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cowyolks · 19 days

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THE SOUR BITE OF BETRAYAL

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Prompt: He was back, digging up your cold heart and clenching it in his bloodied fist. But scars changed people, morphed them and adapted them. He wasn’t the boy you loved, nor were you the woman he adored.

Words: 3.2 K

Warnings: Graphic Injuries, PTSD & and signs of depression, heavy angst with a light dusting of fluff.

A/n: taking a minute from our regular scheduled program to write for my fav batboy!

Ghouls haunted this city. It was no surprise that Gotham was a city full of anguished souls—spirits that died in such horrible ways that they were betrayed and angry, still haunting the alleyways of the rainy hellscape.

Civilians that lived in Gotham were trapped in iron bars, forever enclosed unless they tore out their ribcages and discarded their bones. Blood tainted the sidewalks, maybe not visible, but the haunting scent of iron never left.

You deserved to be here. In the very darkest pits of Crime Alley, where dealers cackled in the shadows, murderers showed their faces with no shame, and drug and human trafficking were at a high. The area burnt down the remaining tissues of your heart, effectively turning it to ashes as you watched the horrendous crimes.

Once upon a time, you’d stop the horrific crimes. Stop the petty thieves and cold murders with a veil over your head.

You could nearly laugh now; how naive you were. Such a child that thought she could make a difference under the iron fist of a hypocrite. You’d been no younger than twelve when the Batman sent you out in the night, dodging lead bullets and twisted knives. You'd come back to school with purple bruises and aching muscles, something you had to have expertly concealed to avoid complications.

There was a time you thought Bruce Wayne had saved you, but it was never the case. You'd have better luck trying your hand in the dirty streets of Crime Alley where he found you.

The pitter patter of rain brought no comfort to you, the chilled air escaped through the hooded windbreaker you wore, making your skin raise in retaliation. You limped down the sidewalk, your knee aching particularly today, as it usually did when it rained.

Night had already settled in, only streetlights luminating the area, if the bulbs weren't already shot and littered with bullet holes. Most of the sane Gothamites were already at home, locks triple checked and barricaded. You however, hardly cared if you lived or died.

Besides, you were hungry.

On the rare occasion that you did eat, you never had the energy to cook anything, rather settling on walking a couple blocks to a shitty takeout place, the place you frequented many times before the accident. You avoided it for a long time, as the rundown place just haunted your thoughts of him.

Now it served as a reminder that you were human. A metaphorical bandage, that ripped your flesh raw. it was pain to hold the memories of him, but now, you were happy to just feel that pang in your chest as you pulled open the lodged and uneven door.

You sat in the same worn-down booth you always did, the wooden frame showing through the moth-bitten cushions, and questionable stains displaying what was left of the thin material.

With all the robberies recently, the restaurant only served what they were famous for- soup dumplings, so it was no surprise when a little boy, maybe 10, settled a steaming ceramic bowl in front of you before he left back into the kitchen.

Only one other person was inside, likely a homeless man in search of warmth before the owners kicked him out. Your eyes narrowed at him as he wolfed down the dumplings, he didn't seem like too much of a threat.

Your gaze travelled to the window, catching on any bodies moving down the sidewalk, nothing excited you, so you settled for watching the fat raindrops fall down the glass. You carelessly shoved a dumpling in your mouth, wincing at the scalding broth that burnt the back of your throat.

The telltale scraping and groaning of the door signaled another customer had entered the space, just as your eyes travelled to the noise. A tall, hooded figure sat in the booth next to you, way too close for comfort, specifically because the room was nearly empty. You sniffed, taking the time to study the nice sneakers he was wearing, and the hint of blue that patterned the inside lining of his hood.

The stranger made no motion to acknowledge the steaming broth in front of him, instead he tilted his head to you, staring for perhaps too long, until you could make out the crystalline blue of his iris.

Immediately your hackles raised, fingers clutching too tightly to your plastic spoon, nearly breaking it.

"Are you just going to gawk, or are you going to tell me why you're here, Grayson?" Your unamused and careless tone made the man's shoulders sink, but he stood anyway, slipping into the booth across from you, his knee nearly bumping into your bad one.

"How have you been?" He stalled, pushing his hood back so you could see his pretty-boy face. He'd always been handsome, pretty blue eyes and dark hair. The prodigal son- it was enough to make you want to gag.

The dark bags under your eyes and your fatigued appearance spoke for itself, you were miserable. "Peachy." Your sarcasm leaked through, just as you took a petty bite of another dumping, once again burning your throat.

You hadn't seen Dick in almost four years, not that he hasn't tried to contact you. You just wanted out from the whole superhero business, especially after such flawed business. Grayson left a bitter taste in your mouth, reminding you far too much of Batman.

“I stopped by from Blüdhaven, I wanted to see how you were holding up.” He adverted your glare and backtracked, as he always did to avoid tension.

You kicked him in the kneecap from under the table, watching him wince more than he usually did after such a weak hit. Your eyebrow arched in question.

“Did ole Bats get to you too? Kicking you while you’re down like some weak puppy?” Venom dripped off your words as you recalled that time in your life. Dick sighed, but didn’t stir the pot of your internal anguish, not knowing how far it’d be until you erupted.

“No. That’s what I came to talk about. Bruce has been fighting this guy for a week now, he is big on the drug trade, and good. Like stupid good.”

You shrugged, everything was a trade in Gotham. Anything worth more than a dollar was exploitable one way or another. “How is this my problem?”

Dick pursed his lips, obviously growing frustrated with your careless demeanor, he fished into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a paper-clipped folder with a sigh.

You had half the mind just to ignore it, but curiosity burnt at your fingers, urging you to reach for the paperclip and pry it open. You swallowed at the contents, eyes welling slightly in anger and fear— a dangerous combination.

There were newspaper clippings, all zoomed in on a red helmeted figure, brown leather jacket, dark Kevlar armor. Your teeth clenched together, nearly cracking as you zeroed in on the symbolic scarlet of the helmet. How this criminal had taken the time to study who the Joker had been.

The Red Hood.

“Fuck you.” You spat at Dick, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the piece of garbage that reminded you of that clown. How the horrendous criminal had smiled as you beat him down, laughed at your grief of losing Jason. Arkham wasn’t good enough, he needed a bullet in his skull, death was the only answer.

You were about to leave, long ago losing your appetite for your dumplings. Dick grabbed your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. He knew Batman’s name, his real one. And he knew yours too.” Grayson gravely warned, you wavered, deciding to sit back in your seat as you glanced at the papers again. This vigilante knew your name? Your personal name, not expired alias?

You sighed, “What all do you know?”

Your keys jangled as you struggled to see the keyhole, feeling around blindly until the metal slid in and you unlocked your thin and flimsy door. You still held onto the folder with a tightened grip, mind running uneasily.

This new vigilante had your warning bells going off, that much you knew.

It was dark and freezing inside your one room apartment, as you couldn’t afford to have the heat on for long periods of time. You relied on a small propane heater that sat on the minuscule countertop space you had next to your mattress.

Electric bills were tight too, resulting in you only turning on lights when necessary and giving just enough time to watch the news. You never liked not knowing what was going on, a habit imprinted in your mind since childhood.

You dropped your bag with a huff, running on autopilot to the small stove countertop that help your electric kettle. You planned on getting no sleep, with the air turning colder, it reminded you more of the weather the day of Jason’s death. Nightmares came easy as did the frost that coated your windows.

You filled the kettle, hoping the cinnamon tea would help calm your nerves and ease the ache within your bones.

Your attention shifted to the remote, turning the television on while waiting for the water to boil. You flicked the power button, the channel already adjusted to Gotham Local News.

Your eyes narrowed in on the headline, skimming the words until a certain name made your blood run cold.

Joker Escaping Arkham: Live

Your fists clenched around your mug, anger boiling in waves as you watched the feed of the clown on top of a security truck, his chilling cackle making your insides swirl in panic and disgust.

You flicked off the channel, immediately going to the loose floorboard in the small apartment, stomping to feel for the hollow echo it released. You could get rid of your alias and stop fighting crime; But, you would always be ready to take down the clown when he escapes again. You made sure as you pulled out the sniper rifle, loaded and readied it to fire straight into his deranged brain.

You’d get justice for Jason, whenever Batman agreed or not.

You slung it over your back before exiting the apartment, not particularly worried about being caught, especially in Crime Alley.

It took you little time to make it to the bridge, feet expertly scaling the rusty rungs and wires until you were basically on top, wind whipping at your face as your eyes narrowed. You crouched low, resting against the metal while you popped the cover off the glossy scope, hoping to find the clown in your sights.

He was easy to find, blue and red sirens basically highlighting him in a showcase. He was alone, signature purple waistcoat blowing as he stood on top of an armored vehicle.

The unmistakeable cackle of his laugh had you seeing red, disgust coating every pore of your body. You barely heard the familiar roar of the Batplane flying straight towards the clown. You had to hurry, before it was too late.

You exhaled, lining up your shot with the steady red laser, making sure the clown saw it before he would die. Your finger hovered over the safety, clicking it off as it returned to the trigger. Just a quick press and it would be over, all those constant traumas and deaths.

A small smirk curled around your lips, until you heard the faint creak of metal from behind you, alerting you to another presence. You whipped around, hairs raised as you caught onto the Red helmet broadcasted all over the news. He was only a foot from you, large boots next to your chin. He was the man who knew your name.

The one who said it now, in a surprised grunt.

“Sorry sweetheart, but he’s mine to kill.”

You anticipated the attack, dropping the rifle as his foot raised slightly off the ground, going for a kick. You raised your hands, protecting your face from your crouched position. Instead, the vigilante extended, kicking your sniper rifle off the ledge, watching it fall into the stopped traffic.

“No!” You growled, eyes widening onwards in despair as the Batplane projected a grapple, picking up the clown you could no longer kill.

The vigilante stalked from the perch, seemingly to forget about you entirely. He crouched, collecting his energy before he jumped from the iron rungs, falling for a moment before latching on possessively to the clown.

You bit your lip as you glared, frustration and grief once again igniting, sadness left to flood as you watched the damn psychopath slip through your fingers again. You wanted to break something, watching as the vigilante flew out of sight.

All you could do was walk back to your apartment, grief once again swallowing you whole.

He hadn’t expected to fight so distracted, his mind keeping him from fully concentrating. He had so much bottled up, emotions and anger, longing to be avenged. He was hurt, hurt that Bruce hadn’t killed the clown that haunted him for five long years. Hurt that his girlfriend, (perhaps, ex-girlfriend now that he died) now lived in the slums of Crime Alley, disowned and alone.

He barely felt his hand through the grief, but looking down, he could see the pearly wetness of bone, blood leaking perhaps too quickly. Smoke and cement caked his revived lungs, making him cough and heave as he made up for the loss of oxygen. He’d fully hoped that Batman would kill for him, only for it to all crumble down when a Batarang lodged against the barrel of the gun, effectively blowing his hand to smithereens.

