#Bruce Wayne is Batman

[ao3statistics]

This is self-made. And also slightly concerning. Date: 28.12.2023.

I assume no guarantee or liability for the completeness, correctness and accuracy of this chart despite my best efforts.

Includes fanfictions in all languages available on Ao3, NOT English only.

Includes all popular Ao3 tags directly connected to the tag "Bruce Wayne".

More charts will follow. :)

Want to have a chart for different pairings, headcanons etc. in your favourite fandom? Send me an ask!

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Slumber Party?

A/N: This has no point. None at all besides cuddles and fluff :) Featuring a teensy bit of Bruce POV at the end.

Tags: Jason Todd x f!reader, Jason Todd x you, Jason Todd x Reader, Jason Todd, Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Batfam, Batfamily, DC Imagines, Red Hood x f!reader, Red Hood x you, Red Hood x Reader, The Joker, Death in the Family, Lazarus Pits, Nightwing, Robin, Damian Wayne, Richard Grayson, Dick Grayson, Batfamily fluff

WARNINGS: mentions of grief/loss/depression

Summary: There's no better cure to a hard day than cuddles and ramen noodles.

Word count: 2.6k+

Grief is a funny thing.

Sometimes you feel it acutely, perhaps from the initial loss of someone close to you or ending a relationship. Other times it’s a chronic ache, visiting now and then to remind you of someone or something and drag your day to a halt. 

Today, you were feeling the latter. 

It’s been over four years since your brother died, and the pain is manageable now. In the beginning it was like losing a piece of yourself- it was losing a piece of yourself. Now, you think about him every day and even laugh at something which reminds you of him when your family gets together. It isn’t painful anymore, and you’ve accepted what’s happened and the fact that no one can change it. Overall, your heart did what hearts do. They heal around the hole left in them, and you push on to the next day. 

You hadn’t had a bad day in a long while, and suppose you were due for one. The young brother and sister playing tag down the street were overflowing with youthful innocence, their excited shouts bouncing off concrete sidewalks and ancient brick buildings. When you realized the boy shared a name with your brother though, the pain crept back into the corners of your psyche. It wallowed there before swelling and penetrating the fenced-in part of your heart, tugging at the exposed heartstrings. 

Hence, your current position. You shuffle down the grocery store aisle, one Airpod shoved into your ears and hood up while some celebrity podcast rambles to fill the void. A sniffle escapes without proper permission, and you hastily wipe your face with your sleeve. Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink rapidly while tossing a whole case of instant ramen into the cart. If there was anything you wanted to do, it was to sit on the couch with your electric blanket and eat shitty ramen while crying your eyes out. 

Of course, nothing could be that easy. 

Footsteps approach from behind, and you tense automatically. They’re short strides, and you discern it’s a young person fairly easily. Slowly, you lift the hood from your head and turn, furrowing your brow at the pint-sized person. 

“Damian? What are you doing here?”

The youngest Wayne raises one aristocratic brow, wrinkling the smooth olive skin on his forehead. “Shopping, obviously.”

He launches himself up effortlessly, landing inside of your shopping cart. Of fucking course he does, because the big carts you hate pushing were the only ones left, and -oh yeah- he was Batman’s offspring. 

“Seriously?” You groan and drop your head to the handle. “Dami, I’m really-”

“Sad? Upset? In need of comfort?” 

This time you turn the whole cart around- Damian included- to face the second member of your pity party. Dick Grayson leans casually against the shelves, dressed in dark jeans and a blue sweatshirt, black hair tousled perfectly as per usual. 

“God, you too? Can��t even shop without being bothered by your cult.”  You bite out, snatching a package of tortillas from the shelf near Dick’s arm. 

It was a bit more hostile than you intend, but you’re not in the mood for a Wayne Family intervention at the moment. You’ve had enough since Jason had come back from the dead. 

“Hey, we really were just shopping and saw a familiar face. You looked sad, so Damian wanted to check on you.” Dick pushes away from the shelf.

And if that wasn’t the biggest load of shit you’d ever heard. 

“Really? You two? Shopping?”

“Alfred is visiting family out of the country.”

You narrow your eyes. “And they entrusted shopping to the two members of the family least  likely to step foot in the kitchen?”

“Tt. Nonsense. They entrusted shopping to me, since I am the only one capable of making and fulfilling a list.” Damian glances at his adopted brother. “Grayson is only here because I required a driver.”

“Uh-huh… Well, it’s always nice to see you guys, but I gotta go.” You haul Damian out of the cart by his armpits, eliciting a squawk of protest that almost breaks your eardrum. “Things to do.”

“Like crying by yourself at the store?” Dick presses. 

