Everything Geeky and Gay @mimiri22-6 - Tumblr Blog

Jason Todd has " Thomas and Martha Wayne stan" on his birth certificate, actually

Random “what would the Waynes wear at Galas” thoughts let’s go

I think Martha would wear the most scandalous outfits just to piss off the conservatives, and high nosed socialites. But also, she slays.

Thomas “I just performed a 32 hour heart surgery I don’t give a fuck” Wayne

Bruce “wants to be a Victorian vampire so bad it makes him look stupid” Wayne

Dick “I’m here; you’re welcome” Grayson

Jason “I didn’t want to be here but someone had to slay ig” Todd

Cass “man at any fashion event” Cain

Stephanie “Adam Sandler is peak fashion” Brown

bruciemilf

Billy did get suspended for a week, but it was so worth it.

bruciemilf

I'm bored; Have some crack!!

bruciemilf

bruciemilf jumpscare

joekitsu

I always just imagine a ‘do it for him’ board in the GCPD or Rouge hideout or whatever since Batman is literally the only reason so much of the city is still functioning and even going against crime or doing crime lmao. The duality of a man like Bruce Wayne. Giving people a reason to go against crime and giving others a reason to commit it 😂 (these thoughts were inspired by that one post of Khoa having a do it for him board. And honestly? He would do that, with the stalking behavior and quit killing bc of Bruce and all that) also it would be so funny if Bruce knows about all that and just mentions it to people.

Bruce: Oh yeah, I once had a best friend who copied my whole identity and altered his face to look exactly like me (Thomas Elliot)

Bruce: You know, a friend of mine stalked me for a decade or so! . . . We’re still friends :) he stopped killing for me btw and I’m so proud of him-! :D (Khoa)

Bruce: I had a friend who got disfigured and half his face burnt off by acid. I still visit him every now and then, ignoring the shrine ofc. (Harvey Dent)

Bruce: My *cough* best friend once destroyed a whole entire universe in one of the multi universes we found existed. Clark is too good of a person to do any of that though but if he did ever go evil, I bet he’d do worse for Lois :) (is destroying a whole universe or ruling it worse? Who knows….)

The people he was taking to: …….😀😟🫣👀

Bruce: what? Is that not normal friend behavior?

Wait-….what do you expect from my lovers…?

Seriously, why do so many of his close friends go insane for him 😭 and that’s not even including the whole flipping rouges gallery 😃 Bruce needs to come with a damn label or smth

[Warning: If contacted with, your psyche and emotional wellbeing will be forever linked to this human, whether you like it or not. No matter how psychotic you are, you will develop care for him. Do not interact with if you do not want this outcome.]

Anyway, have a great day/night! <3 Love your posts! (Sorry if the long ask bothers you)

Hi anon! Long asks never bother me, don't worry.

Oh and this definitely happens. There are dedicated shrines to Bruce Wayne around Gotham. There is a standing 'do not hurt too badly' order on him. There's a 70% chance two face will beat your ass if he is bleeding by the time he comes around.

The LoA has one too, Bruce was very liked and they hate to see him coning for a fight. They will fight him ofc but then they invite him for tea. Ra's is not an exception.

The JL common room has a small Brucie corner for weary members to gaze upon. They call him a sight for sore eyes and it's very literal. Clark has a calender. Oliver has the entire Wayne Makeup line.

And Khoa, oh what can I say about Khoa that we don't know already lol. You know the batkids HATE to see him coming.

I love the 'everyone loves Bruce Wayne' tag on ao3 and I petition for more fics with the tag now

haveihitanerve

Thought about Bruce calling Jason different variations of 'My __ little boy' (eg. 'My nerdy little boy', 'My mean little boy', 'My lovely little boy') And each time Jason is just like "Dad, it's only a 2 inch difference, I ain't little."

Even better if this isn't him saying it as Brucie, but as Bruce Wayne who just loves his little gremlin of a child even if he is an adult now.

The first time Bruce did it, Jason almost cried. They were at a Wayne Gala, and Bruce was leading him around, because he didn't trust anyone alone with his child want Jason running away, when they met a lovely old lady, a sweetheart, different to most Gotham Elite.

"Well, isn't he just darling." She cooed, and Bruce grew an actual smile, bending to kiss her hand.

"Mrs. Kershaw, a pleasure, as always. You look radiant. Also as always." He winked, and the woman, Mrs. Kershaw, laughed, blushing, as she pushed his shoulder teasingly.

"Och you, always knows just what to say." Jason pulled a face, but he couldn't deny it was nice to meet someone in Gotham at a Wayne event that Bruce actually liked. Mrs. Kershaw turned to Jason, bending so she was at eye level. A surprise, as most people took some sick pleasure in having height over him.

"Hello there dear, what's your name?" Jason offered a polite smile, waiting for the horrible pinching of his cheeks the older ladies seemed to be fond of.

"I'm Jason, ma'am."

"Jason Todd." Bruce added, and Jason shot him a confused look over his shoulder. When people, to be polite or something, asked his name, he always stuck to the first name, so that people didn't know he kept his own last name and wasn't a Wayne. Well, it was hyphenated, but that was a little too much.

But Mrs. Kershaw smiled, hands reaching dreadingly for Jason's cheeks. He tensed, but her hands were warm, and soft, and cradled his cheeks rather than pinched them. Like a mother. "You are such an angel, Jason Todd" She laughed, brushing his hair away from his face with a small smile.

"Putting up with Brucie all this time." Jason laughed, surprised that she was actually funny, and that she had insulted Bruce. To his face. But Bruce was grinning, seemingly pleased she liked him, and pleased he liked her, without even flinching at her Brucie.

