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shower-phantom-ideas · 6 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #dp x dc #batman #I just wanted to write danny walking up to the buggest toughest batman and make him cry tears of relief #danny is helping his subjects find closure while always feeding his protection obsession #let him be interested in his sisters word #also god imagine bruce just having a bad time of it cause is the anniversary of his parents death #than the ghost kid just walks up and tells him exactly what he needed to heat #yes they are proud of the word batman does #he knows he has saved lives #but what about him as a father #would his father be ashamed of his parenting skills #would his mother be discusted at how he treats his children #he always remembers his parents as good parents so he wants to do right by them by also being a good parent #anyone can risk their life for another but few can be a good father #actually it’s easy just love your kids and sont walk out and leave them with an insane bitch of a mother #dad im lookin at you #and dknt marry your fucking step sister dad #isnt our family tree circle enough. why must u follow in grandmothers footsteps #at least with him is marrage related aye?#oops im rabling about my daddy issues teehee

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blauequuleus · 1 year

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The thing I love about the Danny Phantom and Batman/DC crossovers with Bruce adopting or trying to adopt Danny, is that it boils down to Bruce pretty much being like:

“Wow this one comes pre installed with trauma, shenanigans and a rouge’s gallery and I didn’t even show him the cave yet. Alfred call the guy!!”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #Batman #dc #also I just want a scene where Batman is introducing Danny to the justice league #and Danny tells them he’s dead #and without missing a beat a league member just goes #‘Bats another dead kid!!??!! Really??!!!!’#and Bruce just immediately hits them back with a ‘he came like that’

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mikakuna · 3 months

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dc scoring in the 80s by creating a robin with a poverty-stricken home life, addict stepmom, complicated father, followed up by said mom's death and father's jailing causing the kid to be homeless, and overall making a robin who was very relatable to lower class dc fans, simultaneously upgrading their diverse character rep game.... just to turn around and kill off said robin and make the next two robins back to being rich as fuck and having those robins talk the most shit about a dead child who came from the worst streets in gotham.... is just soooo.....

#dc the shit stains you are #not even mentioning how bruce would constantly say he was saving jason from a life of crime #just bc this kid lived in the poorest neighbourhood in gotham #batman is a great man but you can't take away his true upper class roots #the fact that dc did this is just so weird #fine you wanted to kill jason off whatever #but to replace him with a rich kid and then another rich kid #and have those robins be the best to ever serve bruce while jason was the worst #????#the undertones are so obvious #jason todd #jason peter todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #red robin #robin #dc #damian wayne

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halfagone · 1 year

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Imagine a DPxDC AU where Danny's identity gets outed, not like in Phantom Planet, but after this really huge, widespread fight that the heroes were late in entering but still managed to help out and finish at the end. They don't know Danny. They don't know Phantom. All they know is that there's an unknown hero out here fighting for his life and they aren't about to let him fight it alone. And here Danny is, fourteen maybe fifteen years old, transformation rings falling over him on national television and you can see the look of terror on his face before suddenly there are about a dozen heroes surrounding him like shields to protect him from view. It doesn't stop his face and identity from being blasted around the news or the internet, but for the first time Danny knows what it feels like to have unconditional support from strangers and suddenly he's very happy they're shielding him from the cameras because it's bad enough they saw his face he doesn't want them to see him cry too.

#dpxdc #i think i might have just #screwed myself over with another idea #this is very self-indulgent #i want clark to hold danny in his arms like a baby #i want barry to immediately take danny under his wing #i want bruce to hover like the big bad bat he is but like- softly #i want diana to take one look at this kid and go he's mine now

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bugaboo25 · 8 months

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I Will Forever Love You Chapter 3

Masterpost Prev

Thanks for all the kind words everyone, it's really helped keep my motivation up even though my schedule is absolutely crazy!

On to chapter 3:

Damian woke from his slumber as soon as the sun came up. Instead of remaining under his covers, he made his way to the restroom to prepare for the day. It was Saturday, yes, but weekends never meant relaxation for those in Wayne Manor. He grabbed his toothbrush, and, after lathering it to perfection, he began brushing his teeth. Slowly, Damian’s green eyes made their way to his reflection. His hand slowly came to a stop, and so he pulled the toothbrush from his mouth. His lips twitched down, so he stopped staring, stopped searching for a boy that shared his face and simply finished his morning routine.

Once he was dressed, Damian sat on his bed. He reached underneath his mattress, pulling out a well-worn book. Damian allowed his fingers to trace the title: Cosmos by Carl Sagan. Even though he had no interest in the subject, he had read this book dozens of times. He flipped open the cover and stared at his neat handwriting, the last words his brother had ever spoken to him stared back at him. He sat in that manner for a good ten minutes, before flipping to the page that his bookmark currently resided on. He allotted himself twenty more minutes before he once again closed the novel. Damian never understood Danyal’s obsession with stars and the universe, but it was now the only way he could be close to his twin. Before he could carefully put the book back in its resting place, there was a knock on his door.

“Baby Bird, I know you’re up!” Richard was knocking incessantly, so Damian placed his most prized possession on his desk, just out of sight of anyone that stood in the doorway. He opened the door, and Richard was immediately in his personal space. “Come on, the family’s going out for breakfast this morning, Alfred’s orders.” Damian cursed internally, if the butler had ordered they be seen in public for breakfast, then there was no possibility of not going. He allowed himself to be pulled out of his room, but not before shooting Danyal’s book a look of regret. He would have to place it back under his mattress when they returned, he just hoped Richard had not seen it.

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Dick pulled Damian down the stairs, not letting him go until he was under Alfred’s watchful eye. He laughed to himself, knowing there was no way for him to slip away now. He pulled out his phone, already setting his plot in motion. He shot off a quick text to Tim.

Dickie: wanna mess with Dames?

Timber: always

Timber: what did you have in mind?

Dickie: there was a book sitting on his desk, cosmos or something

Dickie: I gots to know if he’s got a thing for astronomy

Timber: dude

Timber: no way, it’s worn and there’s writing in it

Timber: I am not getting attacked by demon brat again

Dickie: ugh fine what’s it say?

Dick opened the picture that Tim sent, and he had to stifle the sound rising in the back of his throat. I will forever love you -D. What was that doing written in one of Baby Bird’s books? It was his handwriting, that’s for sure. But Damian never said I love you, none of them did. Which, okay, maybe he should put some effort into that, but there’s no way that book was meant for anyone. It was old and worn, and Dick could make out what seemed to be a bookmark at the top of the picture. Did he get it from someone? He must have, but the only person whose name started with D in this family aside from Damian were Dick and Duke, and he didn’t give him the book and Duke sure as hell didn't give it to him. He came to the conclusion that this would require further investigation, then sat down and waited for the rest of the family.