You begin to push the cart away. “Goodbye Dick. Goodbye, Damian.”

----

Back at your apartment, the TV blares a depressing Netflix documentary while you put your ramen in a bowl. While the depression you’d felt at first had ebbed away, being alone was not exactly helping the issue. Now it seems that each TV show or movie you attempt has something to remind you of the pain. 

Ramen was the only comforting thing you sought. 

While you were praying that Jason would be over soon, you refuse to admit it. Any text to him would cause worry, and the last thing you want is Jason to be in a hurry while doing his nightly business. With your luck, he would channel it into an explosive to take down a city block full of mob members and cause an all-out war. Maybe behead some druglords. Or torture a up-and coming criminal mastermind. 

Or something else extreme. You’re not 100% accurate when it comes to predicting Jason’s pit-influenced creative thinking.

You continue on your journey back to the couch, and stoop to plug in your electric blanket. Tinny television speakers ramble on about the mistreatment of killer whales in captivity while you tuck yourself into the couch.

“Seclusion isn’t the ideal treatment for grief, you know.” 

You leap up from the couch to face the fire escape window. Darkness is settling over Gotham, but you can see the faint glow of two lenses outside the open window. Damian nudges it open enough to crawl in, changing from a clumsy tumble into a graceful flip faster than you can blink. 

“You’re breaking into my apartment now?” You don’t deign to give him a reaction, simply plopping down on the couch. As much as you hate to admit it, the adopted Wayne boys were something of brothers to you. Pushing them away at the store was nothing more than to protect yourself from embarrassment, but you can’t run away now. 

“It wasn’t breaking in.” Damian said as he moves to sit beside you on the couch. “Your fire escape is always open.”

You grunt in answer and decide to slurp on ramen instead. Damian flicks his cape boredly and focuses on the TV. 

“Are you watching a film about orcas?”

It’s kind of sweet, Damian sitting with you in an attempt to soothe the pain you were feeling. He might be Bruce Wayne’s son, but there’s a flicker of something more in the young man. 

“Documentary.” You mumble around a mouthful of noodles. “Think ‘s called Blackfish.”

“Perfect.” Damian declares. “I enjoy educational programs. I will watch it with you.”

Your heart flickers at the statement. So young, yet striving to be the most intelligent creature he can. But if there was one thing you know, it’s that where there’s a Robin, there’s a Batman not far behind. 

“Where’s your father?”

Damian huffs and falls back into the couch cushions. “Meeting with Gordon.”

You nod. “I’m sure he’s not thrilled about where you’re at.”

It wasn’t that you and Bruce didn’t like each other. Moreso the fact that he disapproved of Jason’s actions, and you were aligned with Jason. Therefore, you got the same end of the stick as the Red Hood: the shitty side. 

“Tt. His petty disagreements with Todd are none of my concern.” He answers haughtily, “Besides, he has no direct quarrel with you. Nor would he, since I am helping you.”

You look away from the whales. “Are you?”

As usual, the sarcasm soars over Damian’s head. “Of course. You’re having a day of mourning, and as I said: it’s unhealthy to be alone.”

 You ignore the pang of sadness and smile at him. “You know, Damian, you’re my favorite of the Wayne wards.”

He scoffs in the most menacing way an eleven-year old can. “We both know that’s a lie.” 

After a good ruffling of his ornery black locks, you lean back into your side of the couch and collect your rapidly cooling bowl to finish it. 

The documentary continues on, and you zone out. Tapping away at Twitter and Instagram draws your attention, and by the time the apartment door opens, you’re dozing off. Your phone has slipped from your grip and the afghan blanket has been tugged across the couch. A warm weight leans into your side, and you decide moving isn’t an option for the foreseeable future. 

Somewhere in your subconscious, you recognize the sound of the shower turning on and off. A faint haze of humidity wafts across the apartment, followed by a gentle brush of fingers over your hair. 

Eyelashes flutter against your cheeks at the touch, and you observe Jason hovering above you. His hair is shiny and dripping, black tangles with white as it hangs over his eyes. A black t-shirt clings to his damp chest, and sweatpants adorn his lower half.

“Hey, you.” You yawn, leaning your cheek into the kiss Jason lays there. 

Awareness bleeds into you, bringing the sensation of another smaller body near you to the forefront of your mind. Much to your surprise Damian is asleep, body slumped against your shoulder and domino mask discarded on the coffee table. You recall his dedication to keep you company earlier in the night, and smile softly.

“Big Bird is on his way to pick up Demon.” Jason opens his mouth to continue, but stops to stare at the window. “Fuckin’ birds. He’s here already.” 

