#it doesn’t make sense for bruce wayne to be a bad parent

[hesztia16]

I hate bad parent or “failing at being a decent parent” Bruce for so many reasons. It’s sad, it’s infuriating, it’s unfair. But mostly because it makes no f’ing sense. Part of it is because I can’t see his character being a bad dad for a number of reasons, but mostly because that would mean that he wasn’t the only one who failed those kids.

Thomas and Martha failed (not as much as everyone else for obvious reasons but still) for not showing Bruce a better example, for not setting higher standards.

Alfred failed the most after Bruce if the latter was a bad father. Because he was right there. Because he partially raised that boy into the man he was (I always blamed Alfred for Bruce’s unwillingness for showing physical affection to a certain degree. I can’t imagine how Bruce must’ve felt growing up with an always professional butler as a sole remaining parental figure). He failed to sit them down and forcing them to talk when the situation warranted it. He failed to lecture them all on their short comings. He failed to save them from themselves and each other.

Commissioner Gordon failed because I know for a fact that he knew some of it from Barbara who had been Dick’s go to person to rant about Bruce. Especially if Bruce happened to be really abusive.

Lucius Fox failed because he was a close family friend and knew about their home situation.

Leslie Thompkins failed because she’s a doctor and probably a mandated reporter. She should’ve seen, she should’ve interfered.

Clark failed. He was supposed to be Uncle Clark, Superman. He of all people should’ve known and he could’ve acted.

Selina failed. She was on and off in a relationship with Bruce for years. She should have done something.

Every member of the Justice League, sometimes even Titans, when they were no longer children themselves, failed. They were meant to be heroes. Heroes don’t leave children suffer.

Sometimes, to an extent, Dick has failed. Jason has failed. Barbara, Tim, Steph, Duke, Cass has failed. For letting Bruce take in more children and treat them the way they were treated. (Damian is often too young to know better). They were never meant to be responsible for saving their siblings, and they should never be expected to do so, but they could’ve spoken up.

None of them are good people or deserve to be heroes if they let those kids suffer for the sake of friendship or respect.

(This goes for other heroes as well.)

#dc universe #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #barbara gordon #alfred pennyworth #leslie thompkins #jim gordon #martha wayne #thomas wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #clark kent #justice league #it doesn’t make sense for bruce wayne to be a bad parent #make it make sense dc

[totally-normal-about-batman]

I think Bruce Wayne is a loving parent, but not a good one. He is a psychologically tormented person who never got over his trauma or developed any healthy coping mechanisms but he just keeps ending up with them and doesn’t really know what to do with the kids except what has always ‘worked for him’?

Like Dick’s parents die right in front of him and Bruce is just “hey kid, my parents died in front of me too. And you know what helped me? Punching bad guys.”

And Jason? He finds this kid stealing his tires and he’s not afraid of Batman. He doesn’t seem afraid of anything. He’s got a big heart and cares a lot about people, but no one cares about him. But he’s got a strong sense of justice So Bruce looks at the kid and goes, “hey kid, you seem lost. You know what helps me when I’m feeling lost? Punching bad guys.”

With tim it’s a little more complicated. Bc this kid showed up at his front door and put him in a corner (tim saved him) and Bruce went, “hey kid, you seem pretty good at this. I do encourage you to find a different extracurricular activity… but yes, you can punch bad guys with me.”

And with Damian it’s even more complicated but in simplest terms Bruce and Dick look at Damian and go, “hey kid, you seem like you have some issues and a weird moral compass. Do you know what makes me feel better? Punching bad guys.”

Like shit bruce I’m no expert but maybe some talk therapy or grief counselling might help. you cant just "punch bad guys to cope with your feelings" your way out of this one

#dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #Batman #bruce wayne #batfam

[mysterycitrus]

Clearly you’ve got a lot of opinions abt the characterisations of the batfam in fandom /pos

Can you elaborate on your interpretation for all of them? /gen

it’s called caring too much — and it’s incurable! wrt my personal interpretation, that's a long and complicated answer, so ill just focus on the internal character of the waynes (specifically bruce and his five canonical kids).

bruce wayne is a control freak, we know this. his parents were killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he has literally never ever been able to truly process it. the degree to which he is controlling - firing robins, survelling his allies without their consent, compiling personal information from others, disregarding others feelings in favour of his own - is all about trying to achieve the best possible outcome. everything he does is justified, because if he's in control then he can stop bad things from happening. it is all in favour of the greater good. it's the logic of an eight year old who's just lost everything and hasn't grown up.

if bruce's trauma manifests control then dick's manifests personal perfectionism. he holds himself to such an absurd standard because he's a flier - when you're catching someone on the trapeze you quite literally have to be there, always, ready to take their hand. if you don't, they fall. if there's no net, if dick isn't the net, then they die. he’s always swinging back out and in again, waiting for the next person to slip through his fingers. he does not fear falling, only what will happen when he hits the ground. he’s a born performer made to be an atlas, carrying an unbearable weight that anchors him to the earth.

jason after death is a tragedy of his own creation, and dc's worst crime is trying to justify the terrible decisions he makes. jason isn’t right, because what he wants is not about protecting other kids from his fate or being a better batman. he wants to be personally vindicated, even though he knows it's impossible. jason rejected himself, bruce, everything, in order to transform into a weapon to enact violence. deep down he's so angry, so hurt, that he'll go after other children - tim, damian, mia - and still decry bruce in the same breath. killing the joker, killing bruce, killing dick, killing every robin before or since won't take him back to who he was before. you cannot go back. you can never go back.

cass sees everything. she can't unsee it, she can't ignore it, nothing in the body can be truly hidden from her, but like bruce that doesn't mean she's always right. she killed a man and witnessed his death, and thus will never take another life. she is all knowing, but she was not born knowing herself. she's jason in reverse — she turns from steel to flesh and bone. she will do whatever it takes to be good. she has made herself real.

tim chose this life in the most literal sense of the word, and then kept choosing it. it’s his duty, it’s his honour, it has hollowed him out and left nothing behind. his tethers to the world snap one by one — janet and jack and darla and dana and steph and kon — and suddenly it’s much harder to extricate himself from the black. robin, dick grayson, is his guiding north star, but his north star is only human. he knows he is capable, he knows this is his choice, and he knows he has long since lost the chance to unchoose.

damian is raised in the shadow of the bat. he is born of blood. he knew death before he knew his father. he is a child. he is ancient. he is a killer. he only wants to do good. he loves his mother. his father is gone before he learns to love damian. damian loves someone else who wears the bat but does not carry wayne name. everything he knows about himself is questioned — robin is given to him, and suddenly he can decide his own fate, make his own family. he wants to be the best, but he doesn’t know what he wants that to mean anymore. he wants the chance to find out.

#sorry this got long! not sure if i actually answered ur question lol #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #nightwing #batgirl #batman #dc comics #the ask and the answer #dc meta #ig?

[devine-fem]

ion remember who said that but someone here said that bruce is a bad parent but he loves his sons and that's so true.

He's done bad things but he hasn't done them out of genuine assholery, like he genuinely cares but bro has no clue on how to deal with the kids emotions.

And that doesn't necessarily make him a bad person. Maybe a bad parent but he isn't some evil abuser like the other side of the fandom makes him out to be, and he isn't a saint who loves to shelter kids like a mother hen either...

y'all need to start allowing people to do bad things cuz they DO. Parents can be emotionally abusive or give a kid trauma without even realizing. And it's sad that for Damian we have to fit him into either A: Talia hits him and tortures him B: Bruce hits him or tortures him or C: they're both angels of parents 😭 or D where they both do it ig

Need Damian's trauma to be such that you cant exactly place the blame on someone, but it's there and it's bad. IDK IF I MAKE SENSE UGHHHH

No, stop. Imagine going from a world where you’re not allowed to become emotionally attached to anything and you’re proned to violence for survival. Then you go form that to an emotionally distant and neglectful father who has been proned to violence since his 20s and has you go straight into breaking criminal necks in yellow suits.

Mind you, the only person who thought it’s be a good idea to have Damian completely taken out of their lives as they were was Talia Al Ghul. She wanted to give him up to adoption in secret so he wouldn’t have to grow up in the league or with Bruce Wayne.

Imagine your parents love you to death but just that, it’s always to death: they can never just show you like a normal person what loves supposed to be. They always gotta show it differently and how confusing that must be for a child?

We simply do not ignore the bad things Bruce does to Damian like we do Talia but I do and I always will. The morrison run was too important to Damian’s story to ignore and City of Bane, etc was too important an event to ignore. Fortunately, we have cognitive thought and can determine what’s in character and that even bad actions doesn’t mean these characters just always had bad intentions. Damian will always be their baby boy, they love him so much but unfortunately… they love him in a way that accommodates for both their seperate missions… which is why he’s so between two worlds…

I truly couldn’t like Talia, Bruce and Damian if they were exempted from all bad action; it’s fun only when there’s complexity… I don’t read these comics for family feels anyway but I also take this things head on because well, they did them and it can’t be ignored how we wish it could.

#damian wayne #bruce wayne #batfam #talia al ghul #dc comics #asks

[that1emowitch]

At the end of the world / Or the last thing I see / You are never coming home, never coming home

Prompt from @tuna-f-b: Do you still do request? If yes and angst is o.k: what would happend i all the bats died? Like how would the hero community react. The supers alone. Clark having to deal with losing his best friend(?) and the kids he basically co parented- as well as seeing his sons lose their best friends(?) Specially as ships that would be awesome angst

A/N: I'm not crying you're crying (Also, for those who don't know, Izzy is Duke's canon gf and one of the Robins from We Are Robin)

Words: 2504

TW: Mentions of blood, Major character death, Coping with loss, Self-blame, Mentions of relapse (drugs)

“If you’re watching this, I am either deceased or indefinitely unable to continue my duties as Batman. But the world still needs Batman. Gotham still needs Batman. My son Damian Wayne, if he is an adult, shall inherit my mantle— if not, Dick Grayson will take over until he is. In the event that he, too, is unavailable for any reason, the mantle goes to Tim Drake, after him, to Cassandra Cain, then Duke Thomas, then Stephanie Brown, then Jason Todd, should he accept it.”

In the video recording, Batman pauses, taking a deep breath.

“In the unfortunate event that the entire family is… deceased… I have a list of contingency plans on both the Bat-Computer and the Justice League’s primary databases. Oracle will help you access it, but in her… absence… the password is “a6ghr83kc02m”.”

Then video-Bruce takes off the cowl, his pale blue eyes looking straight into the camera.

“I know I was never the best with feelings. But I would like my children, my allies, and friends to know that I’m proud of you. And to my fellow Justice Leaguers… Diana and Clark, I am truly grateful for your companionship. I would never have made it this far without you. Barry, Arthur, Dinah, J’onn, you’ve all been good friends. Oliver, Hal… you’re not so bad either.”

Bruce turns around, and looks over his shoulder, the shadows of the Batcave making the scene even more dramatic.

“I wish you good luck.”

Then the clip ends.

A shuddering breath leaves Clark.

It’s real.

He’s really… They’re all…

He can’t do this anymore. He turns around and walks out the door, leaving the other core Justice Leaguers staring sombrely at the now-blank screen.

He doesn’t know when he started flying, when he started trying to escape. The walls of the Watchtower seem to be suffocating him, but he has enough sense not to just leave the airlock yet.

Instead he finds a corner by a window, far, far away from the others, where he can see a majestic view of Earth, the moon, and the Sun in perfect sync with each other.

He falls to his knees.

His breathing’s uneven, a tear rolls down his cheeks.

Then he feels a hand on his shoulder— soft, trembling, yet steady.

“Kal,” Diana whispers, sitting on the floor next to him. She doesn’t continue— she isn’t sure what to say.

“They’re all going to die, you know? We’re going to bury all of them. Everyone on Earth, everyone we know.” Clark’s voice trembles, in a way Superman’s never does. “It scares me so much.”

