#batman/original character

[punchdrunkdoc]

Just Breathe - Ch.12

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

“How’s it going with my apartment?” Beth asked. 

She was sitting cross-legged on the chair he’d brought down to the lair for her. She never sat normally; it was one of the things he’d learned about her since they’d started living together. If she was reading, she’d curl into the chair with her feet on the cushions and her legs bent to prop the book against; if she was watching something on her phone, her back would rest against one of the arms of the chair and her legs would hang off the opposite one, her feet swinging in the air. The other night, he’d spent more time watching those sock-clad feet than reading the Wayne company financial statements Alfred had foisted on him. 

Right now she was bent over the suit resting in her lap, repairing a tear in the arm with neat stitches. He’d gotten too close to a knife-wielding thug last night who’d sliced a 3 inch gash in the leather. She’d offered to sew it for him before he went out again tonight. 

“And not because this is classed as ‘woman’s work’,” she insisted. “I just miss stitching things up. I used to find it almost therapeutic sewing up the bodies after autopsies. Putting things right again…” She’d shrugged and grabbed the suit from his hands. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned missing her job. She’d explained her absence to the M.E. by way of a family emergency and was using up the leave she’d accrued over years…but it was obvious she wanted to get back to work as soon as possible. 

And now she was asking about her apartment. 

“Alfred says the decorators are almost finished,” he replied. She’d taken the news of her damaged home surprisingly well, but he’d purposefully downplayed the extent of the destruction. She didn’t need those images in her head when she eventually returned to it. He’d offered to find her a new place, but she’d settled for him arranging for repairs and refurbishment.  

“So when do they think I can move back in?”

He sighed and swivelled on his stool to face her. “Beth, you know its not safe to go back yet.”

“It’s been two weeks, Bruce. I can’t hide here forever.” 

The sentiment was repeated by Alfred the following morning. “How long is that poor girl going to be holed up here?”

He told him what he told Beth. “As long as it takes to find Newsome.”

“And just how hard are you looking?”

“What do you mean? I’ve got facial recognition software running on cameras set up around Beth’s apartment, the GCPD are monitoring the bus and train terminals, every informant in the city is on the look out…”

“Hmmm,” was the only reply. 

“What are you getting at, Alfred?”

“I’m just wondering if you aren’t subconsciously trying to keep her here.”

That got a glare in response. Alfred threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m just pointing out that for someone with an intense fear of losing people, keeping them locked away from the world would be a convenient coping mechanism.”

“Enough with the amateur psychology, Alfred. I’m not subconsciously - or consciously - doing anything.”

Newsome was in hiding - completely off the grid - and there wasn’t a way to flush him out that didn’t put Beth in danger. Bruce was sure he was still in the city, biding his time, waiting for his opportunity…and Bruce wouldn’t give him that. 

So Beth had to stay here.

He knew she was starting to chafe against her confinement, but there was no alternative. He wasn’t manipulating events to make her stay, and he never would - no matter how much he liked living with her. 

“I have to resort to ‘amateur psychology’, as you put it, because you won’t seek real help!”

It was an old argument, one that had been grumbling between them for decades. “I told you, Alfred, I don’t need-“

“You do! You always have. But I let it go - for years. But things are different now. You have someone in your life now, and eventually she is going to leave this fortress and be out in the world again. Can you honestly say you’ll be able to cope with that?”

Bruce said nothing, knowing that Alfred was right. He hadn’t gotten over his fear of losing Beth or going through that kind of grief again - it had all just been lying dormant. 

Alfred took advantage of the silence. “Please just hear me out - for once.”

Bruce nodded, resigned.

“The fear of losing someone you care about will never go away completely - its a normal, valid emotion that we all experience in our lives. But its not normal when it leads you to sabotage your relationships or retreat from human kind all together.

“I’m aware of that, Alfred.”

“Well, are you aware that there are techniques to mitigate the fear? Make it manageable? For example, there’s a kind of exposure therapy, where you picture what your life would be like if they died. Really imagine it. And then you picture yourself coming out the other side of that, knowing that you’ll be able to go on. You are resilient, Bruce. You survived the absolute worst thing imaginable once, and you would be able to do so again. You need to have faith in yourself.”