Sure enough, the same window Damian crawled through is now occluded by the lithe shape of Nightwing. One dramatic somersault later, he manages to land himself on the couch between you and Damian. The youngest Wayne opens his eyes with a scowl but lets Nightwing toss an arm around his shoulders.

“Hello again.” He chirps, then looks to Jason. “Jaybird.” 

“Dickwing. You’re on my couch.” He grits in response.

Dick smiles innocently at his foster brother, leaning a head of wild black locks onto your shoulder. His arms wrap around you in a loose hug. “Not your couch. I am cuddling your girl though.”

The sheer stupidity of their rivalry draws a giggle from your throat. You reach a hand up to Jason’s waist, tugging at his belt loops. 

“It’s alright, babe. I love you more than him.” You reassure, “Especially since you don’t stalk me at the grocery store.”

Jason stiffens, even with your playful tone. “You keeping tabs on us now, Wing?”

Dick pulls off his domino to roll his eyes at Jason. “Couldn’t be bothered. Dami and I had to do the shopping ‘cause Alfred’s on vacation. She was the one across town and crying in the cereal aisle.”

You drop your head against the top of Dick’s with a heavy sigh.

Teal eyes bore into you, suddenly filled with concern. “What happened, Bug?”

Swallowing the trepidation the claws into your throat, you look up at Jason. 

“I was just having a bad morning. Saw some kids that reminded me of my brother.” You grasp Jason’s hand, rubbing gentle circles onto it. “Damian stopped by tonight so I had company.”

“And now, I’m here! It’s like a family get-together.” Dick hums with excessive enthusiasm. “You should join the party, Jay.”

While Dick Grayson was annoying at his worst, he was a sweetheart at his best. All of the Wayne wards were, in their own way. Him being an advocate for Jason through the toughest times had brought the three of you close- no matter how much Jason would deny it.

“For once, I agree with Dick. You really should join.” You wiggle free from Dick’s hold, reaching your arms up to tug at Jason’s. “If you dont, I’ll be forced to cuddle Damian instead. Or Dick, if I’m desperate.”

Sleepily, Damian pipes up. “I shall not be used as someone’s teddy bear.”

This prompts Dick to let you go and instead rotate to gather Damian in his arms. “Too late baby bird. You’re the best teddy bear.”

“Unhand me at once, Grayson!” 

Much to your delight, while the other two argue, Jason relents. And that is how the four of you end up nestled into your old couch, Jason against the armrest pouting. You’re cuddled into his right side with an arm tossed around your shoulders, while Dick sits with his back on the opposite armrest and feet tossed across your lap. You choose a random documentary and press play, letting it drone on over the relentless bickering. 

“Touch me with your feet, Dickwing and I’ll break ‘em.”

“Relax, Jaybird. I washed them last week.”

“Yeah? Well I washed my machete when I got home tonight.”

“I oiled my sword the night before last.”

“Remind me why the fuck Bruce has a stick in his ass about a gun but he lets you carry that?”

It’s soothing, you realize, tucked in between three of Gotham’s heroes- or two vigilantes and a crime lord, as it were. Their bickering chases away the bits of grief that still litter your mind, and you relax a little more into Jason’s warm body as the minutes tick by.

-----------------------

Bruce Wayne hasn’t spoken to Bug in over a year. 

Not since the day after Jason tried to force him into killing the Joker. Since Bruce threw a batarang at his second son’s throat and the building exploded.

And, in that case, he might have deserved the tongue-lashing. He’d pledged to let Jason and her be- to let them live and enjoy each other as long as the Red Hood stayed in his territory. Bruce had followed that pledge to a tee too, until this morning. 

Damian and Dick were nowhere to be found after patrols, and though it wasn’t unusual for them to do their own thing- brotherly bonding, Dick had called it- but it was unusual for them not to check in. Tim was sick tonight, leaving Bruce with an odd sense of melancholy as he traversed the streets. Thus, when four-thirty rolled around, Bruce found himself hopping rooftops to Bug’s apartment. 

The fire escape is rickety, stained with red splotches that Bruce doesn’t want to believe are dried blood. It rattles against the building as he turns to the window and kneels to peer through the glass. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

His heart does a strange sort of leap as he sees two- three- of his boys curled up on the couch. Both outer seats have the footrests extended, and pillows littered the floor. Jason is stretched out on the far side, closest to the door. One hand is tucked behind his head, and the other is wrapped around Bug’s waist where she’s tucked into his side, legs twined with his on the recliner. Dick, unsurprisingly, takes up the most space, head pillowed far opposite from Jason and legs tossed over Bug’s lap. To top it off, Damian has managed to pile himself in the middle, arms wrapped around one of Bug’s and body pressed between Dick’s legs and the back of the couch. 