“Kal,” Diana says again, pulling Clark into a hug. “It’s okay. We’ve lost… We’ve lost so many of our friends. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to grieve.”

“How are you— how are you so—” Clark can’t form his words properly. He turns to Diana, to see her face tight with grief, eyes misty with unshed tears.

Her voice breaks slightly as she speaks. “I don’t want to believe they’re gone. But… we have to carry on. We’re the Justice League. Our people need us, Kal.”

“So we just go on and on? Forever?” Another tear runs down his cheek. “Ollie, Hal, Dinah, Lois, Jon, they’re all going to… they’re all going to die one day and we just have to… to go on?”

“I’m sorry, but it is the truth,” Diana whispers, her eyes stinging with hot tears. “We must find peace in the fact, right now, that Batman— Bruce, the Robins, they— they were so brave. Brave till the end. And they fell as warriors, defending our world. I’m sure they’ll all reach Elysium.”

“And Dickie, Damian, Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke—” Clark’s voice is hoarse. “They were so young, just kids… I… I know Dick, Jay, Tim, Cass… they were adults, but… they’re gone, they’re gone…”

“They were heroes, like you and me. Don’t forget that.”

“I… I know, I just—” Another shuddering breath escapes Clark. “I just— I…”

“It’s okay,” Her voice is forcefully steady, but with an undertone of heartbreak. “It’s okay…”

Dinah looks around the room, her heart heavy.

Clark has left, Diana’s gone after him— both of them need their space, she knows. They were close to Bruce and the other Bats in a way no one else in this room was.

Was.

The word still weighs down on her.

Hal speaks up finally, breaking the deafening silence. “I always thought he hated me.”

No one replies for a long moment.

“I miss the kids,” Barry says finally, his voice quiet. “They were just… Robin was only 14. The others, even Nightwing, they had… they had their whole lives ahead of them.”

More silence.

“Jason, when he was Robin— do y'all remember? Kid was always my favorite,” Ollie says finally. “Was always so sassy. Roy loves him.”

Loves. Dinah winces, but doesn’t correct him. It’s easier to believe they’re just gone for a little while.

“Bruce was a good man,” Arthur adds. “They all were.”

“Tim was, I believe, the smartest,” J’onn says, somber. “It was his plan that allowed us to save Earth.”

“Damian!” Dinah says suddenly, jumping from her seat. “His… his mother. She shouldn’t have to find out from someone else.”

Everyone freezes, faces tight.

Dinah sighs, looking down. “I’ll do it.”

Then she leaves the room, dragging what feels like a heavy weight tied to her soul. She has to do this.

Roy’s sitting in a corner of his apartment, hugging his knees. All he can think of is Jason.

He’s never coming back.

He can still feel the lingering ‘goodbye’ kiss Jason gave him not two days ago, he can still hear him say, “I’ll be back before you know it, babe.”

He never came back.

He’s dead. Dead— dead dead dead DEAD DEAD—

“Small Red not okay?” A booming voice snaps Roy out of his thoughts. He looks up to see Bizarro’s pale blue skin and cold eyes looming over him. He’s crying. “Red him coming back.”

It takes Roy a second to register that Bizarro speaks backwards. It takes everything in him to not punch him for saying that, for giving him false hope.

He feels something he hasn’t felt in years— feels that whisper in his mind— one hit and it’ll all feel better. Just one hit.

NO! He screams mentally. He feels like bashing his head open.

Instead he lifts his dead eyes to survey the rest of the room— Kori’s on the couch, staring into space. Artemis has a crying Lian in her arms, she’s showing her something— old photos of Jason. Talking, whispering in a broken voice.

No, no he should be the one comforting Lian—

What’s he gonna say?

That— That Jason— That her Papa’s gone forever? That he’s never— he’s never coming back?

No— Jay— Jay deserved so much better, he— he already died once before, he’s been through so much, things were supposed to be better now— not— no, he’s— 

Roy feels Bizarro sit beside him, gently patting his arm.

He snaps out of his thoughts again, turning to Jason’s former teammate, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice raw, he whispers, “Jay’s gone…”

Wally’s standing in the Hall of Heroes, staring up at the holographic projection of Dick— he looks so majestic, so mighty, staring ahead with nothing but hope and courage in his eyes.

Nothing like the cold, dead body that Wally held in his arms just two days ago.

He’s surrounded by his teammates, his friends— Kaldur, M’gann, Artemis, Zatanna, L’gann, Garth— yet he feels so alone.

He sees it again— Dick bleeding out it his arms, his wounds so fatal he died before help arrived. Wally’s the fastest man alive, damn it, yet he couldn’t even save his best friend— his boyfriend. He feels the moment when Dick’s breathing stopped, when his body went limp, when his grip on Wally’s hand loosened.

Everyone’s quiet. M’gann’s stress baking again, L’gann by her side. Artemis and Zatanna are sitting together, Garth’s lingering in a corner, and Kaldur’s standing right beside Wally— close enough for comfort but not so close he’s lurking. He’s shaking.

He can still hear it, hear Dick forcing out his last words, telling Wally it’s okay, that he loves him, that it’ll be fine.

It’s not fine. Not without you.

He wants to scream.

He wants to cry, yell, hit something, do anything.

But he can’t move.

So he just stands there, almost as still as the holographic projection of Dick before him.

Kon is left reeling.

Tim… Tim is…

Tim’s dead.

Tim’s really gone.

He thinks, for just a second, that this is how Tim and Cassie must have felt when he and Bart “died”.

Bart is sitting beside him on the couch, leaning on his side, Cassie’s got her head on his lap. Neither of them speak— Bart’s not even fidgeting— they’re all just trying to be there for each other.

The other Titans are up and about, but staying close for comfort. Jaime and Gar are making food for everyone in the kitchen, Raven and Vic have come back to the tower to make sure the others are okay, and he’s sure Karen’s around too, somewhere.

Yet he feels so empty.

Feels nothing at all.

How can he, when his best friend is dead?

Jon hasn’t spoken in a bit. Not when his Mom brought him his favorite soup, not when Grandma and Grandpa showed up to ‘help’ him and Dad through this, not when Krypto plopped down beside him to comfort him.

He hugs the dog close.

Krypto’s technically Kon’s, but Jon’s sure Kon wouldn’t mind if he stole Krypto for a day.

Another sob escapes him, and he buries his head in Krypto’s back. The dog whines, licking Jon’s hand.

He can’t believe Damian’s gone. 

Really gone.

And he didn’t know just how much he would miss his friend.

Dinah finds Talia Al Ghul on a building in Metropolis, overlooking the city. Her face is tight with sorrow, but she keeps herself in check, her back straight, head held high.

She already knows, Dinah deduces.

“I… I’m sorry,” Dinah starts, unsure of what to say. She knows, from her experience as a psychologist, that ‘sorry’ is the last thing a grieving person wants to hear, but she doesn’t have anything else to say.

Talia doesn’t reply for a long time. Then she says, her voice numb, “I should have known, when bringing Damian into this life, that I would also be bringing him amidst the dangers that come with.”

Dinah’s brows furrow. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything at all.”

“I should have trained him better, I should have kept him close, I should—” Talia takes a shuddering breath. “I should have never brought him into this life.”

Dinah can’t argue with that— she knows how Damian had come to be, and it… wasn’t the best birth ever.

“Now leave, hero,” Talia says, her voice numb and cold. “Go back to protecting the world. Leave me be.”

Dinah wants to say something better, comfort the woman, but she can’t. So she just turns back, and leaves.

By the time Harper Row makes her way to the Clock Tower, there’s already quite a crowd there— Kate, Renee Montoya, Harley, Ivy, Silena, and Helena Bertinili— they’re crowding around Babs, comforting her. Luke Fox and Isabella Ortiz are at the computer, looking through something.

Harper tries to open her mouth to speak, but she can’t get the words out.

She makes her way over to Luke and Izzy, shoulders hunched.

Just three days ago she’d been hanging out with Duke and Izzy and Cass and Steph— they’d all been so carefree, so happy…

And now…

Once she gets close enough she realizes Izzy’s crying, and immediately wraps her arms around the shorter girl. Harper’s trying to hold back tears of her own, too. She feels Luke putting a hesitant hand on her shoulder, squeezing tight.

No one speaks for a long time, they just stand together, seeking comfort in each other.

Then Babs rolls her wheelchair to the center of the room, wiping at her bloodshot eyes. But when she speaks, she sounds surprisingly steady. She’s compartmentalizing, Harper realizes. Putting away Barbara and bringing Oracle back.

“Gotham needs her heroes, now more than ever,” Oracle says, head held high. “We must honor our friends by doing the one thing they’d have wanted— to keep fighting. Keep Gotham safe.”

She sighs, her face tight to fight away tears. “Luke. Batman’s contingency plan, in the Robins’ absence, was to pass you the mantle of Batman. Do you accept?”

Luke’s eyes grow wide slightly, but he straightens himself, looking away. “I… I accept. Dad isn’t going to be happy, but… Gotham needs Batman.”

“Thank you.” Oracle nods at him. “As per Bruce’s will, all Wayne assets, the Manor, and the Batcave are split between Kate, me, Alfred, and Lucius. I… Lucius and I are still figuring out who’s going to take over Wayne Enterprises, but on the vigilante side, I’ve got a plan.”

She turns to Ivy, Harley, Kate, Silena and Helena. “The Birds of Prey are needed here, now more than ever. Dinah— Black canary has offered to help us with Gotham, too.” 

Harley nods, sniffling. Beside her, Ivy speaks up, “The… Most Rogues aren’t happy about this. They’re not rampaging— Bane has fashioned his own version of the Batsuit, he’s going around ‘saving’ people, screaming that Batman never dies. The Joker’s searching for Lazarus Pits and Bruce’s body. Jervis Tetch and Nygma held a get-together yesterday, in the memory of the Bats. I… I think they might help us.”

Harper’s gotta admit, she’s quite surprised about this. Even Babs freezes, taking in this information.

“Gotham needs Robin as much as she needs Batman,” Izzy speaks up from beside her, her voice small but firm. “The Robins can come back, this time you can give us formal training so we can actually help.”

Oracle turns to Luke. “Taking on Robins is your decision, Batman.”

Luke winces at that title— it doesn’t feel like an honor to him, it just feels like an incessant reminder that he’s the last one left. Because his friends are dead. But he nods, anyway, not trusting himself to speak right now.

Then Oracle addresses Harper. “I… would you like to be Batgirl?”

Harper’s heart stops. Memories flash into her head— seeing Steph in the Batgirl costume, seeing Cass in the Batgirl suit, both of whom are now gone.

“N— No,” Harper stutters out, eyes tearful. “I can’t— I’m sorry, Babs. I appreciate the offer, but… Cass was Batgirl. I can’t take her place.”

“I understand.” Babs just nods, lips pursed, misty-eyed. “We will all need to work hand-in-hand until everything settles, we will need to be vigilant. Carry on Batman’s legacy, for as long as we may need to.”

No one speaks again.

They all just let it sink in, hearts heavy.

They’re going to have to do this alone now.

#batfam #batfamily #justice league #core four #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #harper row #barbara gordon #luke fox #jayroy #dickwally #birdflash #timkon #damijon #jla

[rubydubydoo122]

In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)

TRIGGER WARNING -> Child Death (it's Jason)

“Shit.” Dick squatted down right where he was and ran his fingers through his hair, “Fuck.” He ran his hands down his face, “Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.”

Jason blinked. He was still picturing his lifeless eyes staring up into the sky. He was still picturing his frozen body curled into the corner of the dumpster. He was still feeling the way Bruce cradled his lifeless body. “Huh?”

Dick looked to Bruce for help, but something must’ve clicked, “You knew? Bruce, you knew and didn’t–”

“I didn’t want it to be true.” 

“Ah, yes. And the multiverse is just going to bow down to your will.” Dick spit back venomously.