Tim came into the kitchen after Duke, Cass trailing behind him. He caught Dick’s eye, but he simply raised an eyebrow as he made his way to the coffee pot. The door flung open, and if the people in the room had been any other family, they would have jumped. As it was, five sets of eyes turned to look at Jason as he wore a large grin. As time continued forward, the Pit Rage had calmed to a point where he only had episodes a couple times a month. With the knowledge that he had better learned to control it and it was happening less often, Jason had once again started hanging around the manor. Alfred must have invited him to breakfast, as he joined everyone else in waiting for Bruce.

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Slipping into the limo with the rest of his family, Tim allowed himself to take some time to consider what he had done that morning. He had been so ready to use Cosmos to tease Damian, but as soon as he saw the state of the book and the neatly written words just inside the cover, he had decided against it. Obviously, the novel was important to Damian, but due to the lack of anything else related to astronomy in his room, he had to guess it was for more personal reasons. If the youngest of the Bats was anything, it was less than receptive when it came to talking about personal matters. He also didn’t want to give Damian any reason to start attacking him again. Sure, it had been years since the last time he was on the stabby end of his katana, and they had gotten to a point where Tim was comfortable teasing him, but he didn’t want to risk anything. If it had only been a book that showed the beginnings of a new hobby, then he would’ve gone to town on the annoying big brother role. But it was obvious from the old, definitely overused pages, that it was something more than that.

Dick would try to pry. He always tackled opportunities to get to know more details about any of his siblings; but Tim would stay out of this. Honestly, he just hoped that he had managed to get the book back exactly as it had been left. Damian was perceptive, and he would definitely notice if his possessions were left even a centimeter out of place. They all would.

“Allioop!” Dick came flying through the door, sprawling out across Tim and Jason, who had sat in the space beside him. Tim swatted at Dick’s hair, and Jason started lightly slapping at his stomach.

“Get off, Dickface! Sit like a normal person, next to met not on me!” Jason was grumbling, a scowl sitting on his features. The fondness that was in his eyes was covered, but not unnoticeable to anyone that was in the vehicle. Tim took that second to check and sure enough, everyone had piled in during his musings. Cass, Damian, and Duke (who was snickering into his hand, the traitor) were sat on the opposite end of the limo, and Bruce was sat in the passenger seat next to Alfred.

Dick pulled himself off of his brothers and threw his arm across his forehead, leaning against the seat and the door. “Oh woe is me, no one appreciates my fun.” He cracked an eye open, and the look he shot towards Jason and Tim was one filled with mirth and amusement.

“I would refute, Richard, but your ‘fun’ often ends with you acting as a if you are a kicked puppy.” All eyes shot to Damian, because holy shit he just dissed one of them in a non-demeaning way. And was that a smile tugging at his lips? It was barely there but – oh my god, it was. Tim’s mouth dropped, because was the demon brat acting like part of the family? “Don’t strain yourself, Drake.” Damian’s tone was biting again, but the ghost of a smile was still on his face, so all Tim could do was make a choking noise as he snapped his jaw shut and looked out the window.

Well, maybe breakfast wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

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Bruce made his way to the grandfather clock once they were back at the manor. He allowed himself a small smile, thinking back to the way his children had bickered and teased each other at the restaurant. He was delighted when he had seen Damian having to hold back a laugh after Dick’s fork had been drenched in syrup curtesy of Jason. He was finally beginning to feel as though his family was almost whole with the return of Jason and the breaking down of Damian’s walls.

After slipping into his costume, Bruce set to work. He wanted to sigh, but Tim and Dick had just walked into the cave, whispering at each other. He raised his eyebrow at the hushed tones that stopped once they were in earshot of him. He would have to look into that later, collaborating in whispers between his children never led to positive outcomes.

“Whatcha working on?” Dick never was one to be subtle, but he welcomed the olive branch. He would need help with this case, his suspect was eluding him at every turn, and it was starting to wear on him.

“Vlad Masters.” He already had his files pulled up, so he clicked on the tab that had a picture of the man. He glared at the screen, hoping that the missing piece would reveal itself by just staring at the picture for a little longer. “He’s gone from low millionaire to high billionaire in just under two years. None of his business partners remember their meetings, only that they signed away at least half of their company before he was gone.”

“You think he’s drugging them? Or maybe mind control?” Tim was taking his spot at the batcomputer, already starting his review of the files. Dick was watching over his shoulder, and he hoped that maybe they could find something they didn’t.

Suddenly, Damian was flying over the edge of the stairs and hurling towards them. Bruce simply turned to look, and Dick was ducking away from the 16-year-old’s fist. “Did either of you imbeciles go in my room?” Damian’s tone was angry, though he didn’t attack again. He was getting better at controlling his temper, it seemed. Though, with the way Tim’s shoulders were ever so slightly tense, he guessed that he was the culprit.

“Uh, yeah. It was me. Sorry, Dames, I wandered in this morning on accident. No sleep last night and no coffee yet. You know me. I think I nudged something on your desk, and that’s what kickstarted my brain. I left as soon as I noticed.” Tim’s voice was cool, but Bruce could detect the way his voice was just barely higher than normal. So, he was lying about the reason, then. He would have to ask later.

Damian visibly relaxed, though he was still holding himself with respect. “Fine. Just do not repeat that mistake again in the future, or I will have your fingers.” With that, he was leaving the cave as quickly as he had come down. No doubt Alfred was forcing him to do his homework before he began any work in the cave.

Bruce turned towards Tim with a raised eyebrow and the question on his face. “I saw something I shouldn’t have.” Huh, he must feel pretty guilty about it if he wasn’t even going to try to lie. “Just a book with a message. No big.” Tim was once again looking through the files on Masters.

“Have you looked at any of his connections yet?” Bruce grunted, a silent yes. “What about those from college? It doesn’t seem like he has that many friends, though there’s a couple he used to spend his time with while he was getting his degree.” Another grunt, this time signaling that no, he had not checked his college friends out just yet. Tim opened another tab and pulled up a picture of a large man with black hair next to a shorter woman with ginger hair. They were both wearing ugly jumpsuits. Tim continued to scroll, and it was only a couple pictures down that they stopped.