There are three domino masks and a broken red hood mask on the coffee table, though any identifiable costumes are covered by the blankets. Bruce winces at the amount of guns he sees discarded on the kitchen island and the crowbar propped near Jason’s end of the couch. 

He gnaws on the idea of sliding the window open, drumming his gloves gently on the glass. Eventually Bruce straightens, taking a deep breath and turning towards the east where dawn is just beginning to break over the ocean. His kids are safe, Gotham is quiet. 

And Bruce can deal with that. So he lets his kids sleep a little longer.

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

Masterlist | Send me ideas

[qchaos]

Slight batman au, where batman is only so serious during justice league meetings and at the watchtower bc it's a life or death job.

So, imagine outside of being batman and being in danger Bruce Wayne is actually , like , funny and not serious at all outside of work.

Also, I love the young Bruce Wayne headcannons, where he's in his early 20s and all the children are closer in age. So, he's a good dad but really young,so knows tiktok and songs.

Imagine the justice league seeing him at a gala with people he knows, like if Oliver queen was his friend, and he's just fucking about, not at all serious like as batman. And they think there's something wrong or he's acting when he's actually just having fun.

Add in the au where dc and marvel are in the same universe and you get early 20s Bruce Wayne, Tony stark and Oliver queen messing about and having fun at a gala while the justice league is shocked that Bruce can do much as laugh.

Bruce, Tony and Oliver escaped kidnappings together, and are eachother's safe space, so they just can't be serious around eachother.

Why Bruce and Ollie are always mad at eachother in JL meetings is because otherwise they'd end up laughing and I stand by that.

[leftdreamlandjellyfish]

[metukah]

ly

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon & Bruce Wayne Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Clark Kent Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth, POV Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon & Bruce Wayne Friendship, implied pre slash Bruce/Jim Series: Part 1 of Fatherhood (Rewrite Verse) Summary:

Bruce's entire life changes when he goes to the circus one night.

art by @glygriffe​

a rewrite of my fic Fatherhood, completed for WIP Big Bang challenge.

updates Tuesdays and Saturdays

[madigan-thompson]

Chapters: 32 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & John Grayson & Mary Grayson, Dick Grayson & Raya Vestri Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Mary Grayson, John Grayson, Richard (Uncle Rick) Grayson, Barbara Gordon, James Gordon Jr., Ace the Bat-Hound, Tony Zucco, Joker, Poison Ivy, Catwoman, Vicki Vale, Lucius Fox, Penguin, C. C. Haly, Raya Vestri, Original Characters Series: Part 1 of Robin Summary:

Tragedy, Training, Triumph: A Little Bird takes Flight

Richard Grayson had it all. A loving family, a promising future in his family’s circus act and the thrill of seeing the world. But life seldom goes as planned. During a performance in the city of Gotham, the equipment that held the Flying Graysons safe for countless years inexplicably fails. Richard’s family is gone. But is there more to the story? And now, as the ward of the Prince of Gotham, Richard has a home again. But could the perpetrator of his family’s fate be coming for him?

[crystalcatgamer]

The quiet despair of a life after death

"Huh." Tim says, binoculars raised to squint at the drug ring they're spying on. "I- I do it too, kinda. Just drink coffee like it's my blood source instead of eating actual food."

"Ew. I don't get why you drink that. You don't even put milk." Jason never liked coffee, and never will even if he puts a whole bunch of milk and sugar.

"Well, besides the copious amounts of sweetener I add, I also tip in some Red Bull or Monster when Alfred's not looking. For that sweet sweet energy." Tim mumbles, and Jason recoils in disgust.

"How are you alive."

"Pure spite."

Jason deals with the ordeal of being alive, and tries to carve out something for his own.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42680826

[dark-nymphs-fanfiction]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Relationship: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: identity shenanigans, kind of, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Bruce dosen't know, Resurrected Jason Todd, but Bruce dosen't know that either, you get the drill, canon-typical violence, kidnapping, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Red Hood needs better goons, no beta we die like robin

Word Count: ~3600

Summary: Bruce Wayne is used to being kidnapped, but usually he is also the target and not just a mistake.

Or: Red Hood's men ar incompetent.

"Who the hell is that?" "Bruce Wayne," Tom declared proudly, and Jason tried hard not to fight the green back. "I can see that," he stated, and his voice must have taken on a more than threatening note due to the voice distortion. In front of him, Bruce Wayne was tied to a chair, from which Batman could break out without any problems if he was left out of sight for a few seconds. The positive: Bruce would risk his secret identity only in the highest emergency; the negative: Jason had not ordered his men to kidnap Bruce. "Where's Dick Grayson?" he asked, noticing exactly how the three men flinched. "Um… He was there, but then the opportunity occurred, and we thought …" "Tell me you thought it would be great to kidnap them both. Go ahead and tell me that." Tom now just looked at the floor and his voice trembled, "No, sir. We … We just assumed that Bruce Wayne would be even better than his son. I mean, that's bound to attract the bat." Red Hood growled before pointing to the door, "We'll talk about that. Get out!"

