It’s out. He pulls out Bruce’s machine and keep going. Eventually, he runs out of zip cuffs and has to either choose to leave someone without treatment, knock them unconscious or otherwise incapacitate them, or give them more of his limited sedative.

Batman comes in on comms, he’s neutralized the source of the gas and has almost taken down Scarecrow. It’s a burst of hope for Jason. It’s short lived, he administers a dose of sedative and the machine gives that series of clicks. No sedatives, no zip cuffs, no Batman. He’s on his own. Another scream, and he’s off.

It’s a woman, severely affected by fear toxin, and desperately scratching at her face, clawing at her eyes. We see Jason struggle to restrain her. The gas has cleared up quite a bit, but she’s hopped up on as much adrenaline as her body can make and Jason is all of 4’3” on a good day.

Desperately he tries to talk her down, tries to comfort her because he knows she’s so so scared. She keeps struggling, but suddenly goes limp. Fear Toxin, while intended to cause as much chaos as possible by using people’s fear to make them fight and kill one another— or themselves, the main cause of death of fear gas victims is heart failure. Their hearts just can’t take the strain anymore.

Desperately, Jason starts CPR. And Jason knows, he knows CPR only works 7% of the time. He’s acutely aware, he’s performed CPR on so, so many. But Jason performs CPR anyways. Even when it’s unlikely she’ll survive, even when the fear toxin in her veins makes her survival nigh impossible.

It’s not working. 2 minutes, 5 minutes, 10 minutes. The gas is near gone by now, but he’s inhaling the dregs with every rescue breath he gives, but Robin is nothing without hope. Desperate, he tries a last ditch, Hail Mary: Epinephrine. It shouldn’t work, adrenaline is what caused her heart to give out in the first place. He stops his chest compressions for a moment, the pounding of his heart and the smell of alcohol and the sound of beer bottles breaking against the wall make his hands shake so bad as he fumbles for the Epi-Pen— and not the standard one, the one with the scary needle. He gets it out, uncaps it, and desperately stabs into her chest, into her heart. He knows it’s a lost cause, but he tries anyways. He needs a miracle.

He gets one. The woman takes a huge heaving breath. He immediately pins down her hands before she can do more damage to her face. That’s where Batman finds him a few minutes later, in the early morning light, crying and heaving in breaths, his heart hammering in his chest, but he’s still restraining her.

It’s several days later at breakfast when Bruce says “She made it, you know? The woman from the Scarecrow attack. She’s in the ICU still, but doctors expect her to recover. She even retained some light perception in her eyes,” and Jason looks up at him with a watery expression, “You saved her, chum. You did it. You didn’t give up on her, even when anyone else would have, even when it was hopeless, and it paid off,” and Bruce puts a hand on Jason’s shoulder, hesitating, “I’m so proud of you, Jason.” They get up to get on with their day, and Bruce pauses and looks back, “The Thomas Wayne Medical Foundation covered all expenses for her treatment, and got her admitted to an experimental trial for eye tissue regeneration after acute and severe trauma. They have hopes that she’ll be able to recover more of her field of vision and eventually be able to read high contrast lettering as small as a quarter of her entire visual field. They say she’s a really good candidate for recovering more peripheral vision too.” Jason gives him a watery smile and a quick hug, before rushing off to get dressed.

That night, Jason goes down to the cave, intent on sneaking out to visit the woman. A sticky note written in Alfred’s handwriting is stuck to the front of the suit. “Room 72”

He sneaks into the hospital through the roof access. He sneaks through the halls and locates her room. He slowly opens the door, intent on just checking on her, but she’s awake.

“Who’s there?” She calls. Jason looks at her. Her hands look rough, bruises showing through her nail beds, her wrists are bruised in the shape of his hands, her face is heavily bandaged, she has an oxygen tube snaking through the bandages by her nose.

“Uh- it’s Robin.” He hadn’t expected to speak with her.

“Nice one, who is it?” Her voice is flat and snarky, a little bit like she’s tired and trying to hide it.

“No, really, it’s Robin.”

“Oh? Let me guess, Batman’s with you too!” She says sarcastically.

“No, he’s at home. It’s just me, er, Robin— I can prove it!” Jason walks towards her bed, “Can you put out your hand?” She levels a flat expression on his general direction. “Please?” She obliges and he takes her hand and traces her fingertips over the R on his suit. “This is the Robin symbol on my suit,” he moves her hand “This is my domino mask. Spirit gum keeps it in place. This is the collar of my suit, where it turns into the cape. These are the clasps on the front. It’s funny, they don’t actually hold anything together, they just look like they do. They pop off and can be used as a tracker. You can feel the metal and stuff inside, there’s a little magnet in there too. It’s great to pop under a car or something. I got more in my belt.” He keeps talking, showing her the pouches on his belt, the way the gloves have a secret clasp that helps them stay on better, the beat and scraped up elbow pads, even balancing on one leg to show her the iconic pixie boots.

“Okay, I believe you, you’re Robin. Either that you’re a very dedicated cosplayer with a knack for breaking into hospitals in the middle of the night.”

“I- I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks.

“By the time I got to you, I was out of sedatives and zip cuffs. And I wasn’t there in time to stop most of the damage to your eyes and your face. And I think I broke your ribs when I was giving you CPR,” his voice begins to wobble, “and I bruised your wrists when I was holding you down and I took such a big risk by giving you the epinephrine! It could have gotten rid of any chance of survival but I gambled your chance of life anyways because I couldn’t- I couldn’t fail.”

“Oh, kiddo.”

“M’not a kid.”

“Robin, then. Robin, it’s not your fault. Saying you ran out means that you used all of them, you used all of them saving people. My eyes and my face were like that when you got there, you can’t turn back time, it was already done. And yes, you broke six of my ribs but I was dead, honey. The nurses say my paperwork from EMS says CPR was performed for 10 minutes before you gave me the epinephrine. Sure, you could say it was a gamble, but you weren’t really gambling with much of a chance at all. You chose between the fraction of a fraction of a chance more CPR would bring me back, and something people know can restart hearts. Anyone would have made the same choice. Even if it didn’t work out, I would be able to rest easy knowing you tried your hardest. Sweetie, I was gone. I was dead. But you brought me back. You saved me.”

