#batfmaily

[dianorayopi]

The B's Pixies au

[kblovin]

I love you so 🎶

[writerswho]

Dick: Who is ready?

Jason: I ain't no my daddy, but I'm sure I shot out of his dick ready.

Dick: Jesus Christ, that is graphic.

[batsbrina]

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Tim drake themes bcs I am him and he is me (I wanted to share my finds)

- all sourced from Pinterest

[pennameofshame]

Don't make me explain

Watching the sidekicks or proteges grow was always a heartwarming subject for the league

Talking about how they started out and how they're all maturing into their own heroes is always good and all but the current topic was actively making Batman have an aneurysm.

Sure, there are what can now be considered as funny stories like how Wally recreated the freak accident Flash was in or how Superman felt so bad for how he reacted to seeing Connor for the first time, like how was he supposed to deal with that the kid looked like a younger version of him and he really wasn't mentally prepared after the day he had, even Martian Manhunter joined in with small stories to say about his niece.

God, he prayed they didn't ask him, sure the league knew about Dick and his story, but they didn't know all the details in the beginning and still don't know about any of the others.

How on earth was he supposed to explain it all.

Every single one of Bruce's kids has willingly walked into that situation and there was nothing he could really do about it, yes as a legal guardian he could ground them but when dealing with these kids in specific it wouldn't have held up for long before they started testing the limits.

Sure Dick was the first and everyone soon understood the kid wasn't exactly normal, but they all saw him as the smiley kid who was just really energetic and bouncy. How on earth does he explain that the kid was thinking of straight up murder that he's almost glad he found the batcave and he could steer him away from that thought early on.

Barbara Gordon just showed up one day, or night with her own costume and refused to back down, in a similar fashion Stephanie Brown did the same so many years down the line, she found out her dad was a criminal, clue master to be exact and decided to take it upon herself to sabotage ever. single. one. of his plans. She wasn't robin long but soon became Spoiler and hasn't left.

When he caught Jason stealing the tires off the batmobile he decided to switch him to a different school to which ended up being a front for crime that the kid decided to expose all on his own and again showed no signs of backing down, so he took him in and made him undergo 6 months of training before stepping out as robin.

Tim, he didn't want to start on, Tim found him in his own dumpster and forced Batman to take him in as robin, that's actually putting it nicely, Timothy Jackson Drake didn't give him an option, just a reality, that kid is too smart for his own good and now he was a vigilante that he had some control over but he swears that Tim is some kind of mastermind but there's no proof, the decline in major crime organisations activity is a joint effort from him and Jason, and he has a feeling that the league of assassins hasn't caused trouble not because of guilt for Jason but because Tim did something .

Duke was older and a metahuman who was starting to go down the route of becoming a vigilante that Bruce just trained him and he became Signal.

Damian is his biological son and honestly as much of it was a shock, taking in another kid at this point was like clock work, except his youngest to no fault of his own was just as much of a loose canon and a more outwardly dangerous one at that. It took a while for the boy to calm down and to help him settle into some kind of normalcy but it happened, he's just a little rough around the edges more so than the others.

Cass was in a similar situation but approached Gotham and after saving Commissioner Gordan Bruce decides to take her in to help steer her a brighter path than just being a living weapon the only difference is that Cass made that choice herself while Damian felt like he was in a place that didn't understand him.

But what started out as two kids that he had to make sure wouldn't get hurt slowly turned into more. Easy right, just make sure they don't do anything stupid/dangerous/why did you think that was a good idea? Cause who in their right mind would go against THE Batman. His kids would, doesn't matter if they were adopted or not but they would and feel no remorse for the numerous grey hairs and mini heart attacks they've given him.

Don't get him wrong he loved them, but the league didn't know the half of it, and he really didn't want to open that can of worm because he wasn't ready for the questions that came along with it, cause being honest he really didn't know the answers and stopped trying to find them for his own sanity's sake.

How does he explain this to the other heroes. Sure, they all know what Gotham city is like and how it's somewhat become a crime alley due to issues here and there but like its being fixed and it's come a long way so it can't be that bad. I mean you don't see this happening in any of the other cities like it's circumstantial because some kid got powers and now you help them with it and stuff, as the other heroes have done but these kids- these kids were something else, like he did try to stop them you know, have them live normal lives and not care about anything else or take on the stress of crime fighting but they wouldn't listen. In fact, Bruce Wayne was willing to bet his entire wealth and everything he was that if he had just stood by and had done nothing, these kids still would've found a way to fight crime, even if it meant taking a more difficult way to do so.