Read more on AO3

[fernacular]

Despite what you may have heard Bruce Wayne is not, in fact, a furry.

He is, however, very opinionated.

[randoparody]

[ashoss]

some things dont change

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Alive

A/N: Did I spend two weeks wallowing in comics just to come out swinging with some Jason Todd fluff? ....yeah, i did. Also, this kind of combines the endings of the comic and animated versions of Under the Red hood. All that angst is the perfect excuse for me to give Jason Todd just a wee bit of love <3

Tags: Jason Todd x f!reader, Jason Todd x you, Jason Todd x Reader, Under the Red Hood, Jason Todd, Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Batfam, Batfamily, DC Imagines, Red Hood x f!reader, Red Hood x you, Red Hood x Reader, The Joker, Death in the Family, Lazarus Pits

WARNINGS: Blood, swearing, panic attacks

Summary: After the events of Under the Red Hood, an injured and sullen Jason Todd appears at your door.

Word count: 2.8k+

*gif does not belong to me*

Growing up in Gotham City has taught you a few important lessons. 

The most important of which is that someone knocking on your door at two thirty in the morning is probably bad news. 

You toss the covers away with a sigh, snatching your phone and taser from the nightstand. Not that you were sleeping great anyway; insomnia is a ruthless bitch, especially in a crime-ridden city where simply existing at night was enough to get you killed. 

Sirens blare somewhere down the block, and red lights flash against your shitty blackout curtains. Speeding emergency vehicles are a nightly occurrence in Gotham, so you ignore the sounds and move towards the door. Calling your humble abode an apartment was pushing it, so it only takes a few steps to cross the shoebox of a studio and grasp the door handle. Some might label you paranoid for the amount of locks on your door, but there were many things in Gotham you’d like your apartment to stay free of. 

“What do you want?” You call to the unrelenting knocker, fumbling with the top lock. “It’s too damn early for you to be selling something.”

A barely audible cough reaches your ears, and you’ve never wished for a peephole so bad before. You hold your taser against the opening as you begin to crack the door, letting curiosity win out. 

Expecting to see someone standing in the hall, you pause upon first peeking out. The hallway is dark, even the 24-hour lights dimmed past their normally drab setting. No face greets you, instead you’re made to look down and find the source of the noise. A figure sits slouched against the opposite wall, rubber ball in hand. A sweatshirt hood falls over their face, and you immediately point the taser at them. 

Their head lifts a fraction, and you catch the gleam of white teeth in the darkness. “Easy, Bug.”

It’s barely a whisper, but you recognize the nickname and the voice instantly. “Jason?”

You kneel down to the floor, growing heavy with concern. His head falls back against the wall with a thud, and you reach out to cushion it. “Y’gonna i-invite me in or wha’?” 

The Red Hood didn’t usually ask permission to enter your apartment, given you’d known each other since first grade, so you took that as a bad sign. “Come on. Before someone else comes out.”

On a good day, Jason was heavy. Since the Pit and since he’d been running about Gotham again, his body was built and firm- a weapon. That, combined with the weight of his body armor, guns, crowbar, and various sharp objects on his person made him a living tank.

Today, not only was he in excess of three-hundred pounds of muscle and weapons, but he was soaking wet. All the way through his sweatshirt and tactical pants, into the fitted armor beneath.You allow yourself to act more as a crutch than anything, making Jason carry most of his own weight to your couch. 

He falls onto the cushions with a groan, and you’re quick to flick on the lamp. “Jesus, Jay.”

“Jesus had nothin’ t’do with it, Bug.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Jason to show up bruised and bleeding. You’d accepted that the first time it happened, and everytime he climbed into bed you’d gently trace his injuries until he dozed off. But today, you are having a hard time deciding where to start. 

With the sweatshirt hood still pulled over his head, you begin to catalog injuries. Blood drips from his ears and nose, and you’re pretty sure the latter is broken. Only half of his black domino mask remains in place. The exposed eye is bloodshot, though both pupils look equal. Jason is sweating profusely, black and white-streaked bangs plastered against his forehead. He has one hand clutched to his chest, while the other presses against his neck. 

“I’m gonna cut this off.” You hustle to grab your medkit, yanking bandage scissors out and slicing the hoodie straight up the middle. 

Jason hisses as you jostle his neck, and your brows draw together. “What’s wrong with your neck?”