He left the scene before Batman could find him, wallowing in defeat. How could a father, ever treat their son this way?

There was much to think about, but too little time. He would bleed out, and quickly if he didn’t get medical assistance.

It was about time to pay his girl a visit. When he saw you on top of the bridge, wind whipping against your face, he nearly collapsed, all the anger and mush from the Lazarus pit melting away, instead replaced with a cold ache that made his spilt soul clench.

You’d gone to kill the Joker, something that made his heart swell in gratitude, knowing that at least one person would save him.

It wasn’t a far walk to rickety apartment complex, the area eerily close to where he grew up. The scent of smoke and blood was a constant, but perhaps he was just smelling himself.

When he weakly climbed your fire escape, he heard your voice, rough and growly, just as you had always spoke when angry. He could barely hear through the cracked window, but could make out the hysteria in your voice.

“What do you mean he’s alive?” You choked out, not noticing his hunched figure bleeding outside. You were pacing, fist clenched with the skin taught against your knuckles.

“Where is he?” You growled, pursing your lips and huffing. After a beat of silence, you hung up, no longer entertaining the conversation. You glanced slightly in his direction, doing a double take as you stood straighter, catching onto the tattered remains of the armor he wore.

Your eyes swelled, just as all of his breathing caught in his throat. You had just seen a ghost— But Jason knew he was alive, simply based on the fire that erupted inside him. Not even the freezing Gotham winds could chill the fever of his beating heart, waiting and waiting to press against your own.

He wondered if you still thought of him as much as he thought of you? He wondered if you still smelt like honeysuckle? He wondered how you received that scar that slashed through your face, lip to ear? He wondered why you favored your left leg as you hesitantly made your way to the sliding glass, hand pressed against the handle.

He was hit with a blast of warm air, a shield from the wind, and a promise of something he could not yet guess.

“Jason?” Your voice seemed so small, not like the girl he used to know. Maybe you had died with him.

“Hey baby.” He whispered, hoarse and full of an emotion he couldn’t pinpoint. Was it grief? Regret? Adoration?

He stepped into the home, dripping blood onto the cracked tiles. You’d glanced down at him, immediately straightening and retreating. He watched as you pulled out a red kit from under the measly kitchen sink, settling it against the counter.

“Sit, please.” You addressed. Jason moved, sliding onto the barstool as he studied your features. Cold, broken eyes stared back for a moment, before fixating on his bloodied fingers. You didn’t look surprised to see him reanimated, which made him come to the conclusion that it was Bruce who had just spoken to you. Yet, the steady shake in your hands made him realized you weren’t quite prepared to have been this close so early.

You were a stranger, as was he.

He’d barely felt the disinfectant you placed on his wounds over his broken heart. It was just like when he was a boy, how you’d patch him up, always volunteering so he wouldn’t have to hear Alfred’s lectures.

It was the same, yet so different.

As he watched you work, he glanced closer at your features, studying the scar upon your lip closer, visualizing the sharp shape of a bat. A Batarang.

It wasn’t hard to guess how you got it, based on the rifle you had almost shot the Joker with. You’d been trying to avenge him, and Bruce would rather almost kill you than defy his code. Nausea rose up his throat.

You finished the bandages, glancing up to catch onto the frightening green of his irises.

“I don’t know what to say.” You muttered. His breathing stopped, just as he brought his good hand up, gliding it slowly to the soft skin of your neck, feeling the steady thrum of a pulse. He felt you swallow against his palm.

He knew there was no good thing to say. Nor bad. Perhaps at some point he’d be able to tell you what happened, to fix the scars that settled over you both.

For now he was okay with feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse, to know you were okay. Different, yet the same.

“What… what do we do?” You spoke again, scared and pinned like a trapped animal, backed into the corner but not afraid to strike.

“I don’t know.” He murmured truthfully. Taking a moments peace just to replay your voice in his head. Final able to remember the sound he had mourned.

“Will you hold me?” You asked brokenly, as if you had crossed a boundary.

Jason let a small smile grace his lips, extending his arms outwards to bring you closer. You fell into his chest, wet drops of tears falling from your eyes, just as his own watered. You molded together, warm and comforting. He traced your spine with his fingers, closing in his eyes and breathing in honeysuckle.

He sighed, knowing that at least one thing had stayed the same.

Perhaps the two of you could heal together, patching wounds and crumbling walls. But for now, he was content with holding you against him, a chaste kiss placed on top of your head.

#dc #Jason Todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Batman

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scintillyyy · 3 months

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the thing about war games era tim. the Thing about war games era tim that i am always thinking about is the parallels with murderer/fugitive bruce and the forcible loss of part of their identity due to circumstances out of their control, the attempt to try and exist as just one half of the whole, & the truth being that they are just fundamentally not themselves without the missing part of them.

because you have bruce, who is framed for murder & upon his escape from prison decides that bruce wayne is a liability & that he will exist only as batman. he pushes away his loved ones & devotes himself to the mission as the only thing that matters. he pours himself simply into solving crime, acting as if that's the only thing that truly matters. it's clear that he is completely wrong. he's never been less himself. he is a hollowed out version of himself. it's not until he meets the cop who investigated his parents' murder and he stops rejecting bruce wayne within himself that he becomes whole again.

and you have tim, forced into quitting the robin role by his father. for the first time since he started all this, he has to exist solely as tim drake & push away any part of robin. the pressure to reject the robin role is a constant shadow hanging over him, it's in the way he's kept at home, the constant questions from his dad about where he's going, who he's seeing. tim has to twist & fold himself to fit into a box that is 'tim drake' that won't disappoint his dad, one who is only concerned about homework, music, movies, friends--normal teen things. he exists one day at a time, one homework assignment at a time, one test a time, one class period at a time--trying his best to be 'normal'. he is a shadow of himself, existing merely as a checkbox of expectations of who tim drake is supposed to be. he has never been less himself than during this part of his life. it is not until the school shooting & he realizes he's no longer someone who can be that kind of a person--a person who just sits on the sidelines, a person who doesn't use his skills & training to help, a person who is content to be solely tim drake. he realizes that tim drake without robin is fundamentally not him, just as bruce is fundamentally not himself without both parts of bruce wayne and batman. louis grieves tim is a tim who is categorically rejecting everything that makes him who tim drake really is, just as murderer/fugitive batman is a batman who is rejecting everything that makes batman who he really is.

#the thing is that maybe tim did once think that he could quit the vigilante life #but that was before it became such an intrinsic part of him. he cannot quit any more than anyone else could #how is he supposed to exist in a world where people need help and be content not to #there's no man there's no mask #one cannot truly exist without the other #tim drake

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mysterycitrus · 3 months

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i saw that user's reply to your jtodd post and wow were they projecting hard, it's one thing to feel a personal connection to a character through your own subjective read on them it's a whole other to act like that's the objective point of the actual character and his storylines

yeah look everyone interprets characters in different ways but i think it’s pretty out of pocket to reply to a meme post and talk about how a character who is explicitly, specifically portraying a radically violent “the punishment fits the crime” ideology is intended to be a competent metaphor for victims of sa? if that’s ur interpretation of that character more power to u, but positing as though that’s reflected in the text to smack down on people who are talking in the tags is pretty wild. that’s not even getting into denying that in fanon dick is crucified to make jason look better, whether it be framing him as the bad brother (to jason and tim) or reframing jason as the independent, powerful, and competent person that dick is established as in canon.

he does act differently in the lost days, sure, but even then he is singularly driven by a personal vendetta. u can make the argument that when he allows himself to actually act morally he can make tangible change — he acts selflessly to protect others. but that is not the norm when he arrives back in gotham.

i really wish people would stop trying to justify jason’s actions when they were never supposed to be justified! acting as if bruce is somehow the same or worse because what… he beats people up and then puts them in hospital? how is that remotely comparable to decapitating people and seizing control of the drug trade? the entire point is that he’s working differently to batman in a way that does not actually change gotham for the better! when the kids of the people he’s murdered grow up they’ll be going to the martha wayne foundation for housing and social support, or to leslie’s for free healthcare. they’re not going to be looking for college scholarships from the guy who shot a bazooka at black mask — and that’s fine! that’s what makes jason interesting as a foil to bruce!!

anyways like i said to rus

#dc comics #the ask and the answer #anti jason todd #ig? whatever. ive blocked and moved on.

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hazelsmirrorball · 1 year

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The Better Robin, the better lover.

Pairings: Batfam x batsis, batsis x Roy Harper

summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and the Batbros are fighting over who is most likely to get a flower arrangement.

warning: fighting, mentions of death.

a/n: And the Cupids Fourteen love stories continue. Hope you guys are enjoying the series! Lots of love

Previous imagine

Cupids fourteen Love Stories Masterlist

…

Dick Grayson walked down the stairs in the Wayne Manor heading towards the kitchen to sneak some snacks but his little trip stop when he spotted a beautiful flower arrangement neatly placed on the kitchen counter. Before he had time to pick the card of the flowers his actions where interrupted by Jason Todd entering the room.

“Don’t get near my flowers” he said emphasizing on my flowers.

“Your flowers? Who even got you flowers?” He said inspecting him up and down.

“ I have many lovers, Grayson. So they obviously sent me flowers. Now keep your dirty hands off it” Jason exclaimed, slapping his hand away.

“You can’t just assume these flowers are yours. It’s obvious that the flowers are for me, they are literally f/f, my favorite flowers. So I highly doubt that those flowers are for you. Now step aside and let me thank the person who got me those”

“Answer me this Dick, when have you had a stable relationship that your partner would send you flowers? Exactly, now move”

“Why do you find the need to offend me? I’m not the one that had commitment issues, look at yourself ” Dick said looking at Jason knowingly.

“Die and then you can judge my commitment choices” He muttered, pushing him slightly.

“I already did, asshole. That’s why I’m judging, you can’t use getting brutally murder as an excuse for everything, ” Dick said, pointing his chest several times.

“Dick, listen to what you just said because right now you’re really living up to your name” he said even louder face to face to him slapping his hand away.

“My names not Dick you ass. It’s Richard so joke on you” he said pushing him back. Both of them started pushing each other back and forth each time being harder.

“Oh! They look beautiful” Tim Drake said entering the frame and pushing past his brothers to look at the flowers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason and Dick said at the same time looking down at their brother. Tim turned around to them, glaring at them.

“Please, Jason. I don’t want to get personal but you never leave this house and if you do, it’s for your vigilante bullshit so they wouldn’t know you live here and you, none of your situation ships are giving you such expensive flowers so move and keep on walking” Tim said smelling the flowers leaving two angry guys to stare him down.

“I’m sorry that you are so in love with your little boyfriend. But you literally couldn’t say it better, they are too expensive for you boyfriend to buy it” Dick responded.

“Are you trying to assume my boyfriend is poor?” Tim said, turning towards him.