Robin and the woman talk into the early hours of the morning, until they are interrupted by Nurse Brown, who screams in surprise at Robin, of all people, just chilling in a patients room.

(Her daughter will never believe this one)

7. Revival. Jason Peter Todd digs himself out of his own grave, 6 months after his death. He is fully restored in mind and body after being dipped in the Lazarus Pits.

Now any theology buffs out there have probably figured out what I’m getting at. All of these correlate or allude to the Seven Signs of John’s Gospel.

1. The changing of water into wine. Jason is the one to make the connection that leads them to find the Gotham Water Co. trucks are transporting the drugged wine to the Iceberg Lounge.

2. Healing the royal official’s son. Saving the city officials son.

3. Healing the paralytic at Bethesda. Saving the paraplegic man.

4. Feeding the 5000. Serving food at the food kitchen in Crime Alley.

5. Jesus walking on water. Fighting Mr. Freeze on the frozen bay.

6. Healing the man blind from birth. Saving the woman who blinded herself in terror after being exposed to fear gas.

7. The raising of Saint Lazarus. Raising from his own grave, and being restored fully by the Lazarus Pits. (Fun Fact: the Lazarus pits are named after Saint Lazarus)

I spent multiple hours typing this and my hands hurt lmao. Please ignore any mistakes/inconsistencies (except Jason calling the Park Row Food Kitchen the Crime Alley Food Kitchen, because only rich assholes call it Park Row) Again, this took literal hours and I don’t feel like reviewing and editing it lol. Enjoy, y’all!

There's a post about wanting a story about Jason's time as Robin. I made a reblog of it so long ago, but I can't stop thinking about it.

I want to watch Jason's flight as Robin, but the entire story he's haunted by the future we all know is going to come.

When he first grabs his tire iron, he has the choice of taking a crowbar instead.

Subtle purples or greens pop up when he's in danger (but not necessarily the Joker).

He frees a bird trapped inside a warehouse.

He rescues a kid who was kidnapped by their mom and returns them to their dad.

So many dead or injured birds

While helping Alfred with gardening, he breaks a nail

Gun magazines at many scenes

Motorcyclists wearing red helmets

Someone's bubbling jacuzzi has a green light on

Duffle bags

He helps hold a bandage to someone's neck until paramedics arrive

Jason reads Frankenstein while at the Manor

An ad proclaims their coffins to be the sturdiest

Just his Robin story being jammed packed with foreshadowing.

It'd also be rad to have Easter Eggs:

Someone makes a comment about assassin kids

When talking to Bruce about something, on the batscreen is a very short file about "One Who is All"

Someone at a gala mentions the Drakes' newest archeology find

Kids at Jason's school chat about meta powers and how cool controlling light is

When visiting the hospital, the nurse introduces herself as Crystal

The buildup of the audience watching Jason, who's unaware of his future, continuously face sign after sign after sign? The irrational hope that maybe someone will notice the universe basically screaming about the future? Nobody notices as more and more signs pop up. It's maddening but so intriguing.

Jason's story of Robin would follow him as he goes from being desperate to survive to thriving. His paranoia that it's too good to be true thrums in his veins, but he learns to ignore it. He's fed, loved, and flies over Gotham every night. There's conflict, sure, but he's figuring out. It's okay.

The signs start out slow and subtle. As he starts to reach towards the end, they get more and more obvious. They occur more often.

Jason doesn't know when it all goes wrong, but he's figured it out before.

We don't see him lose hope until the very end.

EDIT:

Here's the og post I was referencing

[britcision]

Y’know what friends? I’m feeling mean today 😈 so for WIP Wednesday, once again we are reeeeeal close to the next chapter, and I’m going to give you just the scene I’m currently working on

Just the littlest bit to tide you all over

It’s something we’ve all been waiting for

Tag list:

@welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @arandomturd @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10

——————

“Y’know, after all this excitement someone might be tempted to call the rest of the gala quiet,” Jason remarked with a soft chuckle, following Danny from the dining room to the main hall.

Danny shot him a wicked grin over one shoulder other hand checking a likely door.

“Why, were you hoping for a quiet night?” He teased and Jason grinned, shaking his head.

“And miss Sam’s well earned explosion? No fuckin’ way. Hang on, there’s a closet a little further down that’ll be a little easier to get discovered in,” he said quickly, pulling ahead to lead Danny to another, more obvious door that was visible from the main hall.

“Oh, do the others have their party clothes hidden in the other one?“ Danny asked with a smirk, clearly enjoying the way Jason’s step stuttered for a moment.

It was Jason’s turn to look back, a long, slow look was much more calculating. Assessing. Danny just shrugged.

“I’m not saying anything to anyone. Wild coincidence how many of your siblings have been touched by death though. Almost as many as the Gotham vigilantes.”

He might not have guessed by that alone-alone (Gotham was a dangerous city), but it wasn’t like Jason would know to call him on it. This might be his Robin reveal biting him in the ass.

Still, it wasn’t like Danny wouldn’t meet Bruce and Batman eventually. His family were nosey shits - tonight proved that. Better that Danny knew what he was dealing with.

Stomping the part of him that felt bad firmly down, Jason tugged Danny into a broom closet barely big enough to hold them.

Not like the bats would feel bad about sticking their noses in, and it’s not like he’d told Danny. Danny worked it out himself.

Not like they’d have had a chance in hell of hiding it if the Ghost King really could sense everyone who’d died. It wasn’t gonna be the biggest news on any day of the week that involved Danny.

Danny was still watching him, the faintest brush of amused-concerned-we good? sliding across his senses. Jason snickered and reached out to ruffle his hair.

“Yeah, there’s probably at least one set of party clothes back there. But they’re not the ones we want walking in on us, right?” He asked, pulling the door carefully almost shut behind them.

Danny settled, grin broadening again as he reached up to ruffle Jason’s hair back.

“Not that I don’t think they’re dramatic enough, but it’s way less suspicious if we’re exposed to all and sundry,” he agreed with a much to charming wink, and set about unbuttoning his shirt.

Jason hesitated for the barest second more, calculating again… but this time for a much better reason. His own little imp of mischief raised its head.

“Think anyone would notice if we swapped ties?” He asked with a sudden grin, tugging his blue tie loose. Loved the way Danny’s face lit up with manic glee as he tugged his own off and tossed it over.