Bruce shook his head. The thought of sitting down and really picturing what life would be like if something happened to Beth…

No. 

He couldn’t cope with that kind of ‘therapy.’

“I appreciate your help, Alfred. I really do. But I can’t deal with this right now.” He stood up from the table and started heading upstairs to his room. 

Alfred’s voice called up after him. “Bruce, if you live your life clinging to the knowledge that you will eventually lose everything, you’ll never actually gain anything. Just remember that. Please.”

Bruce paused on the steps as the words penetrated. But he shook his head again. That was a problem for another time. Right now, he needed to sleep… 

Then he needed to get to work. 

While the search for Newsome was cold, tracking down the weapons dealer was his top priority. He had a lead to go on - thanks to Gordon - and he needed to start digging into it. 

He passed Beth’s room on the way to his suite and a faint noise stopped him as he walked by her door. She’d gone to bed an hour ago, so she should be asleep…

Concerned, he put his ear to the door and heard her crying out, her voice strained.

She was having a nightmare.

He eased open her door and softly padded to the side of her bed. She was on her back, the sheets tangled up around her legs. Her head thrashed from side-to-side as frightened whimpers escaped her lips. 

So that’s where it goes, he thought. The unknown traumas from her past, the dark memories collected from killers, the tragedies she dealt with at work…all of it stagnated in her subconscious, hiding behind her smiles and sunny optimism, waiting for the night to emerge. 

Just like the fake smile that covered up her desperation for human touch, this was another sign that she was living a lie. Another sign that she was struggling with her circumstances and her past.  

He wondered if she was even aware of it.

He perched on the edge of the mattress, unsure how to comfort her. Would she want to be woken to find him here, a witness to her vulnerability? He would hate that, if it were him.

So he opted for a different tack. He brought his hand up slowly, and gently placed it on her cheek - finally completing the gesture he’d started a few days ago - and set about replacing the terrorising images she was experiencing with something more peaceful. 

The first thing that came to mind was a recreation of their night under the stars, and he concentrated all his thoughts on it, hoping she could pick up on it in the depths of her uneasy sleep. 

He pictured the night sky, vast and wondrous. He pictured the gentle, warm breeze rustling through the field of corn. He pictured the two of them, lying together on a blanket in the middle of that field. He was on his back…and her head was resting on his outstretched arm. 

He tried to project a feeling of calm. Of contented lethargy.

In the scene, she turned her head and smiled at him. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, his hand brushing against her silken skin. He shifted on to his side and continued his exploration, his finger gently tracing the arch of her eyebrow. The slope of her nose. Across her lips. 

She tilted her head up as he bent down, a move so choreographed it spoke of endless familiarity. 

His lips met hers. He tasted her smile, his tongue flicking out against her plump upper lip as it curled in delight. 

The kiss was unhurried. 

Languorous and wonderful. 

His hand cupped her head to change the angle of the kiss, and it deepened. Became passionate and vital. He felt her fingers grasp his hair and she tugged until he moved over her, his hips now cradled between her thighs. Her other hand smoothed over his back. His lips moved to her neck, gliding over the warm skin, desperate to feel more of her, lay claim to every inch of her-

Bruce sprang from the bed, severing the contact. 

His breathing was hard and loud in the quiet room and his eyes flew to Beth’s…but she was still asleep. She looked relaxed and at peace now, a small smile curving her lips. 

He took a deep breath, relieved that she hadn’t woken and realised what he’d done. 

What he’d revealed. 

He desired her.

He wanted her.

He’d been deluding himself all these weeks that this was just a platonic relationship. Even the other night, when he admitted that he wanted to touch her, he’d somehow convinced himself it was just as a means of comfort. 

It was all bullshit. 

He fucking craved her. 

He wanted to kiss her. Caress her. Strip her bare and bury himself inside of her. 

He scrubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t think about his here. Not when she could wake at any moment. He grabbed the duvet from the end of the bed and pulled it up, smoothing it over her sleeping form. 

She was still wearing his pyjamas, he noted. She’d bought several outfits online to wear around the house - she hadn’t wanted anything from her apartment that Newsome might have touched - but for some reason she was still wearing his clothes to bed. 

He really couldn’t think about that now. 

He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him and leaned back against it. 

He wanted her. 

He wanted Beth. 