“Obviously not. Dick, it was two times, I didn’t want to worry you two if I was wrong.”

“Since when have you ever cared about worrying us? At least if you’d’ve told us, we could’ve saved Jason!”

Jason decided that if Bruce and Dick were going to make a scene, he was going to take in their surroundings. Make sure someone like… Ultraman doesn’t show up. 

They were on the Wayne Enterprise rooftop… and was that… whispering? Jason stood up and let out a whistle, “Oi! Quit the bickering!” He signed ‘ Someone’s here’ ,  and continued talking “I swear, it’s like we were sent back ten years.” Keeping a hand on the kris in his pocket, Jason rounded the corner where he heard the whispers coming from.

There was someone lurking in the shadows of the HVAC unit. He almost didn’t notice them, but after years of fighting the bats and assassins, and bat-assassins, he knew what to look for. “I can see you.” 

The person lept from the shadows, running at him with a metal stick. A bo staff. It was also a kid, who was very obviously new with the weapon. Jason grabbed the stick, and yoinked it out of the kid’s hand before he could land a hit on him. “Hold it, kid. I’m–”

Suddenly a bundle of red, green, and yellow kicked him right in the Jaw, and punched him in the gut, “Get away or–” He could see the recognition and confusion flutter across Robin’s face, “Who are you?”

“It’s One bad night for ART.” Jason put his hand in the air.

Robin put his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side, with a little smile “That’s not mine, that’s B’s.” 

“You’re really gonna make me sing it?” Why couldn’t he have chosen a poem or something. Actually, no. He’s been telling poems to Jason's seconds away from death. He should’ve chosen an emo phrase like Bruce. “ I've lived long enough to have learned; The closer you get to the fire, the more you get burned; But that won't happen to us; 'Cause it's always been a matter of trust” 

A soft smile spread across Robin’s face, “You sound just like Papi. Give me one minute to yell at this Cabron. ” he spun around to the kid. “ You are supposed to be back at the cave. Agent A is gonna be so mad at you.”

Now that the kid was in the light and not attacking him, Jason could get a much better look at him. He was slightly taller than Robin, but based on the baby fat on his face and the scolding, he was probably younger. He had an awful bowl cut, (which, wow, his parents must hate him for that,) and was wearing a domino and a black sweatshirt. There was a camera strung around his neck.“What Agent A doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, he’s on vacation.”

Robin scoffed, “Agent A always knows. I bet his butler senses are sending out a beacon to give you a look as we speak.”

“Well, I’m sorry if you’re a shit liar, but I think I can get away with it.”The kid gave him an ‘I'm scheming’ grin that was eerily reminiscent of Tim.

Wait. Hold up, “Tim?”

“Apapapapa,” Tim held up a finger, “Codenames and it’s Crow.”

“No it’s not. We just call him Egg. Since he’s supposed to be in the nest.”

Oh, Jason is totally calling Tim and Damian Eggs when they get back to their timeline.

Tiny Tim groaned, “You’re not the boss of me.”

“Well, I’m older. So yeah, kinda.”

“I’m taller.”

Robin crossed his arms, “I’m sorry if you missed the part where that giant is me.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, “So technically, I’m taller.”

Tim frowned and then looked to Dick, “Is alternate reality me taller than Jason?”

Dick winced apologetically, “Sorry, Timmy, you only reach 5’6”.”

Tim let out a long spew of curses and something about his winning argument.

Bruce came out of the shadows he was hiding in, “Language.”

Robin raised his eyebrows, “So all Bruce’s are the same across dimensions?”

Dick made a so-so motion, “Our Bruce is older and grumpier.”

“We’ll fix that.” He grinned and gave Tim a look that could only spell out trouble. “I’m gonna call our Batman. Then you’ll probably be given some light interrogation, but then we can go to the cave and have hot chocolate together!” 

Now that the kid mentioned it, Jason was really hungry. And tired. How many hours have they been at this cosmic adventure? Four? It would be well into the morning in their Gotham. 

Robin lifted a finger to his ear, “Batman, we have an Egg out of the Nest. I repeat, we have an Egg out of the Nest. Also we have an ART situation.” a pause, “calm down, they’re nice.” Another pause, “I am not too trusting. I just have a good judge of character. It’s a different version of Me, you, and Nightwing, but older and they said they had their own Egg, so really, how bad could they be?” Robin grinned, “Also, N looks like he’s in his protective big brother mode, so we’re safe with them. We’re on top of the Wayne Enterprise building.” The grin faded into a soft smile, “Yeah, yeah, me too, Old man. Take your time. Grapple safely. Don’t hurt your back” Robin brought his finger from the com, and looked to Bruce, “You ok, B-man? You look like you’re gonna hurl.” 

Bruce shook his head, “Nothing. It’s just, you can be too trusting of people you want to believe you can trust.”

Jason groaned, “Oh my– Bruce, it was literally one singular time. I told you we would talk about it later.” Preferably, it would be never, but Bruce is going to keep pushing it in his own Bruce way.

“Hey, Skunk-Hair Jason, Are you gonna give me back my bo-staff?”

Was Tim a little shit in every universe? Jason saw something flicker across Robin’s face at the comment though. That’s fair, his Tim called him skunk-hair often, but that was probably the first time Robin heard it. It’s gonna do wonders for his self esteem.

He heard the telltale sound of a grapple hooking behind him, “I think I’ll just give it to Daddy-bats.” He pressed the button to retract the staff, and tossed it over his shoulder. 

As expected Batman caught it, “Egglett, I thought we agreed, no more sneaking out.”

“But I didn’t sneak out, I walked out of the front door. Besides, this isn’t our biggest problem right now. Dick, you said there was a pattern? I’m assuming it’s related to the realities you’re being sent to.”

Dick glanced at Robin, “Yes, but…” He looked to Bruce for help.

Batman moved so they were all standing in a relative circle. Meaning he was in between Jason and Jason, “How about you start from the beginning, Chum.” It was his Bruce voice, not his Batman voice. 

So Dick told him. How they’d gotten hit by the interdimensional ray, how they were in the warehouse, how they thought they were sent to the past, at first, how Jason had died. 

He saw the way Robin moved a step closer to Batman. He noticed how Batman shifted his weight closer to Robin.

Dick then moved on to tell them about the Alley. About the sudden confusion, because they were definitely in Gotham, just not their Gotham. He told them about the frozen kid in the corner. Jason.

At that, Robin seemed to freeze. Definitely thinking about the Man who had saved them. Weighing the pros and cons of life and innocence. Death and sins. Though, Tim seemed to pick up the pattern, and grabbed Robin’s hand.

And finally, Dick told them about them walking back from the library. And a 13 year old Jay getting hit by a car.

“So…you think I’m gonna die.” Robin didn’t look all that scared, but Jason knew himself. It was in the way he crossed his arms, and looked at Dick defiantly. It was in the way he was in fight mode. Then like an omen, the bat signal lit up. If it’s the Joker, Jason is going to scream. 

Batman placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder. The one that was farther from him, so it was more of a half-hug. “Do you think it could be anything else? Maybe a smaller detail you missed?”

They all turned to Bruce, but Bruce just shook his head. 

Batman nodded slowly, “Alright, we’re all going back to the cave. I’m assuming your suits are in the duffle, so you two,” He pointed to Dick and Bruce, “Can suit up. The kids can be on house arrest. Once we deal with that,” Batman pointed at the bat signal, “we can work a way to get you three home.” 

There were protests from Robin and Tim, but Bruce fixed them with a batglare™ which shut them up immediately. 

Jason raised his hand, “What’ll I be doing?”

Batman blinked at him, “You’ll… be at the manor.”

The kids will be on house arrest , He thinks Jason’s a kid then. “Oh. ok.” It’s ok. He’d make good use of this.

The drive to the cave sucked. Mainly because the Bruces got front seat privileges, and the four of them had to squish together in the back.  Jason did solve the problem by propping his knees up against the passenger seat and making sure to kick it every once in a while to annoy Bruce. Dick, who was sitting in the middle, used the newfound space to stretch out his legs, and give Robin and Tim more room. 

Robin had wrapped his cape around himself, like he was a burrito. Jason forgot he used to do that. It was mainly because the Robin suit had too much leg. Even if he was wearing tights under longer shorts. It was less revealing than Dick’s version of the suit, but still mildly uncomfortable at times.

Tim was squished in between Dick and Robin, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he shifted so that his head was resting on Robin’s shoulder. Robin froze slightly at the touch, but then lowered his cheek to rest on the top of Tim’s head.

God, is this how he and Tim would’ve been if Jason hadn’t died? The bickering on the roof, but moments where you could tell they really cared about each other. And yeah, sure, Jason and Tim definitely bickered now, but sometimes, with everyone, he felt like he was making his way through glass that had shattered on the floor.

Dick discreetly took a picture of the two, which was a bad idea, because it would just hurt more in the long run. When they had to go home and this reality would never be theirs. When Dick realized that the brother he wanted would never be Jason, because the Jason he wanted was long dead.

As soon as they got to the cave, Bruce and Dick made a beeline to the stalls to change. And all Jason could think about was how much the cave had changed since his time as Robin.

It was a lot emptier. The area for the training mats were smaller, Tim’s collection of bo-staffs was down to two, and Damian’s sword and knife collection wasn’t even there. Half of the work benches were gone, and so were half of the vehicles they now used. 

Most importantly, the two cases that held the suits of two dead Robins weren't there. It was just… an empty space. 

Batman walked up to him, and grunted, “Jay was wrong, I’m still taller than you.”

Jason blinked for a minute, because Batman? Making jokes? “Your ears don’t count.”

Batman pulled down the cowl, and did the thing where you measure with your hand. Except he went up a bit, so that his hand barely brushed his curls, “Yup, still taller.”

It hurt. It was weird looking at a Bruce who was younger. The one Jason wished to come back to since he crawled out of his grave, only to find the Bruce he was looking for had died too. Maybe that’s the reason why he and Bruce were never on the same page anymore. They were looking for someone in each other who only existed in their memories. Jason and Bruce would never be the same people they were before that day in Ethiopia. 

He glanced over to where Jay was helping Tim take off his domino without getting the glue dissolver in his eyes. “I’m not that kid, ya know.”

Bruce gave him a rueful smile, “I can tell, but you’re still my kid. Alternate reality or not.” 

It was as if he had grabbed Jason's heart with both hands and started to squeeze it until it would eventually explode. The only reason Bruce could say that was because he didn’t know half the things Jason had done. He didn’t know anything about him at all. 

Bruce looked like he was about to say something else, but the security alarms started going off, immediately displaying on the Batcomputer.

Dick and Bruce(the older one) burst out of the stalls.

There were Joker goons– why did it have to be the Joker?– flooding onto the lawn, jumping over the fence, and heading straight to the manor. So they were after Bruce Wayne, not Batman.

Except it was the Joker. And something, something Jay dying. And something, something the Joker murdered Jason. Things are not really looking good. 

Bruce(the younger one) pulled up his cowl, and looked at Jay and Tim, “Stay here.” He then made eye contact with Jason, with a look that clearly said ‘ look after them’ , then looked to Bruce(the older one), and to Dick, “Lets go.”

And the three of them glided up the stairs.

They watched the Batmans and Nightwing split up and make their way through the manor, on the Batcomputer. He watched as they silently took the goons out one by one. He watched as the Joker waltzed right into the manor. Damn, if Alfred was here, he would have shot that psychotic lunatic down already. 

Jason saw a little shadow dart past the Study. Except… It was too small for Bruce or Dick, but Robin was sitting right next to him, looking at the screen intently, hand hovering to warn them if needed. And the spot where Tim was standing was empty. “Tim?”

If they weren’t in the situation they were currently in, it would’ve been comical how wide Robin’s eyes got. Then his jaw clenched, “Why in the world would he sneak off now of all times?”