“They’re not the exact same colour but close enough if we were “distracted”,” he agreed with a cackle, taking Jason’s tie and stuffing it into his jacket pocket.

Jason hooked Danny’s over a mop and began working at his own buttons. Stopped. He could undo them nice and neat. He could also…

He wasn’t against flashing a little skin for the rest of the evening.

Taking both sides of the shirt in hand, he yanked hard enough that Danny had to dodge a button shooting out at him. And abandon his own undressing to clap both hands over his mouth against laughter.

“Did you just fucking rip your shirt open like a caveman?!” He hissed in delighted glee once the giggles subsided. Jason smirked, completely sure the impressed look in his eyes was real.

Nothing else there to see, right?

“Not according to anyone else at this party, there’s not a soul in that room that won’t believe you ripped it off me after that display,” he pointed out smugly, and Danny had to stifle a cackle by shoving most of his fist in his mouth.

It felt good to be actively doing something after being sidelined for the entire attack. Good to see any traces of that worry, of that all too familiar burning rage in Danny’s face.

No one else should ever have to feel like that. Not for Jason.

Now, laughing until he couldn’t breathe and had to sag against Jason’s chest for support? That he was extremely comfortable with.

Steadying his shaking king, Jason hummed thoughtfully and ran his hands through Danny’s hair a few more times. It was already wild and unruly, so the step from there to sex hair wasn’t all that far.

Danny gave him a gentle jab with his elbow before straightening, tugging his own shirt open with nary a care for the last two buttons. Then he paused, reaching for his belt.

“So how far are you comfortable with this going?” He asked innocently, too innocently. In that sweet, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth tone Jason had already learned to suspect.

If Jason Todd had one weakness, he’d never backed down from a dare in his life. Why start now.

“I’ve never seen anyone arrested at a gala for indecent exposure,” he replied in his own best innocent voice, the one used when Bruce caught him hiding the bodies.

Danny snickered and pulled his belt off, kicking his trousers… yep, all the way down and off his legs, and in case any of his nosey bastard siblings were curious the boxers or briefs question was answered.

Not that any of them would be surprised, given the cut of Danny’s pants. Briefs today at least, but Jason very deliberately was not going to speculate.

“You don’t have to match,” Danny assured him quickly, still grinning as he picked up his pants to hang them artfully over an upturned bucket, “can’t have the man of the hour kicked out of his own party.”

Suddenly the closet felt a lot smaller. A lot warmer. A lot harder to breathe. Because. Yeah. That’s what they were doing.

They were staging a fucking sex scene, on their third hangout in their lives, and Danny had fucking said that.

Even the heady knot of tension suddenly in Jason’s gut couldn’t stand a chance against the wave of snickering.

It gave him a moment of distance, to catch his breath and remember why they were doing this, and tug his own belt open. Unbutton his pants, mind very firmly fixed on Bruce’s reaction.

“Danny, never fucking say that to me again unless you want me to streak through this hall,” he said as seriously as he could, loving the way Danny’s eyes darted down and then back up to his face.

He would love absolutely nothing more than to get kicked out of his own party… any night but tonight. Tonight, he had no fucking intention of missing out on Sam going nuclear.

[brisbookmark]

The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head. 

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound. 

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now. 

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her. 

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all. 

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again. 

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother, 

No, he couldn’t. 

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her. 

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already. 

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth. 

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar. 

No. Please, anything but that. 

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries. 

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again. 

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones. 

"Wrong!" 

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult. 

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried. 

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths. 

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting. 

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain, 

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway. 

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes. 

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for. 

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all. 

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him. 

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!" 

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness. 

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this? 

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck. 

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A. 

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting. 

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it. 

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing. 

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball. 

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go. 

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer. 

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him. 

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder. 

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared. 

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever. 

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him. 

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

x

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old. 

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness. 

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay. 

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. 

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like. 

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear. 

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up. 

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.  

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters. 

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running. 

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement. 

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!" 

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause. 

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster. 

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle. 

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities. 

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men. 

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm. 

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar. 

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd. 

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room. 

No. 

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again. 

x

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

[bigskydreaming]

Headcanon that everyone within the family may think of Dick as the one most in their father’s favor, but Dick is keenly aware that the general public thinks of him as their father’s ‘Consolation Prize.’

After all, when from their perspective he’s the one Bruce raised since he was eight as his ward, with that dissolving when he was eighteen and very little perceived contact between the two of them for years after that, while Jason was adopted soon after being taken in and Dick was then later adopted years after Jason’s death, without any public fanfare.....

What does that look like other than Bruce ‘settling’ for the son who didn’t appear to be his first choice, just chronologically first, once he lost Jason but still needed/wanted an heir, as he was getting older and the general public still didn’t know yet how closely tied Tim was to the family or that it wouldn’t be long after this that Bruce adopted him too?

Now granted, you can definitely perceive the above as overly angsty and not the only way this situation was likely to be perceived outside the family, but my point is more that like.....nobody ever presumes that the general public are overly kind or generous in their views or assumptions about the Wayne family behavior. I just don’t buy that people assumed there was some optimistic explanation for the way things appeared here, or that people just went “oh its probably because the kid who grew up in that house the longest just doesn’t WANT to be adopted by the billionaire and have all the security that brings, and that’s also clearly why he lives in Bludhaven of all places and a shitty apartment building at that.”

I mean, no matter what WE the readers may know of Dick’s personal priorities and how little he cares about where he lives or that Bruce would have willingly paid for him to have a better place to live if he really wanted it, is that what people are most likely to assume, based on appearances?

Anyway, I’m just saying, I bet it bugs the crap out of Dick to hear his siblings casually refer to him as so obviously enjoying favored son status and being the clear apple of Bruce’s eye, as he’s like, cue internal monologue: gee, sure wish I was as confident of that back during the years he seemed to want nothing to do with me.

Like I’ve said before, I think Dick isn’t actually super insecure and his insecurities such as they are mostly revolve around how his family and friends perceive him, not the general public.....BUT I do think that with as high profile as the Waynes are, there’s no way that nobody picked up on how little contact Dick and Bruce had in the continuities where they literally went over a year without even speaking to each other....and like, felt free to draw their own conclusions.

