#protective batdad

[frownyalfred]

I need a John Wick scenario where some goon beats the shit out of one of the batkids but doesn’t realize which hero they belong to. Cut to them getting home like “yeah I fucked up that little red bird guy!” and all the other goons look at him like “you mean…Red Robin?”

“Yeah that guy. Wait, why are you all getting up—”

Everyone knows the robins are off limits from serious beat downs. Batman will come for blood, and he’s downright superhuman when it’s about one of his kids.

[bruciemilf]

Damian: Baba. I’ve acquired an enemy at the academy. He’s been ripping my drawings, teasing me about my lineage, and smearing your honor. I understand murder can’t happen. How shall I proceed?

Bruce: [Has a flashback of Thomas driving to his bully’s house, spiked brass knuckles on his hands, petting his head and smiling dangerously, ‘I’ll be right back, chum!’]

Bruce: …I’ll talk to his parents.

Damian: Todd?

Jason: Finally, an excuse to tackle a 10 year old.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Damian falls out of time and straight into the street-kid-Jason-Todd era.

Jason isn’t sure what’s up with the weird kid following him around these days but the guy just saved him from some real nasty men so he ain’t complainin’. Now, where do they find enough food to last them the winter…

[6helpneeded9]

You guys know what everyone needs more of...

It overprotective Batfam. I know Bruce is not a good parent in some eyes, but guys let me have this.

Like they wont show it, but like as soon a some of the JL memders start getting... too close. That's when it could show, cuz look how cute it would be.

Superman: Have you been eating today Batman. This is like your seventh cup of coff-

Batman: Tea it's tea.

Superman: oh- okay, but you still need to eat

Nightwing: He ate. Why are you so worryed it's his body.

Red hood: Do you think were bad enough to not let our father eat. This is his health day he has to eat.

Superman: Batman has a health day? Good does he have a rest day? Or is it all the same day.

Nightwing, mumbles: We'er trying to have a rest day..

Red hood: Mind your fucking B-

Batman: Hood. Superman thank for worrying about me,but i think my kids have it under control.

Red hood,mumdles somthing: He dare doubt us...

Like is that so cute. It always warms my tiny heart, it makes it grow 10 times as big. Thus this might not be everyones cup of tea, but it mine and i'm proud.

[emo-batboy]

Battinson adopting a hyper Gen-Alpha Dick Grayson who acts like a little terror 90% of the time but is also 90% of Bruce’s will to live so he gets away with everything

Battinson: um excuse you, my son is an angel and can do no wrong

Dick, who was just about to Nerf Bruce in the back of the head: yeah! I’m a pleasure

[fae-winter]

Tim, new to the manor: I didn’t sleep at all last night. I haven’t slept in a few days actually

Alfred, cooking: Appears not to have noticed Tim talking at all

Tim: .... Alfred? Are you alright?

Alfred: Still no reaction whatsoever

Tim, spotting Bruce walking in: Bruce, is Alfred okay?

Bruce: Hm?

Alfred: Did you say something, sir?

Tim: You are okay!

Alfred: still looking at Bruce quizzically 

Bruce, suddenly understanding: Tim you need to go to bed

Tim: ??? What the fuck?

Bruce: Alfred can’t hear you when you’re tired

Tim: That’s not possible?

Alfred: Master Bruce who are you talking to? Master Tim is elsewhere, is he not?

Bruce: 

Tim:

Bruce:

Tim:

Bruce:

Tim: Fine! I’ll go to bed!

Alfred, turning back to what he had been doing: Very good lad. I hope you have a pleasant time

[wanderingoracle]

when batman protects any of the birds with his cape:

[roxineedstosleep]

Kori doesn't mind loving a Daddy's Boy

@bruciemilf, this is for you moonpie!!!

.............................................................

Jason had relationships… not good or lasting ones, but they were relationships nonetheless.

Some lasted a few weeks or a whole summer, others lasted as long as Damian's patience when Tim ate his falafel.

But as I said. They were relationships. Full stop.

Then, when he starts to have feelings for Kori… it's relatively strange and familiar.

Jason meets Kori for a number of reasons. One of them, ironically, was that she was his older brother's ex. He learns that the two ended on good terms, and that Dick is quite fond of the girl. So there's no awkwardness on that side. He actually met Kori after a bunch of missions and quite casual encounters around the city in his civilian life.

As he said, he was familiar with Kori as a whole, both in his hero life and in his regular civilian life. Sure, Kori stood out quite a bit compared to him, but he still blended in well enough considering how many metahumans and aliens were now freely out on the streets living their respective lives. So, that wasn't the strange thing.