It was a picture of the Fenton family in a lab. Their daughter, 17 at the time of the picture if Bruce had to guess, was a perfect mix of her parents. She was tall, probably close to 6 feet, with teal eyes and the same hair color as her mother. It was the son that had garnered their attention, though. Because staring at them through the screen was Damian, but a Damian with eyes the exact same shade of blue as Bruce’s and a large grin. His hair was longer, and he was wearing a black hoodie with stains and a ghost symbol hovering over the word ‘Boo!’, but there was no mistaking the skin tone, or the eye shape, or the nose. That was Damian’s face with an unknown expression and different eyes, and it took the three men in the room longer to collect themselves than it should have.

“Please tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.” Dick was the first to speak, his eyes shifting between Bruce and the boy on the screen. “Please tell me I’m not going crazy and seeing Dami in the place of a completely different kid.”

“You’re not going crazy.” Tim’s reply was shallow, garbled by the confusion that laced his features. Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of this situation, but Tim was already tapping away, pulling up all the information that he could. “Daniel James Fenton. Age 16. He was adopted by the Fenton family seven years ago… today. He didn’t give anything other than his first name. Just wandered into Amity Park, Illinois with a… with a sword?”

“Hn.” Bruce wanted to lean towards the clone theory, but what would the League of Assassins have to gain with creating a clone of Damian and then sending him to American for seven years?

“It could just be a coincidence, you know.” Dick was calming himself down, his breathing was slowing. “There are supposed to be seven people in the world that look like you.”

“Yeah, plus, look at his eyes. They aren’t the same color!” Tim was almost screaming now. “Totally just a coincidence.”

“Yeah, but that blue is the exact same as Bruce’s…” Dick was leaning forward onto the chair now, careful not to knock Tim off balance. “We… we have to look into this. What if Bruce has another kid!”

“Yeah, but the age… Dames would’ve told us if he had a twin, right?” None of them could answer that question. Damian was a lot of things, but open about his past was not one of them. If the documents were real, then that means that Daniel was out of the League a year before Damian. There was no way to know for sure, and Bruce was positive he would not get the answers from his son.

“Where are the Fenton’s now?” The best course of action was to try and find Damian’s lookalike. They could do DNA testing once they did that.

“They’re… on their way to Gotham for a convention?” Tim had pulled up security footage and the Fenton’s public schedule. “The Paranormal Physiology and Biology Convention, to be exact. It seems both Maddie and Jack, the parents, have doctorates in paranormal ecto-biology, and the daughter, Jasmine or Jazz, is currently attending Gotham University for a degree in Psychology.” Okay, they were on their way to Gotham. So, getting a DNA sample to run would be easier than originally anticipated, unless he was trained by the League. That would make this plan more difficult than anticipated.

“Find out where they will be in Gotham. Then I want you to try and get a DNA sample so we can run tests and figure out whether he’s a clone. If we’re lucky, he might be willing to help us build a case against Masters.” Bruce was heading for the batmobile now. He needed to think. Either there was a clone of his son living in Illinois for the past seven years, or he had another son that had been free of the League.

He isn’t sure which one would be better.

#danny phantom #danny phantom batfam #dp x dc #danny and damian are twins #danny fenton #batpham #dpxdc #twins au #dp x dc crossover #damian misses danny #his book is precious to him #as are his words #damian 'i wish i had blue eyes so i looked more like danny' wayne #dick just wants to know his brother better #tim: oh hell no that looks important #bruce doesn't know how to handle the possibility of another kid #or another clone of his kid #he just wants to be a good dad

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puppetmaster13u · 8 months

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Just had the sleep-deprived idea of combining my Cryptid Batfam Au with @phoenixcatch7 's Possessed Doll Au into a combo au, some distant timeline where the two combine and meld into one thing.

Honestly would be slightly body horror probably, maybe with Bruce starting with building wings and then it... escalates. There's a reason that people don't go down in the caves under Gotham, and Bruce is incredibly lucky that It welcomes him. Perhaps welcomes him too much, what with it seeming to build him another body each time he gets injured, even if it's just bruising. Not to mention that another is forming when he takes Dick in, and then another when Barbara joins them.

There's something not quite the same the first time he wakes up in a body that is his but not, something organic but not. Testing on it is fine, small tests that is, anything larger and his head starts to pound and ring. It's easier to just accept the shadows' gifts than question it.

Honestly I like to think the body is something between inorganic and organic, like veins of flesh and fur wrapped around bones and metal. Like a flesh puppet of sorts, starts all skeletal and mostly metal and wood but the veins of black and red start to grow over time as the whispers about the Bat spread.

Honestly I also like to think it's more animalistic than the original possessed doll au, the wood easily mistaken for things like chitin, especially with the segmentations. Combine the chest cavity with the harness that the kids cling to, and you have a back cavity lol. The 'Spine' seemingly splitting open to hide things inside. Bruce probably does have clothing for the body, but I wanted to figure out the general body first lol.

#remind me to elaborate later #what's out there au #possessed doll au #possessed puppet au #batman au #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam #The Caves: look at this tiny child that fell in and is so scared <3 #The Caves when Bruce is an adult: Aw look he's being scary now how adorable <3 #The Caves: The baby is adorable and has adopted another baby to be terrifying together <3<3 #The Caves: They deserve a gift for trying so hard <3<3<3 #Bruce just building wings:#The Caves: *Gasp* We should give him a pair in both forms for being such a good little guardian #Bruce waking up in the second body the first time:#Bruce:#Bruce: ALFREEEED #The kids think it's awesome (especially since they're growing up around it)#Well if it's more of the Genesis timeline where they all start as kids varying from like 5 to 12 when they join the family lol #Damian probably looks/feels Off even in human form if he was made via stolen blood #He's already something between the two bodies but was too human for the League's wants since the puppet bodies were gifts from the Caves #They don't like their shit getting stolen lol and Bruce is their favorite child who brought them even *more* children #Honestly It might decide to alter their human bodies too at some point #I mean in the base cryptidverse au the fam already made Jarro a mech suit for a civilian ID and vigilante work lol #Tumblr don't eat my tags challenge #If it's alright with Phoenix of course lol #No idea what to call this Au but if u have any ideas I am open lol

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mid-nightowl · 6 months

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untitled lil fic #1 (jason todd and gotham war)

here's some gotham war rewrites i needed to get out of my head, the brainrot was killing me omg

warnings for violence, cursing, whatever the hell Bruce is doing (just Bruce as a full warning tag, the man is more unhinged than Joker in this)

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“Oh Jason. How I’ve missed you, my sweet boy.”

The words are sickeningly sweet, poison-saturated words falling from bloody red lips. Delivered with a crooked smile, Joker looks up at him, uncaring at his position. His fingers curl in the clown’s suit collar, lips curling with a snarl.