 And I do think this is also part of why I default to thinking a lot of canon takes and headcanons tend to gloss over how shitty Gotham public could be in their views/treatment of Dick. Like just because Dick was basically trained from birth to be able to work a room and entertain people while in their direct presence, that didn’t actually make him ‘one of them’ in their eyes, and I reeeeeeaally don’t think you can actually underestimate the pettiness and jealousy one percenters feel when they see someone they inherently view as lesser than them - as they would’ve viewed both Dick and Jason due to their lower class births - like....’leap frogging’ over them into greater wealth via being taken in by Bruce. 

Like, idk, maybe it just comes from having been a scholarship kid who went to a richy rich private high school attended mostly by the children of senators and hotel-chain owners, lol, but like.......I can not for a second picture Gotham’s upper class actually LIKING Dick or being as charmed by him as they frequently are depicted as, just because Dick knows how to be charming and likable. Like they might play it that way when in public at a gala, for appearances or whatever....but the second he turned around they’d be badmouthing him at juuuuust a high enough volume to ensure he’d be able to HEAR them but not be able to call them on it without it looking like he went back and provoked a scene over something ‘nobody else around them heard them say’ or whatever. Just to make sure that no matter how well he came across in public social settings, he never ‘forgot his place’ or whatever or forgot that they were all too aware of it too.

And also also, it always kinda bemuses me that as much focus as the Court of Owls and Talons get in Dick’s narratives in canon and fic, that we’ve barely ever seen any examination of what the Court retroactively means for Dick’s years growing up around upper class Gothamites who likely included more than a few Court members.....like, we KNOW years later that like, all along there were these people who even without knowing who Batman and Robin were, like, knew Dick Grayson was their ‘Gray Son’ and intended to claim him as their weapon someday, and you can’t tell me that wouldn’t have factored into how they viewed and interacted with a child and teenage Dick Grayson as they attended many of the same social gatherings and functions. OR that Dick himself in the aftermath of the Court of Owls reveal, didn’t look back at his OWN childhood and reflect on how many creepy or uncomfortable encounters he had with various socialites that left him feeling decidedly skeeved out and not a fan of how they were looking at him or things they might have said to him, thinking themselves oh so clever for alluding to things he had no idea about......like, I imagine there had to be more than a few encounters from his younger years that always stuck with him, and after the Court of Owls revelation like....looked TOTALLY different to him, especially if he happened to know for sure that some of those very people were in fact Court members. BUT I DIGRESS.

All in all though it all circles back to the same thought for me.....people might have been polite to Dick’s face when he was growing up, but they most likely had plenty of shit to say the second his back was turned, and I doubt they were afraid to be overheard by him. Especially in his later years, once people noticed how distant he and Bruce seemed to be, and thus perceived that as meaning that nineteen year old Dick Grayson wasn’t as ‘protected’ by Bruce the way he was when he was younger.....meaning the people who were most jealous of Dick’s ‘catapulting’ up the social ladder and eager to knock him down a peg because of that, like....probably would have looked at the relative lack of contact between he and Bruce as far as anyone could publicly tell, and felt emboldened enough by that to up their snide whisper game with shit like gossipping about how oh, the Grayson boy may be back in Gotham again, but we all know he’s just poor Brucie’s consolation prize anyway, why, if he really cared all that much about the boy, he’d hardly have ever let him run off to Bludhaven of all places, without even making sure to staple the advantages and opportunities granted by the Wayne name to him the way he made sure to right off the bat with the younger one.....

So yeah. There’s my angsty musings on how Dick likely is perceived by Gotham public at large, and how his interactions with them - especially when NOT around Bruce and Jason and the rest of his family....probably very much does not match up with what they assume public perception of Dick is, given that in their eyes ‘everybody loves Dick Grayson,’ but in Dick’s experience ‘everybody may be charmed by Dick Grayson while he’s doing his best to be charming,’ but don’t mistake that for acceptance. Not when Gotham’s public are just as likely to dismiss him as the second choice Wayne heir and consolation prize to make themselves feel more important/elevated than him the second their own insecurities have them feeling intimidated by the wealth, power and prestige Dick does actually share in by virtue of being part of Bruce’s family.

[riflebrass]

"Hurr rich man bad" is such a dumb take. I get that the "invincibility" cheat where he can outsmart ANYONE with enough planning can be tiresome for some people, but the rich boy gives his all for his community.

That episode where he held a little girl's hand while she died was from an episode of Batman Beyond that tied in with Justice League. Ace from the Royal Flush gang had some kind of brain tumor or some shit that gave her the ability to read minds and put images into them. As time progressed her condition worsened and her powers became too much for her to control. Her mind was bending the very fabric of reality. It was decided she was too dangerous to be left alive. SOMEONE had to go in and kill a child to save Gotham. Batman volunteered with no intention of killing her. Ace was a villain, she has tried to kill him and the rest of the Justice League before when Joker was manipulating her. She's still just a kid. She's dying, she's alone, and she's afraid. What she needed more than anything in the world was a friend so he went in to be with her and comfort her in her final moments before her condition killed her.

There was also an episode of the animated series where Harley Quinn got released from Arkham. To reward herself for her hard work she bought a dress. Due to a misunderstanding she accidentally set off a shoplifting alarm and not wanting to get arrested she ran. Bruce just happened to be out shopping and saw the whole thing so he suited up and chased her around Gotham trying to talk her down before someone got hurt. When he finally caught her she had to go back to the loony bin for a little bit, but as a reminder of all the progress she made Batman made sure she got her dress.

There's also a villain who is also a victim. There's this vintriloquist with a double personality. He thinks his dummy is a real mobster and he is forced to serve him. After he got out of Arkham Bruce got him a job at Wayne Enterprises working in the mail room. Ex-cons have a hard time finding a job after they get released, but Bruce wanted to take a chance on him because giving him a leg up to rebuild his life will help prevent a relapse.

I never really read the comics but the cartoons are full of this kind of stuff.

Also, Batman punches anyone who’s threatening others, including supervillains, mass murderers, and rich people.

He also donates a great deal to charity.

Magneto is a straight up racial supremacist. He has tried to create an  ethnostate for der ubermenschen.

It’s ironic that a progressive supports him just because he’s an Angry Minority™.