He'd have no problem breaking a nose or two anyway if they dared to say anything to Kori because of her outward appearance. Nope, his hands were already dirty from carrying the last stray mutt Damian adopted, he had no problem wiping his hands on the face of a close-minded son of a bitch.

That wasn't what was strange.

The strange thing was, in a way, that Jason had never before shown anyone (at least outside the family) that he was a daddy's boy. And no "Yeah, me and my old man have a good connection" nope.

Jason doesn't mince words in admitting that he's a TOTAL daddy's boy.

Sure, they have their differences, the occasional death threat, another punch in the face, and several tyre thefts… but he's still his dad. And best of all, Bruce still looks at him with all the fatherly love in the world.

Yes, they can yell at each other, but at the end of the day Jason will return with a pot of his favorite ice cream, to see how his dad has made him homemade orange biscuits and the two share both foods while having a sleepover on the big master bed in his dad's room.

Jason loves spending time with Bruce, as much as the newly revived Jason Todd-Wayne, as Redhood.

Obviously, Jason has more opportunity to be relatively or actively more affectionate than Redhood. Redhood is a bloodthirsty villain who came back from the dead and doesn't hesitate to chop off heads for the sins of the aggressors. If it weren't for the fact that he has a panic about anything to do with card games and anything to do with casinos, he would have been nicknamed the King of Hearts, as Kori jokes with him from time to time.

But, after a long mission, he can't be bothered to desperately search for his father in the wreckage of the disaster of the day.

He does that all the time.

But this time.

This time was completly different.

....................................................................

Kori doesn't remember much of what happened after the explosion.

Well, because there should never have been an explosion in the first place.

The mission was going great, not to mention all the villains downed. The information from the space base was safe, several henchmen were being held by the heroes and many others were trapped to be taken to their respective cells.

Well, all well and good, although they were still struggling with the few resistance fighters, nothing they couldn't control. She could see, out of the corner of her eyes, how Jason had Roy's back and vice versa, she was busy also on her part trying to bring down all those who were actively attacking her.

It was just like the cowboy movies that Roy forced Jason to watch from time to time or like those period movies that Jason watched obsessively.

The good guys were winning, and by the end of the day, that was what mattered most.

If it wasn't for hearing Superman's scream.... well, no one would have guessed. Even Flash had his difficulties escaping with as many heroes as he could get his hands on.

An explosion.

Big one. Brilliant. If it wasn't for that flash of light nearly blinding her during her escape process, she would have said it was one of the most magnificent things she'd ever witnessed.

People sometimes forget a small detail when they are in space.

Explosions need oxygen, they need air in order to expand and be fatally damaging. In space, where the most precious resource is oxygen... generating an explosion looks completely different.

It expands like a wave, a gigantic mushroom that takes out everything around it... but when it stops consuming oxygen, it moves like a wave of abrasive water seeking to consume everything it can until it is extinguished.

Tragically beautiful. Preciously lethal.

Jason had been pushed in time by Roy and a few fallen villains into one of the large travel tubes. Making them move somewhere in the world away from the blast. She'd made a giant protective bubble so she could at least protect herself from the damage of the blast; whether there were any cronies or villains with her didn't matter at that point.

She could see how Flash and Superman, using as much speed as they could, took out as many as they could. Those who could get to the had went that way, those who flew out took what they could.

What kind of madman was doing that? Probably a desperate villain, who knows.

But the damage was done.

She does what she can, moves the debris so she can clear the debris clogging the travel tubes, moves the broken glass.

It's all over. They had won anyway, those who perished would be honoured... now they had to see what damage remained. They had to see what could be done with what was left.

First she had to see Jason, Roy.

She had to see if Dick was all right, if Raven managed to get her friends out.

She had to make sure her loved ones were safe, or at least minimally damaged.

She sees that everyone is okay, and her soul returns to her body.

She sees that Jason is carrying Roy, who probably got hit during the escape, and her heart returns to her.

And she calms down a bit.

Until she doesn't notice the typical black cape billowing around.

There's no Batman.

And it breaks her heart to see her boyfriend's despair.

Because Jason notices it when he makes sure she's safe and well. After she tends to Roy's wounds and gives him a good check up.

She notices how her boyfriend's eyes widen in panic, his breathing quickens, how he runs and climbs all over the place looking for his father.

She does what she can to help him, you know?

She carries him to the top of the rubble, she helps him carry the fallen pieces of metal, she climbs with him when they notice a hole.

Both of them, but mostly Jason, open fallen doors, clean up the piles, search the emergency escape pods and search, to Jason's terror, among the fallen found in the rubble.

Kori does what she can. Because she loves Jason.

And for that very reason, she searches harder for Batman.

She doesn't care if her uniform gets torn, she doesn't mind getting her hands dirty or carrying Jason all over the place in search of her father.