“Tim’s just a little shit across universes.” Jason paused, because if some rando started talking like that about Tim, he would probably give them a nice slap across the face, “He’s doing that thing where he comes up with a plan and forgets not everyone is on the same brainwave as him.”

Robin groaned, and reached over to click on something, “Tim, care to share what you’re doing with the class?”

There was a lengthy pause, but they could see Tim on the camera, crouched down behind a decorative couch in the fancy living room, “Arming the traps.”

Robin crossed his arms and started tapping his foot, “You really think that two Batmans and a Nightwing can’t take down the Joker?”

“I just want to help.”

“You can’t–”

Jason placed an arm on Robin’s shoulder, “How ‘bout this Tim, We switch places and you tell me how to arm the traps from the cave?” 

“But–”

“I’m only gonna ask once. I’m coming up there to get you either way.” Jason moved to grab his helmet from the duffle bag and a couple of shurikens from the rack.

“...fine. I– Eep!”

Jason turned his head to the screen so fast, he was sure he’d get whiplash. There on screen was the Joker holding Tim by the collar.

A laugh came through the coms, “I think it’s a bit past your bedtime. Don’t worry, Uncle J will tell you a bedtime story…”

Jason was already halfway up the stairs, “Stay here, Robin. Tell Batman.” Robin nodded, and Jason practically sprinted across the manor to get to Tim.

He could practically hear Bruce yelling at him in his brain about attacking the Joker without a plan, but here’s the thing— Jason genuinely did not care. He was going to make sure what happened to him would not happen to this baby version of his little brother. The Joker connives to get a rise out of Batman. It’s why he terrorizes the city. It’s why his exploits get worse and worse. It’s why he hurt Babs and killed Jason. And the Joker has only gotten worse as time went on.

Jason reached the living room and was about to fling a shuriken at the Joker’s arm to make him drop Tim, but he suddenly moved to put Tim in a headlock, with a gun to his head. 

It was eerily reminiscent of the way Jason had held the Joker during that confrontation. With Him, Bruce, and the Joker.

The Joker let out a laugh that grated against his ears like nails on a chalkboard, “And who might you be? For a second there I thought you were one of mine.” The Joker tilted his head, “Though, maybe you are… did you raid Daddy’s wardrobe? I do say, you look nice, but I think I wore it better.”

Jason tsked in a way that would make Damian proud, “With your pasty looking face? No chance. Let the kid go.” 

The Joker pouted, “But the show hasn’t even started! We don’t even have a full house yet. Batsy’s going to have to make a tough choice, huh?”

There was a crackle of electricity near the other entrance to the living room, “Let him go.” Dick’s voice was dangerously low.

“Well if it isn’t the first boy blunder. My, my, you’ve grown up quite a bit. And a new costume change I see? A shame, I liked the other one better. Though I do suppose this one leaves more to the imagination.”

Jason was going to strangle the clown, and then bash his face in, and then grab his gun and shoot him multiple times, and then–

The Joker brought the gun closer to Tim’s head, “Apapa, Big Red. Wouldn’t want Timmy’s big brains painting the carpet. The dry cleaning would be just terrible.” started cackling like he had just said the funniest joke ever.

He could see the panic flash on Tim’s face for a second, before he closed his eyes and took a slow breath, and painted over the fear with apathy. It was something his Tim could do much faster, but it was still… unnerving to watch a kid barely older than 10 do. Tim rolled his eyes, “You know for someone named the Joker, you’re not very funny. I’ve seen Batman laugh at Robin loads of times. He’s known you for what, fifteen years? Yet you still haven’t gotten a laugh out of him.”

The Joker hit Tim’s temple with the gun “Shut it, brat.” He turned his gaze onto Dick, “Say, Nightwing, what would ya do if I… say, killed the little b–haha! The kid. What would you do if I killed him? Would you punch me hard? Maybe if I fanned the fire, would the punches keep coming? Would they? Until I could no longer see straight? Until I could no longer breathe.” the Joker giggled “And only my Dark Knight in shining armor– a true love's kiss from Batsy could bring me back.” The Joker, since he got out all he needed to say, let out a full body laugh.

Dick’s jaw clenched so hard, Jason would’ve thought he was about to break a tooth. 

And Tim had the biggest ‘what in the ever loving fuck?’ expression on his face, “Mr. Joker sir, could you put me down? I think you’re a bit too delusional if you think you’re even close to being in Batman’s league.”

“Tim–” Dick was about to warn him to probably take the sass down three notches when the Joker started laughing again. Both Batmen stood at the same entrance as Dick, though their 

“Batsy! There’s two of you! This is wonderful!” He frowned, and looked directly at Jason, “Hm… I wonder where the little birdie is? Hehehe, Oh well, we can just start without him. Good thing too, my hands are getting sweaty. Who knows, my finger might just slip…” The Joker curled the finger that was on the trigger, but Jason knew he wasn’t going to pull it. Not yet. It wasn’t dramatic enough yet. Batman subtly shifted closer to Jason. 

Figures. Of course he would make sure that he could get in between the Joker and Jason if need be. Though, as much as it pains him, he wasn’t going to try to kill this one. Not because the Joker deserved to be spared or because Bruce told him to stop killing. No. It was because he knew Robin was watching through the cameras, and he didn’t want that version of himself to see the person he had become.

“Such an old house. I wonder if there are any ghosts here.” The Joker looked at Jason and shivered, but it was for the bit, because he gave him a grin that made his blood run cold, “Haha! Definitely. Though… I can feel something in the air. Like it’s making room for another ghost to join.” The Joker laughed, “Now, I based this off of a dream I had once. How did it go again? Right, I didn’t have an extra gun on hand, but it’s ok! Hehe, you won’t need it anyways.” He readjusted his grip on Tim and gave Jason a wink, “ You want to stop me, you’re going to have to kill me. All you’ve got is a head-shot. I’m going to blow his addled, deranged brains out, and if you want to stop it– Hahaa! You’re going to have to shoot me, Hehehee! right in my face.” The uncontrollable laughter kept getting louder and louder– How did he know ? They were in a completely different reality , How did he know ? “Of course, you don’t have a gun, so maybe a batarang would do. Right to the neck.” The Joker looked back to Jason, his head tilting as his grin grew impossibly bigger, “This is turning out so much better than I thought. I’ll give you to the count of three. One… Two…Thr–”

“ No!” Except it didn’t come from Batman, or Batman, or Dick. It came from Jason. But It didn’t come from Jason. It came from Robin .

A batarang hit the elbow that was holding Tim, sending him to the floor just as a shot rang out. Except the bullet didn’t clatter to the floor or into the wall, there was the sound of metal piercing through skin. But it didn’t hit Tim. Because the barrel wasn’t facing where Tim had been

It was facing Jay.  

Blood was gushing from the kid’s neck as cackles rang throughout the Manor.

“You know that’s how you wanted that night to end, Red. You aren’t supposed to be here, and you know it. Not here, not anywhere! Haha, you’re supposed to be– ACK!” 

Jason couldn’t tell if there was electricity crackling, or if it was just the static in his ears. He couldn’t tell if there was the sound of skin meeting skin, or if it was just the pounding of his heart. 

All he knew was that he took off his helmet as he bent down to put pressure on the bleeding. The bullet went through the side of his neck. Almost exactly where Jason had his scar from the batarang. Except the wound was deeper and he was losing more blood. And Jay was smaller.

Tim crawled up to them, “J-Jason…?”

Even through the domino mask, Jason could feel the demanding gaze from Jay, “No. Tim. ‘s not… y’r fault.”

“But, if-if I hadn’t left, then- then the Joker, he wouldn’t’ve–”

“Not. Your. Fault.” Jay grabbed Tim’s hand, “Don’t… die. Not f’r a… long time. Live.”

“You– You’re the one who’s…You’re actively bleeding out. Right now.”

“No. Batman… d’sn’t need…  R’bin. Br’ce…Bruce needs…. Someone’a… tell ‘im he’s not… ‘n dark. Bruce. Needs. Us.” Jay brought a weak hand from his heart to Tim’s, “Hope.” Jay looked to Jason, and gave him a tired smile, “‘s the thin’... w’th… feathers.”

Jason tried his best to return the smile, “ ”Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all -” Jay gave a content breath out. He closed his eyes to just… listen. “ And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird- That kept so many warm -” with each stanza, Jay’s pulse got slower and slower. “I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.”

Jay took one breath in, and he could see Tim squeeze his hand tighter. And as he let his final breath out, there was a soft, “ Te Amo.” that escaped Jay’s lips.

“Jason?” There were tears pooling in Tim’s eyes, “Jason, please . Say sike right now, this isn’t funny.” 

Jason leaned back and started to take off his bloodstained gloves, “Tim–”

“I-I promise I won’t sneak out to take pictures anymore. I promise I won’t sneak coffee, and I- I won’t lie to Alfred. I won’t make fun of your height anymore, just please – Jason , I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Come back.” 

“Tim…”

He looked up at Jason all bleary eyed, “Why won’t he say sike? He’s Robin , he- he– he can’t be gone.”

Jason spread his arms, and Tim immediately dove into his chest and started sobbing, “He- He’s never… He’s never going to be… big like you.”

Jason held onto Tim, “ Pajarito…” He rubbed small circles into Tim’s back as he sobbed harder. 

He wanted to stay. He didn’t want to leave Tim all alone just like that. He didn’t want Tim to lose one Jason just to lose another.

But the room turned white, and they were gone.

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #red hood #dick grayson #tim drake #robin jason todd #alternate universe #dimensional travel

[thatthirdtriplet]

Relationships:

Tim Drake & Damian Wayne

Characters:

Tim Drake & Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson

Mentioned:

Mentioned Jason Todd Mentioned Cassandra Cain Mentioned Stephanie Brown Mentioned Barbara Gordon Mentioned Talia al Ghul Mentioned Ra's al Ghul Mentioned Bruce Wayne Mentioned Alfred Pennyworth

Additional tags:

Damian Wayne is Robin Damian Wayne Needs a Hug Damian Wayne Feels Damian Wayne-centric Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings Damian Wayne Has a Heart POV Damian Wayne hurt Damian Wayne Tim Drake is Red Robin good Sibling Tim Drake bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake Tim helps Damian make sense of his feelings Tim Drake and Damian Wayne are Siblings Tim Drake and Damian Wayne Fight Tim Drake & Damian Wayne Bonding Relationships and the confusion after getting out of one Batfamily Dynamics (DCU) Batfamily (DCU) Batbrothers Damian Wayne Tries implied/Referenced Self-Harm family Feels brotherly Bonding brotherly Angst angst with a Happy Ending Damian Wayne Angst Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent unreliable Narrator

Summary:

Drake crossed his arms, eyes rolling to the ceiling like a silent prayer. “We know, Damian! All of us know! We pale in comparison to you, oh true blood son!”

“Then why am I the one he doesn’t want!?” Damian screamed. “Father has made it clear that out of all of his children, I am the one forced upon him, the one he does not care for! Why am I…” His voice lowered to a broken whisper, “Why am I not good enough?”

#tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #talia al ghul #ras al ghul #slight angst #insecurity

[theshadowrealmitself]

I hope this is coherent, but other than the Waynes being super rich and well known, I wonder if there’s an extra tragedy in Bruce’s story because he doesn’t know who killed his parents

Like there’s definitely a lot of deaths in Gotham, like a ton, but with the different mafia sections before during and after Batman came along, and the way so many people were quick to become actual supervillains the second they realized it was an option, I get the sense that the murderers in Gotham revel in murdering

So yeah there’s a lot of death and murders, but for many people in Gotham, they might know exactly who killed their loved ones, like it was that douchebag from the mafia gang towards the center of the city, or that evil piece of shit corrupt cop with the birthmark on their neck, or that creep down the street that you warned your friend they should avoid

And maybe that brings them some comfort, y’know? like maybe it helps make it easier to come to terms with it (for some it definitely helps with getting nonlegal justice), maybe their deaths still seem senseless but at least you have someone you can focus your negative emotions on

But that little Wayne boy? Whose family was always in the spotlight? Has absolutely no clue who took out his parents. Despite everyone’s eyes always being on them, no one noticed their darkest day, and weirdly enough, no killer came forward to claim credit, and you know everyone was keeping an ear out, even if they didn’t like the Waynes, it was still the mystery of a lifetime

Idk, I just like to think there was some kind of extra layer to it because even if the Waynes were like, the most popular, there still has to be other rich kids whose parents got killed in Gotham, right? Especially if they were all corrupt and working with underground criminals with bad tempers?