…Ivy has mind-controlled, enslaved and murdered people. 

That’s literally her main shtick.

Previously.

[ariadne-does-her-best]

Love in G Major

Dick Grayson x Reader One-Shot; Soulmate!Au

Word Count: 2,500+

Warnings: Kidnapping but nothing graphic happens

Author’s Note: Hey guys! This is my first time posting a fic so characters may be a little OOC. Please let me know if you guys liked this and if you want to, feel free to send a request! Also, I might make a series of Soulmate! Aus since I have a good idea for Jasons thought out. xo, Ariadne

Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate, you’re one of the lucky ones to receive a physical sign of your soulmate in the form of a timer counting down to when you’ll meet. But after being kidnapped by the Riddler, hours before you’re supposed to meet them, you can only pray that the Riddler of all people isn’t your soulmate.

Five hours.

You swayed to the rich sound of your cello, eyes closed, as you shifted your hand down into fourth position. You rested for a beat before going down bow, still doing vibrato even after the piece was done. The audience waited for a sign that you were done with the piece, be it that your hand stopped moving or you physically stood up and told them to clap. Instead, you opened your eyes and smiled as the diners took their cue to start clapping before inclining your head in thanks as you waited for the applause to die down.

It was a normal Saturday at the small but expensive Italian restaurant you performed at. You weren’t supposed to be there since you had requested to take today off but the owner had still put you down to play during half of the two-hour live performance time slot. At the end of the day, money was money and who were you to ever say no to the thousands you always received in tips. After all, you could only think about the new bow you could buy with the money. Which would lead to you sounding better, getting more gigs, and making more money. The process was like a cycle, really.

After the applause stopped and those who were up putting money in your jar had sat down in their seats, you sat back down and started playing Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude. You could hear the pianist who was supposed to take over for the rest of the night setting up, his hands flipping through his many copies of sheet music.

Aside from the sounds of cutlery and the wisps of conversation, there was not much noise other than the smooth sound of your cello. But even if there were no noises, something still bothered you.

At first, it wasn’t that bad. You could feel someone staring at you, which was normal since you were performing on a stage with your whole being on display, but it was longer and more intense than normal. Letting your eyes wander around the crowded restaurant, your eyes locked onto a pair of green eyes. You smiled slightly at the young girl before wincing as the slight burning of your wrist got worse. You continued playing, closing your eyes as you tried to ignore the burning of your timer. Your soulmate timer.

You were one of the lucky individuals who had a visible connection to their soulmate. Instead of feeling a spark whenever you touch your soulmate, like your neighbors do, or being able to finally see color when you touch your soulmate, like your parents, you were one of the few lucky ones who could count down to the precise moment when you would meet your soulmate. And that was exactly what you did. When you were thirteen and your parents had explained your soulmate mark to you, the first thing you did was calculate when you would meet your soulmate according to your timer and write it down in your diary.

It was impossible for you to ignore the burning on your wrist, impossible for you to not grin as you played. But your grin was wiped off when you heard glass shatter and a scream.

Four hours.

You had no idea where you were but judging by the smell of the place and the fact that two men wearing green suits with question marks were staring at you, you were not at the restaurant.

‘At least I still have my cello,’ you thought as you pulled against the ropes that tied you against a pillar. The henchmen were talking between themselves as they approached the pillar where you were tied. They started untying you from the pillar and you took this opportunity to suddenly stand up and run.

You heard one of the henchmen curse but you ran in random zigzag lines towards where the door was. It was weird that the henchmen didn’t shoot at you or even attempt to stop you. But you ignored the niggling in the back of your mind. Wrenching the door open, you looked back at where your cello lay and turned back around to walk towards your freedom.

Except it wasn’t your freedom, it was the Riddler in his forest green suit and bowler combo. A rather tacky-looking combo in your opinion but hey, you weren’t going to be the one to break the news to a murderous criminal. He looked up at your sudden entrance and smiled.

“Here she is,” he said, yanking you into the room where the guests of the restaurant were tied onto the seats of an auditorium. You shivered as the cold air hit you and you looked around the room, taking in the TV production set up and the large stage that covered up more than half of the room there.

The Riddler dragged you up onto the stage, and you couldn’t help but wince as the harsh lights burned your eyes.

“What am I doing on stage,” you asked the Riddler as you covered your eyes with your hands. The Riddler’s smile became somehow larger, looking rather comical for a second before becoming more uncomfortable to look at. “Riddle me this,” the Riddler started as he pushed you down onto a chair, “what is it that cannot open any locks and yet has 24 keys?”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you rubbed at your wrist, the burning sensation somehow getting worse.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled as a minute passed.

“Well, if you don’t know, why don’t we give you a little motivation to figure out the right answer?”

And with that, the Riddler drew out a gun and pointed it at the closest person seated at the stage, the pianist. At this point, you could hear the sobs wracking through his body and you thought about his elderly parents who depended on him to pay for their surgeries. You don’t know how you could live with his blood on your hands.

“Wait, I have the answer,” you cried out, reaching out to grab the Riddler’s elbow but stopping. Something told you that that wouldn’t be a good idea and he might take that opportunity to shoot you.

“Well, do go on.”

“It’s music,” you said, staring at the deranged man’s face. He broke into peals of laughter, clapping his hands, as he tried to settle himself. It was unnerving how he could flip the switch easily from being a man ready to kill another to laughing as if you were the funniest person on Earth.

“That’s correct. And with that, let us start the games.”

Three hours.

After asking you his initial riddle, the Riddler had quickly set up a broadcast to be shown to all of Gotham, using the footage that one of his henchmen had taken of him questioning you as the intro.

“Batman, I have two riddles for you,” he said, addressing the camera. If you weren’t stuck on stage with two guns pointed at you as you tuned a somewhat cheap cello, you would have sighed. Why couldn’t he also include picture puzzles or something else for once? But you were stuck on stage so you just carefully tuned the instrument, hoping that none of the guards took your movement as you tuned as a sign of your sad attempt at running away.

“There are as many constellations in the sky as there are keys in a piano. What number am I? There you will find the answer to, ‘What is it that makes songs but you will never hear it sing?’ You have an hour to find them before I start playing my little game.”