He’d had some encounters with the opposite sex in college, but it was an aspect of his life that he’d tried to sublimate. There’d been a moment of weakness with Selina last year, but he’d worked hard to extinguish the spark of desire she’d lit in him. 

But that spark was back. 

Within moments of imagining a scene with Beth where he was free to act as he wanted - with no abilities stopping them, no missions distracting them - he’d kissed her.  As if it was the most natural thing in the world...  

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t change anything between them.

Beth was unwilling to touch him. Unwilling - unable - to take on his memories. To see Batman’s world in all its technicolour brutality night after night. And he understood that.

He was grateful, in a way. 

Beth had erected the barrier between them that he needed.  

He couldn’t afford to give in to these desires. 

He couldn’t afford to be distracted from his work, and he couldn’t afford to get any closer to her.  

 ———

 Later that afternoon, Beth padded downstairs and smothered a yawn with the back of her hand. She didn't feel rested at all, despite a full eight hours in bed. She'd been plagued by her recurring nightmare - the same one she'd been experiencing since she was 12 years old. Her psychologist at the time thought it was her mind's way of bringing repressed memories to the surface, but in all the years she'd been having the dream, she was none the wiser on what it meant. 

It was just her, in the dark, immobile and powerless, calling for help. 

That was it. 

No clues were offered about the first decade of her life and what she'd been through. Instead, she just woke up drenched in sweat, haunted by feelings of despair and terror. 

Except for last night...

Last night the dream had morphed into something entirely different. Something much more enjoyable, involving a blanket, a starry sky and a certain vigilante billionaire. 

That dream had been much more pleasant...but she still woke feeling an echo of despair. 

Because it would always remain a dream. 

A fantasy of a different life. 

She’d been trying her hardest this past week to act naturally around Bruce. To not let on that she was in love with him. To not let him see that she was dying inside from the sheer want of him. She’d even broached the subject of moving out, as if she was itching to get some distance from him. When the truth was - as much as it was torture in its own way - these last couple of weeks had been the happiest of her life. 

So she’d been trying to put some distance between them...but apparently all she’d done was suppress all her wants and desires until they'd sprung forth during her sleeping hours. 

"What's all this?" she asked as she reached the dining table. Instead of food, it was covered with documents and photographs that Bruce and Alfred were pouring over.

Bruce looked up at her voice. His eyes flicked over her face, but he quickly dipped his head to shuffle the papers in front of him. 

Alfred answered for him. "We're chasing leads on the distributor of the gas."

"What gas?"

“She doesn’t know?" he asked Bruce, surprise in his voice.

"The gas those bus hijackers used on me," Bruce replied, his focus still on the pages in his hands. "I've come across it a couple more times on the streets. Someone's supplying it to Gotham's criminals.”

She felt hurt that she hadn’t been included in this. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well, now I’m worried about all the other things you don’t feel I’m capable enough to handle.”

He stared up at her. “There’s one way to solve that problem, isn’t there.” He held out his hand to her, palm up, as if daring her to take it. 

She frowned at him and shook her head, all her earlier thoughts of happiness and love dissolving in the face of his cruel behaviour. “Why are you being like this?”

 ———

 “Why are you being like this?” 

Because I’m an asshole, Bruce thought.

The moment she’d walked into the room, he’d suddenly felt wired. As if all his senses had gone on alert. But he didn’t know how to act, or what to say. He could barely look at her. 

His composure was wrecked.

And he’d been too keyed up after that…dream or projection or whatever it was…to sleep much. Which meant he’d be hitting the streets tonight distracted and tired. 

It wasn’t fair to blame her for any of that…but a part of him did. So he’d lashed out with a callous gesture. He’d offered the one thing she wanted the most - human touch - just to hurt her. 

And he felt like a complete bastard for it. 

He watched from the corner of his eye as she turned on her heel and walked away. He tipped his head back and blew out a long breath. 

“What the hell is going on between you two?” Alfred asked.

“It’s complicated.”

“That didn’t look complicated. It looked like two children sniping at each other. If you want to make this relationship work-”

“We’re not in a relationship,” Bruce interjected.

Alfred sighed. “It’s not a conventional relationship, I’ll grant you. But there is something between you two-“

“We’re just friends.“

“-and don’t say you’re just friends.”