"Yep. That's Jay." Bruce's hand landed on his shoulder, tugging him against his leg. Mrs. Kershaw straightened, pulling her hands away as Bruce rubbed his back. "My little angel boy." He laughed and continued conversing with her, but Jason couldn't hear anything. His ears were stuffed with wool, brain focused on those four little words. Those four, perfect words. My little angel boy. His boy. He was- he was Bruce's boy.

"It's always nice to see you Brucie, do stop by soon won't you? And bring your son, he's such a doll." Bruce laughed, drawing Jason back to the present.

"I certainly will," He promised, squeezing Jason's shoulder. "I don't go anywhere without my kiddo." He laughed again, and Jason wrapped his arms around his legs, squeezing tight.

The last time Bruce said it, Jason couldn't hear him. His body hurt, it burned, pain lacing every pore, every single cell. He could feel Bruce's arms around him, Batman suit scraping against his skin painfully, but he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything, and he didn't want to anyway. He didn't want Bruce to put him down. Not now.

Bruce's head was hung, on his knees, Jason clutched to his chest. Jason could see, faintly, out of the corner of his eyes, the remnants of a burning building. It looked familiar somehow, but the memories were just out of reach.

Bruce's lips were moving, repeating, chanting something, over and over, body shaking with silent sobs as cradled Jason's limp body. "My boy, my darling boy, my boy."

The next time Bruce said it, Jason almost punched him. "Is this him?" The voice was soft, disbelieving, and so, so grievously scratchy and old.

"It is, Mrs. Kershaw." Bruce answered quietly, holding the old woman's hand as he sat on the edge of her bed. "Its Jason. My baby boy." Jason gaped at him, taking a seat next to the bed.

"I'm two inches shorter than you, old man." He grumbled, leaning forward to be in Mrs. Kershaw's eyeline. "Hello ma'am." He greeted quietly. Mrs. Kershaw's eyes crinkled, and she reached one weathered, wrinkled hand for his cheek.

"Oh, oh my darling angel." She whispered, hand tracing the scars on his face. Jason fought the urge to squirm, to escape her condemnation, swallowing hard. Her eyes filled with tears as she cupped his cheek.

"I'm so sorry for all you went through, my Todd." Jason choked on his tears, heart constricting at the old nickname, the soft touch. Her fingers expertly wiped every tear away, smiling softly. Her hands dropped eventually, exhaustion clear in every breath.

"Take it easy, darling." Bruce murmured quietly, pressing a kiss to her hand again as he set it down on the bed. "We'll visit again soon." She smiled, hand reaching up one last time to snag Jason's.

"You done good, angel. Putting up with Brucie. He loves you." Jason smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her hand as well.

"I know ma'am. I know. Sleep well. We'll come visit." She smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go. "You'd better." Jason chuckled, exiting the room to meet Bruce, waiting outside with a smile.

"Hey old man." Bruce swung an arm around his shoulders, knocking their heads together gently. "Hey, my lovely little boy."

uhhhhhh hope you enjoyed??? So sorry for bringing in a random OC it just felt right??? Idk i hope you liked Mrs. Kershaw as much as I did, and hope my story satisfied you, I'm still working through all the asks I've gotten, but my motivation as been like... awful, so i'm trying but make no promises :/ sry for the wait but this one just sparked up some thoughts and i had to write it, hope you liked!

galaxysharks

Possibly unpopular opinion:

I really liked when Cass had really limited speech. It set her apart from the, let's be honest, lazy standard deal of Bruce's sidekicks.

She believes she communicates well because she understands the body languages of everyone around her, and doesn't necessarily process that no one else has any idea of what's happening. If shes got full ability to talk, then shes just being an ass and a mini bruce. And we have got to let her not be a mini bruce.

They're so similar. I want the story's to discuss that similarity and why cass struggles with it. She can see herself doing the things bruce does, but shes burdened with recognizing how badly it hurts people. She's not just a short batman. We already have tim and to some degree damian as short batman.

Especially when shes not being batgirl/orphan/black bat! There's a really compelling story of this awkward and fairly shy girl suddenly becoming one of The Socialites in Gothem. Not to mention she cant speak and is literally covered head to toe in serious scarring! Outside of the Brucie special, we really don't see much of the citizen side of the Wayne coin, and this would allow for a lot of great storyline. I know there's a little bit of discussion between her and babs regarding her looks but that is infamously a topic that takes time and care to work through.

I dont even mind when she has the limited speech, because her first word being 'Stop' has a really big character meaning. And fair enough it is funny when she responds in ways that are unexpected due to only having so many words. Also she has vocal chords, she for sure growls and such, because those are instinct sounds. Let me have my creechure. Amorphous shadow blob that hisses at bad guys.

Its another case of DC not wanting to put in the work for a female character and instead "fixing" the problem, or having her "be in Hong kong" like all the time. If batman can get to space in 20 seconds, cass can make it to dinner.

ratinapinksuit

canon batfam meets fanon batfam

You don’t understand how happy I got when I saw this in my inbox I plan on writing a longer post (which will probably expand into a fic) but we’ll break this down and have them take their turns. So sorry this took so long 💖💖

Dick Grayson: Thinking of Fanon Dick, he’s someone who has “oldest daughter syndrome” which means he argues with Bruce a lot (✅) on how to be a good parent (❌) and is a better parent than Bruce. (❌❌❌)

Dick would HATE this. He can be a pretty mean spirited person, especially when people insult his dad/batman. The “jolly happy go lucky” attitude is (to me) like Bruce’s Brucie Wayne persona. But he’d have a much, MUCH, bigger gripe about how Fanon Dick is a “better parent”. The animosity between Canon Dick and Fanon Dick would begin as they watch each other interact with their siblings and Bruce. C!Dick would hate how F!Dick parents the other Batkids and nags Bruce to be “a better father” and live up to unrealistic standards and expectations. Because how can a version of himself not love his dad??