“You said it not us” Jason responded, making Tim yell at him. The three of them yelled at each other making a huge ruckus. Bruce passed by watching them fight which made him quickly turn around back to his room. A few minutes later Roy Harper walked into the kitchen standing near the three boys.

“Guys?” Roy said but none of them answered after a few minutes of trying to get their attention.

“What!” The three of the yelled at Roy.

“Why are you guys fighting right now?” Roy asked separating them.

“We are trying to figure out who got us these flowers” Dick responded agitated, looking at him.

“Oh, that’s what this is about? Easy, I got the flowers” Roy responded with a shrug.

“See! I told you guys it was mine! Thank you so much Roy” Jason responded, giving him a side hug.

“You’re welcome? But just so you know this isn’t for you” Roy responded confused.

“What?!” Jason exclaimed, pushing Roy out of the hug.

“Ha! I knew you would eventually come through” Dick said, hugging Roy.

“It wasn’t for you either, Dick” he muttered.

“You disappoint me, Harper” Dick said, letting him go.

“I’m flattered Roy” Tim said walking towards him to walk him but before he did Roy spoke.

“Guys, it’s not for any of you guys. Did you even read the card?” Roy asked, looking at the trio. All three of them shook their heads, not making Roy roll his eyes.

“Well for who isn’t then?” Tim asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, hi Roy!! I just wanted to thank you for the gifts” Y/n said walking in with chocolate covered strawberries in her hand.

“Y/n?!?” The trio exclaimed looking between the pair. Roy quickly blushed covering his face.

“What?” She asked, confused taking a bite of the chocolate covered strawberries.

“The flower arrangements are for you?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The flowers, the chocolate covered strawberries and the plushies are for me, why?” She said looking at her brothers.

“I just can’t believe you and him or even better, you with anyone” Tim said looking at the flowers.

“What can I say, I got the romantic genes in our family” She said winking at them.

“You did not” Jason glared at her.

“I’m the only one that got a gift, so..” she said with a laugh making them roll their eyes.

“Just wait until you read the card” Roy responded with a small smirk. The three of them leaned into the flowers picking out the card reading the little note. All three of them angrily gasped at what they read.

“To the better Robin! That’s just insulting”

request are open, xoxo.

[Masterlist]

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the-batcomputer-project · 7 months

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Batfamily (and other) Headcanons that will be canon in my DC timeline:

-Dick is Pansexual. Show me this man in romantic relationships with more than just woman. I also feel like he has potential to be a sex positive icon which I feel is important. Sex portrayed as something that can be fun and casual, not explicitly reserved for romantic partners and situations.

(edited to rephrase and remove offensive language towards the pan community)

-Jason is Asexual. Get some ace representation but also give him some healthy romantic relationships where sex is not the center or a necessity. (I’m partial to Jason/Roy but to each their own)

-Jon Kent is dyslexic. Insert Percy Jackson reference about his brain being wired for kryptonian, but no, the dyslexia comes from Lois.

-Jason was absolutely theater kid before his death who managed to get the lead role almost every time, and somehow maintained a healthy schedule of theater rehearsals, good grades, and patrols.

-building off of the last one, Jason is Bruce’s favorite allowing him to get away with pretty much anything, but no one notices this because Jason is convinced Bruce hates him, and everyone else (understandably) believes Cass is the favorite.

-Cass took up gardening after watching Alfred tend to the rose bushes out front, and is now responsible for the very impressive garden on the Wayne Estate. She loves being to create and nurture life instead of kill, like the was born and raised to. Jason also taught her the language of flowers and she has little flowerbeds for each member of the family. Only Jason knows what they mean (also Alfred but he knows everything)

-Tim isn’t a caffeine addict, but he does have severe insomnia and ADHD. Because of that, caffeine typically has the opposite effect on him, hence why he always seems to be drinking a cup. Either for the placebo effect to stay up and finish a case, or to make him tired enough to fall asleep.

-Damian struggles to connect with people and express gratitude, appreciation, and love. He asked Cass about her garden one day and very intently sat and listened while she taught him about the language of flowers. Each family member woke up the next morning to a drawing of a bouquet of flowers pinned to the door with a knife (Jason has his framed in a safehouse he is fairly sure none of his family knows about)

-The batcave has a secret vault of “bad ideas” which was started by Dick as a child with the original Robin suit Bruce designed (it had pants) along with videos of Dick wearing said costume and falling off of gymnastics bars. (Think of the video explaining why strippers don’t wear clothes with the person falling off the pole over and over)

-Bruce is autistic. He gives off tism vibes (you’re trying to tell me that a man who dresses up as a bat and fights crime as a trauma response to watching his parents be murdered in front of him is neurotypical?) and I also want to see more a positive autism representation in main characters in media.

-Dick’s use of made up words such as “aster” and “whelmed” come from the fact that he spoke very little English when he was first adopted by Bruce, and decided that using obviously made up words made his slip ups less noticeable, or people would assume he did it on purpose. Even after he mastered English, he continued using his made up words because they just made sense (the batcomputer and jl database have a hidden file called the “DICKtionary” unlinking all his words and their meanings)

-Jason can’t drive. He died when he was 15 (you have to be 16 in Jersey to get your permit), was revived in Nanda Parbat so there was no need to drive, and was too embarrassed to mention it by the time he returned to Gotham and the Batfamily. This is his deepest, darkest, secret.

-As a child, Dick was convinced Batman was a vampire (and still isn’t entirely convinced otherwise)

-Tim collects little trinkets. Dick noticed this early on, and made sure to get a little souvenir trinket for Tim every time he went on a trip. Bruce noticed and started doing the same thing, and so did his friends after a while. Tim proudly displays his collection, because to him, each trinket is a reminder that people are thinking about him and care about him. (Most of his possessions in Drake Manor were necessities like clothes, or things he had bought for himself. Barely anything was a gift)

-Jason has OCPD, and needs things to be an exact certain way, and struggles when they aren’t. It’s one of the biggest reasons why he is often so frustrated with Bruce, who tends to do things in a different, certain way.

-Cass is actually the most neurotypical in the family, though because she has learned how to be a person through observing, she has picked up on many neurodivergent traits, specifically stimming.

-Steph’s aesthetic is retro pastel pop, mixed with maximalism. She loves bright colors and loud designs (though purple is still her favorite by far)

-Alfred keeps guns stashed all over the house in case of emergencies. Bruce hates this and has tried to remove them, but has given up as he can never seem to find them all. Alfred also brought up the good point of “I am not a vigilante like you, Master Bruce, and I am not quite as young as I used to be. If there is ever an invasion of the manor, I would quite enjoy the security of being able to protect myself.”

-There is a list of who is banned from the kitchen. Bruce is at the top of the list, Tim isn’t allowed to make anything more complex than instant food, Cass and Damian aren’t very good, but at least make an effort to learn so are therefore allowed with supervision. Dick has a partial ban. He is an absolute disaster in the kitchen, except for soups, and sarma (his mother’s recipe was one of the few things he brought with him from the circus and was obsessed with perfecting it as a kid, leading it to be one of the only things he can actually make) Steph isn’t allowed to cook, but she is a proficient baker. Duke isn’t a horrible cook, but mainly avoids the kitchen, preferring to stay out of Alfred’s way. Jason is the only batfamily member who is not banned from the kitchen under any circumstances. He has a tendency to stress cook, and likes trying new fancy recipes, because on the streets he only ate what he could find. This gives him a sense of control.

-Superman wasn’t a great dad to Connor at first, opting to send him to the farm to stay with Ma and Pa, but after a stern talking to from Bruce, came around started making an effort. Connor is an excellent big brother to Jon.

#dc comics #dc universe #batman #batfamily #headcanon #batfam #batfam headcanons #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #stephanie brown #cassandra cain

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singswan-springswan · 24 days

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I just had a fever dream about Jason so y'all gonna have to suffer through me ranting about it buckle up.

literally I just gave him bird wings

In this au he's an "avian" which is not a human... or maybe it is? Anyway just people with bird wings so like. think partial wing au. These "avians" are really rare and I guess functionally they are humans except for the obvious; no powers etc. Maybe they can have kids with humans too idk I'm not worldbuilding 😭

The avian peoples can hide their wings away and shapeshift into humans ig. Their ability to do so varies from individual to individual. Some can do it at will, others have to be triggered to pop them out or bring them in.

Jason can summon his wings at will but he's always had a hard time shifting back to human especially if there's some kind of stressor present. Sometimes he needs to meditate in order to put them away.

His wings were super pretty when he was a kid. When he gets his full plumage it's very light and majestic and glossy and mostly white, with very subtle accents of grey. Sometimes even gold if the sun hits them right. Think marble angel statue etc. Jason is very proud of his wings. He doesn't keep them out all the time, but they sure come in handy during patrol.

He's delighted to be Robin because of the bird theme. Dick is super mad about it.

Jason is kidnapped multiple times for his wings. As you can imagine, there's a big black market for avian products. Probably why there are so few of them :/ anyway he's a scrappy feller so obviously he manages to escape every time, and his efforts improve after all the Robin training. Intrigue about the newest Wayne boy with the pretty wings is borderline vicious. Where did Bruce find such an attractive avian child? Most everyone who recognizes Jason as Bruce's kid ask to see his wings

He likes to wear them around the house because he likes to show them off and he feels comfortable in the Manor. Bruce and Alfred help him preen while he reads or talks about his day and it's great bonding time. Bruce always tells him his wings are beautiful and he should be proud of them and it makes Jason happy. Also, before coming to the Manor Jason had already had a few run-ins with traffickers and is super hesitant to flaunt his feathers but Bruce makes his promise to never lay an unwanted hand on Jason and promises to be gentle with his wings and he is and he's very respectful and treats Jason's wings with reverence every time Jason asks for help taking care of them ouagh. He has a few feathers lying around the house in his study and on his nightstand next to the framed picture of his two sons.

All the Titans compliment Jason's wings and he's blushing so hard the whole time it makes him dizzy

The wings add another layer to the "Robin is magic!" theme

When Jason and Dick get on less hostile terms, Jason makes jokes about Dick being a Flying Grayson despite not being an avian. Dick never takes it well because he's still salty about Jason stealing Robin but at least he's stopped attacking him for it

The "Little Wing" nickname is so much more pertinent now although it serves less as a symbol of Dick's acceptance and more just emphasizing the obvious

Oh no! Jason gets murdered!

The Joker beat him to kriff, but he absolutely desecrated Jason's wings. I'm talking mangled mutilated every bone broken feathers torn out shredded and bloody poor Jason :(

Bruce frames the few feathers he has and cries over them a ton like the unhealthy coping mechanism walking that he is.