As if that's your cue, one of the gunmen poked your back and you tensed, surprised by how cold the metal was through your sweater. You quickly quit your tuning and started playing the op. 88, hoping that maybe Batman or Robin would recognize it. It would probably be difficult for them to recognize since they probably weren’t as necessarily as interested in music as you were. And if they were, it’d probably be a little difficult to hear and piece together the piece since you were playing more stiffly than your usual languid movements.

You just hoped that they could understand the Riddler’s riddle and show up to save the night.

Two hours.

An hour has passed of you sitting in your seat playing your cello. Your butt was stiff from the hard chair, your back hurt from your stiff posture, and your wrist was burning pretty badly. At the thought of your wrist, your mind recoiled slightly. What if your soulmate was one of the Riddler’s henchmen? Or the Riddler himself? The thought of it made you want to puke.

“Well Gotham,” the Riddler said, standing in front of the mic as he paused to look dramatically at the camera. “Batman still hasn’t arrived yet so I will be starting my game. And today we have a very special guest that will be playing with me.”

At this, the goons started applauding and you heard a child in the audience cry even louder.

“Our special guest is the one and only (Y/N) (L/N) who has been playing such lovely music for us during our broadcast.”

You sat in your chair, music forgotten as another stage light shone on you.

“Now come on (Y/N), don’t be shy. I know that I’m somewhat of a local celebrity but I don’t bite.”

You shivered under the Riddler’s gaze and got up, trying your best not to stumble as you walked towards him. Your breathing was labored now and the closer you got to the Riddler, the more you felt like you were going to faint.

“(Y/N) here is going to play a simple game. She’s going to play a song that shows up in the cards,” he held up a large stack of index cards and fanned them out on the podium. The crying from the audience became even louder, with ‘Please, no’s mixed in. You turned to watch the small girl from the restaurant being dragged onto the stage, the bright lights highlighting the tears running down her face.

“And if (Y/N) here cannot play the song or if she plays even a single note or rhythm incorrectly, little Bella here will be dunked into this vat of water. For each mistake, she will be kept there for thirty seconds longer.”

You watched in horror as the girl was dragged towards what looked like a giant hole in the ground filled with water. She struggled against her restraints as she cried, her bleary eyes focused on something over your shoulder. You looked over in the corner of your eye and saw the familiar red and yellow of Robin.

As you turned around to shake the Riddler’s hand in acceptance of the rules, you curled your hand in a fist.

“Let the game begin,” he shouted, smiling at the camera before he went to choose a card.

“I’m sorry but we’re going to have to change the rules,” you said before pulling back your fist and punching him in the jaw.

One hour.

You were hiding in the corner of the stage, hidden by the curtains as you tried to untie Bella. The poor girl was trying to hold her sobs in but some still escaped, sounding misplaced in the sounds of Batman and Robin beating the Riddler & co. into oblivion.

You shushed her and tried to twist the rope and push it through the knot when a birdarang flew through the gap of the curtains and sliced your cheek along with the stray strands of hair nearby before hitting the wood paneling behind you. You ignored the blood that was slowly dripping down your face before grabbing the birdarang. You probably grabbed it wrong since it cut the palm of your hand, making you curse under your breath as you started sawing through the multiple knots in the ropes around Bella’s hands and feet.

Once she was free, the little girl tried to get up and run but you grabbed her, putting a finger up to your mouth and cupping a hand behind your ear, whispering “listen.”

You both sat there, listening to the sounds of Robin giggling as he punched someone. You furrowed your brow at that, wondering who exactly was the boy crazy enough to dress up as a traffic signal and fight crime with an equally weird man dressed as a bat.

You slowly started standing up once the sounds of Robin’s laughter had receded before holding a hand out to Bella. The young girl grabbed your hand and you both started edging your way off of the stage area where the fighting was taking place and towards her parents. Batman and Robin were tying people up when you finally found Bella’s father, the sound of the GCPD’s sirens in the background becoming louder and louder as they came closer.

As you and the other hostages made your way out, making sure to jump across the dock to the other side so you don’t fall into the disgusting water down below, you felt someone grab your wrist. You turned and smiled at Bella’s father.

“Why don’t you go and seek some medical assistance?”

“I will sir,” you replied before making your way to the paramedics, letting them fuss over your cuts. You could see Batman speaking to Commissioner Gordon but you couldn’t see Robin near them.

“I think you have something of mine,” Robin said with a grin as he held his hand towards you. You were surprised to see him in front of you but you smiled at him confused.

“I don’t know what you’re…,” you trailed off when you looked down to where he was pointing to see that you were still holding his birdarang.

“Oh. Well, I don’t know… maybe I should keep it. Something to remind me of this day,” you teased as you held up the birdarang so it was eye-level.

“Alright, you can keep it. Just don’t tell Batsie,” he said with a wink, causing you to giggle. “I’m sorry for cutting you.”

“It’s fine,” you said, wincing as the burning on your wrist became worse. Robin also gave out a hiss of pain at the same time as you, causing you to both stare at each other. You reached your hand out towards him slowly, letting your hands ghost over his cheekbones slightly when you felt the telltale cooling sensation of your wrist.

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” he said, and you nodded, following behind him to an empty alleyway.

“Let me introduce myself again,” he started taking off his mask, “I’m Dick Grayson.”

You were met with the most beautiful pair of lilac-blue eyes, causing you to catch your breath in the back of your throat.

“And I’m (Y/N).”

“Why don’t we get out of here and get to know each other better, princess?”

“I would like that, love bird.”

[just-an-aussie-fandom-hermit]

Some #Only in Gotham posts because I’m stressed and this is my coping mechanism

Guys guys guys

So I was in Central City today visiting some friends earlier this morning, and then the city gets attacked by these... aliens? Weird reptillian cryptids?? Who knows, but they were not happy nor friendly. We were all at this nice cafe just vibing in the outdoor area when this bipedal, green-gray reptile thing pops out of the manhole outside the cafe and goes absolutely feral. He was super close to my group so I grab my croc repellant (for non gothamites, its’ basically pepper spray but really bad-smelling to ward off croc if he ever shows up) out in an instant and I sprayed it right in the face.

Then I grabbed the nearest thing—some poor old guy’s metal walking frame—and whacked the reptile in the back of the head and it crumpled basically instantly.