"So bats, any stories you want to share?"

"No"

[murciafire]

$2.50lb/Cherries

"It's June after all, and you're young until September" – Ocean Vuong, Because it’s Summer

Jason Todd Angst??

Warnings: angst

Words: <800

Notes: Hello friends! Haven't been on here forever, but thought I'd do a quick fic. It's summer, so obviously I must write summer angst. I was thinking of Bucky trying to buy plums while writing this. To be honest, I hate this and will most likely keep editing it.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Five years ago, on June 24th, I began to hate cherries. There wasn’t anything particular about the fruit, and I hadn’t bit into one so sour that I had damned all the forthcoming seasons with such distaste that I had blocked out the months of June to August when they come to fruition from my memory.

But if I could, I’d gladly skip those months. The sun lit me like a candle, and sweat dripped down my spine like melted wax. And yet, despite that, I had found myself at a farmer’s market in mid-summer, when the sun just began to slip and pour itself over the earth like honey—slow and golden; a bit too sweet, a bit too charming, attracting all of those who find themselves most alive in that hour.

And I was a fool, a being amidst a crowd, following the rest because, for some reason, the chatter that fluttered up like wings of a bird taunted me. Everyone around me, and yet I was alone. But for the first time, I was . . . normal. I was just a man at the farmer’s market.

I was just a man.

Wandering, looking, running my fingers across the fresh vegetables with my scarred hands that were still able to feel how smooth the skin of a zucchini is, the prickles of an English cucumber, and the softness of a peach that was tempting me to bite it.  

I had my hat down low then, shadowing my eyes, but they flicked over the stalls, the running children, the bartering mothers, the men who were dragged there by their partners—and I could tell with the way their other half wrapped their hands around the men’s arms, dragging them from one tent to the next. Jewelry glinted in the dying sun, the smell of popcorn wafted into my nose, art from local artists was evidence that passion could become a real thing—tangible, physical, and as real as the money they were selling them for.

But there, on the corner, was a woman selling cherries. She was older, her hair cut in a bob, grey hair curling into her cheeks. A warm smile. And maybe that’s what drew me in. Or maybe it was the weird fascination I had that she was wearing gumboots in the middle of summer.

But, for a moment, I thought that maybe in this slight human interaction of me looking at the fruit she had harvested from her farm, I was just like the rest of them. So I walked over, my fingers reaching out to lightly brush over the fragile, bright red skin of the cherries.

Are you interested in buying them? She had asked me.

I had looked back up at her, pretending to look surprised. But maybe that’s what differentiated me from everyone else. They didn’t have to pretend. They didn’t notice how heavy her stare was behind her brown, kind eyes, how she wheezed when she exhaled, indicating that she had chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder, or the knife she had on the back table next to the freshly made cinnamon rolls she was selling too.

Si, I said, because why the hell not? If I had to pretend to be someone else, why not in a different language?

You know, the darker the cherry, the sweeter it is.

I nodded, picking up a cherry from one of the boxes laid out on the table, half-listening. How much?

$3.50 a pound.

I shook my head, a smile creeping around the corner of my lip. My mother would say you’re stealing from me. How about $2.50?

She laughed, then coughed, and I knew I was right. We were all dying in one way or another.

I popped the cherry that was in my hand into my mouth, the juice dripping onto my fingers, staining them dark red, like I had just killed a man. Sold.

[to-the-stars8]

Home for the Holidays

Jason Todd & Dick Grayson & Tim Drake All Chapters Ao3

December 21, Salt Lake City, UT

They made it to Salt Lake City by sunrise, Jason having pushed the pedal til the car was practically begging for gas, where they stopped for breakfast. Dick bought them breakfast with ten of the thirty dollars they had, while the rest went toward the car.

When Jason returned from the gas station he sat in the booth next to Tim where he began to take his designated hashbrown and sausage biscuit.  

“Jesus Christ, this is good! I think I might spend the rest of the money on another biscuit,” Jason said with his mouth full. That caught Dick’s attention and he ordered Jason to show him the money. Once Jason threw two twenties on the table, far more than they had before, he demanded to know how he got it. “Relax, I didn’t steal it. What do you think I am?”

“Just be careful, Jason, we can’t be screwing around,” Dick said in a low tone, taking the money. 

