phantobats

[phantobats]

What I'm saying is that you can't say that kids on TikTok who like Red Hood because they support his crusade against crime by proxy of liking his character, without also acknowledging that Batman harms criminals and is a billionaire, which is also inherently against leftist morals. Billionaires cannot be ethical, and physical harm outside of self defense cannot be justified. Batman glorifies harm. Batman romanticizes billionaires. You justifying it by being a "Bruce Wayne apologist" and saying that he donates to charity as if that fixes his exploitation uproots your own argument.

When have I ever encouraged people to emulate Batman's actions or approach?

While I do love the character of Bruce Wayne, I am fully aware of the flaws inherent in his methods and persona. His status as a billionaire and the ethical contradictions surrounding that have been critically explored within the comics themselves. At times, his wealth serves as a narrative device, allowing for his gadgets and resources to make sense within the story. However, my interest in Bruce Wayne is not tied to his wealth or status. It lies in his character—his inner conflict, dedication, and the questions his actions raise.

This is a critical distinction. Most Jason Todd fans, on the other hand, are drawn to him because of his specific approach to crime—an approach that frequently glorifies vigilante violence and even murder. In TikTok comment sections or other spaces, this admiration often goes beyond fiction, with people yearning for someone like Jason to take these methods into the real world.

But let’s unpack that. Supporting Jason's methods—murdering criminals or controlling the drug trade—means supporting the death penalty and organized crime, both of which I’d argue are fundamentally at odds with leftist values. The death penalty disproportionately harms marginalized groups and fails to address the systemic issues that lead to crime in the first place. Similarly, controlling the drug trade instead of dismantling it perpetuates harm to communities, particularly those already vulnerable to exploitation. Neither approach addresses the root causes of inequality or injustice; they just perpetuate cycles of violence and harm.

As for Bruce, while his status as a billionaire is inherently problematic from a leftist perspective, he does at least attempt to use his resources for systemic, long-term improvements. Is it enough to offset the inherent exploitation tied to his wealth? No. But there’s a significant difference between someone using ethically dubious wealth to attempt community aid and someone engaging in outright crime and murder under the guise of justice.

Ultimately, my critique of Jason Todd fans who glorify his methods stems from this: cheering for violent crime or authoritarian control doesn’t align with leftist ideals either. So, while both characters have ethical contradictions, romanticizing Jason’s approach feels far more dangerous in how directly it translates into harmful real-world ideas.

[phantobats]

[phantobats]

Not sure what you mean by this as:

in the post, I am referencing several canon media and showcasing comic panels.

this post wasn't about Catwoman in any way?

It is well known Selinas tactics are definitely nothing to idolize, Jason's actions are often sweeped under the rug inside the fandom, which is why i am addressing them in the first place.

No, Crime Alley doesn’t need a vigilante like Red Hood. In fact, Jason Todd’s approach is exactly what Gotham must avoid to break free from its cycle of crime and despair.

I've seen increasing rhetoric amongst Batfamily spaces that Jason Todd's approach to ruling Crime Alley with an iron fist is the preferable one. He's been painted as some sort of hero for perpetuating violence and controlling the drug trade instead of dismantling it, as seen here:

user iheartdeadmen79 on tiktok:

Contrary to popular fan rhetoric, Batman doesn’t avoid Crime Alley. He confronts its darkness, honoring his parents’ memory and striving to improve the lives of its residents.

Batman frequently patrols Crime Alley, protecting its people from gangs and criminals ("Just Another Kid on Crime Alley!"). His mere presence is a deterrent to crime and a reminder that justice exists.

As Bruce Wayne, he addresses the root causes of Crime Alley’s plight. Through the Wayne Foundation, he funds infrastructure projects, clinics, scholarships, and other resources that empower the community (Detective Comics #457).

Batman collaborates with figures like Leslie Thompkins, whose clinic provides healthcare and shelter to Gotham’s most vulnerable. Together, they tackle crime at its roots—poverty, neglect, and systemic injustice.

Batman’s approach is about more than fighting criminals; it’s about building a foundation for a better future.

Jason Todd’s Red Hood represents the antithesis of progress. His iron-fist approach perpetuates the very cycles of violence he claims to stop.

In "Batman: Under the Red Hood", Jason attempts to take over Gotham’s underworld, including parts of Crime Alley, by using lethal force. This creates power vacuums, incites gang wars, and leads to collateral damage among innocent civilians.