You redirect the lamplight, and immediately gasp at the amount of blood soaking his tan undershirt and armor. “Fuck, is that all coming from your throat?”

With nothing for him to do but hold pressure while you get him stable, you fill his hand with gauze and replace it on his neck. Jason’s green-tinged eyes follow you groggily, dragging a few seconds behind each movement. You keep working, removing soaked clothing until he’s down to his boxers and every cut and bruise has been checked. At some point you’re sure he’s lost too much blood to stay conscious, and hastily begin suturing the massive gash on his neck.

Jason whines pitifully in his forced slumber, and you can only murmur reassurances aloud and stroke fingers through his hair until the painful part is done. In the end, you jostle him enough to crush up some vicodin with water and syringe it down his throat, mixing in antibiotics for good measure. Once you’re satisfied he won’t choke on the water, you take a moment to clean up his face. 

Your yellow washrag comes away stained with blood, but you can’t find it in you to be upset. You return to the couch, carefully wedging yourself onto the cushion and bringing Jason’s head to your lap. Your adrenaline is beginning to subside, and exhaustion replaces it. Jason breathes slow and quiet, and it’s enough to lure you towards sleep with just one question on your mind. 

“Who did this to you, Jaybird?” 

---

If there is anything Jason Todd hates, it's waking up.

After crawling out of his own grave and waking bruised and sore on the daily, it was his least favorite activity. Today, it seemed, would be no different. 

Jason’s eyelids feel like sandpaper and his torso screams with every breath. The familiar tug of medical tape is present on his neck and hands. Underneath the gauze taped near his throat, Jason feels the pulling of stitches as he swallows and works his jaw, and his mind throws flashes of the night before at him in shades of black and red. 

“It’s him or me! You have to decide!”

The gun clatters to the floor, and Batman turns his back. 

That particular memory was unsurprising. 

He remembers the sound of flesh slicing and the smell of his own blood on the floor. The Joker’s haunting cackle as he hooted at Batman’s betrayal of Jason. 

The explosion, and clawing out of the rubble. 

“Jason?”

It was then he realized he’s barely breathing, hyperventilating to the point where his chest burns and his fingers begin to turn blue. A hand touches his chest and Jason reacts by swinging blindly but only manages to offset himself from where he’s resting. His shoulder collides with a hard floor, and he scrambles until his back hits a wall. 

“Jay, stop.” The voice comes again, “Listen to me, or you’re gonna pass out.”

Jason’s brain grabs onto the words, replaying them over and over until a face pops into his mind. 

“...B-Bug?” 

“Yeah, Jaybird, it’s me. I’m coming over there.” 

He swallows, head tipping down in a nod. Bug was safe. She would take care of him. She always had. 

It’s Bug’s hand in his hair that coaxes his vision to come back to him. Jason blinks, the black spots covering his field of view lessening as he makes himself breathe deep. His chest is still on fire and his neck protests with every heaving breath, but the fingers scratching his scalp abate the panic to a manageable level. 

Jason reaches out, fingers twisting into the oversize crew-neck, his crewneck, that hangs loosely on Bug’s shoulders. He tugs until she’s flush against him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hiding his face in the fabric of the sweatshirt. The scent of her, like vanilla and the ocean and everything good mixes with her lingering perfume and washes over him. 

“Shh, Jaybird. I got you.” 

Tears dampen Jason’s face and Bug’s shirt as she cards fingers through his messy hair. Her hands gently pull his face up, and Jason forces himself to swallow the pain as their eyes meet. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” He croaks, unwilling to let his sarcasm die for just a moment. 

“Yeah, it’s weird, me being in my own apartment and all.” Bug shoots back, letting her hands graze his cheekbones before slipping to his shoulders. “Come back to the couch and let me check your stitches.”

Jason goes easily when Bug pulls at his hands. Joints creaking, he staggers back to the couch. Surprisingly, he sits upright, back to the cushions and bandaged hand on the armrest. Bug nudges the lever for the recliner, and Jason sighs as he stretches out. Her hands peel at the bandaging on his neck first, dabbing fresh gauze over what he assumed was leaking blood. 

“You’re not gonna ask what happened?”

Bug pauses, crystalline eye flicking to his face. “Do I ever?”

Jason concedes. “Fair enough.”

A single brow raises as she replaces the gauze on his neck. “Though you don’t usually show up with your throat near slit. Or wake up in your boxers having panic attacks.”

A weak laugh claws its way out of Jason’s mouth, and his fingers close around Bug’s wrist. “I usually wake up in my boxers.” 

She rolls her eyes, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles. “This is a bit extreme. Even for you, Red Hood.”