Jason punches him again, the clown’s jaw cracking and his body straining against the ferry railing. Joker merely giggles, head lolling around through the air before his mismatched eyes meet his mask.

“Shut the fuck up!” He snaps, unholstering his gun and digging the muzzle into Joker’s cheek.

His murderer raises his hands, waggling his fingers in surrender, grinning and smirking and smiling.

He hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

“I want you to think about this real carefully,” He digs his gun into his skin. “This could be the last joke you ever make, you understand? That’s what you want to go with?”

“You know,” His nightmare giggles, chuckles like a wind-up toy before he wipes the amusement off his face. The clown looks up at him, head tilted, pleased and patient and thoughtful. There’s not a single sliver of hate and destructive menace, or anger or disappointment or suspicion.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, he thinks. There’s something wrong here. There’s something wrong with Joker—and not in the usual way.

“The best jokes deliver a difficult truth, but hide it with a fun fiction,” Joker explains, smushed but coherent words strung together despite the gun halfway in his mouth. “Without humor all we have left is being mean and lying.”

“What?” He can’t stop the words before they stumble out of his mouth. He doesn’t let the gun go lax in his hand despite the way the clown’s words throw him off guard.

Off-kilter is a genuine feeling that digs into him, shocking him to the core. The clown does this, he knows it. He knows this is how he does things, how he worms his way out of every situation and every attempted manslaughter, he knows how the clown operates, intimately.

Jason knows him.

Joker, historically, has been so many things. But he’s always been a psychotic, impulsive mass-murderer. Someone without restraint, without limitation.

It’s why he’s always been Batman’s true nemesis. Bruce, he needs a fine-tuned control of everything and everyone. He is someone who has limits and restraint.

Controlled, focused, and without limitations—Jason is almost the happy medium to both of them.

Almost.

The three of them are similar, different, opposites and identical. It’s like walking in one of those mirror mazes where you can’t tell who the real you is.

Who is the real Bruce Wayne? The man who cherishes his children or the one who maims them?

Who is the real Joker? The cold, purposeful mass murderer or the dumped-in-acid man who can’t tell the difference?

Who is the real Jason Todd? The bloody crime lord or the declawed crowbar wielding vigilante?

Joker simply smiles and pats his arm, as if Jason’s not trying to kill him.

He slams the clown against the railing again, snarling.

“Enough games!” He growls and flips the safety off. The noise doesn’t even phase Joker, if anything he grins harder. His mismatched eyes—one red-brown, one green—flick above them before returning to his.

“Are you really going to use that big bad gun of yours with Daddy watching? He’ll be so mad at you.” His murderer grins, letting his head hang limply in his grasp.

“What? Batman-!” He jerks back, head snapping up to the ferry roof cover.

Empty. No looming monster demanding a painful compromise is here.

Joker’s hands push him back, and he grunts, stumbling into the ferry wall. The clown tumbles over the railing, disappearing from view. His laughter haunting the air.

“No!” He shouts, dashing to the railing.

The clown is gone under the waves and ice, sinking into the dark of Gotham Harbor.

He’s not dead. He can’t be dead, Jason thinks, gripping the ice-cold railing, I haven’t killed him yet.

He’s not dead.

But that was mean.

The last words Jason hears remind him of his grave.

No, not the one he was buried in. Six feet of dirt above him and smothered in satin, watched over by that stupid weeping angel.

There’s a memorial in the cave with his name. ‘Good soldier’ and nothing else but his name. Both of them: Jason Todd and Robin.

A monument to Bruce’s failure, his greatest mistake, a grave to his complicated teenage years, his love.

“You’ve always been a good soldier. Rest now.” Bruce told him, jabbing him in the neck with the needle.

A grave, a memorial, a monument. It makes him sick. The reminder that he will always be the dead Robin, the sad Robin, the angry Robin.

Dead, dead, dead.

The violence done to him, inflicted and imprinted into his skin and bones was more important. The guilt and the lesson were more important than his cries for justice, for his life’s blood.

The monument and altar, raised after his murder, were never for him, but for Bruce.

He was dead, why would he care?

The story Bruce will tell would never be the truth, just excuses and wrong-doings. He would take accountability after the fact, but not before.

Bruce would let his murderer walk and let him rot.

Maybe that was why he buried Jason six feet under, so he wouldn’t have to face the decay and decomposition. That he could keep this golden, blurry image of him as Robin, as the straight A student, the good son. And not a weightless body splinted a thousand different ways to look human.

But now that he’s resurrected—not in Bruce’s image, but as something broken and jagged, something lost and filled with dirt and green-green-green—Bruce refuses to acknowledge him. Refuses to believe this is who he is.

Refuses to believe that he remade (destroyed) himself from the ruins, from the broken bones and empty veins and black thread that mended his corpse back into the image of Jason Todd. Refuse to think that if a girl can come back as a soothsayer, that a boy can come back as a gun.

“Hnnng…Bruce,” Jason groans softly, heaving himself off the couch.

Batman turns to him, looming with his face mask in his hands. The fluorescent lights, a nauseous lime-yellow, cut over his figure, his face, his mask. Almost a green-green-green, almost a pool of rage, almost a pit of madness.

His mask crackles alive in Bruce’s hands, Selina’s voice wavering between annoyance and worry.

“Red Hood? Hood, please check in and let me kno-” Batman clicks his comm off.

The resounding silence smothers him.

His exhale comes out shaky, his heart beating too fast behind his bruised ribs, a chill crawling over his exposed skin.

Something’s wrong. Something is very wrong.

“...Batman? You…” He swallows roughly, mouth filled with dirt and blood and thread. “Wha…What did you do?”

“Nothing I’m proud of, Jason.”

His heart sinks and skips a beat at the same time, stomach twisting with anxiety and fingers trembling against the ugly brown couch cushions.

Inhale.

He pushed too much.

Taking Selina’s side?

He went too far.

Hood didn’t kill anyone?

Exhale.

“Hh! Ho…” Jason croaks, getting his boots on the ground. “Y-you…you..”

“Take deep breaths, Jason.” Batman turns back to the computer hub glowing behind him, ignoring his attempts to speak, to demand answers.

His arms shake as he holds himself upright, but when he tries to stand instead he chokes, falling to his knees in front of the couch. Gasping for air, he lays his palms flat against the cool tiles. His legs are quivering, heavy and unable to hold his weight.

His whole body trembles with it, this feeling unfolding through his blood and bones, engulfing his head and voice.