Because Jason doesn't mind giving all that and more.

Because Jason doesn't mind having his fingernails and fingers shredded from digging with his own bare hands, he doesn't mind taking off his mask and letting others see his anguished face, he doesn't mind that his arms now have wounds from broken glass and leaking pipes.

If Jason doesn't mind, neither does she. She will catch her suffering, her tiredness and her pain so that she can transform it into determination. Jason need it her, so she would help. 

Because she knows Jason would do the same, and even more, for her.

She would only repay him with what he would do.

So he sets to work.

They keep searching, along with another group of heroes searching for their missing loved ones.

They keep searching, relentlessly, until they hear Jason's name.

Not the code name, not his heroic pseudonym, not his vigilante nicknames.

The name of her boyfriend.

They both turn, hopeful, and she doesn't hesitate to carry Jason and fly with him at full speed in the direction of the desperate screams. Screams that came from a very familiar voice.

Batman was alive.

Batman was alive, with a large bandage improvized on his right arm, being carried by one of the Green Lanterns.

Batman, no that was Bruce, desperately searching for Jason.

Bruce/Batman, who jumped out of the Green Lantern's arms and ran through the rubble looking to get to his son faster.

Jason, who was also being carried by her, who almost threw himself out of her arms to get to his father.

And she doesn't care.

It doesn't bother her that Jason threw himself when they were several feet off the ground or that Bruce probably ended up breaking his arm when he did the same.

She can only feel a heartbreaking relief that broke her boyfriend's worries.

More calmly and happily, she watched everything from a safe distance.

She watched as her boyfriend searched for more wounds from his father, who only felt around his son's body doing the same.

She watched with relief as Jason sobbed with happiness that his old father wasn't dead, hiding under the rubble or sailing through space indefinitely.

He watched as Bruce wept with relief that Jason had actually made it into one of those tubes and didn't have to suffer the impact first hand.

She didn't mind, she didn't mind being a mere observer of that wonderful spectacle of parental love. It was wonderful and beautiful in equal measure.

She loved watching the two of them look to each other to see that the other was well. She longed for that at times, to have the same with her own parents and siblings. So, inside her, she was happy to note that Jason had that with his father and that, within their relationship, he didn't have to hide that part of him.

She deeply appreciated how Jason was open with the emotions he felt about Bruce, even if they both had their bad phases. She loved when Bruce sought her out, to check in with Jason and ask if she could take care of him when the two of them were fighting about something.

That love was so pure, so beautiful, so perfect.

Who was she to be jealous, to discredit all that love they had for each other?

She was nobody, so she just encouraged it.

Because she loved that Jason adored everyone he loved with every cell in his body, loved how he made small, highly romantic details ar their dates.

Loved when he went to his dad's for courage or to hang out. She loved when the two of them would argue and find a way to apologize to each other; because at the end of the day they both still loved each other.

She loved that Bruce accepted her to be with his son, and that he respected them.

She loved how Jason had given her the privilege of knowing that part of him that he loves with passion, with care, with protection. Without fear, without fear, without fear, without censure.

So, when she notices that all the exhaustion now falls on her boyfriend's shoulders, what she does is call Superman, so that he can carry Bruce, while she carries Jason to a safe area so they can both rest.

She sets up an extra bed next to Jason's cot, because that's Bruce's designated spot. And she'll happily find a cate for another spot.

She will be Jason's girlfriend, but she knows that in those moments Jason needs his father and his father needs him.

So, when the next day she sees Jason, hugging his father to near crushing point, still in their respective shredded hero uniforms... she just takes their picture, leaves them alone and comes back to wake them both up with their favourite cups of coffee.

Happy to know that her boyfriend and his father are safe. And together.

[martyrbat]

the full (cropped) panels of this post

[ID: two cropped panels of Batman holding babies that he just saved. In the first picture, he's looking down at the infant as they stare up at him calmly. His hand is supporting their head and on their upper back as they lay on his forearm.There's an unconscious criminal at Batman's feet as another one walks ahead. In the second picture, both criminals are unconscious on the ground as Batman is tenderly cradling the twin babies to his chest. He's protectively glaring over his shoulder at more incoming danger. END ID]

[thecruellestmonth]

A majorly underappreciated part of Jason Todd's character is how he's lived his entire life as someone who's supposed to be under Batman's protection.

If Dick became Robin at age 12, then Batman started working in Gotham when Jason was about 2 or 3. If Dick became Robin at age 8 or 9, then Batman started working in Gotham before Jason was even born.