But I also like to think it adds another dimension to his rivalry with Joker, a villain who unlike all the other villains has no known identity before becoming a villain, and to his relationship with his ward, Dick, whose parents were also murdered and he also had to go find out who did it

(And maybe adds another exciting element with other characters I’m not thinking of because it’s like 2 am rn)

#hope this makes sense #hope there isn’t some canon fact I’m not thinking of that makes this post look stupid 😭 #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Batman #Robin #boy wonder #the joker #Gotham #the wayne family #absolutely love theorizing over how Gotham actually views Bruce

[mangoisms]

i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter three: like the world makes sense | read chapter one | read chapter two

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5.3k

━ warnings: mentions of explosion, injury, and death (within the usual canon-typical violence parameters)

━ masterlist

You and Tim continue to hang out. 

Through the week, after school lets out, you are often too tired to go and do anything, but this suits Tim fine as the two of you continue to think of movies you like that the other has not seen. 

You make him watch Mamma Mia, which he says is ‘okay’ but you think he likes more than he wants to let on. You do what he wants, too, and terribly dated as it is, The Devil Wears Prada is certainly fun enough. 

Every time you see him, you learn something new about him. His favorite color is blue. He used to play tennis when he was younger but not anymore. He also used to like photography, but he doesn’t do it much these days. Not because he stopped liking it. He doesn’t say that but you can tell. 

You wonder about that, about the things he used to do but no longer does. What does he do now, then? You ask him that, and he says he helps out with WE, with their R&D department, with IT, or wherever they want him. Not always but most of the time. 

He doesn’t talk about his parents and he doesn’t talk about Bruce Wayne or his adopted siblings. He’ll talk about Alfred, the butler (not the cat), who was also the one to do his laundry. 

You don’t mind. You’re more interested in him, in what makes Tim Tim. And on a lighter note, while you admit to having expected him to be a poor cook, he is actually decent. 

“I’m only good at breakfast foods,” he admits to you one evening, having commandeered your kitchen to make breakfast for dinner. “And pasta. I can do pasta. But mostly breakfast.”

Better than most rich boys, you think. 

You tell him about yourself, too. How you came here because tuition at Gotham University is dirt-cheap, largely because of the city in which it resides in, but the programs are still good. Good enough for what you wanted — public education with a small dash of child psychology. You worked at one of the elementary schools for two years before landing a job at Gotham Pointe. 

“Will you ever leave?” he asks one day, the two of you eating ice cream and watching Zathura. His pick today. “Most do.”

You swirl your Oreo ice cream, the ceramic bowl cold against your palm. 

It’s a good question. One your family wonders. 

You got the degree. You got the experience, too. And experience in Gotham is gold everywhere else because if you can withstand the kids here, you can handle them anywhere. 

With the fine print being that Gotham kids are what? Uncontrollable troublesome kids who will inevitably turn into criminals? Inherently evil? Your kids can annoy the hell out of you on a bad day but they’re your kids. They talk to you, they tell you about their lives, about what they like and don’t like, and they listen to your stories, too, and they show you that while others think living in Gotham is like living in some kind of barren wasteland… there is hope. So easily within reach. 

If Gotham was as bad as people tried to make it out to be, no one would be here. 

“I don’t think so,” you eventually say, looking at him with a small smile. “I like my job too much to leave. I like living here, too. And the company isn’t so bad, either.”

Tim smiles when you say that. “I would miss you.”

And what a thing to say. What a thing for you to have the privilege of. That someone, not just your kids or Ms. C, would miss you and your presence. 

Well, you think. You would miss him, too. Maybe more than you would like to admit. 

Friends. 

Still hard to quantify or believe. 

The city starts to ease into something like spring as mid-March creeps on you. Mornings and nights are still frosty but your breath no longer comes out white and you don’t have to watch out for patches of ice. The time in between is even more comfortable, allowing you to be outside mid-day without a jacket. You’re still in a long-sleeve but it’s a win in your book. 

You and Tim keep spending time together. He learns, with the onset of March, that you like baseball and used to play softball when you were a teenager. Semi-seriously, too. 

Gotham has its own major league baseball team, too — the Knights. It shares the name with your football team. 

The baseball team isn’t any good, but that’s fine with you. Tim prefers their football team, which has the best track record out of all of them. 

So, with that, Tim surprises you with tickets to their Opening Day on the last day of March. Well, the tickets are from one of WE’s partners, trying to suck up to him, he says, but it doesn’t matter that much to you since he didn’t technically pay for it. 

However, there is something to be said about the buyer’s wealth. 

“Look, I’m genuinely not trying to be picky or ungrateful but where, exactly, are the seats?”

“It’s not the Diamond Club, relax.”

“Okay, thank god.”

That would be too much. Mostly because of the notoriety around the seats themselves. Plus, with them being right behind home plate, your faces would most likely be caught on TV and that would be… a mess. 

No, the seats are in the second row in front of the Knights’ dugout. Still excellent but not the Diamond Club, thankfully. 

Tim comes dressed in jeans, a forest green long sleeve that meshes well with his pale skin and dark hair, and a nondescript ballcap. 

“Just a precaution,” he tells you. 

But upon arriving at the Knights Stadium up in Otisburg, you book it for the nearest merch stall and grab two black Knights caps — modeled like the iconic LA Dodgers and NY Yankees emblem except with GK — and shove one into his hands while putting yours on backwards. He acquiesces you with a smile and then leads you to concessions, happy to foot the bill, with you happy to let him do it, too. 

(Drinks and food are far too expensive for a team that loses more games than it wins. Seriously.)

But like the universe is looking out for you (and the Knights and all of Gotham, really), the Gotham Knights win their Opening Day match against the New York Mets. The first time they’ve ever won an Opening Day game, actually. 

Even Tim feels some pride, which is why, you think, after the game, he lets you drag him off to take a picture with the Gotham Knights’ mascot, King Arthur. One of his handlers takes the picture with Tim’s phone. 

“Hey,” he says, scrutinizing Tim’s face even as he casually adjusts the bill, pulling it lower over his face. “You seem familiar. Do I know you?”

You panic, because this hasn’t ever happened to you two before, what with how you two mostly spend time inside, but you know you shouldn’t be surprised. Tim is careful to make himself as boring as possible to the tabloids. Even while grocery shopping earlier in February, he had a cap on and made sure to blend in as much as he could. 

So, of course, Tim is the one to get out of it. 

He looks at you, mock confused, and says something equally as befuddling in… Russian? 

You match his look, raising your shoulders, and the handler decides this is not a situation he wants to be in as he shoves the phone into your hands and waves his own, enunciating, “Never mind. Never mind. It’s nothing.”

You and Tim leave them, making sure to look as confused as a pair of Russian tourists with not a lick of English would. It’s only when you are home free of King Arthur and his handler do the two of you break down into a mess of giggles.

“What did you say?” you giggle, nearly stumbling over the curb. 

“I said, My publicist is going to kill me.”

You laugh all the way to his car and then on the ride home, too. 

(“You know Russian?” you ask at one point, finally realizing that. 

“Some,” he says, and you learn he knows a handful of languages like Russian, French, Spanish (the stuffy kind, though). 

It’s cool, though he admits it’s from tutoring he had, so you have to make fun of those rich boy tendencies again.)

It’s one of the best days you have in a while. 

But you find most of your days shape up to be like that. 

Even long ones where the kids refuse to listen to you and lesson plans are thrown way off course. Tim will leave you to it if you need the space but other times, he’ll come over, make breakfast for dinner, and you two will watch some Ice Age and you go to bed in a much better mood. 

And while you and Tim continue to hang out, your brother remains in awe of that fact, too. 

He has some preconceived notions about who, exactly, Tim Drake is but you shut those down quickly. You know why he thinks like that and it would be a lie to say you didn’t think like that, either, but people are so much more different than they portray themselves. Especially ones like him. 

Your brother understands, then, and is happy for you. 

Not without a few well-placed jokes, of course. 

You should steal his debit card info

i’m not stealing his debit card info

Dude he’s a millionaire it’s like his civic duty to society 

Which is fair and you’ve certainly made that joke in regards to… some of the wealthier figures in Gotham before. (You flush thinking about your college friends’ jokes about being Bruce Wayne’s sugar baby. Tim will never find out about that as long as you live, thank you very much.)

Even Tim starts to foot the bill if you get takeout or something. And he says exactly that. 

“It’s my civic duty,” he manages to say to you with a completely straight face. (Which is funny because he’s also apparently not straight, much like you.) 

But it is true that Tim is decidedly well-off. Most of Bruce Wayne’s children are. 

You carefully prod Ms. C and the other teachers and aides about information on them, because the internet can only tell you so much.

They rehash most of the info about Tim you already knew — the drama when he was seventeen with the CEO thing, the engagement thing, and the attempted assassination thing. (So many things.)

Tim is the only middle child, though, out of five.

The eldest of them is Dick Grayson, taken into Bruce Wayne’s care after his parents died. He doesn’t live in Gotham, though. New York, you think, is where he currently resides. Then there is Jason Todd, who is a bit of an odd case, because he ‘died’ when he was fifteen then came back when he was older, but the real story is that Bruce Wayne was, apparently, in so much grief at the thought that he misidentified the body in Ethiopia, meanwhile Jason Todd was still alive but kidnapped. He would be until he escaped and came back to Gotham at nineteen. You have faint memories of that media hellstorm from college but these days, they don’t focus on him much. 

Cassandra Wayne, the most shrouded in mystery out of all of them; a cryptic figure that paparazzi only manage to capture every six months. She shows up for the occasional charity gala but most can’t actually find or talk to her. The only trace of her existence is other people saying they saw her. 

After her, there is Tim, and then there is Damian Wayne, the youngest of them. A teenager now and a model student at Gotham Academy. The one that economic magazines and tabloids say will one day take over Wayne Enterprises. Damian is also the only of them not adopted. He is, much to Gotham’s collective shock, Bruce Wayne’s biological son. You idly wonder about his mother, though, since he does have black hair like his father, but the brown tone of his skin and hazel green eyes sets him apart from his father’s obviously white ancestry. 

And well, there is Bruce Wayne, too. 

Starting to go grey, he is less of a playboy these days and more of a fatherly figure. Apparently, he’s on the Parent-Teacher Association for Gotham Academy. It’s an amusing thought. 

(It still doesn’t mean the Gotham populace isn’t drooling about him. If anything, the fatherly vibes seem to do something for, ah, certain cohorts. You did at once think he was attractive — really — but after knowing Tim… it just feels a bit odd.)

You are certain your prods for info go unnoticed. And they do. It is… something else that gets Ms. C’s attention. 

“You seem more happy these days,” she says offhandedly one morning, the two of you preparing the assignments for the day, as well as the tests the kids had taken last week that are now ready to be handed back. 

“I have a new friend,” you decide to say, because it shouldn’t hurt. 

She nods distractedly. “That’s nice. You did seem a bit lonely before.”

Which is funny because she never let on about it. And also because it’s so direct, you don’t know what to say.

“Nothing wrong with it,” she says after a minute. “I like to be alone. But there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, isn’t there?”

“I suppose so.”

“It’s good, then, that you have someone now.”

“He’s just a friend,” you chuckle, scratching your cheek awkwardly. 

“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” she says, finally looking at you, amusement twinkling in her hazel eyes. 