Any ounce of playfulness he’d been feeling moments ago was chased away by the memory of Batman- his foster Dad, Bruce- throwing a batarang at his throat. Of him letting the Joker live again, even after he’d beaten Jason to a pulp. It was almost as if Jason was not only back from the dead, but reliving the events that had brought him to the precipice. 

“You’re doing it again.” Bug states matter-of-factly, shaking Jason from his thoughts. 

“What?” He understands then he’s hyperventilating again, and appreciates the lack of pity on her part. “Sorry. It.. it was Bats.”

She tenses beside him, one hand ghosting up his knee and resting on his thigh. “He… Bruce did this to you?”

God, why does it sound so much worse when she uses his name?

“...Yeah.” Jason laces his fingers with the ones massaging his thigh. “I tried to make him choose. To make him-”

He stops himself. 

“-I just wanted him to choose me.”

Jason fucking hates how whiny it sounds coming out of his mouth. He bites back the tightness in his throat and refuses to let himself cry over Bruce. 

Bug blinks a couple times and settles herself cross-legged, facing him. “Choose you, or..?”

“Or him. The Joker.” Jason grits the name through his teeth. “The one wh-who-”

She shakes her head and squeezes his hand as the color drains from her face. “Killed you.”

His head snaps to her. “And almost killed you.” 

She stares at him then, and Jason’s hand reaches up to trace her left brow. The one intersected by a jagged scar, trailing all the way down to the corner of her mouth in a horrid mimicry of the Joker’s Glasgow smile. The scar that left her eye cloudy and blind, unable to be healed even by Bruce’s state of the art technology. No matter how many times Jason was killed by the Joker, Bug’s scar was his constant reminder that he had failed. 

“I’m alive, Jay.” She soothes, leaning into his shoulder and looping her arm across his midsection. 

“And that’s the problem with him!” Jason cries. “The Joker should be dead.”

He knows when he’s losing his composure, and it is sliding away quickly. Tears nip at his eyes, and Bug clambers carefully into his lap. She may be half-blind, but she is the best at understanding when the rage from the Pit is beginning to boil over. 

“I know, he should be. We were just kids, Jason.” Bug presses her forehead to his. “We were kids when he did what he did to us. But Bruce… you know he’ll never change.”

Jason works his jaw a moment, gathering up the motivation to speak without sobbing. “He just… I hate hating him, Bug.”

His hands clutch at her shirt, aimlessly searching for a hold, for anything to anchor him to this reality. Green floods his thoughts, raging against the sadness. Jason’s sanity is a sinking ship, being tossed by monstrous waves in the sea of emotions that is his mind. The Pit may have restored his memories, but it broke his ability to reason- to understand the complex emotions that came with everyday life. Talia al Ghul trained him to be a weapon, but in Gotham he was so much more. 

An orphan. 

A vigilante. 

Robin- The Boy Wonder.  The Red Hood. 

A son. 

Bruce’s son. 

Loved. 

Jason draws his knees closer to his chest, bodily bringing Bug flush against him. He seeks her lips out with his, desperate for  reassurance once again. Her hands are twisting in his hair and her legs tighten around his hips. Jason’s tongue runs along her bottom lip, seeking permission before moving on. Bug moans softly against him but chastises him when he attempts to grind his hips upwards. 

“You know I love you, but you need rest.” She speaks against his cheek, hot breath washing over Jason’s ear. 

He relents, cupping her cheeks with his hands. Two fingers follow the scar down to her lip, and Jason presses his lips there. “Only if you go to bed with me.”

“I think I can make that happen.”

-

Masterlist | Send me ideas

[mckinlily]

Plot armor but it’s Bruce Wayne’s wealth.

Bruce is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce does not want to be one of the richest men in world.

He starts by implementing high starting salaries and full health care coverages for all levels at Wayne Enterprises. This in vastly improves retention and worker productivity, and WE profits soar. He increases PTO, grants generous parental and family leave, funds diversity initiatives, boosts salaries again. WE is ranked “#1 worker-friendly corporation”, and productively and profits soar again.

Ok, so clearly investing his workers isn’t the profit-destroying doomed strategy his peers claim it is. Bruce is going to keep doing it obviously (his next initiative is to ensure all part-time and contractors get the same benefits and pay as full time employees), but he is going to have to find a different way to dump his money.

But you know what else is supposed to be prohibitively expensive? Green and ethical initiatives. Yes, Bruce can do that. He creates and fund a 10 year plan to covert all Wayne facilities to renewable energy. He overhauls all factories to employ the best environmentally friendly practices and technologies. He cuts contracts with all suppliers that engage in unethical employment practices and pays for other to upgrade their equipment and facilities to meet WE’s new environmental and safety requirements. He spares no expense.