The two men stared at each other, with matching obstinate expressions.

“Whatever it is, Bruce. You need to apologise to her.” Alfred stood up and left the room. 

Bruce nodded and stared down at the table. 

Like two children sniping at each other…

That was the problem, wasn’t it? He was stuck in arrested development, never progressing past that traumatic event from when he was 10 years old. His whole identity was tied to it, and everything he’d done since was a reaction to it. 

He’d cut himself off from the normal progression of life. He had no friends, no social life. And he’d never had a proper, adult relationship - friendship or otherwise.

Which meant he didn’t know how to deal with these feelings. He didn’t know how to treat someone he cared about. Someone he was attracted to. 

When he felt he was getting too close before, he’d ignored her. 

And when he’d gotten closer still - and admitted to himself that he wanted her - he’d lashed out and hurt her.

He clenched his fists on the table. He needed to do better. None of this was Beth’s fault. It wasn’t her fault that he had no experience with relationships; it wasn’t her fault that he didn’t know how to handle these feelings…

And it wasn’t her fault that she had an ability that kept them apart. 

If he was honest with himself, that was another reason he was feeling angry and frustrated this morning. She’d walked in to the room looking adorably rumpled, the tiredness in her eyes doing nothing to detract from her beauty…and all he’d wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her. 

And he’d known it was impossible. 

Last night he’d been grateful that her ability acted as a barrier between them - a buffer to keep him safe. 

But now he just resented it. 

He’d wanted her to call his bluff, take his hand, see how much he wanted her…and tell him she felt the same. It was a fantasy he needed to wake up from. They were friends. And that’s all they’d ever be. 

And friends didn’t hurt each other. 

Bruce set out to find her and apologise, but she wasn’t in her room or her usual haunts - the chair by the fireplace, or the lair downstairs. He felt a prickling of unease grow as he searched from room to room. What if she’d left? What if she was out there, on the streets and unprotected? What if he’d driven her out into danger…?

As a last resort, he ventured out on the rooftop, to the small seating area that offered a view of the Gotham skyline. 

And there she was.

He exhaled in relief. Then took a deep breath as he tried to come up with an opening. The only thing he could think of was an inane fact from his childhood. “Do you know the President of the United States once sat there?” he asked, coming to stand in front of her. He leaned against the stone balustrade and pointed to her chair.

“Which one? The current asshole or the asshole before him?” Her tone was annoyed, but he didn’t care - at least she was speaking to him.

“I think it was the asshole before that. My parents threw this big fundraiser when he was running for re-election and canvassing in Gotham. This whole rooftop was strung with lights and it looked like something out of a fairytale. I was only five or six, and wasn’t allowed to attend the party, but I snuck in.”

“What happened?” She sounded curious despite herself. 

He took a seat beside her on the wooden bench and stared out over the city. “My mom found me running around in my pyjamas stealing food from the buffet tables. She lifted me into her arms, introduced me to the leader of the free world, then tucked me back into bed.” He could feel a smile lift the corners of his mouth at the memory. 

“You never really talk about that period of your childhood,” she whispered.

He turned to face her. “Neither do you.”

She shrugged and huddled into her cardigan. It was an unseasonably warm evening in Gotham, but the sun was starting to set, and a cool breeze drifted through the air. “There’s not much to tell. I have no memory of my life before I was 12 years old.”

She narrowed her eyes at his silence. “But you already knew that.”

He nodded. 

She blew out a breath. “Wow, you really do know all my secrets.” 

‘Any you know all of mine,’ he wanted to reply. But that was no longer the truth. Not when he was keeping his feelings for her hidden. He settled for apologising. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the gas. And I’m sorry for what I did downstairs.”

“That was a dick move.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Truly sorry. I was tired and frustrated…and that’s no excuse.” He raked his fingers through his hair and tugged on the strands. “It’s just…I’ve never had something like this in my life. A relationship, like this. And I don’t know how to handle it sometimes.”

“And you think I do?” She offered him a small smile, and the churning shame and regret in his gut started to ease with the sight.

“So am I forgiven?” he asked. 

She nodded and he smiled in return. “Thank you.”

She shivered and tugged her cardigan around her. “We should go inside,” he said. 