C!Dick can NOT stand his siblings sometimes (not to say he hates them) and F!Dick feels like a caricature of the love he does have for his family.

Jason Todd: Idk much about Canon Jason outside of WEBTOON’s redhood and the outlaws, Jaybin, and his villain arc. But! I will try :) To me, Jason is someone who carries a lot of conviction in his beliefs says things how they are even if it’s harsh. Jason’s relationship with the family is rocky but they’re compatible after a lot of long, probably teary eyed, conversations. It’s not like it used to be, but it’s better than it was. Jason probably tries to act like he isn’t a part of the family, that he isn’t like them but the truth is he is exactly like them.

leni103fox

I hope that in The Batman 2 Robin will be depicted in the correct way.

I don’t want to see Dick as only the Happy Robin, or the Angry Robin or the Crashout Robin, those are funny nicknames we gives as a fandom. But in reality Dick is all of them and so much more. He's sad, terrified and so incredibly angry and hurt from the death of his parents. He is left alone in a city he doesn't know, whitout family, whitout his circus that he considered his home and where all of his friends where. He is scared and lonely, and Battison's Batman will see himself so much in him that it will just make so much sense that Bruce will takes him in.

Bonus point if Dick is put in the juvie like it happens in some runs, that along the events of the Riddler will actually make Battison's Bruce think to actively start to care for Gotham also outside of Batman, with the Wayne's foundation and all of his donations.

I think the movie will start with Bruce starting to change his imagine with the help of the new mayor, they are rebuilding Gotham toghter, with donations and reparations. And at night he helps as Batman. He is starting to shift from only being the Dark and the Vengeance to being something else but he is not there yet. Also the Brucie Wayne persona needs to start to appear too.

And then Dick Grayson enters the show. When Bruce takes the boy i'd like to see Bruce a bit lost and awkward, he is still young after all and he lost his parents at a young age. I want him to seek Alfred guidance often. He worries for the boy but at the same time he is often busy with the city during the day and Batman at night. And this will add to another problem.

Dick is lonely and sad. He is still grieving. Yes, he has a house now, he has warm clothes, a good school to attend, good food. But he misses his parents, the loudness of the circus. I want the Wayne Manor to appear dark and cold to Dick, especially since he is often left alone.

But Dick is a smart and clever boy and he is already plotting revenge for his parents, and he starts sneaking out at night to find his parents murderer. He meets Batman likes this, and something about the vigilante doesn't sits right to him.

He starts suspecting and he starts exploring the big Manor, maybe he also finds old things from Bruce childhood and Bruce talks to him of his own loss one day. Maybe there could be also some lighthearted scene of Dick jumping from chandeliers and making Alfred stressed if it fits the atmosphere of the film.

Eventually in a way or another, when Dick discovers the Cave (he is actually really excited that Bruce is Batman, here starts to reappear his light) and ask Bruce to help bring to justice his parents murderer, he takes on the Robin mantle. I want the meaning of Robin to be explained, so many people still doesn't know the meaning of the Robin name. That name is a name of love and family for Dick. Is the nickname his mom and dad had for him, and Dick is carring them with himself in the darkness of Gotham, he is taking the love he was given and is trying to help, to do good with it.

He is bringing light and hope to the city that took his parents from him.

And this starts to change both Batman and Bruce, but also the Gotham citizens starts to notice the small kid, jumping around with crazy acrobatics and wearing crazy colors.

Dickbin must be playfull (maybe starting to call things batcomputer, batmobile, batcave) and an annoying brat to opponents, but he also needs to be dedicated, agile, smart. He is still Dick Grayson, the Boy Wonder, after all, this kid will be the model for all the sidekicks after him, and for a good reason. I don’t want him to be just a happy child bouncing around, but neither an angry kid cursing everyone.

He is just a very bright child that was trown in the darkness and has to climb his way out.

But he, being the person he is, see the pontential in Batman and wants to help him and fight alongside him, be his partner, so that no other kid will loose his parents to the evilness in Gotham, and he will become the light of that city and the light of Batman too, the thing that makes him human again.

o-vera-nalyzing

after jason comes back to the league bruce finds out he’s in gotham but jason doesn’t want anything to do with him. bruce has no fucking clue what to do.

until.

he’s doing a short interview on a red carpet and the interviewer asks him who his fav gotham vigilante is. at first he’s just gonna give some random brucie wayne answer about batman being hot or something but then he has a lightbulb moment.

he then goes on to gush (for far longer than the interview should go on) about how he loves the red hood and what he’s doing for crime alley because that’s the one place wayne enterprises hasn’t been able to make an impact in. he also says he respects him even regardless of the killing because he understands his perspective that killing bad people stops them from hurting people in the future, even if bruce himself doesn’t think killing is right. the entire thing is slightly brucie, but far more bruce than the press generally sees

though he does end it by asking if anyone knows who the red hood’s stylist is because the white streak is just dashing

fairer-tales

Have we considered HoH bruce?

I mean, with all the years of being exposed to bombings, shootouts, collapsing buildings, other miscellaneous explosions, as well as an unknowable number of concussions and head injuries, chances are Bruce’s hearing is kinda shot.

I think one ear is probably worse than the other, from an instinct of turning his head away on a usual side from blows or loud noises. Both are probably bad, but the family (mostly Alfred) pressure him into getting a hearing aid for the worst ear when they realise Bruce can only hear them from one side, unless theyre practically on his shoulder.

He gets a discrete one, of course, because its for the best that society and the press don’t notice his hearing loss. Mostly, because it could raise questions: what is Brucie Wayne doing that made him lose his hearing? (In a lesser capacity, Bruce’s minuscule sense vanity; he gets called old enough by his kids, he doesn’t want the tabloids calling him senile just yet).