Jason targets criminals but ignores the systemic issues driving crime. Killing gang leaders may seem effective, but it does nothing to address the poverty and lack of opportunity fueling the problem.

Residents of Crime Alley already distrust authority. Jason’s violent reputation only worsens this, making him seem like another dangerous figure instead of a protector.

Jason’s “kill to prevent crime” mentality sends a harmful message. It glorifies violence as the only solution to complex social issues, desensitizing the community to brutality and ensuring the next generation grows up in the same cycle of trauma.

The Bigger Problem: Romanticizing Red Hood

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: much of the fandom romanticizes Jason Todd’s methods without critically examining their consequences. Posts praising Red Hood for “taking control” or “cleaning up Crime Alley” ignore how his actions destabilize the community, alienate the people he claims to help, and perpetuate the very violence he fights against.

Jason isn’t a hero for Crime Alley—he’s a cautionary tale. By normalizing his ideology, fans risk promoting a toxic mindset that equates justice with unchecked power. Crime Alley doesn’t need fear and bloodshed. It needs hope, investment, and the belief that change is possible.

Batman embodies the hard, often thankless work of building a better Gotham. Red Hood, though well-intentioned, embodies the dangers of quick fixes and violent rule. Gotham, and especially Crime Alley, doesn’t need more fear. It needs heroes who understand that real change comes from compassion, collaboration, and addressing root causes—not from perpetuating the same cycles of pain.

Fans need to move past the idea that Jason Todd’s methods are heroic. They’re not. They’re destructive. If we want Gotham to heal, it’s time to embrace hope, not more violence.

And I do know that the creator of the Tiktok I mentioned wrote their POV off as just being fanon, yet because it isn't explicitly stated in the caption and you have to dive into the comment section to even figure it out, it perpetuates the idea that this is how things actually are in canon, instead of being something fans with no real idea about social issues made up to praise their favorite white guy of the month.

[phantobats]

Batman is a reactionary in a world built on capitalism. Nothing Batman can do can change the world he lives in. Everything he does, even the "good things" are because in a world based on the exploitation of labor, there is no socialist movement to do the "good things" instead. Batman wouldn't need to build homeless shelters or whatever if homeless people weren't created via the exploitation system we live in.  

Batman is a comic book character who deeply reflects the moral systems that liberalism/capitalism is built off of. He represents the nihilist belief that systemic change is not actually possible, and it takes a hyper-competent moralist with billions of dollars to actually 'do good.' You consuming it without critical thought just continues to bind you to those moral systems.

While it’s true that Batman exists within a capitalist framework, many interpretations of the character (especially in modern comics) deliberately problematize his wealth, privilege, and the limits of his methods. Writers like Frank Miller, Scott Snyder, and Tom King have explored Batman's struggles with the moral contradictions of his mission. For example, Bruce Wayne’s wealth often alienates him from the very people he’s trying to help, showing the insufficiency of charity to solve systemic problems.

In The Dark Knight Returns (Miller), Batman is portrayed as a deeply flawed, almost authoritarian figure, making it easier for readers to question whether his methods are inherently virtuous.

In The Joker War (2020), Bruce Wayne loses his fortune, forcing him to operate without his usual resources. This challenges the idea that his power stems only from wealth and emphasizes his personal determination and relationships with others.

This way Batman’s stories might highlight the flaws of relying on wealthy individuals to address systemic issues, rather than celebrating it.

Anywho, Batman can be seen as more than just a literal billionaire fighting crime—he’s also a metaphor for resilience, trauma, and the moral struggle to do good in a complex world. While systemic critiques are valid, stories about individuals taking a stand against overwhelming forces can inspire people to take action in their own ways. Batman might not represent a socialist revolution, but his mythos still resonates with those who believe in fighting against injustice, even when the odds are impossible.

For example, Batman’s refusal to kill (in most versions) reflects a commitment to ethics even in a chaotic, violent world.

His mentorship of characters like Robin, Batgirl, and others shows the value of building community and empowering others to join the fight for justice.

This critique assumes that Batman is inherently a defender of capitalism and that consuming his stories passively reinforces capitalist ideologies. However, Comics are interpretive media: Readers and writers constantly reinterpret Batman’s stories, often through progressive or critical lenses. For example, many fans and creators have explored Batman’s stories as critiques of surveillance, unchecked power, or wealth inequality.