And after the JL had stepped in to deal with the rest of them (not many, from what I’ve heard, but better safe than sorry I guess), heaps of people were freaking out about it because, well, this is Central City, they don’t get this kind of crime, they’re not prepared for this, yada yada.

Then that manhole pops up and everyone freaks out again because “oh god they’re back” but it’s just Batman dragging a bunch of tied up reptiles out of the sewers using some kind of winch set-up. It was almost comical—a daisy chain of reptiles being lifted out of this manhole in Central City by our favourite Goth Cryptid.

The cops were completely floored. The civilians didn’t know whether to be more scared of Bats or the reptiles. I mean, it was literally the middle of the day, and it’s rare to see Batman in daytime in Gotham but I guess this was an extenuating circumstance, so I guess I see why they were scared.

Batman just looks down at me standing over an unconscious reptilian holding the can of croc repellant and he’s just like “I’m guessing you’re from Gotham.”

I was like “yeah. Can’t escape the damn cryptids wherever I am.”

And tHEN he LAUGHS. Like, it was a small and quiet snort but it happened and I’m still shook. I have officially joined the “I made Batman laugh” squad. I can ascend peacefully now.

He seemed super embarrassed but asked if my friends and I were okay before he turned on his heel and stalked over to Flash and Woner Woman, a daisy-chain of reptiles in tow.

#lmao #onlyingotham #Batman #IMadeBatmanLaugh #ITookDownAReptileCryptid #GothamIsWeirdOkay #WeGottaBePreparedForAnything

———

I just heard this Metropolis guy try and trash Bruce Wayne to his friend at this diner and like five seperate people (myself included) turned around to roast the hell outta him. Like, yeah, he’s a billionaire, which is a whole can of worms I don’t wanna open right now, but he’s basically the only reason this city’s still standing and functioning (especially after the quakes and the no-man’s-land bs). His kids—most are poc and would not have thrived in the system—are all successful and work with their communities to better other people’s lives. Bruce Wayne is basically the only reason I got through high school (and am now in college); a scholarship is the only reason most of my friends have enough money to make rent. He “accidentally” spilled wine on Lex Luthor when he made a sexist remark. Also, didn’t it come out recently that he’s basically been funding the JL o at least is a major financial backer? An icon. You can shut your mouth, Jeremy.

One girl Instagram lived the whole exchange (she was filming beforehand I think) and it was magical.

Later on, Robin (the newest one, with the swords) shows up and he’s like “thank you for defending the honour of Mr Wayne”. I was like “kid,,,, you don’t need to thank me but you’re welcome”. he just kinda looks at me for a second and says “you eat free tonight” and chucks a bunch of dollar notes at me and disappears into the wilderness (ie. an alleyway). It was so surreal.

#GiveWayneABreak #BruceWayne #LetTheManLiveHisLife #GothamitesProtectTheirOwn #EvenTheBatkidsAreProtectiveOfHim

———

Yeah so....... I just saw some of Two-Face’s goons about to enter a bank, weapons drawn, and I’m scared because their boss is in Arkham, and the Rogues’ most loyal people always get antsy and trigger-happy when their bosses are off the board. I’d dialed 911 when I first saw them and ducked into an alley.

But then I see one of them stop dead in their tracks—Goon A we’ll call him—and says “hey, Wayne’s in there”.

Goon B: “Oh, we’re not meant to go after Wayne. Pack it in fellas.”

Goon C: “Huh? why not?”

Goon A: “Boss-man said so. Wayne used to be his best bud. Helped him campaign to be DA and stuff. Went to college together. Nice man.”

Goon B: “Got no problem wth that. Wayne’s the only reason my boys got through school. Besides, we mess with Wayne, the boss and Harley will be on our asses.”

Goon C: “Huh. Fair enough. We’ll go to the other location then.”

And then they just,,,, left.

#EvenTheRoguesWannaProtectHim #BruceWayne #HarveyDent #TheGuysGotCaughtAfter #IToldDetectiveMontoya #AndSheJustSighedForAReallyLongTime #OnlyInGotham #GothamIsWeird

———

Today I was in a Zoom call with some of my coworkers on the other side of the world, sitting in the kitchen facing the living room, when Red Robin comes crashing through my window. I just kinda turned around to see if he was badly injured (he wasn’t, couldn’t even see any blood) so I just continued on with what I was saying and he sheepishly left through the same window.

My coworkers are looking at me like “Jacob are you okay??” And I’m like, “yeah man, that was just Red Robin, he has unfortunate luck with windows. Soon enough one of the other Bats will come knocking with a replacement or a cash refund. Though, I should probably just invest in plexi-glass.”

One of my coworkers went on a bit of a rant about “vigilantes causing property damage and disrupting the peace” and i’m like “Mark I’d rather Batman crashing through my door or window once a month to getting buried in my twenties in his abscence,” and he was like “yeah, fair enough” so we just continued with our call.

After my call, Blonde Batgirl shows up and apologises for the window. I ask about plexi-glass and if Red Robin is alright.

She’s like “yeah he’s fine but he’s getting Bat-Lectured for being reckless which is why I’m here. Also from what Oracle can tell you should be able to get plex-glass installed within the week.”

#OnlyInGotham #GettingBatLecturedDoesNotSoundFun #ThanksOracle #BatmanDontBeTooHardOnTheKid #Gothamite #MeanwhileInGothamCity #GothamCity #RedRobin

———

So, Red Hood piggy-backed me up to my apartment yesterday because my heel broke when I was fleeing from these guys trying to mug me (or worse) and I sprained my ankle. He carried me up four flights of stairs and helped me get into my apartment and wrap my foot properly.

I told him to take some of my nana’s lasagna (because our local vigilante needs to keep his strength up! Man’s gotta eat, and from what I hear he’s not swimming in cash) and he got real quiet for a while before saying “yeah, sure”.

So he ate some lasagna while I called in sick to work (who were very understanding, surprisingly).

Then after a little while he’s like “bye” and jumps outta my window.

An icon.

#RedHood #OnyInGotham #WeStanALegend #IHopeYouLikedTheLasagna #MyNanaSaysSheWillMakeMoreForYou #GrowingUpInCrimeAlley

[squishneedsahero]

Ductape and Superglue

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 13 of 13

Word Count: 1607

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

Bruce got a call, one that he had never gotten before even if he had always dreaded it. A phone call during a Wayne Enterprises meeting from someone demanding money and sending a picture of you tied to a chair. You had that normal fire in your eyes in the picture and it was obvious you weren't hurt but still no one wants their wife held hostage and threatened with a gun or worse.