[violetbumblebea]

TW: Major Character death (not shown), contemplation of murder and suicide, torture (not shown but aftermath shown), dissociation

His code as Batman meant something. It prevented him from crossing the line that he couldn't come back from. Bruce Wayne, as a born and bred Gothamite, knew that no one, not even the best of them, were uncorruptible. (His best friend had at one point been the White Knight of Gotham, one of the best out there, and now he sat, rotting in a jail cell on two hundred twenty-two counts of assault and murder). The point of the code was to prevent Batman from becoming corrupt and, even then, all of his allies where given contingencies to defeat him.

Bruce knew that his code was necessary but, holding Jason, his baby, his son, made him regret that code ever so badly. Jason's body was still warm, the blood trickling from an unseeing eye still wet.

Jason had always puffed himself up to be larger than he was, like a Robin fluffing up its wings and plumage when startled. But now, without his confidence bolstering him and his excitable chatter, Jason looked so small. So damn small. He fit so well into Bruce's arms and it made him want to scream because, just last week, he had held Jason in his arms just like this. They had been rough housing, not training, when Jason had started a tickling war that was ended when Bruce picked him up (just like this, God just last week he had held his boy just like this) and hugging him to his chest.

Now, all that personality was gone, leaving behind a small, broken body. Bruce had always been an atheist, no God could be so cruel, but, in this moment, he prayed that the God of his mother existed. He hoped her ideas of an afterlife for all was real. His boy deserved peace. Peace that Bruce should have provided. God, he should never have let either of his boys become Robin. Jason had said that Robin was magic but what type of magic allowed this to happen.

Bruce clutched his Jaybird to his chest. There was a broken, keening sound coming from somewhere, it sounded almost animalistic. He needed to protect his boy from whatever that was. Jason told him that he loved being under his cape, that it made him feel safe. Bruce covered his baby (oh God, he was so small, so fragile) with his cape.

The sound continued, it sounded breathless and pained. It was... It was coming from him. Why was he making noises like that?...everything was fine. He needed to get to Jay and protect him. He needed to get to... He was holding Jay. That's why he had that cape pulled in front of him. He needed to...he needed to.

Oh God, his baby was dead. He needed to... "Superman!" he shrieked and then, like something had come undone in his throat, he started screaming. (At least the strange noise had stopped. His baby was safe. His baby was dead. Oh God)

He needed to... He... He

Bruce heard the sound of someone landing and then concerned shouting. "Bru....are you?....breathing too hard....Jason?"

Breathing. That's something that Jason wasn't doing (because his baby was dead). Bruce needed to do this for him. Breathe for the both of them while Jason couldn't . "... hyperventilating!" Yes, that was the word for that.

Bruce lost consciousness and he didn't truly regain it until he stood in front of Jason Wayne's grave.

The first thing Bruce noticed was how fresh the dirt was. The second was that he was covered in it. "Wha- what...?" he croaked.

He hadn't realized someone was there with him until his unspoken questions where answered. "It's been eight days since the warehouse. The funeral happened two days ago. You've been sleeping here. I took care of telling everyone." Clark, a Midwesterner through and through, normally spoke in pleasantries or veiled language. He flew around his ruder opinions as skillfully as he flew around missiles. Today, he spoke Bruce's language. Factual, straight to the point, and without feelings.

Bruce nodded, "I didn't do anything?" he asked. At the moment, his secret identity was that least important thing to him. His son was dead. But, he had another son. He had other people that would be targeted if his secret identity was compromised. He needed to... He needed some control.

Clark looked at him sympathetically, "You've been catatonic. You haven't spoken or gone out since..." he paused, trying to keep his voice from emoting too strongly "since the warehouse. You've been sleeping here since the burial." Clark looked every bit his part of a bumbling, well-meaning man from the Midwest. He opened and closed his mouth several times, looking for something to say to make it better.

Bruce knew no such words existed. The last time he had lost someone this close to him, Bruce had become the Batman. This time it was his son and not his parents. This time it was directly his fault. Bruce didn't know what this would make him but decided to save Clark from having to say something, "Is Dick... Does Dick know?" he managed to ask, his voice dampened with emotion.

His sons were as thick as the thieves they stopped. Dick made it a point to visit the manor at least once a week, making the nearly hour-long commute from Blüdhaven often enough that his co-workers at the precinct teased him for still living at home. Dick had understood Jason in ways Bruce couldn't. He had known the anger Jason felt (although Dick had been much more vocal and obvious in that anger) and had been able to settle Jason's doubts. Beyond that, Jason had looked up to Dick. Dick was everything Jason wanted to be ( even though Bruce had regularly assured him that he was enough by himself). Dick and Jason had been brothers and having to relive his greatest sadness again to another person who would feel it just as keenly would surely break Bruce.