Not all media consumption is passive: Just because you enjoy Batman doesn’t mean you’re unaware of the problematic systems he represents. Many fans engage critically with the character, using him as a springboard to discuss systemic change rather than accepting the status quo.

Some might argue that Batman represents a kind of personal moral responsibility that is distinct from systemic critique. While systemic change is crucial, there’s value in stories that remind us of the importance of individual action. Batman doesn’t solve every problem, but he doesn’t ignore them either. His mission can be seen as a metaphor for personal accountability: even in a broken system, we have a duty to help others in whatever way we can.

This doesn’t mean abandoning systemic change—it means recognizing that systemic and personal actions aren’t mutually exclusive.

FInally, The beauty of Batman is his versatility. He’s been portrayed as everything from a campy detective (Adam West’s Batman) to a brooding antihero (The Dark Knight Trilogy). This adaptability allows writers and audiences to use him as a lens for exploring different moral, social, and political questions. While some versions of Batman reinforce capitalist ideals, others challenge them or exist outside that framework entirely. For example, some Elseworlds or alternate-universe stories imagine radically different takes on the character. Or, the recently debuted Batman Absolute version of the character, in which he is less wealthy and still continues with his crusade.

While the critique is insightful, it’s not the only way to view Batman. He can be seen as both a reflection of capitalist ideology and a vehicle for challenging it, depending on the interpretation. The real question might be: how can we engage with Batman’s stories in ways that spark critical thought and conversation, rather than passive acceptance of the systems they depict?

[phantobats]

No, Crime Alley doesn’t need a vigilante like Red Hood. In fact, Jason Todd’s approach is exactly what Gotham must avoid to break free from its cycle of crime and despair.

I've seen increasing rhetoric amongst Batfamily spaces that Jason Todd's approach to ruling Crime Alley with an iron fist is the preferable one. He's been painted as some sort of hero for perpetuating violence and controlling the drug trade instead of dismantling it, as seen here:

user iheartdeadmen79 on tiktok:

Contrary to popular fan rhetoric, Batman doesn’t avoid Crime Alley. He confronts its darkness, honoring his parents’ memory and striving to improve the lives of its residents.

Batman frequently patrols Crime Alley, protecting its people from gangs and criminals ("Just Another Kid on Crime Alley!"). His mere presence is a deterrent to crime and a reminder that justice exists.

As Bruce Wayne, he addresses the root causes of Crime Alley’s plight. Through the Wayne Foundation, he funds infrastructure projects, clinics, scholarships, and other resources that empower the community (Detective Comics #457).

Batman collaborates with figures like Leslie Thompkins, whose clinic provides healthcare and shelter to Gotham’s most vulnerable. Together, they tackle crime at its roots—poverty, neglect, and systemic injustice.

Batman’s approach is about more than fighting criminals; it’s about building a foundation for a better future.

Jason Todd’s Red Hood represents the antithesis of progress. His iron-fist approach perpetuates the very cycles of violence he claims to stop.

In "Batman: Under the Red Hood", Jason attempts to take over Gotham’s underworld, including parts of Crime Alley, by using lethal force. This creates power vacuums, incites gang wars, and leads to collateral damage among innocent civilians.

Jason targets criminals but ignores the systemic issues driving crime. Killing gang leaders may seem effective, but it does nothing to address the poverty and lack of opportunity fueling the problem.

Residents of Crime Alley already distrust authority. Jason’s violent reputation only worsens this, making him seem like another dangerous figure instead of a protector.

Jason’s “kill to prevent crime” mentality sends a harmful message. It glorifies violence as the only solution to complex social issues, desensitizing the community to brutality and ensuring the next generation grows up in the same cycle of trauma.

The Bigger Problem: Romanticizing Red Hood

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: much of the fandom romanticizes Jason Todd’s methods without critically examining their consequences. Posts praising Red Hood for “taking control” or “cleaning up Crime Alley” ignore how his actions destabilize the community, alienate the people he claims to help, and perpetuate the very violence he fights against.

Jason isn’t a hero for Crime Alley—he’s a cautionary tale. By normalizing his ideology, fans risk promoting a toxic mindset that equates justice with unchecked power. Crime Alley doesn’t need fear and bloodshed. It needs hope, investment, and the belief that change is possible.

Batman embodies the hard, often thankless work of building a better Gotham. Red Hood, though well-intentioned, embodies the dangers of quick fixes and violent rule. Gotham, and especially Crime Alley, doesn’t need more fear. It needs heroes who understand that real change comes from compassion, collaboration, and addressing root causes—not from perpetuating the same cycles of pain.