It’s certainly an improvement. He finds he no longer has to let out a hnmh? In question when the kids say something across the cave; seems to be getting less bruises to that side of his body after patrols. The last bit is probably unrelated, though.

No-one outside the family knows he’s hard of hearing, or uses a hearing aid, until he’s on patrol one night.

Firefly’s struck an apartment block; the Bats and the FDGC have been pulling people out of the blaze for what feels like hours. Bruce comes out with the last survivor, a little boy in his pyjamas and tears tracking down his cheeks. Batman tries to console him, ask him if he can see his parents, but the boy keeps shaking his head and murmuring, tapping the side of his head. Bruce connects the dots: his cochlear implants are missing.

Bruce sits the boy down on a nearby stretcher, facing him. Thankfully, he knows ASL (and Cass’ been keeping him well-practiced in it). He signs to the boy that it’s alright, they’re gon a find his parent or guardian. Is he hurt anywhere? Can you see your parents around?

The boy watches in awe. He responds to each question, lightening up with each signed inquiry. When Batman’s done, he signs: How do you know sign? With a kind smile, Batman pulls the side of his cowl back a little revealing his ear, and points to the hearing aid, making sure the boy sees it. Even though it’s meant to be discrete.

Not long after, the boy’s moms come rushing over, and Bruce moves away with a sweep of his cape, but not before catching a blinding smile and rapid signing about how Batman knows ASL, and has a hearing aid, and its soo cool.

It stops Bruce feeling like a grouchy old man for needing a hearing aid.

mlaydee

Dick Grayson spent three months in complete silence. It started earlyish into his stay with Bruce. He was mad, he wanted to hit something. He was screaming at Bruce. About everything. Most of it not true and said just to be hurtful. But Dick saw Bruce’s facade crack. Saw the mask drop for a second. Dick has no memory of what he said to cause it, so much of what he said was barely legible. Most of it in different languages. But he must have said something, something hurtful enough that Bruce Wayne, batman’s, mask cracked. For a split second, Bruce looked almost like he’d been hit.

And Dick stopped talking. He stared in silence at Bruce, who was staring right back. Dicks eyes stopped watering, his hands stopped shaking, his heart slowed down. And he just … stopped. And they stood there. And they both just stared. And then Bruce cleared his throat and spoke.

“I think you should go to bed. I have to finish some paperwork. Goodnight Dick.” And it was the way he said it, the way that he didn’t make eye contact.

And all Dick felt was guilt. He felt sick. He missed his parents. He missed the circus. But Bruce was trying so hard. He’d stay with Dick every time he had a nightmare. He waited everytime Dick threw a tantrum. He helped Dick grieve. He was helping. It wasn’t much good, nothing could nullify the void in his heart that his parents left. But Bruce was trying. That’s more than anyone else was doing. And Dick had said something. He doesn’t even know what. But he has said something and it’s hurt Bruce. Hurt him badly enough that he’s sending Dick to bed. He’s not tucking him in. He’s not watching him brush his teeth. And all Dick feels is guilt.

He leaves the room. Goes to bed. Spends hours trying to sleep. And the next morning he doesn’t speak. He cries loudly in the kitchen when he gets frustrated. He kicks and hits the table when Alfred tells him to brush his teeth. But he doesn’t say a word. He can’t. He doesn’t want to say something wrong. So he stays silent.

It’s freeing, in a way. He feels safer like this. It feels easier. But sometimes he’ll scream and cry and wail and he wont- can’t say any reason why. Can’t explain that he wants to go to the park. And the frustration bubbles over easily.

Bruce keeps trying to get him to speak. Keeps trying to find out why he won’t. But Dick stays silent. He doesn’t even write the answers down. He can’t. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to.

So for three months, Bruce tries and fails to understand. And for three months Dick doesn’t utter a single word.

And then one day, Bruce comes to Dicks room. Dick, predictably, doesn’t say anything, but he raises and eyebrow in question. Bruce looks insanely awkward.

“I uhm …” He starts, “Are you refusing to speak because you miss your family? Your- your home? Or uh, Romania?”

Dick doesn’t react, mostly because he’s confused. Bruce has asked this before. So after a moment of silence Dick tilts his head. An ambiguous reaction. Bruce nods, as though dick said something.

“I learnt Romani, it’s important that you don’t loose your heritage and culture, i’m sorry that i hadn’t considered doing it when you first got here. Uh- I love you kid, you’re welcome to be as silent or loud as you want. Umm. Thank you for being here.” Bruce said in perfect Romani, and Dicks jaw dropped. He stared at bruce, Dumbfounded for almost a full minute. Bruce just shifted uncomfortably.

And then Dick spoke. For the first time in three months.

“You learnt Romani?” Dick responded in the language. His voice sounded horse. The words coming out slightly sloppy.

Bruce smiled so widely. The real smile, not his Brucie smile. his real smile.

“Yeah! uh, Yes i did. I’m sorry for not doing it sooner.”

“Thank you Bruce. It’s not- It’s- Thank you. Thank you.” Dick responded. He should mention that this wasn’t why he wasn’t speaking. he should. But Bruce looks so happy. He looks so proud of himself for figuring it out. Dick figures he should appreciate the effort and leave it at that. So Dick stood up, ran to Bruce, Jumped in his arms and stayed there.

(I have not proofread this, nor did i have a direction when i first started writing it. Purely just waffle)

on-the-clear-blue

I am thinking about, what if Jason, fresh from the grave, actually managed to get to Wanye manor?