“Right.”

“Well… good for you.”

“Thanks.” You smile at her and mean it. 

It is good for you. 

Really good for you. 

Which is why, you suppose, things take a sharp downturn one Thursday evening. 

Truthfully, you have no idea how you made it back to Rose Oaks. 

Your fingers shake as you try to lock your bike to the rack. It takes you a couple tries to get the lock into place. 

You straighten, your body aching as you do, and you limp through the entrance. The doorman does a double-take at the sight of you. 

“Have a good night,” you mumble to him, going over to the elevators. You press the button. Your eyes catch the shredded skin on your arm, red and raw. You let your hand drop. 

It happened too quickly for you to do anything. 

All you know is you’d been biking down Cameron, the sun setting, others starting to make their way home for the day, then there was a boom that rattled the street and buildings and people panicked, because this is Gotham and any unusual activity is dangerous activity and you don’t stick around to play the hero, and if people start running, you start running, too. Doesn’t matter if you don’t know what’s happening, just do it, because it could be the difference between life and death in a world like this. 

You know all of this. 

But you never stood a chance against the rush. 

You barely managed to scrape yourself off the ground, grab your bike, and break free, trying not to think about how you very well could’ve been stampeded to death and that’s not a very fun or dignifying death at all, is it? But it’s Gotham. Death is not fun or dignifying here. It’s miserable and painful and a cautionary tale to those that live to see the next day, just another addition to the fine print of living in this city. 

Ding. The doors open. You step in. Your legs feel weak. 

“Hold the door!”

Your hand shoots to the panel, holding down the open doors button. Someone rushes in in the next second. 

“Hey, thanks for that —” the polite gratitude is swapped out for frantic concern in the next second, your name wrapped up in it. 

You blink and find Tim in front of you, eyes wide in concern, hands hovering over you, as if afraid to touch you. It confuses you, because it’s not like you’ve ever shied away from him. If anything, you’re horribly, horribly touch-starved. If he let you, you’d be plastered to his side twenty-four-seven. Or, not twenty-four-seven, but you know. When you two are watching a movie or a TV show and he lets you throw your legs over his lap, you have to be really normal about how he rests his hands on your legs. 

(He isn’t even doing anything, it’s just the pressure, the touch, that makes you want to sidle up beside him and never let go.)

Oh. Where did that come from?

He says your name again and you shake your head. 

“What?” 

“You can let the doors close,” he says softly and you turn and realize you are still pressing the button. 

You let it go. 

The doors close. 

You hadn’t pressed your floor, though, so he does it for you. The elevator starts moving in the next second. 

Tim looks carefully at you, concern still clear on his face. 

“What happened?” he asks gently. 

“I… I got knocked off my bike. It — it was an accident. People were just… panicking. There was…” Your chest tightens, until every breath feels like a struggle and why are you so cold? “An… an explosion. I… I don’t know.”

He realizes something. “Off Cameron?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I —?” He gestures to your arm. 

Strange to ask. Unsettling in a way. 

“You… you don’t need to ask.” 

He softens at your response and his hand finds your left one, turning your hand up, where your palm is a little scraped up from your spill. Your forearm is worse off, road rash peeling the skin off, exposed and throbbing. 

Tim’s fingers are warm against your cool skin, his hands calloused but still soft. 

“I’m fine,” you say, though you aren’t sure why.

He looks up at you, the look in his eyes… You have to look away, shaking your head. 

“I’m fine,” you say again.

“You’re hurt,” he counters gently. “Let me take care of this. Do you have a first aid kit?”

“It’s old. I don’t… Haven’t used it since I got it a few years ago.”

“Then why don’t we go to my place so we can grab mine?”

“Okay.”

He turns to the panel to press the button for the fifteenth floor. 

The elevator pauses at the fourteenth floor but you two stay on. 

Tim’s hand holds onto yours, gently, avoiding the scraped skin of your palm. He leads you out, to his apartment. His is bigger, better, than yours. But it just feels more empty when you come inside. Alien in a way you don’t like. You’ve spent a lot of time here but you want your apartment, with the crabitat, your fridge with drawings from the kids, your messy coffee table with tests and assignments that need to be graded, your sometimes clumsily-made pottery pieces on display. 

He can tell, you think. Because he lets go of your hand at the door and moves quickly, murmuring for you to give him a second. 

He disappears down the hall. Your feet ache from work and your knee and thigh aches from the road rash you sustained there, too, the material of your slacks torn. Because it’s already April and the days are growing warm, you’re in a short-sleeved blouse, which accounts for the scrapes on your arms. 

More than that, you want nothing more than to lie down and sleep for the next week. 

But no… You have work tomorrow. The thought burns through you, frustration and exhaustion sparking hot in your chest. Your eyes sting and you close them, swallowing down the emotion. 

It’s fine. It’s fine. You can handle it. 

You will. 

Tim returns, then, first aid kit in hand. He pauses for a second, gazing at you, and you turn away first, opening the door. He follows you. 

You take the elevator back down. 

Soon, you’re stepping into your apartment. The light in the crabitat is the only thing on, glowing in the darkness like a lighthouse on the shore guiding you home. Something inside you unwinds. 

Tim turns on the light. You take off your shoes and drop your backpack near the coffee table. 

“Take a shower,” he suggests. “Then I’ll patch you up. I’ll be in here, okay? Want me to feed the boys, too?”

You blink, starting to return to yourself. “I… Yeah. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“What is it today? Fresh or canned?” 

You blink. “How do you…”

Tim cracks a smile. “I’ve seen you do it a bunch of times, the way you alternate. But I’ve also done my own research. I was curious.”

“Right… um, canned today. They had fresh food yesterday.” You pause, starting to feel this strange creeping feeling inside your chest. You don’t like it, so you try to push it away. “Thanks, Tim.”

His face softens. “Of course.”

You head for your bedroom while he heads for the crabitat. 

You pull out a fresh change of clothes, a pair of white linen shorts, heeding your scraped up knee and thigh, then an old high school softball t-shirt. 

You have a door to the bathroom in your room, then another door from the living room. You lock both and turn on the shower. 

Inside, you finally get a look at yourself. Your breathing stutters as you understand why the doorman was concerned, then why Tim was — is — too. Your cream-colored slacks are smudged with dirt and a few tire tracks from your bike when you fell. The fabric at the knee is torn, too, edges turned red from the blood. More fabric at the side of your thigh is torn, skin scraped and raw. Your pale blue blouse is in a similar state. Your arms are scraped up, rubbed raw from the sidewalk. 

You look like a mess. 

Hot humiliation bubbles inside you, along with fresh terror as you replay what happened inside your head. 

Your eyes burn as you strip. Your scrapes burn even more when you step into the shower, the hot water making them throb, and you finally let your tears fall. 

You work to keep your cries silent, though, wary of how noise echoes inside the shower. You don’t want Tim to know. You don’t want him to worry more than he already is. 

It takes a while for you to piece yourself back together, but after washing your hair and body with your familiar smelling shampoo and soap, you manage to do it. Your injuries ache, though, especially when the towel brushes against them as you dry off. 

Soon, you are reluctantly stepping out of your bedroom and into the living room. 

The TV is on, playing season one of Spongebob. Tim, in the kitchen at the stove, turns, smile flitting across his lips. 

“Hey, you’re just in time. I hope you didn’t mind me using the kitchen but I figured you hadn’t eaten dinner yet.”

Something spasms inside your chest. 

You shake your head. 

“Take a seat,” he says. “I’ll bring it over.”

You go to him. 

He doesn’t say anything, ladling tomato soup into a bowl cushioned by a potholder. A grilled cheese sandwich sits on a plate on the counter. You pick up the plate, then take the bowl and a spoon as well. 

“Water?”

You nod and seeing as you no longer have the hands for it, decide to just let him do it and head over to the couch. Your knee protests as you sit down. Your whole body protests, actually. 

Tim brings a glass of water for you, along with a bottle of Tylenol, then sits down. 

“You should eat, too,” you say.

“I can eat after.”

“Tim —”

He says your name. You stop. He grabs the first aid kit. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

But you do worry about it. You worry about this, about him making you food, about him putting off his own meal to take care of you, about him taking care of you. 

In that moment, you feel terribly, terribly burdensome. 

He inspects your hands first so you can eat and deems the scrapes not bad enough to cover, then moves to your leg. 

You sip your tomato soup and take bites of the grilled cheese, oddly famished. 

“It’s the adrenaline,” he says. You imagine you must’ve looked confused at your own hunger for him to say something. 

“Huh?”

“The adrenaline,” he says again. “Coming down from it, you get hungry. And tired.”

You have fuzzy memories of your psych classes. That is true. Also probably why you are still cold. 

How does he know that, though?

At your question, he shrugs. “You know how much time I have to myself. I have to do something to occupy it.”

“Maybe you can take up knitting.”

“Nah, I already know how to sew.”

“So, you know how to sew but not do your own laundry?”

He flashes a smile at you. “Exactly.”

You laugh despite yourself. 

His smile softens, then he looks back to your knee, grabbing a piece of gauze. 

“Aren’t you going to disinfect it?”

“Rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide aren’t great for cleaning cuts, actually. It kills the bacteria but it kills the normal cells, too. You need those to heal. Did you wash it well during the shower?”

You nod. 

“So, that works, and we can do something else, too.” 

He pushes up from the couch, heading over to the kitchen, riffling through your cabinets. You turn your eyes back to the TV and take a drink of your water. Your fingers itch to change it to the news, to see what happened, to see if there were casualties. 

But Tim returns before you can grab the remote. 

He has a bowl of soapy water in hand, setting it carefully on the coffee table, then sitting next to you again. 

“This might sting,” he warns, dipping one of the pieces of gauze in the water then gently dabbing the edges of the scrape. 

It does sting but not as bad as the alcohol might’ve. 

“So, how do you know this stuff?” you ask quietly. 

“I was clumsy as a kid.”

You wonder if that clumsiness has much to do with the scars you’ve seen on him. Some on his knuckles, on his arms. He sports fresher ones sometimes. The shadow of a bruise hidden under the hair that falls sharply over his forehead, the occasional cut. He always blames it on his clumsiness and you have no choice but to believe him. What other option is there? He isn’t dating anyone that could be doing that and he hangs out with his friends and siblings sometimes but they wouldn’t do things like that. 

Well. You don’t actually know them. But… still. 

He finishes cleaning the edges of the scrape, then he applies a little bit of Neosporin and tapes gauze over it. He does the same with the one on the side of your thigh. 

Tim works attentively, not even sparing a glance at the TV once. You should know by now, the way he dedicates himself to things like this, how he will listen to you talk about something to do with school or with the crabs or with a movie or TV show. Every iota of his attention and concentration is on you. It flusters you sometimes, to be paid so much attention, but you would be lying if you said you hated it. 

Now, with him turning that familiar concentration to taking care of you… you don’t know. 

He has to have better things to do than doing this. 

“Are you going to work tomorrow?” he asks, gently taping a piece of gauze over the scrape on your arm. 

“Most likely.”

He nods wordlessly in acknowledgement and moves back, leaning forward to collect the used pieces of gauze and trash from the tape. 

You chew at the inside of your cheek. “It’ll be fine. It’s… it’s fine.”

“Just don’t strain yourself,” he says gently. “Did you want a ride? I don’t —”

“No.”

An awkward silence follows your abrupt denial. You don’t miss the flash of hurt on his face. It stabs you right in the heart. You look away. 

“I mean, thank you, Tim, but, um, it’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to do that. I get up pretty early in the mornings and… Yeah.”

You stand, your knee — your body, really — protesting but you ignore it, stacking your plate and bowl, then grabbing your empty cup. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you continue, dropping them into the sink. “And I appreciate it, really. Thank you. But you don’t have to do any more. So, if you have… other things to do. You know. Go ahead.”