Fans need to move past the idea that Jason Todd’s methods are heroic. They’re not. They’re destructive. If we want Gotham to heal, it’s time to embrace hope, not more violence.

And I do know that the creator of the Tiktok I mentioned wrote their POV off as just being fanon, yet because it isn't explicitly stated in the caption and you have to dive into the comment section to even figure it out, it perpetuates the idea that this is how things actually are in canon, instead of being something fans with no real idea about social issues made up to praise their favorite white guy of the month.

[phantobats]

I hate All-Star Batman and Robin, The Boy Wonder with my entire heart.

But it is also the only comic run to ever give us a Batman so petty that he wasted all of his time painting himself, Robin, and an entire safehouse yellow just to spite the Green Lantern while drinking Lemonade.

[phantobats]

I cannot be the only one that believes with my entire heart that Bruce likes to talk to the bats in his cave, right?

Like before he had any of his Robins and Alfred had retired to sleep and left him with a now cold mug of coffee, he surely must have just looked up, half-delirious from sleep deprivation, and just started explaining the new angle he managed to find in his current case?

They don't really respond, but it's definitely better to speak at something rather than stare at the blinding screen before him all night long.

Knowing him, he's probably befriended some of the bats and considers them close confidants.

[phantobats]

Scary boyfriend privilege? No. Scary sons privilege.

Bruce who can’t go anywhere without his newly adopted ward. He follows Bruce like a sunny shadow, grin always in place.

“Dick, can I hold your hand when we cross the street?”

Dick, very sweetly, “No.”

Bruce sighs, but accepts easily. Some guy scoffs at that and asks Bruce if he’ll let his kid just talk to him like that. His kid. His heart hurts in a very good way.

He’s about to say something, but Dick interrupts him, his teeth bared full, “Weren’t you on the news for hitting an old lady with your car?”

Bruce freezing. Dick goes back to his gameboy. They hold hands when they cross the street.

It’s both scary and comforting how little he changes when he’s an adult.

Jason, on the other hand.

Although he refuses to admit it, he does follow Bruce around, too, when his dad actually has to leave the manor. It’s when Alfred says he needs sun.

“You signed a contract, sir.”

Bruce sighing, “I signed it when I was 4. In black crayon. Those don’t count.”

Damian gasped, as if discovering a vile fact, sending an accusing glare Bruce’s way. “They don’t?”

Bruce needs an excuse to haul ass fast and that’s how Jason ends up chaperoning his socially awkward, disaster of a father in his quest to pick up food.

He’s a titanic presence next to Bruce, glaring off whoever stares a little too long or too appreciatively, strong arms crossed and his eyes hard and sharp.

Bruce gently taps his bicep and he hates the way he melts. “Do you want the chicken nuggets with or without apple slices?”

“Without.”

“Jay.”

“FINE.”

Give Jason his “he asked for No pickles” moment. It has to embarrass Bruce enough to jump in traffic, thought.

Damian has his own league and none of them can really compete with it. I think, during parent’s night, he drags Bruce off to proudly showcase his gallery of portraits.

Bruce is very moved when he realizes they’re almost all him.

There’s portraits of Dick, too, and Alfred, and a comically bad one of Tim. “Damian, they’re very beautiful. Thank you.”

“I painted them with the blood of your enemies.”

“…Thank you.”

[phantobats]

PLEASE tell me you've watched either GOT or The Witcher.

I feel like having the Batfam in GOT would be spectacular, but i NEED to see you write about Witcher!Bruce.

Hmmm, Witcher!Bruce you say?

You're giving me very dangerous ideas here, anon.

(and yes, I love GOT! Maybe when I'm not so swamped with projects, I'll create something amongst those lines!)

[phantobats]

Since Lee has infected me with Jaime x Jason brainrot, I have come back with a small fluffy piece of Jaime patching Jason up:

Jaime had barely settled in for the night when the knock on his door sent a ripple of unease through him. It was Jason—he could tell from the rhythm of the knock—but there was something different about it tonight, softer, almost hesitant. When Jaime opened the door, his heart stuttered.

Jason stood there, battered and bruised, his red helmet clutched under one arm, his leather jacket torn in several places, and his hands bloodied. The normally unbreakable Red Hood looked worn, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion and pain.