Like, some Gothamite stumbles upon this kid in a muddy silk suit, with hands bleeding and bruised, whos hollow looking eyes are filled with tears, trying to draw in weezy breaths and let's out a long desperate whimper that sounds like..."help me"

But instead of running and calling the police because clearly the dead are starting to raise in Gotham and that is like, actually the worst, they notice something, they have seen that face before, fucking hell nearly all of gotham had, maybe a little younger, maybe with a happy smile and a twinkle in his eye even in a black in white photo put out by the newspaper, cus that's the Wayne kid, that's Brucies little boy that got killed.

And they take him home, to the Wanye Manor clearly some bullshit happened, because in Gotham the even the dead arnt allowed to rest it seemed.

Even if nobody ever made it past the front gate, everyone knows where the Manor is, it's the seat of power for like, the most important family in Gotham, criminal or otherwise.

And they feel horrible ringing the gate bell, they would wince because it sounds like a sick joke to just to roll up, and say "I got your dead kid, you want em back?"

Imagine the pain that Alfred has to go through hearing that? Some stranger has just rung in that they have his youngest charge grandson who Alfred personally dressed in his finest to be laid to rest. The same Alfred who did the same for Thomas and Martha, who cried over their bodies in secret just as he did Jason.

He let's the stranger through the front gate, while Master Bruce has a rule against killing, Alfred is more than willing to, and his shotgun is loaded as he watches a older car slowly wind up the long driveway.

He is standing at the door, gun lowered as the stranger pulls to a stop, they don't even look surprised at the gun in the old man's hands, simply nodding at it before heading to the back seat of their car and-

Dear God they dug up his boy, anger pulses through him, the gun raises to shoot down this utter scum before...the body twitches as the stranger speaks to it, gently shaking it and...and Jason blinks awake, a strangled gasp coming from his chest before coughs, and Jason is stumbling out of the back seat.

Alfred can't move for a second, can't think as he sees Jason alive once more, the boys pained expression lessens slightly as he seems to spot thr butler, and a soft, hoarse whisper came from his lips, "A-Alfie..."

Imagine Bruce, drunk beyond the point where it should kill him, laying in Jason's bed, the curtains drawn closed, leaving the room pitch black, the only lights coming from the smattering of glow in the dark stars, done up in constellations across the ceiling, and a small night light by the door.

His son still needed a night light, his darling boy was still young enough to fear the dark, even if it was at an instinctual level.

Bruce felt disgusted by himself, hatred of the pathetic excuse of a man that he was, his son was gone gone GONE.

The lights of his life was gone, and he deserved it, he shouldn't have been so greedy, so selfish to want Dick in his life, so what if Vruce saw himself in the boy, commerserated with the searing pain of his parents, Bruce should have kept the child away, to not allow Dick to become anything like him.

It was good that Bruce was pushing him away, making the wonderful young man Dick turned out to be hate him, Bruce only deserved that, it hurt so much to turn his back on his son, but Bruce couldn't allow anymore of himself to befoul the boy he loved so dearly.

The man longed for another drink but he refused to bring the bottle into Jason's room, he wouldn't desecrate his sons space with something he had hated so much.

It was the only reason Bruce rolled out of the bed, his body felt like lead, numb and dull to the world, and as he opened the door into the hall, he saw him.

There Jason was, yet more to hunt him, his child's phantom back to torment him again.

Mind clouded with pain, Bruce would stumble up to that ghost the figment of his imagination that sought to torment him, stopping only a foot away and falling to his knees, fresh tears sting at the man's eyes. A gutteral sound of agony tearing through him as he wails in sorrow, of a future, a life snuffed out.

Only to be silenced by a weight on his shoulder, followed by a smaller body drapped across his own, the cry of pain was choked out by shock, eyes that shut fly open to see that the phantom, the ghost of his son...was not just a figment of his foul mind.

And Jason's body was not cold, not stiff with rigor mortise, it was warm and soft, the thrum if a weak heart beat pounded across his back where his sons chest was across him.

With shaky hands Bruce would, almost reverently, reach out to touch his son, pulling his hand back as if he was burned went he felt the boys body.

In a moment the man was latched onto the boy, holding onto him as if he let go Jason would fade away and he would lose his son once again.

Of course they run tests, though Bruce is never not in arms reach of Jason, always trying to keep the boy in his eyesight, and went they come back that it really is Jason? That their boy is returned? Bruce clings to his son once more, tears renewed, this time filled with relief not sorrow.

Though sadly, we don't get this, instead after digging himself out of his own grave, Jason gets hit by a car and gets kidnapped by a murder death cult and gets dunked in the evil mountain dew before getting turned against the people that love him, fed lies to fuel his pit madness and then set off on a killing spree of revenge.

trishyeves

This is why other heroes never go to Gotham.

just-an-aussie-fandom-hermit

Make no mistake, Jim Gordon is as equally territorial and perpetually concerned as Bruce is lmao

batmen-and-birds

Honestly I have the head canon that ALL Gotham heroes are at least this possessive and territorial over Gotham. Not just the batfam, but everyone (e.g. Creeper, Ragman etc.) and Batman is actually considered an extrovert due to working with the JL, the Batfam AND any other team he joins.

The reason that Batman is always declaring and enforcing the “No Outsiders in Gotham” rule is bc the other Gotham heroes made him do it. They don’t want them in Gotham but they also don’t want to talk to them. So they tell Batman to do it, since he’s the (unwilling) extrovert.

And he’s only doing it bc the other heroes get a snippy if they find an Outsider in Gotham bc it’s HIS job to keep the out and how dare Batman involve Outsiders in their city ect. ect.

The only heroes that can go to Gotham are Superman (first thought him to be too bright and friendly, then begrudging respect after PRETENDING to snap), Wonder Woman (she respects Gotham culture and their pride, also willing to kill smn) and surprisingly Green Arrow (Bruce and Dinah both advocated for him + no powers endorsed him to Gothamites)

batmen-and-birds

Jason is 100% sure that the manor is haunted. He doesn't believe or thinks it is he KNOWS. It wanders the manor halls at day, the gardens during storms and the batcave at night. And it's not like the others in the family don't believe in magic either, they know it exists too!