“I want to watch the sunset. But you can go. You need to get ready for tonight.”

He shook his head. “It can wait.” He cautiously wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close against his side, offering his warmth.   

They sat together in comfortable silence and watched the sun wash the sky in lavender and orange as it dipped below the horizon.

 ———

 Bruce was asleep. 

His arm was loose around her shoulder, and his head rested against the back of the bench. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. 

Beth watched him fondly, unused to seeing him so relaxed. He must have been exhausted to have fallen asleep so quickly…and in such an uncomfortable position. 

She would need to wake him soon, otherwise he’d end up with a sore neck. But for now, she was content to watch over him as he rested. 

He’d been working so hard these last couple of weeks, out for hours and hours at a time scouring the city for Newsome. And now she’d discovered he was facing a new threat, the manufacturer of the gas that had nearly killed him before. 

Which worried her. If he was exposed again, she wouldn’t be there to save him…

She couldn’t stand that thought. So she would help him in anyway she could to find who was responsible and stop them.

And she would cut him some slack when he occasionally acted like an ass, like he did earlier today. He was stressed, tired, and he was fumbling with this strange, wonderful relationship of theirs as much as she was. 

He may not love her as she loved him, but he cared about her…and that was obviously alien to him. 

The breeze ruffled his hair, causing the long strands to fall onto his face. Carefully - so carefully - she moved them back into place and stroked her fingers along the locks, surprised at how silky they felt. Bruce shifted slightly and she pulled her hand away, but not before her skin brushed against his…

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. 

He woke at the sound, coming alert in an instant. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

He noted the position of her hand - inches from his head - and smoothed his hand over his hair, as if feeling her phantom touch. He frowned at her. “Did you..?”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

His frown deepened. “What did you see?”

She hid her smile and put on a serious expression. “Something…unexpected. I’m not sure what to think about it.”

He looked nervous at that, and leaned away from her. “Wh-what?” 

Her composure slipped and she giggled. All this time she’d been so worried about what she would pick up if she ever touched him again, and… “You were dreaming about fixing your car.”

He huffed out a laugh and ducked his head. 

She dropped her hand, and her cardigan fell off her shoulder exposing her skin. Before she could cover it up again, he stopped her. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

His gaze was fixed on her upper arm. “You were holding out on me.”

She cocked her head to the side, not catching his meaning.

“You have scars too,” he explained. He nodded at the jagged, four inch long line that wrapped around her shoulder. “What happened?”

She rubbed her finger over the faint mark. “I don’t actually know how I got that. It was from…before.”

“Before you were found, you mean?”

She nodded and drew her cardigan back into place. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it…?”

She shrugged. “There’s not much to talk about. My earliest memory is being on the streets, feeling hungry and lost. A cop found me and dropped me off at social services.”

“And all you remembered was your name.” 

She sighed. “That’s the official story. But the truth is, I remembered nothing. But everyone kept looking at me with such…pity…and I couldn’t stand it. So I made up a name and pretended it was mine.”

He looked surprised at that. “Your name’s not Beth Carraway?”

She shook her head. “The psychologist they sent me to had loads of books in her office. One time when I was alone, I looked through some of them, and picked out a name. ‘Carraway’ is from The Great Gatsby, and ‘Beth’ is from Little Women.”

Her whole past was a lie. She wasn’t Beth Carraway. She wasn’t 32 years old - social services had estimated her age based on her reading ability and height, but she was sure she was at least a couple of years younger. She had no idea where she came from, or why she was found wandering the streets with no memory.

“If I’d known how that Beth died in the end, I would have picked ‘Amy’ - at least she got the cute boy. Choosing the dead girl feels like a bad omen.” She was used to making light of the gaping hole in her psyche; it was a coping mechanism she’d had to adopt at school, when her life was ripe for bullies to attack. 

But Bruce didn’t see the humour. He grabbed the sleeve of her cardigan. “Don’t say that.” His voice was fierce. 

“Hey,” she whispered, shifting closer to him, their legs tangling together with the action. “I’m sorry. It was just a bad joke.” She rubbed circles over his shoulder, trying to soothe the muscles that had tensed at her careless words.

He was still staring at her intently. His hand squeezed her arm softly, his thumb stroking her skin through the woollen material. He leaned forward…and she felt herself swaying towards him, drawn to him almost against her will.