“I have nothing else to do,” he says, surprising you as he appears by your elbow, throwing away the trash from the gauze and the tape. The look on his face is hard to describe. Caught between some cross of disappointment and determination. A part of you shrinks at it. At the thought of disappointing him. 

“Let me wash it,” he says, stopping you before you can turn on the faucet. “Give your hands a break. Give yourself a break, okay?”

Some part of you wants to fight it. Wants to say he should try that, too. As if you don’t see how tired he looks sometimes, staying up late to do reports for WE. For whatever reason, he’s working more with them. A few weeks ago, he had to fly to New York. Something about R&D. He returned exhausted from the trip. 

But you clamp the impulse. That’s not necessary. It’s not about him. It’s about you. This is… It’s unnecessarily difficult to let yourself be taken care of right now. You have an inkling as to why but the energy needed for that kind of introspection is lost on you. So, you let him take care of the dishes and slink back to the couch, slouching into the cushions, feeling exhaustion tug persistently at you. 

Yawning, you pull the blanket hanging over the back of the couch onto your body. The Tylenol you took before has already kicked in and with your hunger satiated and your pains taken care of for the most part, you are ready to go to sleep for the rest of the night. 

You fight the impulse, though, sparing a glance at the kitchen. 

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“You better eat.”

He laughs and your chest warms at the sound. 

“Alright,” he says, tossing a smile over his shoulder at you. “I’ll eat.”

You nod and turn back to the TV, picking up the remote and switching to the local news channel. 

The poised voice of the GNN news anchor replaces the Spongebob theme song. 

Tim pauses in turning on the stove.

“An incident in the Upper West Side tonight, a laundromat off Cameron Avenue went up in flames after a dryer exploded. Miraculously, there were no casualties inside the laundromat, however, the explosion caused much panic on the streets, resulting in at least one person dead from the rush and many others injured. No doubt, people believed it to be some kind of attack, especially with the recent news that the Joker has broken out of Arkham again and police have been unable to track him down —”

You change it back to Spongebob. 

A laundromat. 

Just a laundromat. 

No real danger. No threat of death. 

All this… because of the collective anxiety Gothamites hold. You aren’t holding it against them, you’re just…

Tired. Exhausted. That’s what this city does sometimes.

A lot of the time.

You swallow past the uncomfortable tightness in your throat, close your eyes, and let yourself be whisked to sleep, where things are easier, simpler, and you can just… forget. If only for a little while. 

━ end notes

1. it was brief but i largely prefer the thought that gotham is not as evil or horrible as people like to make it, or better yet, that the city does stink but people still stay there and they still try to be kind in spite of a horribly corrupt government that is in fact the root of almost all the problems. it's really just the sociologist in me (seriously, that's my minor!)

2. reader briefly mentioned the diamond club, which are typically the seats directly behind home plate and they are crazy expensive. here is the seattle mariners' diamond club prices for reference

3. technically, in canon, i don't believe the knights' have ever mentioned a mascot and what kind. i also admittedly did indulge in letting both the baseball and football team be called the knights but let's ignore that. anyway, i made up the king arthur mascot thing on the fly. couldn't think of anything else knight-related that would work, other than an actual knight. for mlb teams, it isn't always on the nose. like the seattle mariners' mascot is the mariner moose. so, that's why i went with king arthur.

4. dick is not living in gotham or bludhaven anymore and instead in new york because i think he deserves a little (a lot) of space from bruce for his own peace of mind and um general mental health

5. also yeah jason is alive to the public here. i know that is the same in rebirth (i think) but i don't know the details, so if the story behind that is different, that's why, because i also made it up. but it is slightly inspired by this fantastic au on if talia brought jason home after restoring his mind with the lazarus pit, seriously read this, the characterizations are so fantastic; also it's important to me that you all know i am the number one talia truther ever and that shit about him sleeping with her in lost days is blocked from my mind.

ANYWAY. continuing point number five. i have too many thoughts on jason. in my mind and in this, i've changed a lot but that won't Actually be discussed here. there isn't much batfam interaction at all other than these mentions. steph, cass, and duke do appear towards the end (as well as some very very brief appearances by cassie, kon, and bart) but that's really it. it's not very batfam-centric at all, it's more centered around tim and reader.

6. and this is my last one i SWEAR i know the order in which the kids were mentioned in reader's narration was dick, jason, cass, tim, and damian, but if we were going by ages, it's dick, cass, jason, tim, and damian. it is again important to me that cass is a few months older than jason for no reason in particular other than i think it would annoy him and please her.

reblogs are appreciated!

#red robin #dc comics #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #red robin x reader #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #batfam x you #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n

[gretahayes]

Okay so I agree that Winick idolizes Bruce BUT he also very much did choose to have Bruce “my bad parenting comes from my pathological fear of losing a loved one” Wayne of all people maim (kill?) his own son in Batman: Under the Hood rather than risk the Joker’s life. The Joker. Who he was canonically ready to kill for what he did to Jason?! Who he has seriously considered killing before and since?!

It makes no damn sense. It does not even compel me, except to wonder why Winick ever came up with it in the first place! Every day I have to delude myself about which ending is canon between the comics and the animated movie or else risk my own Jokerfication (see Fig. 1)

Anyway, yeah. I think Judd Winick loves Batman, but he doesn’t get him. He has a real issue in my eyes where he is good at coming up with amazing premises and plot lines but he fumbles when it comes to figuring out how to create dynamic relationships or character motivations.

(Fig. 1):

winick loves writing big plottwists or things that’ll shock the audience but it’s always either horribly ooc or just dumb (winick and that ollie retcon i hope you die forever btw. in hell). i genuinely don’t know how it didn’t click that he wrote utrh...winick unable to write father-son relationships or any batman character real. he idolizes heroes but doesn’t get them as people. ugh

#asks

[elithemiar-blog]

I’ve had an idea of how to connect Sam and/or Tucker to Bruce. It’s implementing it that’s a bit of a problem.

My first thought was Sam actually being a child of Bruce, however due to Grandma Ida, that dropped. But maybe Ida dyed her hair like Sam. Her parents are blonde, or she just happened to get black hair from Grandma Ida. Sam wears contacts, not sure if that’s a common HC within DP, but I’m going with it.

There were a couple of other thoughts, like the Masons pulled a Bruce, and adopted Sam. They still love her like their own, but they want a respectful princess out of her, instead of the rebellion that they got.

Maybe Bruce Wayne is Sam’s pseudo-uncle. I’m unsure of timeline wise, but maybe Dick and Jason vaguely remember her when she was a sweet innocent little girl, maybe Tim met her for a short time (a bit of a shock, when they meet again).

So, Jeremy and Pamela are tired of Sam rebelling, and sending her to Bruce Wayne, hoping her pseudo-uncle will help. Like Danny isn’t the only one having problems with curfew and homework, she doesn’t get caught as much, considering that Danny can usually get them home in time of their own curfews. 

(FW: A very long post. Not kidding, got a little out of hand. Oops.)

The ghosts have gotten worse, and truly the primary defense is a couple of teenagers. Sam has been researching some kind of mystery that has the normal rouges more powerful than before, which has caused her grades to drop and even longer nights of her not coming home on time.

Anyway, for a short while (1-3months [summer?]) Sam is sent to live with the Wayne’s as a way to sort out her rebellion. Through-out the entire time she’s trying to figure out the reason behind the ghosts’ power increase. Still, despite being all the way from Amity Park, she’s still part of Team Phantom, and she has her mind set on figuring it out. This decision also makes a bad impression on the Wayne family.

Everything is going great until the power increase isn’t limited to Amity, but everywhere, including Gotham. And all she has brought with her is a thermos and a basic ecto-blaster (not like Gotham is Amity, but better safe than sorry).

That’s really all I had going through my head for Sam. Her plant power from Undergrowth’s corruption may have been spotted by one of the family. Maybe the ecto-weapons got picked up from another. Like each member of the family figures out something from Sam, but it never really gets put together until Sam comes forward.

Sam knows the Wayne family is in some way connected to the Batclan, she’s just not entirely sure on how. She’s trying to make sure that the batfam don’t find out about Amity through the Wayne family.

---

Tucker was a little more difficult to figure out. First thought, relation to Duke, but then that was a stretch (as in less coincidence, and more natural relation [does that make sense?]). Instead, he’s got family working WE, so he gets more WE tech, and maybe that helps him code better for the ghost tech. A certain component is necessary for Danny working on his parent’s inventions, and so he’s gotta make an honest trade. Just a visit. The component necessary is still under testing and isn’t quite up for public sale.

When Tucker does end up visiting his relative, both of them get caught by Tim before the component can leave the tower. Thanks to Tucker improving it in some fashion, Tim approves taking it to his friend, he just really wants to know what the invention is.

---

My brain stopped here for a moment, and then the thought of the trio reuniting in Gotham hit hard.

Maybe a convention, not a ghost convention, maybe a space convention, which gives Danny an opportunity. They should hit Gotham anyway since Amity is too off and getting a weaker ecto-input as a baseline may help figure out the mystery. Which a space convention can be the alibi that Danny needs to use. Jazz goes with to watch out for her little brother, and since they keep contact with Sam and Tucker who are already in Gotham, they bring more weapons. Thinking ahead, Danny does bring the invention that used the component, so Tucker can show Tim.

Not sure where to go from here. As for the mystery, maybe it’s just a section of time. Like every thousand years or so, there’s an increase in power for the dead/undead, that takes a few months to resettle. It’s not a major thing. For some of the ghosts of Gotham, they just get a little too much for the vigilantes can handle without the appropriate technologies.

Other cities aren’t as bad, Gotham is just covered in death, that some ghosts just got a little extra. 

Either Team Phantom gets away with what they need to do, without the Batfam’s knowledge, or they absolutely shatter their secret. Danny’s secret was actually the very first thing they figured out, he ain’t so sneaky as he thinks. The situation with Amity Park on the other hand...

#dp x dc #dc x dp #sam manson #tucker foley #batfam #batpham #except sam instead of danny #idea got out of hand #use any of this or take apart to your hearts desire

[coolestwriterartistthatsucks]

How the Batboys View Food (HCs)

(A/N: BIG OL TRIGGER WARNING. I’ve been writing other stuff on other blogs but I wanted you to dump this here cause writer is struggling with food :3 and I see a lot of ways that the batboys could have the same mindsets. So this is a lot of me projecting but also just drabbling. Pretty angsty I guess in some parts, enjoy. If you’re struggling with eating or self-image, feel free to reach out to me bb, my dms are open <3)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: eating disorders, unhealthy views of food, anxiety, food insecurity, angst, writer lowkey projecting, this shit is probably VERY decently triggering so be warned please please please, my feelings will not be hurt if you skip

Let me reiterate that THESE ARE NOT HEALTHY VIEWS OF FOOD. Many of the thoughts portrayed are HOW THEY THINK of food, not ways you SHOULD or COULD think of food. It’s cathartic to see them through the light of my own issues, I wanted to share. Love you all.

————————

Bruce Wayne

Probably one of the healthiest views of food

He grew up without ever having food insecurity AT ALL bc he’s so so rich

But he has been starving before when he worked with the League of Shadows, which means he knows the feeling.

All it is is unpleasant to him, though

He’s trained to be able to deal with it, so I think Alfred definitely has to make sure he’s eating

But he’s not doing it on purpose.

He understands EDs, and he takes them super seriously, but he’s never struggled with that, really.

He might go through phases of body dysmorphia because of wanting to be as physically adept as he can be, but I don’t think that would have to do with restricting food very much.

Again, Alfred lets him know when he’s doing too much

I think he likes good food, but he’s been so spoiled in that sense that it’s not really a big priority to him

Dick Grayson

Writer projecting on Dick Grayson pt 1/many

Ok so Dick was raised in the circus, being a child athlete (acrobat)

Obviously his parents were super wholesome, they weren’t much of a root of any problem

But having comments on your physical performance, being stuck in a tight ass leotard, thinking so much about your body at a young age, all of these lead to some type of problems.