“Hey, Blue,” Jason rasped, forcing a smirk despite the clear strain. “Ran into a bit of trouble.”

“¡Dios mío, Jason!” Jaime’s voice trembled with concern as he closed the distance between them, his arms instinctively wrapping around Jason’s waist to steady him. “What happened? You look—” His voice caught in his throat as he took in the full extent of Jason’s injuries. “You look like you went through hell.”

Jason’s attempt at a grin faltered, replaced by a weary shrug. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, cariño. Just another night in Gotham.”

Jaime’s brow furrowed as he helped Jason inside, the warmth of the apartment quickly replacing the cold Gotham night. “No más excusas, amor. You’re letting me take care of this. Come on.” His voice held a softness that Jason could never resist, even when he was stubborn enough to pretend he didn’t need help.

Guiding Jason towards the bathroom, Jaime kept an arm securely around his waist. The weight of Jason’s injuries seemed heavier than usual tonight, like it wasn’t just his body that was battered, but something deeper. As they reached the bright light of the bathroom, the full extent of Jason’s bruises and cuts became heartbreakingly clear—dark purple swelling beneath his ribs, a fresh gash across his eyebrow, and more scars forming from what must have been a brutal patrol.

Jaime turned on the faucet, letting warm water flow into the tub, its soft hiss filling the room. “Sit down, por favor. You’re a mess, and I’m not letting you get away without a proper bath.” His voice was gentle but resolute, a mixture of worry and tenderness threaded through every word. As Jason sat on the edge of the tub, Jaime kneeled beside him, unfastening the buckles of his torn jacket and peeling it away from his body with care.

Jason winced as the leather slid off his bruised shoulders, but he stayed quiet, watching Jaime with an unreadable expression. “You don’t have to do all this,” he muttered, though the usual bite in his words was softened by something warmer. “I’m not that fragile.”

Jaime’s hands paused, his eyes meeting Jason’s with a softness that made Jason’s breath hitch. “You may not be fragile, but you’re mine. And I worry about you, corazón,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly over Jason’s jaw before turning back to the task at hand. “I can’t just stand by when you come to me looking like this.”

The warm water continued to rise, filling the room with the scent of lavender, an oil Jaime had poured in despite knowing Jason would poke fun at it later. As the tub filled, Jaime helped Jason ease out of the rest of his suit, his movements tender and deliberate, careful not to aggravate any of his wounds.

“Lavender?” Jason arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “Really, Blue?”

Jaime chuckled softly, his fingers brushing lightly over a particularly dark bruise. “Sí. You need it. It’ll help you relax. Besides,” he added, a playful lilt in his voice, “I like when you smell nice.”

A genuine smile tugged at Jason’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You spoil me, you know that?”

Jaime dipped a cloth into the warm water, wringing it out before gently running it over Jason’s bruised skin. “Alguien tiene que hacerlo. You won’t take care of yourself,” he said softly, though the playful reprimand was laced with affection. His touch was featherlight, wiping away the grime and blood of the night with care, as though he could somehow wash away all of Jason’s pain.

Jason closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back, letting the warmth of the bath and the comfort of Jaime’s touch soothe him. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled under his breath, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the air like a whisper of something fragile.

“Shh,” Jaime responded, his fingers threading through Jason’s damp hair, massaging his scalp with soft, rhythmic strokes. “Don’t say that. Eres mi vida, Jason. You deserve every bit of care I give you.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Jason’s temple. “You’ve been fighting for so long, but you don’t have to fight me, ¿entiendes?”

Jason’s hand found Jaime’s, his thumb brushing over the knuckles as his heart swelled with a quiet ache he didn’t know how to put into words. “I’m trying,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I just… I’m not used to this.”

Jaime’s smile was soft, almost sad, as he continued tending to the bruises on Jason’s chest, his hands moving with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before. “You don’t have to be used to it yet. Just let me take care of you.”

As Jaime worked, Jason felt the weight of the night gradually lift from his chest. The bruises and cuts still stung, but they felt lighter now, as though Jaime’s touch had smoothed over the edges of his pain. His body relaxed under the soothing warmth of the water, the scent of lavender wrapping around him like a cocoon.

“You know,” Jason said quietly after a few moments, his voice softened by the drowsy comfort of the bath, “I always thought I didn’t need this—someone to patch me up, someone who worries.” He opened his eyes, looking at Jaime with a rare vulnerability. “But you… you make it hard not to want it.”