His eyes dropped to her lips, and he moved closer still. 

“Bruce…,” she whispered, torn between pushing him away, and dragging him into her arms…

“Bruce, there you are.” Alfred’s voice rang out over the rooftop. She froze, and Bruce sprang to his feet and away from her. “I’ve found something.”

----

CHAPTER 13

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Taglist: @hollandorks @grunge-n-roses5 @xmxrfx @neptunesands @caramelcandescence  @blossomedfloweroflove @wanderdreamer @angelsarecallin @stephenismyking @rabbitdictionary @starshipvelociraptor @yanna-banana @batmanlovesnirvana  @bees-fart-too @hypnoash​

If you’d like to be added, just let me know...​

[deansxharley]

listen, i have no idea what’s currently canon in dc comics and i really don’t care to BUT regardless of what continuity we’re in, i think jason todd might be the funniest character of all time. just the biggest hypocrite ever and i’m obsessed. like, so many people have pointed out how crazy it is to be pissed off at tim for replacing him as robin when he literally replaced dick while dick was still alive, but then to go and parade around bludhaven as a murderous nightwing while dick is (again) very much still alive and THEN form a team with dick’s ex girlfriend and best friend??? jason todd is THE definition of “replacement” or what the fuck ever he calls tim and i actually find it so funny. stay crazy girl <3

[creaman]

Who would have thought the man that goes out in a green glitter suit and peacock feathers wanted attention?

[emerydraws]

bruce wayne and selina kyle

[evasive-anon]

Jason was having a pretty OK time with the league of assassins, sure getting dunked in a lazarus pit sucked and Bruce turned out to be a scumbag who didn't care about him, but at least he isn't dead. He even liked most of the new skills he was learning there so on the whole being with the league seemed like a pretty good deal to him until Talia woke him up in the middle of the night and left him alone with two child assassins.

Or, a demon twins AU where when Talia realizes her father intends to have her boys fight to the death takes action first by deciding to take all her kids and leave the league. Talia either dies or is separated from them in the initial escape and now Jason just has a bag of supplies and a letter from Talia explaining the plan to get to Gotham. Jason has to get himself and two 7 year olds out of the Himalayas, across a desert, and over 12k miles to Gotham. Only now the league members hunting them down want them dead or worse and Jason isn't too confident that B will accept them given their kill counts.

Featuring:

Good Mom Talia. she loves her kids. Did she teach them to kill? Sure, but that's an important life skill.

Single Teen Mom Jason. He's the oldest and in charge but he also will not answer any questions about The Plan™ given he isn't committed to Talia's but also doesn't have a set alternative. Oscillates between looking forward to just dumping his new little brothers with Bruce so they'll be his problem and thinking of just moving somewhere random in the US and keeping them based entirely on how cute vs annoying they are at that time. Didn't realize how much he relied on Talia to help him with things until she is gone. He's really trying his best but he wasn't all that emotionally stable before this so hang in there.

Angry Smol Dami. He's still drinking the LoS punch and really dislikes that he is now considered a traitor. Can't stand that Jason won't answer any of his very relevant questions. Is actually very scared but will not show it. Misses his mom. Didn't even know he had siblings until his mom yoinked him out of bed that night and brought him to Jason and Danny and started all this. Physically the stronger twin. Thinks Danny is dragging them down in fights and also may blame him a bit because clearly his mother only did all this to spare him.

Danny, reincarnated with limited access to his memories and powers. Has been trying to keep his powers a secret. Talia knew about them but never told anyone but she may have hinted at it in her letter to Jason. Not the strongest physically but very good at stealth and social interactions. Didn't know he had and older brother or twin before Jason woke him up at Talia's instruction that night. Thinks Damian is mean and has faith Jason knows what he's doing even if that is very much untrue.

[shyjusticewarrior]

Bruce: I'm not angry.

Jason: Oh, let me guess, you're gonna say you're "just disappointed?" Par for the course.

Bruce: I'm not gonna say I'm disappointed in you.

Jason: What?

Barbara: *enters*

Jason: Wait no-

[incorrectbatfam]

If you could create and add a new DC character, what would they be like?

I'm going to tell you about David, and knowing you guys, you'll agree with me when I say he should have his own comic.