But when he tells them that the manors haunted it's always "No way, Jason!" And "Are you sure it wasn't Drake wandering the halls, Todd?"

So he calls all his siblings to his apartment because honestly, the ghost is becoming more of bother than Bruce when Jason is visiting and that's just ridiculous. This time he backs up his claims with proof.

batmen-and-birds

Btw this is Joshua Thomas Wayne

You may wonder, why’s a business man dressed like a vigilante fighting injustices

It’s because he did

batmen-and-birds

tw mentioned/referenced suicide attempt

Fic Idea/Mini Fic: Jason, who instead of wanting to immediately kill the Joker, first wants to haunt Bruce.

It starts of course with reconnaissance. He watches the Bat and his newest Robin, all shiny and obedient, but also decides that watching Bruce Wayne is also needed. He stalks and memorizes their routines. Noting when Bruce is alone and vulnerable or when he's most susceptible to believing what he plans to tell them.

Jason starts to leave notes where only Bruce will find them. In his office, his car(s), his coat. It's laughable easy to sneak into wherever the man will be to hide them. And each of them are clearly written in his handwriting.

Why?

Disappointment

Avenge me

Bring me Justice

Bring me Peace

He sees how it affects Bruce and Jason relishes in the feeling. Righteous anger bubbling up whenever Bruce's hands start shaking and he has to cover his mouth.

Then Jason starts sending him voice messages on untraceable, burner phones. He records them whenever he's especially emotional.

Oftentimes angry and furious. Screaming, accusing and berating the Bat for not ending it sooner. For letting the Clown live on while Jason still rots in the ground.

Sometimes Jason's messages are full of sadness. Grieving himself and the life he thought he'll have. Openly crying while asking Bruce why he let Joker take his life and future. Telling his dad that he's so alone and lonely. That he wants his dad.

He doesn't send them regularly. The sporadic timing of messages and notes keeps Bruce on his toes and deleting them before Bruce can ask anyone for help makes sure that Bruce alone burdening the guilt.

Then he starts appearing too. Never on any kind of camera, less Bruce might ask his new Robin or Barbara to help. But hidden in the crowd while Batman is too busy apprehending a rouge or when Brucie Wayne can't find an excuse to go up to him. He makes sure that Bruce sees him, recognizes him, before he disappears.

He actually loves it when he can see Batman waver and getting hit by Ivy. Loves it when that stupid Brucie masks slips and breaks. Jason sees the way it's breaking Bruce and he doesn't regret it. Not one bit. Definitely.

That's what he wanted- to make Bruce feel just as bad as Jason did and does. Because even the years at the LoA never stops the gaping wounds in his heart and soul. He wanted Bruce hurt, he wanted to see him down, he wanted that and wanted so, so much to-

...

Jason never wanted to see an ambulance drive up to the manor and deliver his Bruce's body to the hospital. His dad is strong, stronger than anyone he knows and that's why he wanted to see his weak points exposed.

He never imagine Bruce lying in his hospital bed, restrained, with Alfred and Dick crying next to him, all vulnerable and weak. The horror of it all shakes Jason like a bucket of ice down his back.

Jason never imagined reading through his dad's medical file and reading about how he tried to kill himself. Never imagined vomiting as the report describes how thoroughly Bruce tried to kill himself and instead is stuck in a coma.

Hanging alone should've done the trick, no need to pump himself full of drugs as well.

"You were supposed to get better!", Tim tells Bruce, who's unconscious and near deadly still, "Why didn't you tell us? Why?"

"How could you!", Dick hisses, voice full of anger caused by hurt and despair, "You aren't supposed to leave me too! I'm not letting you!"

Alfred just watches over Bruce, mourning in silence.

In the end Bruce wakes up. Of course he does. It's in the middle of the night and of course his vitals stay low enough to not activate any alarm. No one knows the man is back from just being a body.

Except for Jason. Jason knows, because he never stopped watching over him ever since the man got admitted. So while everyone else is still away, Jason slips into the hospital room.

"Jay...", his dad whispered, his voice full of desperation and yearning but Jason can't bring himself to answer.

Bruce seems to take the silence for judgement. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I should've tried harder than this", and gestures at the restrains keeping the man from hurting himself.

That's when Jason find his voice again, "Why the hell are you sorry? Trying to take your- Why would you do that!?"

His dad looks at him hurt and confused, "You were hurting all alone... Wanted to follow you. Keep you from being lonely."

If Bruce didn't still have the rope marks on his neck, Jason would've tried strangling him.

Instead, he just cries and takes Bruce's hand. When Bruce tries to soothe him, Jason buries his face in his dad's shoulder. In return, Bruce buries his face in Jason's hair.

"... are you real?", Bruce whispers into his curls, full of hope and disbelief and confusion.

Jason sobs once more before answering, meek and quiet, "Yeah."

The two of them stay like that for roughly an hour, until Jason can feel Bruce slowly slipping back into sleep. He waits until Bruce is truly sleeping to extract himself. Before he slips back out, he leaves a note in Bruce's fist.

Get better soon. I'll be back.

kitthecatgod

OMG OMG OMG OMG FIC WHERE?!?!

ahsokatroi

My brain made me suffer and now I have to make all of you suffer with me.

Imagine 9-year-old Dick Grayson, newly orphaned and sitting in a group home while the courts take their time deciding whether Bruce would make an acceptable guardian. He goes to school and hears people call him “that orphan kid” and “circus freak.” He gets bullied and picked on, and most of the time he’s able to keep his temper limited to words.