Clark took a shaky breath, "I told him. He's still off planet for his mission. He'll be..." Clark continued talking but Bruce wasn't listening. A mission. That's what he needed (maybe it could fill the aching pit in his chest). He knew what he needed to do. He would-

His train of thought was cut off by Clark grasping his shoulders desperately, "Bruce. I need you to stay with me. What can I do for you?" he said in a carefully measured tone. With Dick gone and Alfred still recovering from pneumonia and dealing with grief himself, Clark was the only person standing in his way. Bruce needed him gone.

He drew in a shaky breath. He was not a good person. "Clark," he said, "I appreciate you for staying but I need some time to grieve. I'll call you when to come over?" He needed to phrase it like a question, as if he wasn't already sure that this was what was going to happen.

Clark gave him a small, sad smile, "I'll be listening. I'm here for you, Bruce," and he hovered for a moment, examining his friend's face, before flying away in a streak of primary colors.

Bruce looked after his friend with a grim expression set on his face before turning to his kid's grave. Jason was from the Narrows. In the Narrows, there were only two rules; look out for your own and never forget. Bruce intended to grieve his baby in a way he would have appreciated.

-

As Batman, it should be concerning how easy it is to break into Arkham. Through minimal surveillance and the use of the shadows, he had slipped through the high-barbed walls and into the holding area. From there, it was child's play to strangle the Joker into unconsciousness and lug him out of this sick joke of an institution.

-

Bruce chose a warehouse by the docks. Perhaps Jason's sense of drama had rubbed off on him or maybe he just knew it would be easier to get rid of bodies at Gotham's favorite dumping site. Either way, Bruce was a little apprehensive about starting the grieving process. There was a reason he had the no-kil policy, after all, he wasn't sure if he could ever come back from that. Luckily, he planned on punishing everyone involved in Jason's death so he wouldn't have to worry about whether he would snap of not after he took the Joker's life.

As Bruce waited for Joker to wake up, he found himself grateful that Dick wasn't on earth to see his mentor and father figure become a complete hypocrite. He thought Dick might be angry at him, not for killing the Joker but for being selfish. When Dick's parents had died, Bruce hadn't allowed him his revenge. The entire point of making Dick Robin had been to keep an eye with him, to prevent him from doing something he would regret. And now, without Bruce's Robin? Bruce was doing the one thing that he always swore he wouldn't do. It was a bit ironic.

"Ha Ha HA HAHAHAHAHAHA!" the Joker had remained slumped as he started cackling. He wasn't wearing any of his customary makeup so his bleached skin was splotchy and the ring of bruises around his neck was obvious. And Bruce was enraged. The Joker, the goddamn Joker, got to sit there and put on his fake little insanity act while his little boy lay, rotting, underground.

"Batsy, Batsy, Batsy, where is that little bird of yours? I want to pluck his little wings!" the Joker's macabre grin was highlighted by his malicious eyes. Joker kept rambling, cracking jokes about Bruce's dead son. It was thoughtful of him, really, making Bruce's decision so much easier like that. The Joker always thought he had the upper hand, he leaned heavily on the fact that Batman didn't kill. Maybe if Bruce hadn't been so damn soft before, his son would still be living. Maybe his sons had had a point when they said that stopping crime wasn't enough. Bruce needed to end it. And he would start and stop by ending the Joker, the man who killed his Jaylad.

Bruce smiled. Joker claimed to be the king of jest but he had never truly gotten a taste for dramatic irony. The Joker stopped his tirade, "Hahahaha! Finally crack a smile, did we, my darling Knight" Bruce pulled out the weapon he had been hiding behind his back. A crowbar.

Joker, for all he claimed to be insane was very much a normal man. Yes, he was a clinically diagnosed sociopath. Yes, he dressed in brightly clashing colors to commit comical crime. But, he was not insane. He, like everyone else, did not enjoy pain. He was very much not looking forward to being beaten with a crowbar.

Bruce does not know what sort of things the Joker had said to his Jason as he beat him to death. Knowing Joker, it wasn't anything good. Bruce, however, was not trying to emulate the monster. He was trying to get justice (Vengeance). Besides, he could put so much more strength in his hits when he stayed silent.

The Joker had tried to laugh. He did, when Batman first started swinging. It was just so damn funny that the Bat had decided to go for revenge. It was just so unlike him. Now, however? After seconds or minutes or hours of being beat by a viciously angry man stronger than some meta humans? Laughing was starting to hurt. "Ha ha hghhhh," he gurgles. Oh dear, there was blood. At least he knew that Batman wouldn't kill him. At least... and then Batman took of his cowl. He was going to die. He stopped laughing.

