lurkinglurkerwholurks

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Because I am contrary and ornery, I take the stance that no body = no death. Robin’s fine. He wasn’t fine and then he got fine and now he’s taking a break because they mutually decided that he needs to finish high school before he’s allowed another hole-punch on his broken bone reward card. Bruce is pausing and moping only because he misses his buddy and he uses the suit as an Object Lesson about the Dark Horrors of the World that he alone must beat back.

“This world… is so cruel and dark…”

“B, why are you doing the voice”

“It took my partner from me… my son…”

“We both said I should *take a break*, you moron. You said!”

“I miss him so much…”

“GOD FORBID A GUY GO ON VACATION”

“Sometimes… it’s like I can still hear him…”

“You know what, I’m with Superman on this one.”

“Batfleck was too dark” ok but if I found my child sidekick beaten to death with the message “HA HA HA. Joke’s on you, Batman!” spray painted across the front of his suit, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions after that. 500% valid crash out.

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Batman & Robin: Year One #7 (2025)

written by Mark Waid art by Chris Samnee & Matheus Lopes

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Hot take: If you don’t understand that Batman is, at his core, just as much about love as justice, then you don’t understand Batman.

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oh, adding "I can try" to my personal repertoire posthaste

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He was sitting on the edge of her bed, between her and the window, one flat-tipped finger tapping against the edge of the bandage on her arm. There were lines in his face, tired valleys of shadow, and his hair was a spiky, tousled mess of gray and black. The light from the window softened all his edges. He looked like love.

—(S)kittish

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here's a secret: Tiny Alfred is not the tiniest Alfred

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GUESS WHO FOUND their Tumblr password after 2 years ...me

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For headcannon time: Clark Kent? pls? :)

My guy. My bro. My first DC love. <3

Headcanon A:  realistic

Clark didn’t have to learn Kryptonian. One of his father’s files uploaded the intricacies of the alien tongue straight to his brain, building off the foundational knowledge buried deep in his long-lost infant connections. He doesn’t have memories of his mother crooning to him in that tongue, nothing beyond watching the encrypted recordings his father sent. He doesn’t remember singing songs or making jokes or even calling his parents by the Kryptonian versions of mom and dad. But it’s still a part of him, of who he is. He’s painfully aware of his role as the last of his kind, the last being in the whole of the vast, unending universe to carry these words in his mind and heart.

Is it any wonder that he nearly falls from the sky in surprise the first time Bruce addresses him in Kryptonian? The gambit worked, getting his attention in the heat of battle the way nothing else could, but he’s left reeling.

Turns out Bruce hadn’t want access to the Fortress solely for research. Turns out Bruce has quite a knack with languages, even unearthly ones. Turns out Bruce sounds kind of adorable when he’s hesitantly picking his way through unfamiliar verb conjugations. Turns out Bruce is more emotionally perceptive than people give him credit for. Turns out Bruce knows what it feels like to be the last. Turns out when Bruce sees something he can fix, nothing in heaven or on earth can make him yield. Turns out that in all of humanity, Clark couldn’t have chosen a better best friend.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

It’s a day that lives in League legend. No one dare mention it in casual conversation. It is whispered about, spoken about in hushed tones by only the bravest, and only when they are completely alone. They are never alone. The shadows are always listening, but they must speak of it, the day of myth, the day of the unspeakable.

They had come back from a grinding battle that had stretched for days. Everyone was exhausted and injuries abounded. Most planned to limp to medbay or to their rooms to sleep for the next three days. Bruce had headed straight for the computer banks.

Not only had Bruce taken hits that would have felled a lesser man, but he had gone into the fight with a virus one of the kids had brought home from school. His face was pale, his forehead dotted with sweat. He had one arm tucked against his chest, clearly broken in some way, but he wouldn’t let anyone near. Flash had been the first to notice Bruce missing and had tracked him back to the archives. Showing unusual wisdom, Flash had retreated and gone to find Clark.

In the meantime, others had noticed Bruce’s stupid lack of self-care and attempted to reason with him. A dumb move when Bruce was in the best of moods. Clark had arrived, still stained and sweaty from battle, to find Bruce hunkered over in his chair, snarling and hissing threats at the team members that surrounded him.

Rather than attempt to reason with his friend, Clark had pushed his way through the other heroes. They watched with unabashed awe as Superman reached out and lifted Bruce by the scruff of his neck as if he were no more than a mewling kitten before carrying him from the room.

Bruce and Clark reappeared three days later, both clean and well-rested, Bruce with his cuts plastered and his wrist splinted. No one spoke of what Clark had done, what Bruce had been forced to let him do. But they whispered it to each other and made sure the story lived on. (No one told the kids. No one DARED tell the kids. Bruce might have a no-killing policy, but Batman could do worse than kill you with his glare alone. No one wanted to know what would happen if he were properly motivated.)

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Clark is secretly glad for Bruce’s many contingency plans for the League. He wishes his friend’s life didn’t warrant that level of paranoia and hyper-preparedness, but he’s glad for that safe, for that case, for that glowing chunk of kryptonite.

It keeps him up at night sometimes, the gnawing worry over what he might become someday, once everyone he loves is dead. He doesn’t know what the lifespan for a Kryptonian is, doesn’t know how the warm, yellow sun might affect that. His childhood growth pattern was fairly standard in terms of pace, if not size. But now he’s started to notice differences, slight, almost imperceptible, but present. How the years don’t seem to touch his face. How his hair stays full and dark even as silver streaks weave their way into Bruce’s locks, into Lois’s. His face stays full and smooth as fine wrinkles crease the corners of Hal’s mouth, Barry’s eyes.