The incident that gets him thrown in juvy happens at a birthday party. One of the older kids invited him (him!) to their party. He’s skeptical, but he’s lonely. He’s used to being surrounded by family and friends and animals and crowds that cheer. Now, the only positive relationship he has is with Bruce, and that got taken away by the foster system. So, he goes.

He has fun. He plays tag and tug-of-war and cornhole and duck-duck-goose with the other kids, and for once, he doesn’t feel so lonely. Then the piñata comes out. A few kids take half-hearted swings at it, and then it’s his turn. He giggles and smiles when the blindfold comes down over his eyes and the baton is handed to him. He listens carefully, sticking his tongue between his teeth, tracking the motion of the piñata. He raises the baton to swing—

—the baton is yanked out of his hands. Someone yells “get him!” Several pairs of hands roughly grab him. He’s not smiling anymore. He reaches for the blindfold to pull it off, but his arms are being held too tightly. He can’t see. They yank and push and grab and bruise his skin. A rope ends up around his waist. He tries to move, tries to escape, but there’s too many. It’s so loud, so many voices shouting.

The rope suddenly digs into his stomach and his feet leave the ground. The hands finally let go and he’s able to tear the blindfold off his face as he feels himself sway. He opens his eyes—briefly blinded by daylight—to see himself being hoisted into the air, and all the other kids laughing and hollering. The piñata lay on the ground, discarded.

He’ll later remember in perfect detail every face, every laugh, every pigment on the birthday cake, every color on the decorated box of candy. Most of all though, he’ll remember the leering chants of “circus freak!” as the rope digs painfully into his skin, and the baton as it gets passed around to kids who take turns swinging at his legs.

Never again will he recall feeling such a horrid combination of hurt, embarrassment, and cold blinding rage. He won’t fully remember what happens, but he will remember being pulled off of the birthday kid, his fists soaked in the blood from their broken nose, his eyes stinging with tears, his throat hoarse from screaming. He will remember being dragged into a police car in a daze. He will remember the ride to the group home, then the ride to the detention center after his “guardian” flung her arms up, shooed away the officer, and stomped back inside. He will remember being booked. He will remember the barred door sliding shut as he sits on the cot, pulls his knees to his bruised chest, and sobs.

Bruce of course doesn’t believe it was simply a violent outburst, no matter what the warden says. This is the first time the public has seen their beloved Brucie Wayne genuinely angry.

When Dick is finally home, Bruce is able to ask him about it without people listening in on tapped phones. He’s able to gently grasp his shoulder and softly ask what happened. Dick tries, oh god he tries to hold himself together, to pretend it was nothing. But he’s been effectively isolated for months, and his resolve breaks the moment he gets that physical reminder that he’s not alone anymore, and he breaks down. He can’t find it in him to care that his tears are staining Bruce’s tux. Bruce couldn’t care less about the tux. He wraps his arms around the sobbing boy, stroking his hair and rocking slightly.

haveihitanerve

so gaddamn this broke me. but also inspired so-

The clock on the wall was behind by seven seconds and a click. Dick knew because he'd been staring at it for the past seventy-three minutes, and he'd been counting.

Bruce had shown him his watch before he'd followed the man into the room, promising he'd be back soon and that it'd all be over with. That they could finally go home. He knew Bruce's watch was right. Which meant the clock on the wall was wrong.

Dick kicked his feet a little, dropping his gaze from the clock to watch them swing. He'd examined the whole room a while ago, and so he didn't have to look up to know the secretary was frowning at him, the sound of her scribbling pen suddenly paused, lips pinched in tight disapproval. Dick stopped swinging his legs.

He shifted, sitting on his hands, and wondered what Bruce would get them for dinner tonight. Undoubtedly take-out. Bruce hated fast food, but Alfred was away with a few old friends on a vacation Bruce had pushed for him to go on, and today had been a rough day.

As Dick was contemplating the likelihood of convincing Bruce to get Bat-Burger, the door swung open, and the man himself emerged.

Dick's smile was automatic, but it fell when he beheld the frown on his not-yet-official-guardian's face. There was barely concealed rage there, Dick could tell, and something hollow flickered in his chest. Bruce brightened almost imperceptibly when he spotted Dick, crossing the room in two strides to kneel in front of him.

"Hey chum," Bruce's voice was low and soothing, and Dick eagerly leaned into the hand he placed on his shoulder. "We uh.." He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the judge who frowned at Dick. All adults seemed to be doing that lately. Except Bruce. Bruce returned his attention to him, and something akin to guilt flashed across his face.

"I know I promised you we'd.. uh, that we'd..." He trailed off, and Dick swallowed the lump suddenly in his throat.

"You're going to a group home, Richard." The Judge interrupted before Bruce could find the words. Dick wanted to yell at him for being so rude and give Bruce a minute, before the words sank in. His head whipped to look at Bruce, eyes wide.

"You-you're leaving me?" Bruce's head dipped, shame and rage in the droop of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry chum." He murmured, and suddenly the hand on Dick's shoulder felt cold. "They just don't-" He glanced over his shoulder at the judge again, but the man had started conversing with the secretary. "Probably talking about me." Dick thought glumly.

Bruce's hand squeezed his shoulder, drawing his attention again. "I'm sorry." He repeated, and unlike all the other fake condolences and messages Dick'd gotten over the past few weeks, Bruce's words were sincere. "They just don't... think I'm fit to be your guardian. Yet. They're... in the process of deciding if I will be. Until then... But we'll be together soon!"

Dick hated the hope in Bruce's voice. But he also couldn't clamp down his own. "Ok." he agreed, and hated how his voice wavered. How young it sounded. "That's fine! We can- no decision has been made yet right? I mean-" He laughed, and wondered how he'd ever made it as a performer with how fake it sounded. "We'll be together soon right? It'll only be a little longer?" He hadn't meant for it to be a question, but Bruce nodded anyway, squeezing tighter, shuffling closer.