Jason never summons his wings after crawling out of his grave. Obviously there's not much to shift into there and he subconsciously knows that exposing himself as an avian is dangerous when Bruce isn't there to protect him

The Lazarus pit heals the scarring on his wings. It takes a while for the feathers to grow back in. The colors change

His new plumage comes in red (womp womp) and Jason is so upset about it because he loved his pretty white feathers that looked like they'd been dipped in champagne and looked innocent and safe. Now his wings are much bigger and scarier and he feels like a different person. Talia tells him he's being dramatic (he is) but also she helps him preen when he can't bring himself to and she teaches him how to fight with the different weight. She also tries to train him to have better control over shifting in and out of them with little success. Maybe it's a classic case of "needing to find inner peace first" lol

Over the course of his time with the League, hints of black begin bleeding in like ink. It looks kinda creepy and Jason hates it even more but Talia teaches him how to use the intimidating factor to his advantage.

Damian draws him whenever he gets the chance. He thinks he's being sneaky.

When Jason decides to go back to Gotham and be a little menace Talia asks him what he's going to call himself. By that point, the black is more prominent, but "Red Hood" still feels aesthetically appropriate.

The Red Hood doesn't show his wings though. It's just a personal poetic symbol for Jason. Keeps him focused on what he's lost and what he's fighting for in the end etc.

His plan proceeds pretty much as canon, everything goes smoothly, Batman's getting thoroughly obsessed, Black Mask is losing his marbles, even that new Replacement Robin is lying low with an up and coming serial killer on a rampage in the Alley.

Then a particular run-in with Batman changes things. Unbeknownst to Jason, Batman's been going down a check-list trying to gather every possible drop of information about Hood (as he does), and of course he has to check if Hood is an avian. like. as an afterthought. They are a pretty rare species, but it's worth checking anyway. How's he going to do that? Glad you asked

Apparently there's a specific move to trigger an avian into revealing their wings. Probably some kind of nerve strike. Bruce learned it while he was in the League because why not. In the middle of his fight with Hood, he manages to sneak the move in, and boom, suddenly Jason's wings are out in all their glory.

As part of the shapeshifting physics we're going to pretend that the wings can pass through clothing. As long as it's flush to the skin. Maybe. So Jason's wings appear beneath his jacket and they're huge and he is very much thrown off balance and caught off guard and of course feeling significantly violated.

Bruce never told him he could do something like that. He's flabbergasted. It's the perfect opening for Batman to subdue him. Which uh.

Of course Batman only knows the Red Hood as a mass murdering crime lord/Rouge adjacent so he's not super gentle. And he knows about the vulnerable parts of an avian's wings do you see where this is going

Jason goes into survival mode because he's high on adrenaline and feeling extremely vulnerable and remember how the Joker treated him? Jason apparently has trauma about other people touching his wings now. He was fine with Talia because he knew that not only did she have no intention of hurting him but she was actively trying to help (in her own weird way). Batman is a different story. They are in the middle of a fight after all. So Jason kinda panics and can't focus on shifting his wings back in meanwhile he's scrambling to try and fend Batman off and protect himself but now that he's off his game Bruce easily overpowers him

Batman gets his wings tied up somehow and it takes everything in Jason not to devolve into a crying pleading heap of feathers. He's lashing out while Batman tries to sedate him. This isn't going the way Jason planned. Eventually Batman has to hold him down because he's thrashing so hard and wow that doesn't resemble the fearsome crime lord from the rumors

Batman ends up grabbing his wings to avoid being bludgeoned and Jason breaks a bone or two in one of them. He fully shrieks at that point. He's always been sensitive about his wings and hated having them restrained and he's scared and irrational and the trauma has him in a stranglehold. Part of it is the fact that Bruce is the one responsible for hurting him. If nothing else, Jason could always count on Bruce being respectful of his wings, so to have him break a bone (never mind that he doesn't know it's Jason) is really rattling

Bruce meanwhile is doing his best to arrest this helmeted freak who thinks it's funny to cosplay as his son's murderer and unwillingly having his heart strings pulled because not only is this villainous man apparently an avian (just like his son) but also Bruce feels slightly bad about using his knowledge of avian vulnerabilities to take him down. ouch. His protective dad mode activates in the subconscious when Hood's desperation to escape becomes glaringly obvious. Batman has to stop himself from asking who hurt you. Wrong thing to say when he is in the process of hurting the crime lord in question

Jason manages to escape somehow. idk exactly. He's resourceful. Anyway he makes his getaway by a hairsbreadth leaving Batman mildly baffled and even more determined than ever to hunt down the Red Hood. He will need to alter parts of his plan. He can't keep running into Batman if Batman's going to force his wings out again. Of course, Talia taught him how to fight with them, but neither of them realized how difficult that would be when fighting Batman dredged up all the trauma yikes

Batman manages to find Hood again and tries to confront him. Jason does not let him get close tells him to stay the heck away and shoots at him to drive the point home because kriff if he's going to repeat that awful experience from last time. He had a Shadow help set his wing and he complained to Talia about it over the phone. after crying. ugly crying. He didn't leave his safehouse for a few days and spent the whole time eating ice cream and crying and reading macbeth.

Bruce updates the file on Red Hood to include his avian species. Tim saw it and said wow how many avians do you find in Gotham what if it's Jason. Bruce did not find that joke funny, Tim. (to be fair, Tim was running on fifty hours without sleep and at least one mug of coffee brewed from Redbull) Bruce goes to bed that night crying holding one of the feathers he kept from Jason's white wings

When the reveal finally comes, I'm thinking it's some ridiculous scenario involving Jason getting knocked out and Batman having to save him and Bruce naturally takes advantage of this opportunity to kidnap Jason and bring him back to the Batcave. He takes the helmet off too. Tim says wow no kidding huh. Then he has to punt the helmet before it can blow up in Bruce's hands because Bruce is well. He's having a moment.

Jason wakes up with his wrist cuffed to his cot in the Cave medbay. He freaks out. He shifts into his wings on instinct and tries to fly away before realizing the bed is too heavy to let him. His weapons have been thoroughly pillaged. He's having another panic attack. rip. Bruce is there and Alfred convinced him to change out of the Batman suit but he's there and he's also having a nervous breakdown. The first thing he does when Jason calms down (gets lightheaded) enough to stop trying to break out of the cuff by brute force or knock everything within range over is apologize for breaking his wing. Jason's having a bad day. He's already got head trauma from whatever knocked him out in the first place and his plans are in shambles and by God he is not supposed to be in the Batcave with a weirdly watery eyed Bruce. Jason just uh. stares at him.

Tim hears the noise and comes rushing in with Alfred at his heels. Tim's doing damage control analysis. Alfred is openly crying and all just "Master Jason" blah blah "it's so good to have you home" he goes to hold Jason's face like a baby and suddenly Jason feels like crying too. His plans are ruined.

Tim's like good now that you're awake what the heck happened to your wings. Jason threatens to slit his throat. Bruce is now also crying because Jason may look different but there's no denying that this defensive rough around the edges street kid is his kid and oh no he broke his wing :(( Jail for father jail for one thousand years etc.

Dick shows up. Bruce called him to inform him that they'd apprehended the Red Hood and that he was in need of medical attention so naturally... they brought him to the Cave (Bruce has a soft spot for avians and he knew that if he handed Hood over to the authorities he would have been taken advantage of). Dick said what the heck is wrong with you Bruce I'm on my way. So he rushed over thinking he was going to walk into a chaotic atmosphere and he wasn't wrong but he wasn't expecting so much crying to be involved. He also has a mental breakdown. You know how it is. Lots of hand tremors. Screaming. Big ugly sobs. Glaring at Bruce demanding to know why he didn't think to tell him his little brother was back from the dead???? *horrified* what happened to your wings? because Jason's wings somehow look even creepier in the light

Jason keeps trying to shift them back in but he can't focus. He feels very exposed and obviously upset. His beautiful perfect plans are ruined :(( He had so many wonderful plans :((( He was going to break the Joker out of Arkham :((((((( And force Bruce to murder him :(((((((((((( looks like that's not happening anymore

Dick attaches himself to Jason with an octopus hug despite Jason's insistence that he will snap Dick's stupid neck. Tim sees his chance to make the situation worse and joins the hug. Jason half-heartedly attempts to push them off

Eventually they remove the cuff even though Jason makes repeated death threats and as soon as he's free he bolts. Doesn't leave the Cave but he needs to get away and gather his wits so he finds a perch near the Cave ceiling (one of many Bruce installed for him back in the day) and refuses to come down. That's fine. Everyone was trying to process the fact that he's alive anyway. Bruce sits on the ground far below and waits the whole time.

Jason is forced to come down by his need to pee. Also Alfred made tea and biscuits and despite Jason's vendetta, he did miss his family. Conversations are had. They fight and say mean things and Jason still can't pull his wings back in but they've reached a consensus. Bruce is in awe the his baby is back. He's willing to do anything to keep him this time around. He tells Jason that his wings are still beautiful (again, sorry for hurting them that one time), and for every bone of yours the Joker broke I'll break one of his just say the word Jay-lad. Tim pipes up didn't you already do that? Bruce says he'll do it as often as Jason wants lol. This man is so unstable. Jason is very touched. He maintains that the Joker is better off dead, but then he can't really hurt people if he's in a body cast so... sure he'll take the win.

When Jason works up the courage to go into the Manor he sees all his old feathers lying around and it makes him oddly happy. He wants to find it weird, and he definitely makes fun of Bruce for keeping them, but secretly he's so touched and he likes having them so he can still see his pretty white feathers.

Jason gives the best hugs. Okay I know Dick is famous for his octopus hugs but Jason's hugs are objectively the best in canon because it feels like Bruce but without the weight of transaction or expectation PLUS Jason has wings now so imagine getting the best hug of your life and then being cocooned in warm fluffy wings on top of that I would die.

Cass comes home and everyone's like ooh update Red Hood turned out to be Jason! This is your little brother btw and she's like ??? yeah I know. They freak out. How did you know Cass. She says dude look at him. and they reexamine the whole Red Hood scheme (aborted) and the fabricated rivalry with Batman and the speech pattern and the strategic maneuvers and the iconic dramatic flair and they're like okay yeah that makes sense. But you never met him Cass you had no point of reference. FOOLS. MUST THE GODDESS JUSTIFY HERSELF TO YOU??

Anyway everything is fine and Damian joins the family and he makes so many paintings of Jason and his portrait is the first one they have framed with Jason and his new wings. Happily ever after

#jason todd #batfam #the red hood #batfam au #batfam wing au #winged jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #tim drake #talia al ghul #damian wayne #cassandra cain #rambling #dc imagine

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dalekofchaos · 1 month

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Friendly reminder. Bruce Wayne hung up the suit and retired after THREATENING someone with a gun and this was his reaction.

And then his immediate reaction is to shut down and close the Batcave and his only words were. "Never again"

A truly tragic, but fitting way for Bruce’s career to end. Powerful stuff. Batman's career ended the same way it began: with a desperate man wielding a gun

Batman choosing not to be weak like Joe Chill >>>> Batman going on a killing spree because fighting crime is hard.

And by the way, since Zack Snyder says his inspiration was Dark Knight Returns, I got news for you, TDKR Batman doesn't kill either.