Fear, fear, fear.

“Years ago I created my backup personality, Zur, using techniques I learned from an old mentor and this machine that I built,” Batman starts, monitoring the screens in front of him with one hand on the keyboard and the other on his belt.

Bruce doesn’t turn to look at him, to face him, someone he calls son, someone he considers family, and explain what he’s done to Jason.

He never has.

“I can’t change your personality with it, Jason…” Batman sighs, low and quiet. “But I can add to it. A small thing: your failsafe.”

Failsafe. He slams the heel of his palm on the floor, cheeks tingling with his telltale sign of tears. A failsafe?!

Because Red Hood needs a failsafe instead of justice.

“What?!” He tries to snarl, to hiss and yell and scream his rage. But his voice fails him, anxiety chewing at his throat and tongue, voice tilting too high, too unsteady, too weak.

“Now when you have heightened adrenaline, when you’re about to do something dangerous, your fear kicks in,” Batman continues explaining. “It…I’m sorry Jason. But it’s the only way.” He clenches his eyes shut—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—and tries to ignore his rabbit heart battering against its cage, pounding to the frantic rhythm of fear, fear, fear.

“I love you.”

The words feel like gunshots, the knuckle prints on his skin after the two of them fought over Penguin, the smack of Selina’s whip against his fingers, the crowbar on his skull, his legs, his ribs, over and over and over.

“I love you, but you are a murderer,” Bruce condemns him, over and over again. “You’re a bull in a china shop and I go round after round with you, trying to figure out how to help make you a better man, to heal you.”

“H-heal me?” He whispers, rage cut off at the roots. “This isn’t…this isn’t you, Bruce.”

Batman, finally, turns to Jason. He looms, tall and foreboding, darkness dripping around him, drenching him in fear, fear, fear.

Batman takes a step forward and he crashes back against the couch, spine digging into the wooden frame painfully.

He can’t breathe. Batman moves and he knows it in his bones, knows it down to the scars Gotham and its guardian have left on him, that he’s not here to save him, to help him.

“I got you a new identity. A place in Metropolis.” Batman keeps walking forward, despite Jason’s growing hyperventilation, despite the way his blunted nails scratch at the floor. Despite the way he shakes, black stitches snapping apart, the pieces of him falling to the floor of this slaughterhouse, at the feet of his butcher.

“B-bat…Batman,” He whimpers, hand twisting into the fabric of his suit.

“You can live a normal life. Fall in love, do meaningful work. This isn’t punishment, Jason,” Batman kneels in front of him and removes the cowl. “I love you.” Jason shrinks back, shoulders back and legs curled to his chest. Bruce’s face is sharp and pale, with bags under his eyes and days old stubble on his jaw.

His eyes are dark with absolute rage.

Batman is going to hurt him. Batman is going to hurt him.

Bruce is going to hurt him again.

“This is a gift. Any way you look at it, you should be in prison for all the people you’ve killed,” He chokes at Bruce’s words, barely smothering the terrified cry in his throat. “This is me saving you from that. Save you from yourself.”

Jason can only stare at the man before him—the man who took him in, who raised and trained him, who loved him—does his best to bury him.

fear, fear, fear.

“Please..don’t…please,” Jason pleads, covering the girl with his frame, caging her in with his bruised and burnt arms.

“Let’s begin.” Scarecrow’s voice reverberates, it shakes through air to match his erratic breathing.

“P-please, I’ll do anything you want, anything,” He begs, fear, fear, fear burning in his veins. “Please. Just stay…stay away.”

Scarecrow closes the gap between them, rocking back and forth on his crooked, long legs. His mask distorts and mutates, a familiar green-green-green splashing over the darkened void of his gas mask.

“You’re going to die tonight. I know you know this,” Crane looms over him, green-green-green trickling out his eyes, gushing out like an open wound. “But we can still have fun, can’t we.”

The girl trembles underneath his chest and Jason tries to smother the whimper begging to pour out his lips. It’s gnawing at him—rabbit heart frantic in his chest, hands trembling from the burning pain and anxiety, smoke and ash gathering in his lungs—fear, fear, fear.

He can’t think of anything else.

“Those fools were right. Your terror…it’s real and it isn’t mine,” Scarecrow sneers, kneeling in front of him. “There is no thrill in driving terror into the heart of a baby bird.”

Scarecrow takes his jaw in his hand, needles tickling at his exposed skin, forcing Jason to look at him. He can’t help but jerk his head at Crane’s touch, needles pricking into his cheek when Crane holds him tighter, another inescapable cage around him.

His chest heaves with every shaky inhale-exhale, his anxious fear fanning over the rogue’s mask. Scarecrow leans in closer, the glass over his eyes gleaming, reflecting the fire roaring around them. Jason can hear the screams in them, watching the shadows morph around them and the straw on Crane’s shoulders wiggle.

“This is my moment of triumph, and it is snatched away from me by..by him?!” Scarecrow shakes Jason’s head in his hand, needles scratching into his skin but still not drawing blood.

Scarecrow lets his head drop, needles disappearing from his sight before they’re clawing at his throat, wet and cold against his clammy skin. Jason whimpers and clenches his eyes shut, unable to do anything but beg.

He knows praying for someone to help him is futile.

No one is coming to save him.

“Never let it be said Scarecrow has no pity,” Crane says, voice cutting in and out his head like radio static. “I will quickly finish what your daddy started.”

“Doesn’t mommy get a say?”

A voice slices through the flames licking at his skin and the fear smothering him. And when Jason’s gaze finds him, he can’t help the tears.

“Step away from the vigilante, pervert.” Joker grins, dark red lips stretched too wide, too thin. Ash rains down on his green-green-green umbrella, rolling down the crooked dark patches and shamrock-colored nylon.

“You’ve already killed him once. It’s time you learned to share, Clown.” Scarecrows speaks with thin, razor-sharp disdain, glaring over his shoulder at the newcomer.

“You should know this by now, Doc. I don’t play well with others.” The clown throws aside the umbrella, knife materializing from thin air as he descends upon Scarecrow.

“You’re not even really him, are you? Do you think I don’t know about you? Delusions and megalomania with-” Scarecrow baits and taunts the clown, before the two of them are ducking and weaving and slicing at each other with barely concealed rage and annoyance.

“Blah, blah, blah. Do you know why you’re always going to be a C-List villain, Johnny?” Joker jokes and Jason can imagine the sharp grin on his face. “Because doctors aren’t scary. They’re annoying.”