"Right." He agreed, and Dick hated how much comfort the words bring him, how much he collapsed as Bruce wrapped him in a hug, sagging against his chest. "Only for a little while, baby. Then we'll be together. Soon." Bruce promised. "Soon." Dick echoed.

~

The foster parents weren't terrible. Dick could tell they didn't want him though, and that was just fine with him. He didn't want them either. He wanted Bruce. They weren't allowed to talk, not until the courts had made their decision, whatever that meant, and Dick missed the only real positive relationship in his life.

Still, it wasn't in his nature to complain, especially not to people he didn't know, so he bit his tongue and packed his own lunch, a pitifully cheap granola bar and a sandwich he made using one slice of bread and leftover peanut butter from the back of the pantry(which he's fairly certain is mostly used for rat bait) and headed to school.

School wasn't much better. The foster system obviously didn't want to pay for better quality education, and as much money as Bruce tried to pump into Gotham, it was only natural that some places got overlooked.

Still, school was school, and if Dick could trust anything, it was facts. Kids, on the other hand, were another matter. He couldn't make it through a day without being tripped at least once, or a mutter of "circus freak" being tossed in his direction. The orphan jokes were the worst, but Dick swallowed his anger and his grief and his pain and laughed along, ripping tiny scars into his hands with his restraint.

"Hey, your names Richard right?" Dick glanced up in surprise, hands discreetly shoving the book he was just reading away. As much as he enjoyed what they had to say during his time of isolation, they also happened to make good weapons. And Dick didn't much fancy those bruises.

The kid towering above him was Kevin Michaels, one of the popular junkies. Dick didn't know him that well, probably because bullying the orphaned circus freak was a little too poor for his tastes, but that didn't mean he wouldn't soon. But Kevin didn't seem to have any ill intent, and after a moment of probing small talk, invited Dick to his birthday party.

"R-really?" Dick stuttered in surprise. Kevin cocked his head, nodding after a second. "Yeah dude. If you want."

Dick didn't want. Not really. But... he did. And.. and he had fun! Kevin stuck to his side for the first half, introducing him around and swinging an arm around his shoulder with careful camaraderie. And it was... nice.

They ate cake and Dick made jokes and people laughed with him and it was good. Then Kevin's mom wheeled out the piñata and handed Kevin a baton, wished them good luck and disappeared back inside with the other adults. Dick cheered and awwwed with the other kids as Kevin and a couple others swung, and then Kevin grinned at him, thrusting the baton forward.

"C'mon Grayson! Show us what you got!" Dick swore Kevin muttered something after, a slight noise that sounded like "squeak" but couldn't focus on it.

He smirked at Kacy, a girl Kevin introduced him to five minutes before, and she giggled as Kevin dropped the blindfold over his eyes. Dick wedged his tongue between his teeth, listening for the sound of the piñata. To his surprise, he heard it thud, and.. that meant it's on the ground?

Dick lifted his hand to his eyes to ask what happened when someone, Dick thought it might be Kevin, yelled "Get him!" and suddenly there were hands on his arms, tugging them behind his back, and the tell-tale feeling of rope getting wound around his waist and arms.

Dick opened his mouth to ask what's up?, but barely got a breath in before it was yanked out of him as he got hoisted into the air. Dick tore at the blindfold, rope burning against his arms as he ripped it off, eyes watering at the blinding sun, to see the kids beneath him, laughing.

Dick knows good jokes. He knows a good punchline. He knew enough clowns at the circus to know how to identify one. Dick screamed, voice hoarse and loud and angry, but the kids just laughed, tossing the baton between them as they took swings for him, piñata abandoned on the side.

Dick didn't remember how he'd made it down. Couldn't recall when he'd freed himself. When he'd grabbed Kevin. When Kevin had started bleeding so much.

But hands were on him, angry hands, frightened hands, and they tore him off, dragging him into a car. A police car. The ride to his foster house passed in a blur. The greeting he received at the door had been... short of polite, as the mother threw his bag at him, and then the cop was dragging him back to the car.

Dick didn't couldn't really hear anyone around him. Couldn't hear anything, really, not until the door slid shut, clanging against the wall, the lock clicking as he was locked in, a flimsy cot bed beneath him. Dick pulled his knees to his chest, bruised and bloody, and buried his face into them.

~

Dick had never seen Bruce so angry. The man had pure, lethal rage written into every line in his body. Dick curled smaller, wondering if the hole in the brick where the rats crept through was big enough for him.

"You will release him to me now." Bruce snarled at the warden, cameras and phone lights flashing in his face. "Now." He paid no attention to the wardens bubbling arguments, and despite the cold numbness spreading through his body, Dick couldn't help but feel relief as Bruce's arms, gently, ever so gently, wrapped around him, lifting him like he was a newborn fawn, and cradled him to his chest.

"Move." Bruce snarled, and Dick curled into the sound, the angry protectiveness, curled into that rasp of his guardians voice. People parted.

~

It wasn't until they were home, past the row of paparazzi at the gates, and inside the manor, when Dick broke. "What happened?" Bruce asked, gently, voice tender and soft, a stark opposite of how he'd sounded before.

"They- they hurt me." Dick whispered, and in moments the whole story came tumbling out, every snide comment and nasty look he'd been given since he'd been away from Bruce.

Dick didn't care that his hands hurt from how tightly he was gripping Bruce's jacket, afraid he'd disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly, and Bruce didn't comment as he snotted into the silk shirt his Dad was wearing. Just held him, arms wrapped around his boy, stroking his head and back in soothing patterns, murmuring the same words over and over.

"We're together, chum. It's okay. We're together now."

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Everything Geeky and Gay