Bruce wanted the Joker to know he was about to die, like his Jason had known in his last moments. He looked at the Joker, not as Batman but as Bruce Wayne, and smiled. The part of his face not normally protected by his cowl was splattered with blood and the crowbar in his hands was dripping in a steady pattern. The monster in front of him was deformed. His nose broke in multiple places and his mouth missing teeth. One of his femurs was broken in two and some of the bone was sticking out in a grotesque mockery of the human form. Good. The Joker wasn't human enough and didn't deserve to look like one.

"I've wanted to do this for years," he growled and he took sick satisfaction to see the fear on Joker's widened, yellow eyes as he swung back. Good. Jason was scared in his last moments. He was just about to take his final swing down on Joker's head when his elbow was grabbed. Clark.

"Let me go." he grounded out. "Let me kill him."

He looked back at Clark, glaring, and Clark just looked impossibly sad. Then, quicker than his eyes could truly process, Joker was knocked out and Bruce's crowbar was no longer in his hands. "I can't let you do this. You won't be able to live with yourself."

Bruce scoffed. He was Batman. He thought of everything, "Obviously. I plan on killing everyone responsible for Jason's death. You don't have to worry about me 'snapping' or something once I kill this son of a bitch." Seriously, Clark. His contingencies had contingencies, of course he hasn't over looked the fact that, in murdering someone, he would become a villain in need of stopping.

Clark looked stricken, his eyes so damn sad. "Bruce..." he said, a whisper of a prayer. "Bruce, what about Dick?"

Bruce didn't understand. He had thought about Dick, that's why he was doing it while his boy was off planet helping people (he was so proud of him) "Yes? He's not here so he won't have to deal with me becoming a horrible criminal."

Clark let out a choked sound, "That is not what I meant. Bruce, Dick loves you. It would break him to lose his brother and his dad back to back. " Clark took a breath, as if gathering himself and stepped closer to him. "Bruce, the only reason I'm stopping you from killing Joker is because I know you can't kill someone. Bruce, Jason's death wasn't your fault."

That's what broke the grief out again. Bruce crumpled into himself and hit the floor, sobbing. Didn't Clark understand? It was Bruce's fault that Jason had become Robin. It was Bruce's fault the Joker had targeted him. It was Bruce's fault for not finding out where Jason left to. It was Bruce's fault for not getting to the warehouse in time. It was Bruce's fault for not thinking to call Superman until after everything was ruined. It was all Bruce's fault, couldn't he see it?

Clark was crouched down next to him, hugging him against his chest. Bruce, through sobs, asked "What do I do? It hurts...God is hurts so much. Joker'll just escape again...what if...what if Dick... I can't" and he sobbed into Clark's chest.

Clark was running his hand soothingly on his back, "Why don't you take him. Put him in one of the containment cells in the Bat cave, he won't hurt anyone and then you don't need to...hurt yourself." Bruce latched on to those words like a lifeline. He still needed to find a way to bring himself to justice for his involvement in Jason's death but maybe then he wouldn't hurt Dick too (he had never considered that dying would cause Dick to mourn)

"Bruce," Clark said as he lifted his still crying friend, "I need to take you home so you can get Joker's cell ready. He isn't going to be able to move. No one knows where he is." Bruce nodded, thankful Clark has given him something to do. He knew exactly what cell to use.

It was one of his more brutal inventions, used only once and only for intimidation. If someone tried to hack into it or open the doors with the wrong code, the cell would fill with a poisonous gas. Bruce normally would just use it to threaten someone, would have the antidote on hand. He wouldn't be doing that this time. The cell itself only had one, long lasting light bulb over the toilet and singular faucet. A food slop was deposited through piping that went through three walls and was filtered for any solid objects. Other than the crude appliances and a singular, high definition camera for surveillance, there was nothing in the cell. It was inhumane and Bruce had vowed to only ever use if for a truly non-human beast.

What better fit that description than the Joker? Bruce wasn't going to kill the Joker. He had his line for a reason and was thankful that Clark pulled him back. Dick was going to need him and it would be selfish to leave him alone. He would pay his penance by working even harder to make sure that what Jason stood for, that helping the little guy, wouldn't die with him. But he would also make sure that his baby got what he deserved. He deserved to have his code, that he had gotten on the rough streets of Gotham, followed.

So Bruce would protect his own, his living son and all of goddamn Gotham from the Joker. And he would never forget what that bastard had done to his precious Robin.

Batman didn't kill but Bruce was going to make the Joker wish he was dead.