Tim knew that was a bad idea, and it was only confirmed when Jason reached across the table to grab Dick’s arm. People in the restaurant turned to look at the two of them, which made Dick easily give up the money. 

“Fuck you,” Jason seethed before getting up, grabbing the money and Tim’s sausage biscuit before walking off. 

“Asshole,” The youngest boy called after, leaning over to take Dick’s food. “Consider this payment for acting up.”

“Shut up,” Dick said, looking around at the people now watching them. It made him antsy, and, if Bruce were here, he’d be getting a look for not having better control over the situation. “Give me half, at least.”

“No, you shouldn’t have pissed him off,” Tim said, holding the biscuit close.

“He shouldn’t have stolen that money,” Dick whispered-yelled back. 

“Did you hear what he said? He didn’t steal anything. Money-wise.”

“And you believe him?”

“What if I do?” 

Dick reached over and took a sip of his soda. “Then, how about you go join him in the car.”

Tim looked out the window next to the booth to see the back of Jason’s head through the truck’s back window. He was mid-sip of a soda before he turned it to look toward the busy road, and, after staring for a few seconds, Tim began to slide out of the booth.

Dick was shocked his little brother actually followed through with the suggestion and watched as he walked across the parking lot, hugging himself as he did, before hopping into the car. 

With a grumble, Dick went through his pocket for the five bucks he had hidden away to buy himself another sausage biscuit. 

*** 

Jason hadn’t expected Tim to suddenly hop into the car with him, say nothing, and start munching away on food. He tried to act like the boy wasn’t there, but couldn’t help but to glance at him every few minutes or so. The air between them felt awkward considering their history. 

“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party hop,” The radio played. 

Tim groaned before harshly beginning to change the radio station. “I fucking hate Christmas.”

Jason wanted to say he was surprised by that, but with the black clothes Tim was sporting it was obvious. The kid, while not overtly edgy, did have a sort of angsty teen phase going on. Jay would have related to it if he hadn’t died at fifteen. Suddenly, a rock band was blasting through the car speakers before Tim slowly turned the volume down. 

“So, you hate Christmas…why?”

The kid sat back and shrugged, picking at his food. “I wouldn’t say I hate it. The holidays always felt like a chore– My parents wanted to get Christmas over with, so I never really got to have the fun parts.”

“Oh,” Was all Jason could say. 

“Don’t get all emotional on me now,” Tim joked. “Don’t want it to end up like last time, ya know?”

Jason wanted to be angry, but he had to admit it was a bit funny–He even let out a little snicker before offering Tim half of the sausage biscuit. There was hesitance, but eventually, it was slid across the seat and onto the dashboard to save for later. After a minute or two of silently eating, Tim finally asked about the money. 

“There’s a senior living home right around the corner, I told them I’d clear their walkway of snow in under an hour for twenty bucks. Did it, but then an old lady asked me to help change her tire. She gave me the money even though I said no,” Jason said like it was just another day for him. 

“Why didn’t you just tell Dick that,” Tim quietly asked. 

Jason shrugged before telling him it wouldn’t have changed Dick’s mind about anything. Tim stared down at the road in front of him as he thought. He recalled Bruce telling him that Jason died because he was reckless and angry– The opposite of what a Robin should have been. Robins were meant to be obedient. Loyal. Even Dick had mentioned that Tim’s predecessor didn’t have the same control he did, and his disobedience cost him his life–sounding a little too much like Bruce rather than the kind, funny brother he usually was. 

Tim’s first impression of Jason had been exactly what he expected. The man who showed up at Titans tower a few years ago was angry, and he had become an outlet for Bruce’s neglect. Jason had quietly and awkwardly apologized, but that didn’t erase the memory for Tim. Even Jason had admitted he knew that. 

“Maybe you should mention it to him,” Tim said as he noticed a snowflake fall onto the windshield. “He won’t be on your ass as much.”

Just like the Devil’s name was spoken, Dick had appeared at the passenger side window. Opening the door, he leaned in to see if anything was amiss before snatching the biscuit off the dashboard. 

“Hey!”

“Move over,” He said, mouth full, and pushed Tim toward Jason. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jay said. “You’re driving. I want a nap.”

Dick groaned before switching places. Starting the engine, they pulled back out onto the highway. 

They hardly got a mile down the road before Dick mumbled under his breath, “The hell is playing?” And promptly changed the station to Christmas tunes again.

[loislaane]

DICK’S POLAROIDS in BATMAN: BLACK AND WHITE #5