He ducks his head down and curls tighter around the girl. She cries underneath him, hiccups soft under the roar of flames closing in on them, the screech of metal on metal and creaking of deteriorating wood.

He can’t move. He can’t do anything but try to breathe. But all he tastes is smoke, choking him, billowing down his throat and in his lungs. His heartbeat is so loud, jumping under its bone-cage, a heady, heavy thing—badump-badump-badump-badump. It’s too fast, erratic, out of control.

“You’re a bull in a china shop and I go round after round with you, trying to figure out how to help make you a better man, to heal you-”

Always out of control. Jason whines, hands scrambling against the wood below him. It burns, seering through his fingertips. It hurts-it hurts-it hurts, he can’t do this. He can’t.

He can’t breathe.

“Ahhhh! Ack! Achhhhh!” Scarecrow screams, guttural and wobbly and when he looks up, Jason can only watch as Crane crashes through the fifth story window.

Tears continue to stream down his face, his heart trembling in his chest and the realization strikes him then, cracking down on his skull like a crowbar, over and over and over.

Joker saved him. Joker saved him. Joker saved him.

His murderer saved him.

“A-are you real?!” Jason cries out, fingers curling into the withering floorboards. “Is this real?!”

“Oh, don’t worry about him. I didn’t even give him a real dose of Joker Gas. I ran out. Heh!” Joker laughs, rubbing at his jaw. Blood and green-green-green stain the edges of his mouth, smeared down his chin and throat before disappearing under the orange sweatshirt he’s wearing.

“But now, it’s just you and me. And…your daughter? Did you have a daughter and not tell me?” The clown tilts his head in question, tucking away the green-green-green gun in his hand. He steps closer, uncaring of the flames licking over his pale skin.

Jason can’t tell if it's real or an illusion, can’t tell if his murderer is here and saving? rescuing? tricking? him. He can’t tell if this is just another nightmare he’s trapped himself in, or if this is the real punishment Bruce promised him.

“She’s just a kid. Please…don’t,” He pleads, the tears searing down his ash-stained cheeks.

Joker leans down, bringing his face close to Jason’s. His mismatched eyes—one green, one red-brown—bore into his and the clown smiles, too wide, too cracked and broken, too bloody and green-green-green.

He sobs, cracking under everything. He can’t do this, he can’t.

“My, my. Even like this you still think you’re the hero. Batman would be proud if he didn’t hate you,” His murderer says, before his bony hand is cupping Jason’s face, calloused fingers dancing over his skin.

Jason clenches his jaw when it threatens to wobble and tremble, but knows the fear is shining in his eyes. Knows the clown can see it, knows he recognizes it in his baby-blues. He’s been here before.

They’ve been here before, together.

“But don’t worry my sweet boy, I’ll find a way to fix you. Nobody is going to hurt you. I won’t let them. Because I need you.” His voice is honeyed and threatening, curling and clawing and cloying into his head like a sickness. Joker pets his hair, gentle and caring, and Jason knows he means it.

He’s going to fix him. He’s going to heal him.

He’s going to save Jason.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy. We’ll see each other soon,” Joker pats his cheek with a crooked green-green-green smile. “I promise.”

His heart beats frantic to the words—fear, fear, fear—eyes unable to look away from Joker.

Jason believes him.

#unholy screeching and too much caffeine #my writing #the brainrot was literally killing me i wish i was joking #havent been able to FOCUS on anything else #i just cant get over divorced batjokes playing tug-of-war with their murderous and highly traumatized kid (jason)#im not entirely sure if i like this? it feels very rough draft to me #but i really just needed to get it down and out of my head so i can focus on my other wips T-T #would also love to hear anyone's thoughts if they have any<3 #might have missed some grammar stuff and yadda yadda but im kind of tired of looking at this:))))#i do think i want to add to it thou--maybe a scene with selina another with the batkids #ill probably come back to this after the final issue for the actual event (which comes out next week!) and joker's comic #i just really wanted to write how jason was dealing with all this; how he might take the fact that joker is saving his ass rather than bruc #but im not sure if it came across the way i wanted it to??#jason todd #jason todd and bruce wayne #jason todd and joker #writing

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piedpiperart · 9 months

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Can We Keep Him pt 3

Chapter 2

Jason was laying on his bed with the little rascal next to him, playing a cute little puzzle game on Jason’s ipad. It was a bit surprising to find out how smart the kid was. Even though he didn’t know words, the kid was good at following patterns and puzzles. Angry Birds was a favorite so far, and Jason got to see the kid swish his tail to the music. It was adorable.

The two elder residents spent the day keeping the kid occupied, whether with games or snacks. It was harder to keep him occupied without food, and Jason was glad to discover that ipad games were a hit. He didn’t risk leaving the kid alone yet, too afraid he’d wander off and they’d lose him in the gigantic manor. Absently, he wondered if they should get him one of those child leashes.

After a scare with the kid trying to climb out the window, Alfred figured out how to teach the kid how to use the toilet. He’d told Jason that the kid caught on pretty quick, even looking around for a step stool to wash his hands. The man speculated that the kid might have memories from before he was abandoned that he recalled, such as having a step stool under the sink. Jason hoped that was a good sign, considering they might have an easier time acclimating him to indoors.

Surprisingly, the kid let Alfred trim his hair, but screeched and cried when they’d tried to de-tangle it. Both Jason and Alfred had scratches on their arms from trying to hold the kid still, and not even grapes calmed him. He’d only been soothed when Jason gave him a few cookies in apology. The little guy’s hair turned out to be straight and jet black now that it wasn’t a tangled mess. Jason had thought the kid’s hair was curly before, but turns out it was just knots and tangles, some of the hairs even had twigs attached.

Jason looked up from where the kid was sling-shooting pigs to the door when he heard a knock. Alfred stood in the doorway with a fond smile. “I’ll be starting on dinner in a moment if you’d like me to watch the little one,”Alfred said,”Master Bruce will be home soon if you would like to get started on any homework you may have.”

“Alright,”Jason groaned, rolling off the bed. He did have homework, and had asked his teachers to email him anything he’d missed today. “Can he keep playing?”

“Perhaps a bit longer,”Alfred nodded, coming into the room to scoop the baby up. He growled a little at being disturbed, but stopped when he realized he could keep playing the game. He leaned his head on Alfred’s shoulder as they walked out to the kitchen. “You’re welcome to join us,”He added, and Jason shot him a smile and a wave as they left.

Bruce was happy to be home after a long day of doing paperwork. He felt himself relax unconsciously when he opened the door and stepped through. Taking a deep breath, he smelled the beginnings of dinner. He was pretty sure it was spaghetti, and Bruce was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful for Alfred. He didn’t know how he’d be able to function without the man.