[frownyalfred]

I need a straight IV of all versions of Good Dad Bruce. The Bruce who will fuck up anyone who fucks with his kids; the Bruce who has no idea what he's doing but he is trying; the Bruce who painstakingly writes down every thing one of his kids shows interest in just in case he needs to know it later; the Bruce who wakes up Alfred at 3am because he had another fight with one of the kids and doesn't know how to fix it; the Bruce who admits he makes mistakes and gives the kids space to make their own; the Bruce who realizes and eventually accepts that he needs to trust that his kids will make the right decisions and that he raised them to make the right decisions. We don't get that enough in canon, and it's heartbreaking.

Agreed! A Bruce who lives for Gotham and his kids, and only those two things, is so appealing to me. Don't fuck with his city, and don't fuck with his kids. They are the only ones he trusts to run his patrols and take point on his cases. If the Batman persona was a mob, they would be the most trusted of his lieutenants. Talking to them is the same as talking to him; fucking with them is just the same as fucking with him.

That kind of trust doesn't come without vulnerability. They're the only ones who see him soft -- the only ones other than Alfred who see him try so hard to be a good dad. Batman will bust your face in and use the same hands to painstakingly write out a list of Tim's favorite foods. He'll send fear into the hearts of an entire gang and then turn around and hug Jason when he needs a gentle touch the most.

[bruciemilf]

Jason’s protectiveness over his dad comes to bite him in the ass when a rumor chain about Red Hood and Bruce Wayne dating spreads like wildfire.

Everyone is disgusted and amused in equal parts

[ghost-bxrd]

selkie jason au my beloved

hhfhhngng the idea of jason wearing his cute still babysized selkie coat as a cape while he's red hood...

the bats being furious for him wearing it, still not realising he's jason. they just think this pyscho is parading around in their dead family members skin 💀💀

Oooooo that’s a good idea!

I mean Jason would never just wear it around his throat or anywhere it could get damaged/stolen while he’s Red Hood. But I can totally see him getting a custom imitation of it (while safely wearing his real sealskin as an undershirt for his armor) and parading it around. Maybe even setting one edge of it on fire right in front of Batman during one memorable encounter.

(The subsequent near-death experience via enraged Bat was well worth it in Jason’s humble opinion) 🦭

[lovely-lynn]

O'Malley the Alley Cat (And I'm Very Proud of That)

This is for @karmawillcollectyourdebt who requested a birdflash fic based off of the Thomas O'malley song in the Aristocrats.

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The annual Wayne Family Christmas Gala. Also known as the cesspool of rumors and fake smiles and the bane of Wally's existence.

Galas were one of the very few things about dating Dick that Wally found less than enjoyable. The were stiflingly hot, loud, and everywhere you turned there was another influential person ready to pass judgement. Wally had lost count of the amount of galas he had attended that ended in some tabloid article that the Wayne Enterprises PR department would have to try and cover up.

Dick generally laughed and told him it was no big deal by Wally would be lying if he said it didn't bother him. Maybe it was because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the hang of it. Generally Wally was a pretty fast learned but it seemed that, with these things, the harder he tried, the worse he failed. It infuriated him to no end that he couldn't find a way to successfully make it through a gala without a scandal, or offending some wealthy prospective partner to Wayne Enterprises.

Maybe the reason it bothered him so badly was because everyone else seemed to be so good at it.

Everyone in the bat clan, save Jason and Damian, had an alter ego they pulled out especially for social event. It was frankly quite startling. Bruce had Brucie. Tim had Timothy. Dick had Dickie. Cass, though much more subtle than her brothers, had Cassandra. Duke usually made himself scarce but on the occasion that he did make an appearance, he too pulled out a different persona. Wally had yet to give it a name, mostly because he hadn't spent that much time around Duke yet.

Bruce was probably the most startling of all the personas. He wasn't dark and overprotective, communicating in grunts and glares that sent chills through Wally's body. Nor was he an overprotective and exhausted father of way to many kids. No, here he danced around the ballroom filling it with booming laughter. He made a great show of being slightly tipsy but Wally knew just how sober he was. He was hyper vigilant during these events. His blue eyes constantly scanning the crowd, searching for any threat that had managed to slip past Jason and Alfred, while also taking a mental headcount of all his children.

Tim smiled, looking uncharacteristically rested. His eye bags expertly hidden with an absurd amount of concealer. He was speaking with a prominent businessman ,whom Wally couldn't be bothered to remember the name of, his shoulders pushed back in confidence. Seemingly unburdened by the weight of his night life.

Dick was always bright, energetic, and happy but when it came time for galas, he turned it up to a whole other level. He was the life of the party, sometimes even giving Brucie a run for his money. He danced around, chatting with people, and bringing attention away from any uncomfortable questions people might try and bring up.

Cassandra moved with the grace of the dancer she was. The lethal edge to her gait carefully hidden like the knife she kept in the folds of her dress. No one knew how she managed to sneak it in and everyone had long since given up on trying to stop her.