Jaime’s heart fluttered at the words, his chest tightening with a mixture of love and tenderness. He leaned forward, cupping Jason’s cheek in his hand as he pressed a kiss to his lips—gentle, slow, and full of quiet promises. “That’s because you do need it, Jay. And I’m here.”

Jason’s eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping his lips as he melted into the kiss, his hand resting on Jaime’s, grounding himself in the warmth of his touch. “Lucky me, huh?” he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got the best guy looking out for me.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jaime teased softly, brushing his thumb over Jason’s cheekbone before pulling back slightly. “But next time, try not to make me worry so much, yeah?”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and soft as it reverberated through his chest. “I’ll try, bebé. No promises, but I’ll try.”

Satisfied with that, Jaime helped him out of the tub, wrapping him in a towel before guiding him to bed. As Jason sank into the mattress, Jaime slipped in beside him, curling into his side, his head resting on Jason’s chest. Jason’s arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close as his thumb idly stroked Jaime’s back.

“Te quiero, Jaime,” Jason whispered into the quiet, his voice filled with a rare, unguarded warmth.

Jaime smiled against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to Jason’s skin. “Te quiero también, Jay. Now rest, mi amor. You’re safe.”

And as the night settled around them, Jason let himself finally believe it—safe, in Jaime’s arms, where the world and its weight couldn’t touch him.

[phantobats]

THE TRAGEDY OF BRUCE AND JASON'S RELATIONSHIP IS NOT THAT BRUCE DID NOT LOVE JASON ENOUGH ITS THAT BRUCE LOVED JASON SO MUCH THAT, NO MATTER HOW MUCH BRUCE WANTED TO KILL THE JOKER, EVEN IN THE DEPTHS OF HIS DESPAIR AND HATRED, HE KNEW THAT IF HE DID HE WOULD BE IN PART SPITTING IN THE FACE OF THE IDEALS THAT HIS SON DIED FOR AND HE COULD NOT LET HIMSELF TO DESTROY THE HEROIC LEGACY OF JASON TODD, BUT WHEN JASON RETURNED HE TOOK BRUCE'S UNDYING DEVOTION AND SWALLOWED RAGE FOR APATHY

[phantobats]

If Battinson ever gets Jason as a Robin, I need Vic and Jason to be best buddies who grew up in Gotham's grimiest parts together.

Vic: H-he really lets you go out like- like that?

Jason, grumbling as he takes sips of his slushie: Oh, get off my ass about it, will ya? I didn't pick the uniform.

Vic, pointedly looking away: . . . Must be cold at- at night.

Jason: Do you want me to shove this straw up your nose?

[phantobats]

The Penguin going into detail about the Maroni/Falcone family feud makes me FERAL.

It just makes me think about. Young Oz. He’s hungry, scrappy, and slick, and if Gotham wants a piece of him, it’ll have to come get him herself. He doesn’t chase.

Makes me think about Sal and Falcone fighting at any moment’s notice. Not a day goes by where the notorious families don’t try to kill eachother in bright daylight.

They made a big fucking mistake fighting on Wayne’s street, thought.

Imagine Thomas, only in sweatpants cause it’s 8 in the goddam fucking morning, angrily stomping out of his house, holding a sleeping baby Bruce with one hand and a gun in the other.

“Hey! You Drop pushin’ cocksuckers wanna murder eachother, do it off my fucking lawn!” There’s a collective gulp within them. Falcone tries saying something and gets shot in the knee.

“Anyone else have a speech prepared?”

The silence is very clear.

“Oz!” Oz jumping. He’s been sitting at Sal’s side just for this, — if Falcone asks, he’ll just say ‘I wanted to make sure he doesn’t get ya, boss’ as always. “Get inside, come on.”

At the end of the day: Oz plays for the biggest dog. Even if that’s his annoying childhood best friend.

So he grumbles, hurries off on a bad leg, — Thomas offered him better braces and like hell he’ll accept. The doors get locked. “…Thanks—“

Thomas whips around, a sharp, vicious motion. Pain cuts from the tip of his ear to the bow of his lips, flesh cut by the hard barrel of the gun. Hurts less than his ego.

“You’re going to get yourself fucking killed. “

“Not your fucking problem, fyi.”

“FYI? As long as you’re alive, you’re MY fucking problem, fyi.” He tosses the gun in Oz’s lap, along with a still sleepy baby Bruce, who touches on the fresh wound on his face gently.