Zack Snyder is a complete blithering fucking idiot.

his statement on Batman just lines up with what I’ve seen from all of his work. He likes the idea of the comics he makes movies out of but he doesn’t actually understand their themes. A Batman that kills is pointless. An edgy Superman is not only the most boring way to write him, but doesn’t make any sense without the wholesome one. That’s why injustice Superman/brightburn/Plutonian/omniman/homelander kind of make sense in their own ways because the original exists to compare them to.(mostly also boring though) His take on watchmen was pretty much devoid of any of the actual commentary from the graphic novel, but instead was just a dark justice league that were pretty bad at their jobs. Rorschach was just framed as a kind of unhinged Batman, but still a badass that does good, which is wildly generous compared to the way he’s originally written. I can understand turning your brain off and coasting through an action movie, but his fans are delusional if they think he does any of these stories justice. I wouldn’t take any of his comments seriously if they would stop letting him make these mediocre movies.

Zack Snyder is all flash and no substance. His films are visually stunning but utterly lacking in compelling storytelling.

The point of Batman is he cannot 'stoop to their level'. He HAS to be better, he HAS to believe these criminals can be rehabilitated, because if he kills them, he becomes just like them. With his wit, his intellect, he could future proof the city against crime ever happening by just killing the criminals before they commit crimes based on probable statistics and similar themes. But a Batman who refuses to kill is a murderer by inaction. Every time he chooses not to put Joker in the ground, he's allowed him to slaughter dozens, hundreds more, just for a laugh. Batman is equally guilty for every one of those deaths, because he could simply kill the Joker, and stop him from ever killing again. But he doesn't. Snyder saying Batman can kill, Batman SHOULD kill, is to say that without batman doing so, or being able to, he is just as bad as the villians. Except dipshit doesn't even have his Batman kill The Joker. "Oopsie daisy, Joker got out and bombed a hospital full of people, sowwwwyyyy, I put him back in jail again dunt worry TeeHeee :3". And then next week we do it all over again. OR. You kill the Joker, and he never hurts another person again. Which is why Jason Todd works so well as a counter to batman, and SHOULD be what Snyder is looking into. The reason why Zod works so well as a villain is because Humans are flawed apes who cant be trusted to govern themselves and should be conquered, and Superman, a literal God, could fix all that, but doesn't, because of Hope. Its foolish, childish even, to consider that a solution. And when placed in the vacuum of a comic book it works because you have to suspend disbelief, and forget that Superman let a city full of people die while he punched Zod through skyscrapers.

If you want Batman to kill people, just go and read one of his 1784956th copies that kill people. Go read Midnighter. Go read Punisher. Go read Moon Knight. Go read Peacemaker. Go read Nighthawk. What is stopping you?

I'm sure all those characters have brought about the peace and prosperity and the crime-free society that a "killer Batman" was supposed to. "Punisher would clean Gotham in under a week", right, just like he cleaned Marvel's New York, didn't he?

It has to be Batman specifically the one doing the killing? The number of superheroes that kill is nowadays much higher than the number of heroes who don't. Remember how Hawkeye spent the better part of his existence being the most anti-killing Avenger? Nowadays he is known as a super-assassin that "never had a non-kill rule". Should heroes who don't kill go extinct?

I like that Batman doesn't kill people. I feel no need to turn him into something he isn't like it was done to Hawkeye. If I wanted a Batman that kills, I would go and read one of the thousand "Batman who kills" out there.

Batman should not kill and should never kill.

"Gotham would be better off if Batman just killed The Joker"

You. Miss. The. Entire. Point.

Bruce Wayne lost his parents to crime and Bruce Wayne is a child who died alongside his parents and was reborn as a creature dedicated to insuring it never happened to any other child. He made a vow never to reduce himself to the criminal scum’s level or to Joe Chill’s level. He never kills for a reason.

Batman not killing is what makes him so compelling, if he kills criminals, there is no moral conflict, he is no better than the Punisher, Wolverine or any other dark edgy hero. Hell, if he starts to take a life, Batman is no better than Ra’s Al Ghul.

In the Daredevil Netflix show, Frank Castle told Daredevil this “That’s not how this works. You cross over to my side of the line, you don’t get to come back from that. Not ever.” That alone is why Batman should not kill, not even The Joker. Bruce Wayne is not Frank Castle, stop trying to make him Frank Castle. I mean…Stan Lee was absolutely disgusted when someone called The Punisher a hero, Frank Castle is a murderer, not a hero. How is this so hard for people to understand?

I don’t want to hear that Batman killed in the old comics and I don’t want to hear Elseworld stories. It’s an established fact that Batman does not kill and it’s a big part of his character.

Guess what? We already got a Bruce who killed The Joker, it happened in the Burtonverse/Schumacherverse and he was disgusted with himself. “So, you're willing to take a life.” “Long as it's Two-Face.” “Then it will happen this way: You make the kill, but your pain doesn't die with Harvey, it grows. So you run out into the night to find another face, and another, and another, until one terrible morning you wake up and realize that revenge has become your whole life. And you won't know why.”

A huge part of Bruce’s character is that he doesn’t kill, no matter what. Same with Clark. But edgelord writers from the New 52, DCEU and the Injustice abominations think it’s cool to make heroes kill. Heroes should not kill. You can’t be a hero and a killer. IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY!

Guess what would happen if Batman kills The Joker? The Joker wins. The Joker and Batman are each trying to prove a point to society - and really to us, the readers. The Joker wants Batman to kill him because he perfectly embodies chaos and anarchy and wants to prove a point to everyone that people are basically more chaotic than orderly. This is why he is so scary: we are worried he may be right. If the Joker is right, then civilization is a ruse and we are all truly monsters inside. If the Joker can prove that Batman - the most orderly and logical and self-controlled of all of us - is a monster inside, then we are all monsters inside, and that is terrifying. The Joker is terrifying because we fear that we are like him deep down - that he is us. Batman is what we (any average person) could be at our absolute best, and the Joker is what we could be at our absolute worst. The Joker’s claim is that we are all terrible deep down, and it is only the law and our misplaced sense of justice that keeps us in line. Since Batman isn’t confined by the law, he is a perfect test case to try to get him to "break.” The Joker wants Batman to kill a person, any person, but knows that the only person Batman might ever even remotely consider killing would have to be a terrible monster, so is willing to do this himself and sacrifice himself to prove this macabre point. Batman needs to prove that it is not just laws that keep us in line, but basic human decency and our natural instinct NOT to kill. If Batman can prove this, then others will be inspired by his example (the citizens of Gotham, but again, also the readers), just as we are all inspired every day to keep civilization running smoothly and not descend into violence, anarchy, and chaos. This ability to be decent in the face of the horrors and temptations present all around us is humanity’s superpower, the superpower of each of us. The struggle of Batman and the Joker is the internal struggle of each of us. But we are inspired by Batman’s example, not the Joker’s, because Batman always wins the argument, because he has not killed the Joker.

Batman not killing matters. Batman stories to me are the ultimate tale of turning pain and suffering into something positive. That is a story that everyone can relate to because let's be honest here. The world can suck. I've experienced and probably will always experience feelings of fear of depression of anger of angst. It's in my nature as a human being to experience those things. It's in all our nature it is what we choose to do with that pain that we all feel that defines us. Batman chose to turn all those negative emotions, he feels into a symbol that can bring people. Hope that Batman will save us from pain but more importantly hope that we can all be Batman. Why do we fall? And Batman Begins explains this best “Why do we fall sir? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

Yes, Bruce Wayne is a flawed crazy person. He is at times mean stubborn and even abusive but he is still good. He is still someone we can aspire to be. We can try our hardest to be Superman but no human being can fly, but we can still try to be Batman We can all try to turn our pain into something good when I see Batman killing people or fans saying he killed before and he should kill The Joker, It pains me. It actually hurts my soul. Batman is not about finding a way to kill evil. But try to redeem it. His mission is an impossible task. Maybe he should kill people. Maybe he should kill The Joker, but what makes him fascinating what makes him a hero Is the fact that he has that moral code and stopped himself from crossing that line That's why I always looked up to Batman even as a kid despite all the adult subtext or mature themes superheroes are for kids. And killing is not Batman and it is not Bruce Wayne. This is why I hated the portrayal in the DCEU and the Burtonverse and why I really hated the implication that Batman killed The Joker in Batwoman. A Batman who kills is certainly not Bruce Wayne, that is an interpretation of Bruce Wayne that completely misses the point of Batman. It's easy to kill. Batman does not make the easy choice… Batman does not kill.

#DC #Batman #Batman Beyond #Bruce Wayne #Anti Zack Snyder #Anti DCEU

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bluebellhairpin · 9 months

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Thou So Long Hast Mourn'd

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

Summary: After Jason's passing, your grief and anger combined causes you to leave Gotham - swearing only to return when you have a perfect chance to kill the Joker for what he did to your son. (Part 2 to 'Hell Hath No Fury')

Warnings: Loss and Grief (Mentions of a funeral and repeated mentions of Jason dying. We miss Mumma's Boy Jay a lot :( ). Bad coping mechanisms all round. Clark Kent acts as a marital buffer. (Reader is fem coded; has she/her pronouns; is referred to as ‘wife’ multiple times. Has the hero name of 'Valentine'.)

Listening to: 'Skyfall' By Adele - "I know I'd never be me without the security of your loving arms keeping me from harm."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress, -

Jason’s funeral was attended by a very small number of people. Yourself, Bruce, Dick, and Alfred all front and center.

For days, weeks, the media pestered asking question after question. “A tragic accident.” Commissioner Gordon would reply. It became you answer too, like a well-rehearsed prayer.

A tragic accident. Tragic. Accidental tragedy. Accident.

Except it was no such accident. Someone killed Jason. A man, who still walked free, murdered your son.

Even now, a month after you buried the child, as you sat listening to rain pat against the window panes in Wayne Manor, you remembered what you’d told Bruce the night he brought Jason home for the last time.

“I’m going to kill him.” you said. “I’m going to kill the Joker.” You told Bruce you’d do what you’d vowed to never do again. You promised yourself to avenge your son, to make sure no one else would ever lose a child to that monster ever again.

Ever since that night you’d felt a wedge slide between you and Bruce. Dick, only sixteen and having lost the closest thing he had to a brother was feeling it - you could see it on his face, and they way he held his shoulders at dinner. How you were feeling, how little Bruce was doing about it - none of it was doing Dick any good.

Aside from the anger, you didn’t know how you were feeling. You never thought you’d ever be a mother - you had no idea what to do to help anyone. So you left.

Bruce was out on patrol - he dove into Batman head first, a bitter feeling in your stomach had you thinking he was compensating. Dick was out - gymnastic practice, which Alfred was in charge of tonight. You were left alone in a huge house, and you couldn’t stand to stay there any longer.