Pulling off his jacket, he hung it in the hall closet, catching the umbrella inside before it hit the floor. That one never stayed in its spot, so he was always ready to catch it. Closing the door, he hummed to himself, thinking about what Jason was up to. He was almost to the kitchen when something on the floor caught his eye,and he paused.

“Alfred,”Bruce called out, a little strained as he kept an eye on the raccoon tail disappearing behind the kitchen island. The thing was dangerously close to the elder man as he turned from the stove to look at Bruce.

“Ah, perfect timing Master Bruce, you-”Alfred began, but was cut off by the other.

“Alfred, don’t move,”Bruce cautioned, holding his hands out like he was trying to prevent the butler from freaking out. “There’s a raccoon in the kitchen. Just come towards me, slowly.”

“Oh,”Alfred blinked. He looked down to the ground and back up to his son. “You mean our guest. Master Jason found him last night in the dumpster and brought him home.”

Bruce paused. “You let him keep a pet raccoon? Alfred-”

“Good heavens, no,”Alfred cut him off, shaking his head. Before Bruce could protest, the man bent down to pick up the animal. He came back up, cradling-

“Is that a child?” Bruce nearly gasped, approaching the two. He couldn’t take his eyes off the little black haired boy who closely resembled a raccoon. His blue eyes were bright against the black marks around his eyes.

Bruce reeled back as the child hissed at him, tiny fangs on display until Alfred shushed him with a few pets to his hair. “He responds best to food,”Alfred said,”Do pick up the bowl of orange slices on the counter there. He’ll get acclimated to you faster if you give him snacks.”

“I.. what?” Bruce says, still staring at the child glaring at him.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Alfred retorted, raising an eyebrow. Bruce shook his head, still confused but mind running with theories and possibilities.

The kid perked up when Bruce picked up the bowl of fruit, switching from glare to puppy dog eyes faster than the Flash. Despite his confusion with the situation, he couldn’t help but give a fond smile at the little guy. Alfred set the child down when he started wriggling, and Bruce was amused to see him scurry around the kitchen to stop at his feet.

Little claws hesitantly latched onto his pant leg with big blue eyes pleading up at him. He dutifully handed a slice to the kid, who snatched it with a chirp. “Alfred?” Bruce pleaded. He didn’t see any signs of comprehension when he or Alfred spoke, and the child was clearly food-motivated.

Taking pity on the man, Alfred explained,“Master Jason found him.”

“He wasn’t patrolling,”Bruce cut in, much to Alfred’s exasperation. He felt a tug on his pants and fed the child another orange slice.

“No, the young master went out exploring on the premises,”Alfred said fondly,”Something about a treehouse. He found the child in the dumpster out front, eating trash.”

Bruce squinted at the kid, examining him. He doubted the kid was plant for Batman if he was eating trash. He assumed Alfred and Jason to be the reason he was so clean and clothed with what Bruce was sure to be his old baby clothes. He frowned when he thought about the reason why the kid was all alone in a dumpster of all things. It wasn’t hard to speculate from the kid’s appearance.

“I can hear you brooding,”Alfred chimed in, making Bruce sigh. “I hope you’ll be able to help Master Jason find the boy’s name, and perhaps a call to Dr. Thompson is in order.”

“I’ll call Leslie,”Bruce grunted. After a moment of consideration, he bent down to meet the little guy. Cheeks puffed out and orange juice on his face, Bruce couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest at the way the kid brightened at the sight of him up close. He stayed dutifully still as the kid poked his cheek with a clawed hand, rubbing his slightly stubbly jaw before turning his attention to Bruce’s colorful tie.

“After dinner. If you would bring the young one to the highchair, Master Bruce, I shall fetch Master Jason,”Alfred said, leaving the two alone in the room.

Brief panic overtook Bruce for a moment before he shoved it down. He passed the boy another orange slice that was immediately accepted, and carefully picked the kid up. His heart swelled when the boy seemed content in his arms, eating the orange slice and stroking the flowery tie. Bruce held the boy carefully, feeling the soft fur of his tail and brought him over to the high chair.

Bruce didn’t quite want to let the boy down just yet, especially when the kid seemed perfectly fine in his arms, so he merely sat in the seat next to the highchair with the kid still in his arms. “You met Baby Bear!” Jason exclaimed, sliding into view. He came up to the two of them, ruffling the kids hair before climbing into the other open seat next to the highchair.

Alfred came strolling in behind him, eyebrow raised to Bruce. “I assume you need assistance with the high chair if you are still holding him?”

Bruce was sheepish, but moved to put the boy into the highchair while Jason snickered. “You know, I’ve always wanted a little brother,”Jason hedged, and Bruce shot him a look.

“He might have parents,”Bruce argued weakly. “With his… attributes, he might be better suited with someone with similar abilities.”

“Aw, but he already likes us,”Jason bargained, watching Bruce feed the kid another orange slice with glee.”And we’ve made a lot of progress! He’s not eating trash and he's not covered in dirt. I even got him to wear pants!”

Bruce winced at the image, but looking at the adorable little ears on the boy he couldn’t bring himself to argue with Jason more. “We’ll see,”He hedged.

Truthfully, he was still processing the information and making plans to get the boy medical exams and blood tests to find his parents. There was no way the boy had been left in Bruce’s dumpster on purpose. If anything, the boy had been living in the woods around the manor for a while, and either regularly went to the dumpster for food or recently discovered it. He’d have to check the security footage to see when the kid started showing up.

Bruce was brought out of his musings when Alfred placed a plate in front of him.He gave a smile in thanks at the plate of spaghetti and meatballs, with a side of garlic bread. A bowl was given to the toddler, and a plate to Jason. It would be a lie to say they weren’t all watching the kid skip over the fork to grab a handful of noodles and sauce. He was obviously delighted at the taste, even if they cringed at the sauce decorating his hands and face as he munched.

“Aww,”Jason cooed when the kid found a meatball and held it with both hands to nibble on it. “He’s just so cute, isn’t he B?”

Bruce hummed neutrally. As of now, the boy’s placement with them is only temporary. Just as long as it took for Bruce to find him a better home. A home more suitable to a feral boy with raccoon traits, not a billionaire’s lifestyle constantly in the eye of the media. It wouldn’t be fair to the boy to subject him to that or the nightlife. He just had to ignore the wry smile from Alfred and Jason’s knowing grin.