Tim looks over Bruce's shoulder at the photo on the phone screen. His heart leaps to his throat and he pulls out his phone, already working on figuring out where it is you are located from the little he can see in the picture. He and Bruce were here in a meeting it would only make sense to call the GCPD and not run out the door to get you to safety. Tim knows Bruce though, always thinking everything through except for when it came to you. He would do anything in the world to keep you happy and safe.

Tim's hand coming to rest on Bruce's upper arm pulls him back to the reality that is that he cannot run out the door to your rescue. "You call Alfred, I'll call the GCPD," that's all he says and that's all it takes to set things in motion.

Two phone calls are made and those lead to two more made by Alfred and Damian who he had just picked up from school. Alfred calls Jason and Damian calls Dick, they are the only ones who get notified in the moment to go get you but it's enough.

Cass is on a date with Steph, they're the next to get a phone call from Tim, just informing them of the situation but making it clear that they are not needed at the scene. Stephanie protests this and tries to claim that you'd need Spoiler's help as well. You were as much of a mother to her and Cass as any of the boys even if only Cass was officially adopted. In the end the two girls go to the Mansion to wait with Alfred and coordinate things from the cave with Babs who is there upon their arrival.

Damian liked to think he still disliked you and could barely tolerate you. But even if he wouldn't admit it he was more scared on your behalf than he had ever thought he'd be. Despite him being horribly rude to you, you had never been anything but nice even if your nice included sarcastic comments to prove your point. You had helped him learn what a family was supposed to be like.

Jason gets a call from Alfred and he is changed and out the door of his apartment before the call is over. You were his Ma and he was your Jaybear, and he wouldn't be letting you get hurt. Alfred was the one person you had given his phone number too even though he had told you to keep it a secret, but in this moment he was glad you had.

This leaves Dick, who had gotten a call from Damian, telling him the situation and that he would be joining him at the warehouse. Dick was with Babs at the mansion so the two head to the cave where Barbara takes over in the computer while Dick changes and hurries out the door to go get you.

Things seem like they're going smooth when the three boys arrive one shortly after the other. Jason is already in and picking off the men in the surrounding area and getting you out of the chair when Dick and Dami burst in and start taking out more guys. You're safe and that's all that matters to any of them.

But then there's that singular gunshot and all three of their hearts skip a beat. Damian sees you slide the rest of the way into the next room but the other two just see the door swing closed behind you. None of them know where you had been hit and if you were okay on the other side of that door. But they can't walk away from the fight in the middle of it. Once all the men are down Jason takes off too you, not giving Damian or Dick the chance and leaving them to tie the guys up.

"Mama?" Jason asks, slipping into old habits in his fear.

"Hey Jaybear, I'm fine, it's just my leg," you comfort him quickly but let him take care of your leg for you. You'll have to go to the hospital as it's the only proper thing to do but he stops the bleeding and gives you a tight hug.

The other two boys come in and you smile and comfort them, telling them all how proud of them you are. This gets interrupted by police sirens outside. You quickly shoo them away and let Bruce know you're safe, knowing your husband would want to come after you himself at this point but you were fine. You needed to let the police take you to the hospital and make all of this look somewhat normal and not like a family problem.

You spend a few hours at the hospital, getting stitches and a brace since the bullet had ripped through your muscles, leaving your leg weak. When they let you go they push you out in a wheelchair and give you a pair of crutches.

Media personnel try to crowd you and get answers for their many questions. You shut them up with one of your classic, "I'm fine now leave me alone to be with my family or you will start your own newspaper to post stories about them and slowly put them out of business." It was a good threat that worked every time. If it didn't work then you just added in the idea of getting photos of their butts to add to the articles, titling it "the asses of Gotham"

You choose to spend the early evening watching movies on the couch with your family. Cass and Steph take their own chair to cuddle in, same with Dick and Babs. This leaves you to cuddle with Bruce and Tim and surprisingly Damian sits next to you, kicking Tim out of his normal spot meaning you had no choice but to sit in Bruce's lap so the boys can both sit next to you.

Alfred wished you well upon your arrival home, then returned to make dinner for all of you even if you tried to tell him to just order pizza. "No, miss Wayne, you were shot today and need a healthy meal," he responds much to your annoyance with him calling you miss, as though you were a child and your parent had called you by both your first and middle name.

All of you aren't far into the movie when you get interrupted by Jason entering the family room. You light up at the sight of him and before Bruce can stop you you're out of his lap and over Jason wrapping him in a hug. How you made it that far without falling due to torn ligaments no one knew but you were now in Jason's arms and he could keep you steady. You make him lean over so you can kiss his forehead before you make him come sit on the couch where you had been.

When he tries to object you give him that stern mom look and he obediently comes and sits next to you, and Damian on the opposite end of the couch from Bruce. Things definitely were tense between the two but you don't care, it's a start.

You finally have your whole family back under one roof for the moment. Your four boys, one girl and two unofficial girls. You loved every single one of them so much and were so glad that you were all together again. They all knew how much you loved them, and how you took time for each of them, the only reason Jason was getting extra attention was because he had been gone for so long.

It had hurt so very much when he had suddenly been taken from you. The pain of loosing a child wasn't anything you plus bear even if you had had too for years. You all share a nice dinner together then because you had all spent so much time together Bruce insisted that the city would be fine for the night with just the kids and that he needed to stay and make sure you were taken care of.

For the first time in a long time things were relatively peaceful for your family, even if you had a leg wound. You had them all together and would now be able to work with Jason and Bruce on their relationship and getting it back to a less tense father son relationship. Damian was finally truly giving you a chance. Dick was on good terms with Bruce, and he was happy with Babs, even talking about marriage in the future. Tim was helping Bruce run the company and he was brilliant at it, plus he seemed truly happy for the first time in his life as he had recently started officially dating Conner. This just left Steph and Cass who were about to graduate high school and were looking at apartments, planning to move in together despite almost already doing so since Stephanie always seemed to be at the manor. It wasn't a typical life but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

The End... idk