A small bag was packed with basics - clothes, cash, a few weapons from the cave, and a single family photo taken while on vacation just that past summer (stolen from its frame and folded into a jacket pocket close to your heart). As you walked past the main living space, you stopped, and looked up towards the item hanging above the fireplace.

The sword - Excalibur - a god-given gift to humankind to exact true justice, now resting as a collectors antique catching dust. You knew if you took it that you would be able to do what you needed to. During your time using it there was no greater pull than to execute Joker - yet something always stopped you.

You knew it was Bruce.

Even already, your own guilt over what you meant to do wouldn’t let you take it with you.

Naturally, on that night, Alfred brought Dick was home first. It was already nine thirty, and while Dick would be up for a long while, he knew the boy wasn’t sleeping proper anymore.

Alfred sent him up to his room anyway, reassuringly with a hand on his shoulder, telling him to go try and get some rest.

But Alfred knew something wasn’t right in the Manor the moment he stepped inside. It was too quiet. Like it had been empty as long as they’d been away - even though he knew full well you should’ve been there to keep the house alive.

Although not trained, the butler had a sixth sense for a lot of things - he was a natural at whatever he sent his mind to (in his youth it was acting, and hence so seeing through lies and reading rooms (for improvisation, obviously) went with it). He set out to find you. Looked in all the usual places, and the unusual ones, in the big rooms and the small ones.

In the last week or so you’d taken to spending time sitting in the walk-in-fridge. He worried about you a lot. While Dick still had school and his friends, and Bruce threw himself into Batman, you only really had yourself. It wasn’t healthy.

But no matter how much he looked, or where he looked, you were nowhere to be found - not in the house, nor in the grounds. You’d said nothing about going out when he left, he would’ve remembered. In a last ditch effort to find you, he looked in one last place.

But you hadn’t been in the Batcave since Jason came home.

It was there, as he walked down a set of stairs, that he noticed a piece of paper haphazardly taped to one of the center computer monitors.

He grabbed it, and flipped it open, reading quietly to himself the words inside, scrawled in your handwriting.

‘Bruce, Don’t look, you know I won’t let you find me. I’m going to do something you will hate me for - probably forever. I can’t keep living like this knowing Jason’s killer is out there killing more mother’s sons. Take care of Dickie. Don’t take Alfred for granted.’

The older man found himself sinking into the chair beside him.

He had a hunch this was coming - he wasn’t in the cave the night Bruce brought Jason home, instead at the time he was upstairs taking a call from an excited Dick who was recalling his day spent doing a treasure hunt around Blüdhaven for a school camp trip that lasted the whole week. Alfred had no idea how you first reacted - he didn’t know how Bruce reacted to your reaction.

He knew it wasn’t good. Especially since in your note you didn’t even say goodbye to your husband.

You’d been hiding in a place you knew Bruce wouldn’t ever look - he always hated visiting Metropolis, the city was too bright.

You knew no one there would snitch on you - most didn’t even recognize you, and the one person who did, conveniently the man who was the closest thing Bruce had to a best friend, wouldn’t ever snitch on you. Not for this.

‘I needed a break,’ you’d lied, ‘Couldn’t handle being in Gotham after…’ You never finished, and you knew Clark could see through a lie like glass - but the grief he could see. He could also see the anger simmering underneath. He never called you out for it though.

You’d been there a while, waiting, watching Gotham from a distance Bruce wouldn’t see you from. You kept tabs mostly on Batman - although interviews with Bruce having to explain where his wife went were entertaining (in a sick, satisfying way). Sometimes you were sick, others you were out of town, most times you ‘weren’t feeling up to it’ - the latter two would be closest to the truth, not that he’d know that.

You often looked fondly at whatever information came though about Dick - he took out the gymnastics first place for his age bracket in the Gotham state. The picture made your heart ache - his smile was wide and toothy, but even though your printed newspaper you could tell it wasn’t reaching his eyes.

Who you were watching most, though, was the Joker. You combed through old reports and new ones. Even called up Harley Quinn a few times, just to get a perspective on him from someone who was - at one point - much closer to him. She asked you why you wanted to know.

“I need to know.”

“O-kay. And where exactly have you been Val?” she’d said, voice crackling down the hotel landline, “You ain’t locking yourself up in that Mansion are ya?”

“No. I’m not in Gotham right now.”

“So what’s even the Joker to ya if you ain’t even here huh?”

“When I come back,” you said, “I’m going to kill him.”

You became a Joker expert in almost one night.

You got a late night visitor less than a week after that phone call. Clad in red and blue, with a gaudy cape and that stupid ringlet you and Bruce would always bitch about on late nights under bed covers.

You were a little happy to see Clark - you actually had nothing against him, it was all just in jest (or solidarity because Bruce was your husband). He was let in pretty quickly. Mostly to avoid questions from the nosey couple who’d been staying in the room next to yours for the past three days.

He stood around awkwardly while you watched him from the seat next to the room’s microwave, posture screaming Clark Kent, journalist, even though he looked like Superman, world-know superhero.

“I’m, uh -” he started after you stared at him hard, wordlessly willing him to speak, “- I’m worried. I think you should go back to Gotham soon. To Bruce, specifically.”

“And why’s that?” He looked at you like you’d just said you had Kryptonite in your pocket.

“Because you’re in trouble.”

“I’m here in Metropolis, I’m with you right now, I couldn’t be in less trouble if I tried.”

“You know I have super hearing.” he said sheepishly. It was like he was telling his Ma he ran over her peonies with a bicycle. You put two and two together quickly though.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

“For me!” He said, stepping back with his palms towards the sky, “I feel better about not telling Bruce if I know what’s going on with you.”

“And so what part of your spying brought you here tonight?” Both your arms and legs crossed, you could tell from his face he didn't mean for you to get so offensive so quickly.

“You were talking to Harley Quinn?”

“Oh that,” you scoffed with a wave of your hand, “Even Bruce does that. She’s not so bad. Taught me how to roller-skate you know.”

“About the Joker?”

“That happens often when my husband is being a pain in my ass,” you said, “Reminds me he could be much, much worse.” Clark motioned his head - ‘fair’, but then he returned serious once more. This time it wasn’t a question.

“You said you were going to kill him.”

You knew he couldn’t read your mind, but he could hear how your heartbeat picked up. He had to know you knew you’d been caught. He sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for your answer in the most approachable way he knew in that moment.

“I’d be doing everyone a favor.”

“Bruce - I don’t know what he’d do. He could hate you.”

“I’m sure he hates me right now anyway.”

“You can’t believe that,” Clark said, looking up at you with blue eyes that almost looked like Bruce’s. “You don’t really believe he hates you right now?” You took a great interest in the patterned carpet. Clark said your name, and you reluctantly looked back at him.

“He misses you.”

“I miss my son.” You bit back at him bitterly. His face remained hard. This was suddenly no longer Clark. You were talking to Superman now.

“I’m not sure how to say this kindly,” Clark said with a firm voice, “But you’re so focused on the child you lost that you’re abandoning the one that’s still here. Bruce misses you, but Dick misses you even more. He doesn’t need to lose another Mom.”

His stare was hard, stubborn - he wasn’t going to let up. Your stare was hard too - sour and angry, not because you didn't believe him, but because you knew how right he was.

“I think you can leave now.”

Two weeks later, after a late night grocery run that consisted mostly of chicken noodle cups and instant coffee, you found a lump of black sitting in the dark with its back against the door of your room.

Clark told Bruce.

He didn’t seem to notice your approach, but once you stood toe-to-toe with his polished Oxford shoes, you kicked his leg.

“Get up.”

His head of messy hair lifted, and when his brain fully processed you - his wife, finally! - standing before him, he almost jumped to his feet. Uncharacteristic of him outside his prior - and now ditched - playboy persona.

He breathed your name, stepping forward with hands outstretched as if to hug you. You took a step back. Clark, apparently hadn’t told him everything - if he had, he was taking it very, very well.

“Where’s Dick?”

“With Alfred,” he said, hands falling to his sides again after you hummed in acknowledgment. You both stood in silence for a while, before you gestured to a door with a full hand. He got the hint, stepping away, then taking the bags away from one hand as you fumbled for your keys.

The quiet continued as you let yourselves in, you sat the shopping on the bench, and he made himself at home at the table near the door. You sat back down in the microwave chair, the furthest place from him you could be while still staying in the room.

“Been keeping busy, Bruce?” you asked, he turned to fully face you in his seat.

“Not really,” he said, “I’ve been looking for you. Never thought you’d be here,” You almost smiled, thinking about how right you were for coming here. Almost.

“Heard you went to Saudi Arabia while I’ve been gone.”

“It was nothing. Really.”

“You couldn’t have been looking too hard if you were able to take a ‘nothing, really’ trip to the Arabian Mountains.”

“I’m not here to fight with you,” Bruce said, resting a palm on his knee, “I’m here to ask you to come home. We all miss you.” his last words came out very quietly. “It’s been months. Nothings going to get easier if you stay away.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” you said with a soft scoff, “He who literally spent every single night after Jason died away from home. He who spends every moment he can down in a dark damp cave rather than with his family - I don’t think you get to tell me where I should be.” You felt tears well in your eyes - hot and fat if they fell, but you willed yourself not to let them. Bruce’s shoulders softened, and he stood and walked closer slowly, coming to kneel before you with his fingers just touching yours.

“We both haven’t been doing well, have we?” his head shook and his voice was barely audible. It was like he was speaking to himself. His admission - finally, his own pride and stubbornness aside, and it made yours disappear like dust in the wind.

“You need to see my bathroom,” you said. His head cocked, a sly smile twitched onto his lips.

“Oh?” he said, “And what might I find there?” But you weren’t smiling. You were trying to be honest.

“Just go look.” you said, turning away from him, bringing your hand away. Telling him with your actions that you weren’t going to be talking until he did.

He stood, opening the bathroom door behind you and flicking on the light. You could feel how still he was. Taking in the room, and what was inside it.

All across the mirror and walls were taped up newspaper clippings and photos and articles printed off from the library, old and new, a few of him - Batman - but most of the Joker. Beside the toilet was a case - one he knew would hold parts of a rifle (parts he'd seen you pull apart and put back together in a minute flat) - and across the sink were knives and gun magazines.

Bruce stepped off the carpet and onto the tile. There was a little list in the center of the mirror, written in red and with the last line underlined.

‘Kill the Joker’.

When he returned to you, he was holding the list in one hand.

“When were you planning on doing this?” he asked. You weren’t able to meet his eyes when you answered.

“Whenever I go back to Gotham.” His body went rigid beside you. Audibly, he let out a breath.

“I’ve thought about it too. Just getting rid of him like that.” he admitted, voice quiet and with a rough edge, “But I know it won’t help. It won’t bring him back.”

“This isn’t about bringing him back. If I knew it could bring Jason back I’d have done it weeks ago.” You looked up at Bruce as you spoke, watching as his face crinkled in disbelief.

“You’re so serious about this.”