Writer is 100% not projecting their ballet childhood

Poor little Dick watched the Strongman talk about his food intake and protein and calories and he thought “wow, I should do that to be strong too”

Cue guilt around food

Dick sees food, at least for the first part of his life, as an obstacle

The less he can get of it, the more strong he can be

He kind of sees it as something to be counted, measured (Dick is wrong, reader, eat your burger and enjoy it >:()

He doesn’t actually starve himself to a point that he starts to get skinny, but he restricts himself to have peak performance

It’s just that his mindset about it is so bad

One time Alfred cooks dinner and Dick is having a bad day (Robin or young Nightwing days). He steps in and just-

“… I had a burger for lunch” said Dick, looking frozen in place.

Bruce just chuckles, not noticing his discomfort. “Hey, that’s fine. You can jog it off tomorrow. Plus, you could do to put some weight on, yknow?”

“No, I… I can’t. I’m at my limit. I wasn’t gonna eat dinner,” Dick tries to explain, picking at his thumb nervously.

“… What do you mean your limit?”

“I uh… diet” Dick says, though his heart is quickening.

…

“Are you counting calories, Dick?”

Long conversation ensues

That might be super ooc, you get the idea

Bruce does not STAND for it

Dick recovers while Jason’s a kid.

He might have a relapse when Jason dies, just out of grief

But he gets over it

He can’t ever get rid of that voice that tells him that what he’s consuming is numbers

But he’s started fostering one that tells him how delicious that goddamn hotdog is, which is pretty cool

Jason Todd

Poor baby :((((

He grew up poor, so food insecurity was probably definitely present

Plus his mom wasn’t super into taking care of his needs

So he grew to subconsciously see food as fuel, but in a less healthy way.

He learned to measure how much he was able to run on, what gave him the most energy rather than what was good for him or tasty

All of this was for survival until he showed up at the manor

At first he was ecstatic about having more food security

And he was never one to turn down food

But out of habit he kind of never got food for himself on purpose unless he REALLY needed it

The type of kid to say “but I don’t need lunch, I had breakfast.”

Which is valid in some cases depending on whatever, but the subconscious thing that was nagging him was the small fear that still lived in him of someday not being able to live in that same security he’s grown to know

Bruce has to make sure he eats, because he’ll always eat what he’s offered without a second thought. He just won’t feed himself

Jason is 100% convinced he’s fine, he just doesn’t need it.

He does, in fact, need three meals a day with his highly active twelve year old boy self smh

When he comes back as Red Hood, he still kind of carries that with him, but he’s more willing to eat now.

I think dying kind of made him realize that he doesn’t want to miss out on anything or hold himself back

Plus he has a lot more muscle to feed now

If it makes sense, he just kind of doesn’t think of food much at all now

Much like Bruce

Tim Drake

Ugly sobbing :3

Writer projecting pt 2

Tim, Tim, Tim, neglected Tim :(

He views food very much as something earned

He enjoys his junk food or whatever, but he feels like if he’s not doing good enough he doesn’t deserve to eat at all

Nervous wreck he is, this happens often

Doesn’t do well on a mission? No dinner.

Not doing well in a class? Not eating till he fixes that grade.

Bruce finds out and almost passes out cause WHY ARE ALL THESE KIDS HAVING THESE ISSUES

It’s because writer is projecting, sorry Bruce

Bruce helps him through it a lot

Cheat code: if you go through a significant amount of effort to make him food he can’t turn it down

Or if you buy it for him

It’s an anxiety and bargaining thing for him, but he’s a tough boy he gets thru it 💪💪💪

Damian Wayne

Hot take but the league actually has pretty healthy standards on eating

They need to be efficient, yeah, but they recognize that to do that they need FOOD

He might be a little skittish around like processed food or new foods though

Has a thing for texture

Overall one of the healthier views on it though, and everyone else is watching him like a hawk to make sure it fucking stays that way

#tw ed diet #tw ed but not sheeran #tw ana trigger #tw food #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #batfam #batboys #angst #dc

[androxys]

Agency and Guilt in the Death of the Waynes

I was recently talking with @swtextstoandrew about the Harley Quinn TV show, specifically the episodes “Batman Begins Forever.” The title refers to how, in Bruce Wayne’s mind, he is depicted as always reliving the moment of his parents’ murder, the genesis of Batman, over and over... forever. And the show takes the approach that part of the reason that Bruce is stuck in this mode is that he harbors some guilt over it, and that’s what we ended up talking about.

I have some STRONG opinions about the death of the Waynes. I think that it is absolutely crucial, on a narrative scale, for the Waynes to to be fundamentally good and decent people who were victims of a senseless, unapologetically evil act. I don’t want them to be in cahoots with the Falcones, or the Court of Owls, or to be taking any sorts of bribes. I don’t even want them to be mustache twirling billionaires, or even the mundane garden variety billionaires that we have in the real world who are guilty for social inaction despite their insane amount of money and ability to make the world better. I want, and I think the narrative needs, the Waynes to be good people. In the Falcone example, Thomas Wayne helps Carmine Falcone because he is a doctor, and Carmine is in front of him dying, and the immediate and sacred call to save a life must be answered. (In this narrative, it must always be answered)

Because all of this leads directly into Bruce becoming Batman, and it informs how he is Batman. If his parents’ death isn’t random and senseless, I just don’t think his crusade makes as much sense, nor does it have the same narrative cohesion or satisfaction (and, let’s be real because this is a business that relies on lots of issues: long term story potential). If it wasn’t random and senseless, it would be avenge-able. Batman would get Joe Chill, justice would be done, and that would be that. If they were bad, the Waynes got what was coming to them and their son made it right. Maybe? Maybe then Bruce could be Batman as a way to atone for his parents’ crimes? Maybe? Even if Bruce doesn’t get Joe Chill, and is just punishing all crime as a proxy for that, it’s still about him and his parents. Of course, it’s always about his and his parents, but it’s usually as subtext to the larger message: Batman opposes Crime. If the Waynes are fundamentally good people killed by senseless evil, then Bruce’s mission becomes aimed at that senseless evil. Crime as a capital C concept. Now we have a crusade.

I could talk more here about how Robin-as-a-concept is such a natural progression out of this trauma, a man who is hurt so much by the death of his parents healing in part by becoming a parental figure, or about the Robin parallel of Bruce intervening in cases to try to keep these children from turning out like him, but this is ostensibly about the Harley Quinn episode.

In the episode, it’s revealed that Bruce harbors a lot of guilt about his perceived role in his parents’ death (the visual way in which the show presents this is such a great moment). I definitely agree that any version of Bruce Wayne will, inevitably, feel some amount of guilt for the death of his parents. It’s part of the whatever’s-wrong-with-him chemistry that makes an eight year old want to grow up to be Batman. It doesn’t matter how not-his-fault the event was, he will find a way to internalize some guilt from it. And that too, is narratively necessary, I think. It’s part of the drive. But to go with the above, I think stories that do give Bruce some part in the death of his parents does a greater disservice to the Batman mythos, even though it may seem like they’re doing something more intrinsically motivating. It has to be a tragedy of many moving pieces, of things coming together and failing to come together, to understand how the Waynes were failed by the notion of a just world and how Batman was created by that failure.

Anyway, go watch HBO’s Harley Quinn. It’s fun.

#chit chat #batman #dc comics #harley quinn

[captain-ariel-rogers]

Random question again!! 😂😅🤭

Can you tell the similarities and differences between Araminta,Elena,Bethany,Travis, Elliott,Bruce and Christian?

Sure!

Elena has more of a brain than Araminta does. 😂 like she still makes a couple questionable decisions but she has a sense of self preservation that Araminta never did. A lot of my early readers have said Elena is one of their favorite female characters because she’s so relatable! Elena isn’t as whiny and annoying as Araminta, and actually has some semblance of a backbone. Araminta walked so Elena could run. Also Elena (later on in the book) gets Stockholm Syndrome real bad whereas Araminta just wanted to be loved and spoiled. Elena is TRAPPED with Christian whereas I think if Araminta truly didn’t want to be with Bruce anymore, he would have eventually let her go.

Bruce and Christian are nothing alike other than they’re filthy rich and their parents died when they were younger. Bruce in OMO is kinda a recluse but Christian likes to go out, spend money, make a name for himself. He’s not a playboy though. Christian is more akin to Bale’s Bruce Wayne than Pattinson’s. I really wouldn’t say (my version of) Bruce and Christian are similar at all. Also I’m not a Bruce Wayne expert but as far as mental illness goes Bruce has PTSD, but Christian has PTSD, depression, anger issues, and DID.

Bethany and Travis are exactly the same. I just expanded on them a tiny bit in the book.

Elliot is even more of a hardass in the book. He loves Elena but is very much unsupportive of her life choices to chase a career in Meridian City (because that’s where his family was murdered). I took the cancer storyline from the alternate ending of OMO and gave it to Elliot in Under Your Scars, explaining that he has a massive tumor in his brain to explain why he starts going off the deep end. Also Elliot doesn’t create his own villain persona, he just steals the Silencers. Elena and Elliot fight and argue a lot more in the book whereas Elliott and Araminta got along better, but the love is still there. Oh also Elliot (book version) is/was a murderer long before Christian came into the picture but that’s where I’ll leave that because it’s a spoiler (:

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A New Brother

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/JH1jMOt

by Sishal

Jason survived the Joker. But that doesn’t mean that he’s all right. And to make matters worse, Bruce seems to want to adopt the neighbor's kid. Well, it probably makes sense, since Jason can’t do jack shit now to help Bruce as Robin.

Words: 4305, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake

Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Additional Tags: Young Jason Todd, Baby Tim Drake, Accidental Brother Acquisition, Family Bonding, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd survived the Joker, Hurt Tim Drake, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Gets A Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Fluff and Angst, food insecurity, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Brotherly Bonding, bonding through sharing food, Unreliable Narrator, because of pain, pain really can mess with your head, And That Sucks

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/JH1jMOt

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

[jp-hunsecker]

Batman vs. Dracula Movie Review

Batman vs. Dracula is a trifecta of lazy writing; a public domain-cribbing direct-to-video crossover. If that weren’t bad enough, the script is rife with puns that would make Adam West himself blush — you know, along the lines of "Miss Vale lacks the bite I require in a mate," or "you're my second Batman tonight, and you're both pains in the neck" (why "second Batman"? Because the movie seems to be under the impression that 'bat' and 'vampire' are interchangeable). The above, however, are the apex of wit compared to Count Dracula’s alias; Dracula (the awesomely named Peter Stormare) introduces himself as "cultural anthropologist Dr. Alucard." Wait a second… Alucard is Dracula spelled backwards! Why didn’t anyone think of that before? Unbelievably, Bruce Wayne (Rino Romano) actually has to write the name down and hold it in front of a mirror before it fully sinks in ('The World's Greatest Detective' my ass). Dracula is not the only one prone to awkward introductions, though. While pursuing Vicki Vale (Tara Strong), the Penguin (Tom Kenny) uses the phrase "Here's Ozzy!" in what I presume is a reference to Ozzy Osbourne by way of The Shining (or viceversa). This might make sense if the Penguin were saying it to Batman, meaning "I’m going to bite your head off" or something like that; as it is, though, it’s a contrived non sequitur. And I haven’t even gotten to the expository dialogue, or should I say monologue? Batman and Alfred (Alastair Duncan) are especially guilty of egocentric speech (i.e., talking to themselves out loud); for example, "So this is how Dracula bypassed the crosses. I once tapped into these long forgotten catacombs. Apparently so did he," or "Master Bruce is triangulating his location, from within the catacombs? … I do hope this is a positive turn" (Master Bruce, as he is wont to do, also spends an inordinate amount of time thinking back to his dead parents; I guess I should be grateful that "Alucard" doesn’t turn out to be their killer this time around).

#batman vs dracula #batman #dracula #movie review #action #animation