His parents grow older by the day. The children, the young Titans that he’s guarded and shepherded, are grown and creating children of their own. Jimmy keeps his boyish twinkle even while gaining a man’s paunch around his middle. Perry counts the days to retirement and fishing and Graceland tours. Heroes retire or die and new ones take their place.

And Clark remains.

One day, they’ll all be dead. Some at the hands of evil or disaster, but more by the ravages of old age. Bruce, dead and buried, for real this time. All his kids, gone. Perhaps even their kids, gone. Jon, with his mix of genetics, might linger longer, but soon he’ll be gone as well. And what about Kon? Clark knows he’s capable of stretching his life beyond the bounds of human limitations, but what about Kon? Kon, Clark’s identical in genetics, his near opposite in everything else. Reckless, undisciplined, beloved. Genetics can only take you so far in battle, even under a young and blazing sun.

Diana will last, the demi-goddess eternal, and that will be a comfort for a time. They will cling to each other as the others crumble away, but for how long? How long until the bright and unblemished warrior tires of the tainted world of men? How long until she changes the unchangeable and is welcomed back by her people, shepherded into an untouchable world of peace?

And then he’ll be alone. Unaging. Unchanging. Wearied and bitter but still decades or even centuries from the end. What will become of him then?

He’s glad to know there’s an escape. He’s glad Bruce has thought to give him that, to give the world that. There will always be heroes in the universe. One day, he fears he won’t be one of them. But long past the end of the Bat, the plans of the Bat will endure. The knowledge will endure. The end will endure. And Clark is glad.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Clark was the only other person who knew Dick wasn’t dead. It wasn’t that Bruce couldn’t keep the secret. He could, and did, from his entire family. From his grieving, self-destructing children. From Alfred, even. But he told Clark, explaining in terse, brittle words about the opportunity, the plan, the expected outcome.

Clark had wept when he heard of Dick’s death. He had wept for his friend Bruce, for his imagined pain and for the fear of what this new loss would do to him. He had wept for his friend Dick, that little boy who called him Uncle Clark and liked to hang gleefully from his neck, that grown man who sometimes still did the same, just for the joy of it.

Finding out it had all been a farce… Clark had listened to Bruce’s explanation—that pathetic, stilted thing, held stiff with unspoken excuses and reeking of prideful disregard—and walked out of the room. It was either that or throw a punch, a real punch, at Bruce Wayne, and Clark didn’t think Dick would appreciate it if Superman killed his father, even on his behalf.

Clark didn’t talk to Bruce for months afterward. The rest of the League noticed, baffled and alarmed that Superman would withdraw support from his friend in Batman’s time of grief and need. Clark stood firm and continued to avoid Bruce until Dick was home and safe and Bruce needed Clark’s support once more as the family found out what had happened and everything went to hell.

During those months of silence, Clark spoke to Bruce for only two reasons. They spoke in the field, when giving orders and coordinating for the sake of the world trumped personal disagreements. And, when Bruce asked, Clark assured him that Dick was still alive, that he was well, that he was holding steady. It was only Clark’s super-hearing, his ability to keep tabs on Bruce’s eldest, that had granted him access to the conspiracy. And Clark might hate Bruce for that, but he wouldn’t fail Dick. If there was trouble, true trouble, they would be there.

Drop me an ask with a character name and an indication that it’s for the headcanon meme, and I’ll give you four headcanons following the above four prompts! Yes, you can give me a character I’ve already done if you want more about that person.

And you can follow all my answers at the tag “headcanon time”.

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this is the same friend who took it in stride when I pitched the movie as "an autistic accountant goes Jason Bourne" and "I'm not saying it's a good movie, I'm saying I imprinted like a baby duck"

it's nice to be understood

Dragged another friend into watching The Accountant and she spent the whole movie going "Murderbot would love him. Murderbot would vibe so hard" and then holding up two fingers next to each other but not touching. "Besties."

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Dragged another friend into watching The Accountant and she spent the whole movie going "Murderbot would love him. Murderbot would vibe so hard" and then holding up two fingers next to each other but not touching. "Besties."

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I know this keeps him awake at night

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Cass being able to mock ppl is so important to me because that is what David Cain tried to keep from her. She got her voice and she quickly got to work being a hater. Cassandra Cain, I love you.

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What happened: I laid the blobs down so their feet could dry

What it looks like: the Alfreds unionized and imposed group naptime

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Well, for Dick at least I do think him being Robin before Batman ever meets Superman and Clark willingly sharing his identity with both of them is the more interesting way. Clark meeting them both simultaneously and deciding Dick is worthy of the same level of trust and respect he gives Bruce provides a good base for a strong Clark/Dick friendship I really love to see, and is far more complelling than any version where Bruce reveals Superman's identity to Dick.

Okay. And how does Clark decide to feel comfortable telling his secret to a kid who hasn't even learned the secrets of puberty yet? And what about every kid that comes after?

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I can't speak to Jason or later Robins off the top of my head, but in most versions Bruce has already taken in Dick and works with him as Robin long before he meets or befriends Superman or any other JL heroes. The League isn't usually shocked or concerned about Batman having a kid now because as far as they're concerned Robin was always there. So for Dick, Clark is fine with him knowing because he already knew sharing his identity with Batman meant Robin learned it too.

Thanks for sharing! What canon chooses to do in one of its many iterations isn't all that interesting to me, to be honest. Like, information is always fun to have for its own sake, and I do appreciate you taking the time to share, but my post was more about exploring the what-ifs, be they in fic (where I live, as a writer and reader) or even in future iterations of canon, since the only thing that's inevitable with DC canon seems to be that they'll rewrite it again at some point.

So, setting aside what has happened in one version of this story, what do you think would be the most interesting or compelling version to potentially happen?