And Thomas walks away like it’s so casual. “Cmon, I’m making cannolis. “

[phantobats]

Jason @ Jaime:

Jaime, in order to put himself through law school fast, easy, and relatively legal, picks up a stage singing job at one of those seedy bars that pay quick and dirty.

Only problem is Red Hood also frequents that club. And he’s gonna make Jaime anxiety puke if he keeps staring like that.

[phantobats]

Every time Batman faces off against a villain, the age-old debate surfaces: Should Batman finally kill? To many, the answer seems obvious. Gotham's rogues gallery—Joker, Scarecrow, Two-Face—have caused untold death and destruction. Some argue that Batman, with his no-kill rule, is doing more harm than good by allowing them to repeatedly escape and wreak havoc. But this line of thinking completely misses the point, not just of Batman’s moral code but also of why Gotham needs him in the first place.

Gotham City is infamous for its corruption. From the police department to the courts, virtually every institution that should protect the innocent is compromised. Judges are bought, politicians are on crime syndicate payrolls, and even the police force—before Commissioner Gordon’s reforms—was rife with bribery and backdoor deals. In a city where criminals are recycled back onto the streets through corrupt systems, Batman's role as a vigilante isn’t about acting as judge, jury, and executioner. It’s about being a symbol of justice that Gotham has lost.

If we’re focusing on who should be stopping these villains for good, we should be looking at Gotham’s broken justice system, not the moral line Batman refuses to cross. It’s the system’s responsibility to lock these criminals away for good, or better yet, reform them if possible. Batman doesn’t kill because he’s operating in a world where the institutions of law and justice have failed. His presence highlights how far Gotham has fallen, but asking him to break his code and start killing misses the mark.

Let’s imagine, for a moment, that Batman does kill. He ends the Joker once and for all. Does Gotham suddenly become a safer place? Does this action stop the next criminal mastermind from rising up? No. The truth is, Gotham’s problems run much deeper than a few individual villains. If Batman starts killing, he becomes a symptom of Gotham’s sickness rather than its cure. The cycle of violence continues, because the real problem—the corrupt systems that allow these criminals to rise—remains unchanged.

A vigilante who kills is just another arm of Gotham's decay. What Batman represents is the fight against that very decay. He’s someone who can operate outside the law without becoming a monster himself. If Batman starts executing villains, he isn’t fixing Gotham—he’s giving up on the idea that Gotham can be fixed.

Those who call for Batman to kill fail to see the larger picture. When people like Joker escape Arkham Asylum, that’s not on Batman. It’s on the corrupt or incompetent systems that continually fail to contain these threats. Arkham is a revolving door because the people who run it either don’t care or are incapable of doing their jobs properly. The courts release criminals because they’re either paid off or pressured by Gotham’s criminal underground. Batman's real enemies aren’t just the costumed villains, but the failing institutions that enable them.

If we want true justice in Gotham, we need to demand better from its police force, mental health institutions, and political figures. We shouldn’t be asking Batman to kill; we should be asking why Gotham’s mayor is in the pockets of crime lords, or why the city’s D.A. can’t secure a conviction against someone as clearly guilty as Joker. Fixing Gotham’s institutions would do far more good than turning Batman into an executioner.

At the heart of this argument is Batman’s moral code, which has often been a subject of debate. Batman refuses to kill, not just out of personal conviction, but because he understands what it would mean if he crossed that line. He would become no different from the villains he fights.

Gotham needs Batman precisely because he holds to a higher standard. His refusal to kill is a reminder that, even in a city as broken as Gotham, there are still people willing to fight for justice in a way that doesn’t compromise their humanity. In a world of corruption and lawlessness, Batman’s no-kill rule is a beacon of hope. It’s proof that Gotham’s soul isn’t entirely lost.

Rather than debating whether Batman should start killing, we should shift our focus to where it belongs—on Gotham’s institutions. Batman is a vigilante because the law fails. He wears the cape and cowl because the system is so broken that it can’t be trusted to protect its citizens. He fills a gap, but he doesn’t replace the law; he challenges it to be better.

If we want a safer Gotham, it’s time to stop asking Batman to do the dirty work and start holding the city's leaders accountable. The real question isn’t why Batman won’t kill, but why the justice system in Gotham is so corrupt that a vigilante is needed at all.

[phantobats]

Gothamites are soooo normal about the waynes (me when I lie)

[phantobats]

Multiverse: Collision Detected #1