David has been my best friend literally since we were 8. He is the only constant I've had through my life. He introduced me to the drums and helped me get a motorcycle after I got my license. We are each other's platonic ride or die. If he asked me to bury a body, I'd do it no question, and I know he'd do the same for me.

That said, I clearly have the braincell in this friendship.

Don't get me wrong, he's smart in certain aspects. He's a talented musician, good athlete, taught himself to fix most plumbing issues, speaks decent Japanese, easily clicks socially, and is super empathetic. But in others, he's like a plate in a knife drawer.

Some highlights from over the years:

He ate the brown paper bag his lunch came in on a field trip

He thought hot chocolate was just cocoa powder (no milk or water) in a mug and the microwave would melt it. His sister had to call the fire department

He gave a stray dog his scarf for warmth and never saw that scarf again

He licked the dust off an XBox controller

He got a speeding ticket outside the DMV literally five minutes after getting his license

He made gender reveal cupcakes to come out to the rest of our friend group when we were 17, but he threw them into a Ziploc and they jostled around his backpack for half a day before lunch

He thought closing a browser tab would get rid of a computer virus

He tried hotboxing his own car while driving

He almost seasoned his food with pepper spray before someone stopped him

He had a tire swing on a tree in his backyard. He decided to stand on it while swinging and smacked his forehead against a branch in front of him. It was literally the most hollow thwock ever, as if confirming his lack of braincells. He then proceeded to get pissed off and punch the tree. He said it was his most gender-affirming experience

He brought me along on a family road trip and used me as a footrest in the car

He frequently writes drum tabs the way he'd write guitar ones (in short the two are very different kinds of sheet music and I'd need three hands to play them). He absolutely knows better. I think he's messing with me at this point

He mistook wasabi powder for matcha

He once got drunk at a frat party, crawled out the lawn of the house, and began eating grass like a cow

I wanted to know what kissing a dude was like out of curiosity and this was before he started physically transitioning, so to make it a more "authentic" experience, he gargled Gatorade beforehand

He tried to make his first battle jacket with washable Crayola markers

He also tried to dye his hair with his sister's watercolors

He's worn the same sweatshirt since he was 14 and I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him wash it (I was over at his house a lot)

He's the motherfucker that wears running shorts in the snow

He thought his area code would automatically change when we moved to a new state

He once kicked a soccer ball into an oncoming train

BONUS: when he came out to his parents, they were accepting and while he was at school, his dad mounted a fish on David's bedroom door because men I guess

So yeah, if I worked at DC, I'd insert David in the background of every comic just being his chaotic himbo self. David is beyond space and time. There could be a battle on fucking Oa and David would just be there doing a kickflip. That's who I'd choose.

[write-it-motherfuckers]

Person A: “You really need to stop adopting strays.”

Person B: “...You say that as if you weren’t once one of said strays yourself.”

[cyborg-pasta]

fanart of @strange-birb's Jason in their secret band au that I did a long time ago but posting now.

They made a really good and fun design, i just had to have a go at it.

[cartoonist1004]

bat girl original art

[huedmmi]

🍁666 Damian and his beloved Devil

🍁I love this commission 💖

[punchdrunkdoc]

I am madly in love with ”Just Breathe”!!! its so good and well written!! I can’t wait for more Chapters!! round of applause for you!👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼♥️🦇♥️

Thank you so much!! I'm so glad you're enjoying it.

Chapter 13 will be posted in the next couple of days...

[cruxxlecrinkles]

Quick and messy Tim sketch

The whole family’s desperately trying to get him to cut his hair. Dicks the only one who fully supports his haircut.

[butchjesus]

who the fuck gave this man a medical license

[ID: a sketch page featuring bust drawings of dr. jonathan crane a.k.a. scarecrow from the dark knight film series. he is shown with his scarecrow mask at different angles and without it looking pleased, annoyed, and asking, "would you like to see my mask?" at the bottom there is a redraw of a shot where he is in a straitjacket and beside it there is a drawing of a button and ribbon that say "world's worst psychiatrist" and "#1" on them. end ID]

[girluimfailing]

Some Tim stans r fucking crazy wtf

[pinkbarbiebabi]

Selina Kyle once said:

BATMAN / DYLAN DOG #1