Yeah, Wayne Enterprises is so successful that they spin off an entire new business arm focused on helping other companies convert to environmentally friendly and safe practices like they did in an efficient, cost effective, successful way.

Admittedly, investing in his own company was probably never going to be the best way to get rid of his wealth. He slashes his own salary to a pittance (god knows he has more money than he could possibly know what to do with already) and keeps investing the profits back into the workers, and WE keeps responding with nearly terrifying success.

So WE is a no-go, and Bruce now has numerous angry billionaires on his back because they’ve been claiming all these measures he’s implementing are too expensive to justify for decades and they’re finding it a little hard to keep the wool over everyone’s eyes when Idiot Softheart Bruice Wayne has money spilling out his ears. BUT Bruce can invest in Gotham. That’ll go well, right?

Gotham’s infrastructure is the OSHA anti-Christ and even what little is up to code is constantly getting destroyed by Rogue attacks. Surely THAT will be a money sink.

Except the only non-corrupt employer in Gotham city is….Wayne Enterprises. Or contractors or companies or businesses that somehow, in some way or other, feed back to WE. Paying wholesale for improvement to Gotham’s infrastructure somehow increases WE’s profits.

Bruce funds a full system overhaul of Gotham hospital (it’s not his fault the best administrative system software is WE—he looked), he sets up foundations and trusts for shelters, free clinics, schools, meal plans, day care, literally anything he can think of.

Gotham continues to be a shithole. Bruce Wayne continues to be richer than god against his Batman-ingrained will.

Oh, and Bruice Wayne is no longer viewed as solely a spoiled idiot nepo baby. The public responds by investing in WE and anything else he owns, and stop doing this, please.

Bruce sets up a foundation to pay the college tuition of every Gotham citizen who applies. It’s so successful that within 10 years, donations from previous recipients more than cover incoming need, and Bruce can’t even donate to his own charity.

But by this time, Bruce has children. If he can’t get rid of his wealth, he can at least distribute it, right?

Except Dick Grayson absolutely refuses to receive any of his money, won’t touch his trust fund, and in fact has never been so successful and creative with his hacking skills as he is in dumping the money BACK on Bruce. Jason died and won’t legally resurrect to take his trust fund. Tim has his own inherited wealth, refuses to inherit more, and in fact happily joins forces with Dick to hack accounts and return whatever money he tries to give them. Cass has no concept of monetary wealth and gives him panicked, overwhelmed eyes whenever he so much as implies offering more than $100 at once. Damian is showing worrying signs of following in his precious Richard’s footsteps, and Babs barely allows him to fund tech for the Clocktower. At least Steph lets him pay for her tuition and uses his credit card to buy unholy amounts of Batburger. But that is hardly a drop in the ocean of Bruce’s wealth. And she won’t even accept a trust fund of only one million.

Jason wins for best-worst child though because he currently runs a very lucrative crime empire. And although he pours the vast, vast majority of his profits back into Crime Alley, whenever he gets a little too rich for his tastes, he dumps the money on Bruce. At this point, Bruce almost wishes he was being used for money laundering because then he’s at least not have the money.

So children—generous, kindhearted, stubborn till the day they die the little shits, children—are also out.

Bruce was funding the Justice League. But then finances were leaked, and the public had an outcry over one man holding so much sway over the world’s superheroes (nevermind Bruce is one of those superheroes—but the public can’t know that). So Bruce had to do some fancy PR trickery, concede to a policy of not receiving a majority of funds from one individual, and significantly decrease his contributions because no one could match his donations.

At his wits end, Bruce hires a team of accounts to search through every crinkle and crevice of tax law to find what loopholes or shortcuts can be avoided in order to pay his damn taxes to the MAX.

The results are horrifying. According to the strictest definition of the law, the government owes him money.

Bruce burns the report, buries any evidence as deeply as he can, and organizes a foundation to lobby for FAR higher taxation of the upper class.

All this, and Wayne Enterprises is happily chugging along, churning profit, expanding into new markets, growing in the stock market, and trying to force the credit and proportionate compensation on their increasingly horrified CEO.

Bruce Wayne is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce Wayne will never not be one of the richest men in the world.

But by GOD is he trying.

[arcventi]

[t00thpasteface]

"well, the laser vision IS a plus, because it's cool watching her set stuff on fire from 50 yards away. and i like that she can fly and get things off of high shelves for me. but those aren't the ONLY reasons why i like her!"

(also i hope you enjoy retro batdad, because that's where my brain's at right now. i'm delighted that starfire's design is already so incredibly 60s; she fits right in 🌠)

[bianc0re]

arcade night 🕹️🦇