“How could you still think I’m not serious?” you said, standing to help convince yourself you weren’t as unsure as you felt. “I will do it. A time will come when that monster dies - wherever it is I will be standing by watching.”

He watched you. Analyzing your face and the way your eyes moved. His face set like stone, hard and sure and you knew he was much more upset now having found out than what he was when you were missing. He took a step back.

Bruce was moving towards the door.

“I won’t stop you. I couldn’t bear to.” he turned, hand on the door handle, “But Batman still will.”

As far as you knew, you’d made it back into Gotham City undetected.

You knew the route’s Bruce - no - Batman, took while out on patrol. You knew the surveillance he constantly would check. You knew because for years you’d helped him do it all.

Thankfully, you had a not-so-little little helper - Joker assassination aside, Harley was more than happy to put you up for a while. After you’d killed Joker you’d planned to turn tail and leave again - maybe hide someplace in Australia where no one barely goes. It wasn’t like you had to put up with her long anyway.

Harley was great, but you’d have to love her a whole lot to live with her longer than a week. But you weren’t planning to stay that long.

You’d tracked Joker to an apartment complex near Arkham - you knew he wouldn’t stay there forever, so you needed to act fast.

Your weapons of choice were clean and ready to go, your escape routes A through to D were memorized, a hood and bandana combo were acquired to hide your identity long enough for no one around to know it was you. By all means and definitions you were ready to go.

You left Harley’s place wordlessly. You were sure she didn’t even know you left.

A cloak and the shadows of night concealed you from most passersby. Slowly, slowly you stalked towards where you knew the Joker to be. When you climbed the fire escape to find your vantage point, you almost didn’t make it all the way there because you saw Him.

Sitting, lounging. Acting like there was not a single thing in the world to worry about. It made you so angry you could scream, claw your eyes out, you could do so many things all because that man couldn’t care less about your son dying.

In fact, you didn’t make it to your original vantage point.

You settled right there, three levels lower than planned, and took the rifle off your shoulder. Clipping on the scope, twisting the silencer on, packing the magazine in. Settled your body into a comfortable position, then raised the gun to look at your target through the scope.

With greasy green hair and yellow teeth, you watched him smile through the crosshairs. With a sneer you flicked the safety off. You were ready to take the shot.

A flash of red, green and yellow came in front of the Joker. You frowned, confused. Pulling the scope back you looked again with a wider range and saw something that made your heart drop. Someone was tied up and presented to him like a present.

The Joker had Robin.

Your Robin. Your son. Your Dick Grayson.

Suddenly this was more than just a chance to avenge Jason. A switch flicked inside your heart. This wasn’t a chance to avenge Jason anymore; this was you, saving the son you had left. This was you not giving that monster the chance to keep you in black.

The lethal rifle was ditched right there on the fire escape, not caring if a lowlife found it before you could return. The knives you’d stashed - ‘just in case’ - were now your swords. Their piercing blades becoming the only thing shielding those who stood in your way a feral beating from bare fists.

No one was standing in your way of taking Dick home safely.

Your veins pumped white hot, you saw red all over. This was not going to happen a second time. It wasn’t ever going to happen again.

A goon at the door stood in your way, he was met with a knee to the crotch and a wound to his shoulder to keep him down. More on the stairs were thrown over bannisters. One had his head smashed into the doorway of the Joker’s apartment. Another was given a hard elbow to the back of his neck.

You weren’t aiming to kill - you were aiming to get them out of your way, and keep them that way.

When you reached the room which window you saw through, there were only four other people aside from yourself, your son, and that murdering bastard. They all stayed quiet, goons waiting on a call to action from their boss. You missed the way Dick’s eyes widened as he realised his Mom was here. You were busy staring down the Joker, trying to make him feel just how much pure hate you had for him without a single word.

“Give me Robin,” you said, voice low, venomous. Dangerous.

“Well if you want him so bad, and since you asked nicely,” His smile spread wide and uncanny. “Come and get him.”

So you did.

Like a blur of back and blue, you had all four men either out cold or groaning on the floor. The Joker himself was under your kneeling form with his teeth now stained red and an eyes swollen shut.

“Listen well because I’ll only say it once.” You said, your hand a rough fist in his hair to make sure he looked into your eyes and saw exactly how much of a threat your promise was.

“I spared your life today. I will never do it again. I am not the Batman. The next time I find you trying to pull something with one of my Robin’s and you see me coming you'd better run the other way because I will kill you.”

After untying Dick, retrieving your abandoned gear, and throwing Joker into Arkham, you reconvened with Dick on a nearby rooftop.

You barely stood upright on two legs before he barreled into you, arms thrown around your waist with his face squished right into your collarbone. He’d grown taller in the time you’d been away. You felt tears fall as your arms wrapped around him in kind.

“I’ve missed you Mom.” he mumbled into your shirt, “Please don’t go away again. Please.”

A hand raised to the back of his head as you pressed your covered nose into his hair. You took a deep breath with your eyes closed, then opened them, peeling you both apart just enough to take in each other's faces. Even with his mask on you could see how much he was pleading with you to stay.

You brushed his hair away from his face - he needed a haircut soon.

You wanted to stay, you never wanted to leave him ever again, not after tonight. But would Bruce let you?

Out the corner of your eye you saw a black drop fall onto the rooftop a little ways off. Batman. He stood, tall and intimidating. In that moment you had half a mind to take a step back even though he made no move closer to you.

Instead you just held Dick a little tighter.

Bruce's hand reached out to you, palm open, outstretched, and empty. Waiting for you to take it.

“I think we can go home now.” he said, “We all can.” Like that, Batman disappeared. Bruce was here. You guessed he bluffed - when it came to you Bruce was always there.

Things were not going to go back to normal. They weren’t for a while. But the best thing you could do was stay together, all together. As a family.

Nothing was going to push that away from you again.

- And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn'd;

#the adventures of batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x batmom #batman x reader #jason todd x batmom #dick grayson x batmom

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ljh-writing-blog · 11 months

Text

Batmom #1

The first time you encountered the Batman, who you would later know as Bruce Wayne and your husband, is a day you would never forget. Gotham’s Dark Knight had rescued you from a life of villainy and crime, your personal hero. It was the start of something beautiful you always said, although your relationship was anything but smooth in the beginning.

Past

You were a test subject of Jonathon Crane, he wanted to use fear toxin and psychological torture to awaken meta-genes in ordinary humans and you happened to be his most promising subject at the time. You remember volunteering for the program, they had framed it as test-trials for a new drug meant to strengthen immune systems and increase quality of life in exchange for a hefty payment dependent on how long you stayed in the program. After two years living in shitty motels and alleys you jumped on the offer. Anything was better than petty theft, eating from garbage cans, and sleeping in corrupt homeless shelters.

Living in Gotham wasn’t kind, after your apartment and all your belongings had been destroyed when the Joker decided to go on a bombing spree you had no choice but to turn to the streets at 20 years old. Gotham’s Mayor and city officials had promised their citizens they would be rehomed and cared for, in reality the displaced apartment renters received a check for a hundred dollars worth of groceries and a two day stay at any hotel in the city. You gave your hotel and grocery voucher to your neighbor with two small children and an elderly mother to care for, she needed it more than you by far. Recuperating after that was nearly impossible. Anyone who said homeless people should just get a job was a damn fool, it wasn’t nearly as easy as it seemed when nice clothing and access to a shower was in scarce supply. The city had failed it’s people and it wouldn’t be the first time it failed Y/N.

In the beginning there was sixteen of you, an even split between the men and women. Some of them you recognized, like the two girls who worked the corner of your “street” night and day. There was a third usually with them but she had been murdered two weeks ago. The cops suspected an overdose but the streets knew, they talked and whispered in the night. She had been killed by a client, dumped in the alley that Y/N usually stayed in. That night had been awful, she had been the one to inform them of their friend’s death. She assumed her death had been a wake up call for the women, it had been for herself. She needed to get off the streets before she was just a girl in an alley, taken advantage of and left for dead. There was a few homeless men you recognize from nights spent around dumpster fires and sharing the days spoils. The rest were strangers and she found herself wondering what circumstances had brought them all together.

All the volunteers met at Gotham City Mall where you were given new clothes and bussed to a second location, halfway through your bus ride you were all instructed to put a blindfold on. A black cut of cloth had been given to each person, many of you were confused. Why couldn’t you see where you were going? You spoke up as several exchanged looks of fear, “Why can’t we see where we’re going? What’s going on?” You voiced the concerns easily felt throughout the bus, weary of the answer you would receive. What had you gotten yourself into? “The facility we’re going to is a top secret government owned building. This is standard precaution for any non personnel visiting the building.” A man towards the front answered, easing many fears. Not yours though, something felt wrong, you felt this man was lying.

Still, you led by example and put your blindfold on. When you had arrived and been shuffled into the building, your blindfolds being taken off, you were met with a stark white room. A scientist began speaking to you, explaining the trials you’d be going through and how you were to be separated. There would be one man and woman to a room, though when you were shown your “rooms” they looked much like a prison cell. They explained they wanted to study their, each man and woman’s, reactions to the opposite sex as they did their research. You started to become suspicious as this was explained to you. Why would they need to study your reaction to other patients? You were supposed to be in trials for drugs related to strengthening the immune system, that should have nothing to do with other patients. In your head it made more sense for them to isolate all of you, what was going on? What was she about to be subjected to do? And worse, this had all been her doing.

In the end, you were the only test subject to have survived the “trials” and torture. The trials, you had never been able to refer to your time in the facility as anything but torture and abuse. The scientists always else referred to them as trials, as if giving them any other name would make what they were doing even more sadistic and cruel. Subjecting you to different drugs like LSD, cocaine, Haloperidol, methamphetamines, and truth serum to expose your fears and use them against you. Sleep deprivation was one of their favorite forms of torture, it not only produced natural hallucinations but with the added fear toxin your hallucinations increased tenfold. After developing a dependency to certain drugs they forced you to consume they began to use withdrawal as a form of torture.

Your stay in the facility lasted three years, one year after your torture began your metagene that had previously lay dormant was activated. The scientists hypothesized that because of your mania and emotional displacement along with the fear toxin your metagene was influenced in a way that allowed you to manipulate the mind and the emotion fear. You felt all emotions but fear was much prominent, fear was the easiest to manipulate. Once your abilities manifested they began the brain washing. They knew you would never willingly submit to their commands with how much they had awakened your abilities so they began the brain washing. It was another year of pharmacological torture before they were successful, you willingly began to do missions for Crane and his friends. You believed he had saved you from the streets and given you extraordinary powers, he had saved your life. Your third year stuck with Crane you commited crimes in the name of several villains, Jonathon gave you the alias the Scarlet Witch. Your powers manifested physically as a red energy, it behaved like a fog in a way: clouding the minds of your victims, manipulating their actions, and bringing their worst fears to the surface.