Chapter four

#Can we keep him #chapter 3 #raccoon tim #tim drake #meta tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #tim likes fruit #Tim: Stranger dange- oh he has fruit- maybe..maybe he will share? *puppy eyes*#Bruce: I cant take care of another kid- *sees Tim's cute lil face* Okay maybe just onemore #Bruce: I will give him all the fruit he wants #Jason upon seeing bruce holding the kid: aw yeah hes definitely attatched- new brother!#Tim: I see you have food... what kind of food? Can I have some? Please?#Bruce: these were for you anyway...

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maskyartist · 3 months

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*grips my pen violently trying to do lineart* dont make another brozone au dont do it dont make it based off persona shadows DONT-

(more ranting about it in the tags cause if i did it here we'd be lookin at paragraphs of text and that aint the vibe today)

#masky says #trolls dreamworks #i am plagued by visions umu tragic i know #think p4 rather then like p5 or smth #only instead of some secret dimension maybe its like a mirror they find somewhere??#brings out their truest selves???#either way i love the mental image of shadow JD grabbing himself and just screaming 'YOU WISH YOU WERE DEAD! ADMIT IT!'#or shadow Clay laughing at himself and telling him so easily that 'you WISH you were me! everyone LOVES the fun boy no one wanted YOU!'#bruce staring at a reflection of his insecurities just such a sad shadow constantly beating himself up for being too big and too dramatic #too 'himself' you could say #floyd having to handle his shadow parroting all those nasty thoughts hes had about his solo career #about his career in and out of the band. if hes useful. if hes worth any trouble after all his bros had to do for him.#and then theres branch...who is ABSOLUTELY like a final boss here he is TROUBLED #hes got ISSUES i cant even put it all in the tags here we'd be here all day #but listen. listen its the way he'd switch between being the lil kid everyone left behind feeling pathetic and sad for himself-#-and his grey self from way back when who still holds resentment for no one ever believing him #and then himself NOW who just feels so...lost now that he has 'everything' he wanted.#what does he do now?#maybe later....another day another day >3>#just love the idea of the bros havin some sorta fight about it around the mirror-gem-things (im thinkin that cave from pkmn X)#(yknow the one that had the reflecting walls???? thats the vibe here mystic and a lil spooky)#anyways t hey get back to the village around dark and people are NOT happy with them >3>#apparently the brothers have been causing trouble or being nuisances all day #and thats when they eventually stumble across the Shadows just dickin around as their 'truest selves' :)#sorry im done now but yall are gonna be plagued if im plagued

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martyrbat · 2 years

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red hood: the lost days #6

[ID: Jason Todd pinning the Joker down in a puddle of gasoline by sitting on his chest. Jason is without his helmet with it laying in the gasoline near them. He has red eyeshadow around his eyes in the shape of his Robin mask and is snarling through gritted teeth down at the Joker, who's smiling up at him. Jason's muscular arms are exposed by wearing a black tanktop and blue jeans while the Joker is in his pinkish purple suit. Jason is holding a lit torch and behind them is a barricade of flammable barrels and the bright, full moon. In front of the moon is Batman with his cape flared out to resemble wings, his only visible feature being his glowing eyes. END ID]

#i know his dramatics and revenge fantasy gets the best of him but for the joker it just. didn't make sense #'i want it to be long and painful like how he beat & killed me' can be something yea but?? to actually stop ?#have him fantasize and build up this idea of what itll be like to kill joker and then the toppling down as hes still just so traumatized #and hurt. have him realizing how it didnt magically fix everything while also being confident in his choice because that risk of another #kid being merciless beaten or killed is gone. that he killed a horrible person and the world is better because of it #just... he isnt the world.#he stopped potential harm for others he feels good in killing joker he believes it was the best thing to do and he did it #but? what do you do when that harm isnt potential? when it isnt a threat but instead a memory that you have to relive through with every #single breath that you aren't supposed to have in the first place?#you did what you surely must been brought back to life to do. but now youre alive and you're alone and you dont know what else to do.#then have his anger or betrayal feelings at bruce. have jason developing and discovering himself #not as robin. not as a vengeful ghost. not as anything. but as jason todd and how hes carving his own destiny and the universe doesnt know #how to handle that. let him go through grief and trauma and anger. let him be cunning and a bitch. let him have the biggest heart.#let him work his way through crime rings and solo work and be a drug lord and how he helps gotham directly and just have some growth that #isnt centered around the man that killed him and the man that failed him.#jason todd #the joker #red hood #c: red hood: the lost days | i: 6 #crypt's panels #lost days #covers

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trashbatistrash · 8 months

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#thinking about the utrh comic ending #thinking about how b&r hints at his inability to die #thinking about how in the original utrh ending if Jason did die #would Bruce think there was blood on his hands?#batarang nicked him in the neck blood a huge pool around his body #was it the batarang or the explosion that did him in?#Jason coming back again haunting him #(or not coming back at all. a ghost once more. burdening Bruce with guilt)#was that what they were going for? before they decided to bring him back for realsies #coming back just to become another ghost haunting Batman’s waking nightmare #fear toxin dreams of your kid too young too limp and bloodied in your arms #followed up by a wraith with grief and anger in its eyes bleeding from the neck from a wound you put there #did Batman kill? did he break his rule for someone he once considered his son?#its bitter as hell for the both of them that the blood in his hands would’ve been Jason’s #it was interesting that originally they wanted to end it on the fact that Jason’s death was a multiversal constant #like even superboy prime’s interference wouldn’t have stopped the inevitable #interesting then that Morrison decided to choose reanimating immortality as the way to go about explaining his return #like death was inevitable for Jason but now he’s cursed to come back #would’ve been interesting to explore that but I think it’s been largely retconned out #interesting fic idea though. it’s probably already been done but I’m too lazy to look for it #funny twist would be for Jason to just be like cursed to die in front of Bruce every time #traumatise and retraumatise your father by dying in front of him over and over again 😀👍#but that’s a curse for Jason’s character too being so tied to Bruce’s narrative #there are already analyses out there doing it better than me and my adhd mind #about female character coded Jason Todd #even in utrh’s narrative Jason was there as the antagonist yes but as a one off to help heap on more man pain onto Bruce #the damsel in distress you failed to save coming back and asking why they remain unavenged if they really were as loved as you say #I’m still stuck with the fact that to me utrh’s ending was a perfect tragedy #like I mentioned before. blood on Bruce’s hands. did he break his code finally and kill? the body lying bloody on the floor is Jason’s #he broke his code for you. isn’t that what you wanted?

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sistertotheknowitall · 2 months

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“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

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