At 23 years old you were just a missing person’s report, a face lost to crime and a failing, corrupt police force. That was until Batman caught you, you were usually gone by the time he arrived to stop you. But this time you had faltered, you swore you recognized the faces you had been forced to mar with a bullet to the forehead. They had tried to speak to you before you killed them, to beg for their lives. But this was your mission, they were your mission. That had been the last mission you ever did for Jonathon Crane, the Batman took you into his custody that night. He delivered you to the Justice League. There you stayed while the League tried to find any information on how you had become this but all they had was a missing person’s report.

There they monitored your health and watched you go through withdrawal. It took Bruce three months to find the files that told the demise of Y/F/N Y/L/N. In that time you were diagnosed with a heart arrhythmia from the extended drug use you were subjected to. You gained weight, not so sickly looking anymore. You bonded with Diana, she was one of the few people who didn’t hide their faces from your. Somehow it made you feel more human, while you didn’t trust these people she trusted you enough to see the real her. You hadn’t been around someone so genuine in a long time. It took a year of physical and mental therapy for you to begin unlearning what had been brainwashed into you. In that time you grew closer to Batman. Somehow it seemed he understood what it was like to be unmade and made into something darker. That was the rough start to the beginning of your relationship.

Present

You never expected to live the life you live now, a life in a mansion with too many kids to count and a husband who loves you unconditionally. A life with friends who she could rely on, some superpowered and some not. A butler who may as well be her father, oh how her young self would scoff at the idea of her life now. Bruce Wayne had given you so much and you only hoped one day you would repay the debt you owed him.

A/N: This is probably absolute shit but this is my idea for Batmom.Rn I’m just setting up backstory. I’ve always loved the idea of Scarlet Witch in the DCU because there’s so much backstory you could put in there. She (you) are still from Sokovia, her immigrant background is going to help tie in with Dick/Damian identity struggles. I also really wanted to do something with fear toxin because I feel Scarecrow is such an underrated villain. So here we have it, enjoy or don’t. I’d really appreciate feedback whether that’s likes/comments/reblogs. Thank you <3

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 11 months

Note

I lowkey high key love Clark sympathizing for arranged!reader who fools just about everyone but clearly feels out of place. I love the idea of him using his writing power for good, behind the scenes blocking some articles from developing or helping push through some Bruce slander ones if he thinks he’s the problem.

Softboy, sweetheart Clark is S tier in any universe lol.

"Gotham trash," Clark grumbled.

"Be nice," Lois said, "Wayne put a lot of money into-"

"Into his trophy wife's wardrobe?"

"Nice, Smallville, " Lois sighed. "Let's just get through this and then I'll take you to get a hotdog."

"You owe me one, Lane."

"Yeah, Yeah."

_____________

Lois and Bruce had done most of the talking. And for that you were grateful. It gave you time to check out. Tuning in just enough to smile, nod, or agree when it was appropriate.

What was expected. What people always expected. Your job was to be smiling and sweet. A loving and supportive wife. A dutiful daughter and sister. A pretty accessory a man could dangle off his arm like a charm bracelet. Something he could show off to other men.

"Your wedding photos were spectacular," Lois said, "It must have taken ages to plan all that out."

"I think," you tell her smiling, taking a sip from your water glass, "that my mother had been planning it since I was in diapers. She even had drawings for my dress."

"Wow," she said, "she didn't ask?"

You shrug, giving her your patented sweetheart smile. The one that never failed to make people believe you didn't have a care in the world. "I'm her only daughter," you remind. "And when she married my father he was in jail. It was nice, giving her a do over."

"Racketeering charges, wasn't it?" Clark said abruptly.

"Murder, actually," you answer. "awaiting trial and acquitted." You're used to it. Sometimes people try to play hardball with your father's past. As if you had anything to do with it. "It's horrible what happened to that man," you say softly. "If they hadn't spent so much time trying to frame my father they might have actually found the real perpetrator." And the tears that well up aren't all crocodile tears. But real or not, it's enough to make the man across from you look shamefaced as you take the handkerchief your husband proffered. "Excuse me a moment," you murmur.

You make your way back to the bathroom, locking the door behind you and take a deep breath. The truth was, it hadn't been your father. It had been Falcone. Or at least one of his sons. And when your father agreed to take the fall, Falcone had agreed to be the godfather to his children. And you wondered just how much chaos you could cause in Gotham if you let THAT slip.

Your father would probably have a stroke. And your mother- good lord. She's probably just straight fall over dead.

Tempting, but. That was for another day.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #arranged!verse 2.0

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sophieinwonderland · 9 months

Text

The Plurality Of... Batman! (Failsafe)

An anon mentioned this arc to me which they said depicted Batman as a plural character. So I decided to give it a read!

The Beginning

The actual plural stuff doesn't really start until the third issue of the arc, but this was something that popped out at me immediately.

We never really paid attention to it before, but Batman does this in a lot of things, doesn't he? Referring to "Bruce Wayne" as a separate person. Especially while dressed as Batman. There are other phrasings of this that could have been used. "I often used him to cement my playboy status," being the most obvious or even "I often used him to help cement my playboy status as Bruce Wayne."

Other superheroes don't do this as often, do they? I know it occasionally comes up when living a double life, but it doesn't seem nearly as common when talking to people who know both identities as it does with Batman.

Anyway, Robin is worried about Bruce not having happiness in life, and mentions that the Bat Family is concerned about him not being just "Bruce Wayne" anymore. That he's always Batman all the time.

Probably not the best thing for a secret identity when Batman starts appearing out in the day right after Bruce Wayne loses his day job... but when has he ever cared about keeping his secret identity secret?

This sets up an important conflict in the story. That Bruce needs to be Batman and Bruce Wayne both. He needs that balance in his life.

After being framed for a murder, a Failsafe is activated meant to kill Batman.

Bruce fights it, it seems familiar, but he can't place it. Which Bruce realizes is very wrong for somebody who has a perfect memory. (Because of course he has a perfect memory.)

That leads us to...

The Batman of Zur-En-Arrh

The Batman of Zur-En-Arrh first appeared in the silver age as an actual alien Batman. He was later reintroduced in the modern era as an alternate personality in Batman R.I.P. from 2008. I haven't read that so won't be able to comment on it, but if enough people like this, I might check out RIP and do a post on it too!

The third issue of this arc opens with a flashback that took place after the Tower of Babel storyline. This is the famous storyline where Bruce created plans to deal with all members of the Justice League in the event they went bad. Part of the flashback again highlights the duality of Bruce and Batman as almost being separate individuals.

Again, none of this is actually presented as a plural thing, but I do think it's interesting to note. If only to contrast the clear plurality we see with Zur.

Superman challenges Bruce, asking how the Justice League can be contingencies when Bruce has planned for everything.

Then the story returns to the present.

Here we have a Batman who is talking different, acting different, dressed different. Even his speech bubbles are colored differently to signify the switch.

And he is using plural pronouns when he speaks.

He declares himself better than Bruce. A Batman without a Bruce Wayne who was intentionally created by Bruce.

I love the use of "our mind" here, showing that he thinks of them as separate individuals.

It's revealed that the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh was the one who created Failsafe. Bruce suspected that, which was why he switched. Zur takes over for a little bit, and is focused solely on the mission and defeating Failsafe, no matter what.

One thing that I like about the above panels is that they lead to another possibility other than what the story presents. We're told that Zur is Batman without Bruce. But as Tim points out, he doesn't really act like it. Batman is always thinking ahead. He's always thinking strategically. It's what makes him Batman.

I don't think Zur is literally meant to be Batman without Bruce... but perhaps he's Bruce's idea of who Batman would be without Bruce Wayne.

Later, during the fight, Failsafe tells Zur that fighting only causes his family pain. Zur responds by saying that they're not family. They're his soldiers. Leading to this fascinating exchange with internal communication...

That morphs into an Inner World.

It's not for long, but it's amazing to see these characters interact inside their head.

With that powerful line, Bruce takes control again. Failsafe recognizes him as having switched despite still wearing the same costume.

After that issue, Zur is sadly not brought up again in the Failsafe arc.

In the next issue, Bruce describes Failsafe as being made by his subconscious when talking to alter.

Which isn't how a subconscious works, Bruce.

A subconscious is, by definition, not really conscious. Sorry, but Zur is a completely self-conscious entity you made in your head. 🤷‍♀️

But I guess that works for an explanation for Arthur.

And that's it for... Wait a second...

Zur-En-Arrh YEAR ONE

Turns out, the story of Zur isn't just in the Failsafe arc itself, but also in a B story that shows Bruce mentally training himself to create a new personality after a mental attack.

I want to say that Zur-En-Arrh might be a tulpa, but I think there's more going on than that. The name was a distorted version of something Bruce heard from his dad as a child on the night his parents died.

Bruce might not have made an entirely new headmate, but just fed something that was already there. Something that he had repressed.

After the Joker murders a bunch of people, Zur coaxes Bruce to let him take over so he can kill the Joker.

Zur does takeover and Joker, like Failsafe, immediately recognizes.

While Zur tries to kill Joker, he and Bruce are also communicating in their inner world.

After this, we see other characters appear in this inner world such as a version of the Joker meant to represent him before going mad, and a version of Bruce's mother.

Placing either of these as plural headmates is difficult. They don't front, and don't appear more that I'm aware. I'm inclined to classify them as only Ephemerals. Although, if there are more times they appear... and especially if they retain autobiographical memories between appearances, then I might want to look more deeply into that.

Martha unmasks Zur and shows what's underneath...

The appearance makes sense to me. If Zur is supposed to be the perfect Batman, then what does he need anything under the cowl for? And at the time, he wasn't very developed, only fronting the one time and not really existing much before that.

I wouldn't describe Zur as nothing but hollow anger though.

Yes, the anger is there, but so is a purpose. He's willing to kill because he views it as the right thing. Anger, yes. But he's also doing what he was made to do, what Bruce created him for, in his own way.

Bruce saves the Joker, and continues developing Zur... but he instills his own moral code into him, making certain that Zur won't be a killer after that. Which we can tell works since Failsafe was programmed by Zur to not kill anyone but Bruce.

It's unclear how this actually works. But I like that the solution wasn't just getting rid of Zur. Ultimately, Zur wasn't evil. At least, no more than Red Hood who had similar goals and methods.

Conclusion

There you have it! Batman is canonically plural!

This was a really fun read and I'm a huge fan of Zur's dynamic with Bruce for the little bit of time we get to see it in Failsafe.

There are also a lot of ways to play around with this that I hope we can see someday. A situation where Bruce actually has to work with Zur would be really cool. Maybe fighting against some invader breaking into their mind to extract information, forcing them to team up to face it together.

I also would love to see a story where Zur is frontstuck and has to work with Bruce's allies and build his own unique relationships with them. Or even has to pretend to be Bruce Wayne in public without giving anything away.

There are a lot of fun places to go with the character if the writers don't decide to put him on ice for another decade-and-a-half!

(For more discussion of plural DC characters, see The Plurality of... Blue Beetle.)

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