And then there was Wally an awkward speedster that was just along for the ride. He felt horribly out of place. He didn't belong and everyone in the room made sure he knew it. The wealthy families, the ones that even deemed it suitable to talk to him, spoke to him in a condescending manner. Like he was a child getting to sit and the adult table. Though honestly that's kind of what it felt like. He had to endure these underhand and often hateful remarks until Dick would notice and come over with a bright smile on his face but burning fire in his eyes.

No one dared to publicly go after one of Bruce's children, especially with him in the room. The entirety of Gotham knew what happened when you messed with them. It had only taken a few long forgotten reporters and overly nosy businessmen to get the message across. Unfortunately that meant that Wally took the brunt of it. Not only because of his overall status but also his relationship with Dick.

When he was out on the streets, in his suit, at the watchtower, Wally was confident, probably overly so. But here he was out of his element and he felt like he was in way over his head.

It was time like these that he was reminded that Dick was way out of his league. Dick was talented and seemed to succeed in everything he did. Even in the uncomfortable and boring events, Dick exuded confidence and optimism. It should have been discouraging but in reality it just made Wally feel lucky.

Galas had so many rules and expectations, not all of which were spoken. That was something Wally had learned the hard way. Because, sometimes it was those unspoken rules that were the most crucial. After his first gala, where he had made an absolute fool out of himself, Dick had sat him down and explained all the rules to him. It was enough to make Wally's head spin.

In order to survive in the world of the aristocrats, you had to be a shark. You had to be a master of manipulation. You had to frame your words in such a careful way that you could assert your dominance, for lack of a better word, without seeming as if you were doing so. It also took incredible patience and a strategic mind.

In comparison to the Wayne's, Wally felt like a simple old alley cat. He was brash, impulsive, and blunt. Patience and subtly were no skills that he excelled at. No matter how hard he tried, or how much he practiced, he couldn't seem to nail it. And so these galas continued to be absolute torture. Though Wally would rather saw of his own arm or live a life at normal speed than face the puppy dog eyes of doom if he admitted it to Dick.

Dick had this look that he got that completely mimicked a kicked puppy. It was mostly unintentional and it never failed to make Wally feel like the worst person on the planet. Dick would insist that it was fine and he would attend the galas himself, suffering through them on his own. He would never ask Wally to come again, no matter how desperately he wanted to. Wally didn't think he could handle that.

So he continued to attend the gatherings for Dick's sake. Even though the aforementioned man usually ended up either wandering off the mingle or being pulled away, leaving Wally to his own devices. Despite not being physically close to him, Dick had expressed in the past how much calmer he felt when he knew Wally was there. When he could look over and see, what Wally thought to be the absolute train wreck he called his support system. Wally smirked as he imagine Dick rolling his eyes when he referred to himself as a train wreck.

Luckily, they generally didn't stay for longer than two hours, unless the gala was held at the manor. Which was incredibly rare, and those generally ended early anyway. Wally glanced down at his watch, an expensive one that Dick had picked out to go with his suit. Dick himself wore a matching one, Something th other man had found highly amusing when he bought them. He was relieved to see that they were nearing the two hour mark.

He scanned the crowd in search of Dick, intending to find him and whisk him away, preferably back home. However, he quickly averted his gaze when he met the intense, burning, soul sucking stare of Bruce Wayne. Wally couldn't stop the shiver that crawled up his spine.

Wally didn't think Bruce hated him per say but he knew he definitely wasn't Bruce's favorite person in the world. Bruce is incredibly overprotective of his children, especially when it comes to metas. Though Wally had a suspicion that Bruce was going to have to get used to it if the shared glance between a certain bird and Kryptonian meant anything.

Nevertheless, despite his obvious dislike, Bruce recognized that Dick was happy and therefore never openly opposed Wally. That didn't stop him, and the rest of Dick's family from making it incredibly, and in very gruesome details, clear what would happen to him should Dick ever not be happy. Still, Wally tried, and often times succeeded, to interact with Dick's family. Because, loving Dick meant loving all of him. Overprotective fathers, coffeeholics, and angry murder children included.

Pushing his way through the thick crowd, and silently praying that no one would stop him, Wally made his way over to the coat room. An agreed upon meeting spot should they be unable to get away before ten o'clock, which it was rapidly approaching. Logically he knew it would probably be closer to ten thirty before Dick could politely claw his way out of the party but there was no harm in waiting a little early.

He pushed into coat room and sigh as his ears were met with blessed silence. The sounds of the party could still be heard, loud music and fake laughter coming through the thick oak door. However, the relative silence was still a blessing to Wally's ears. Now that he wasn't surrounded by people and their judgemental stares, he finally felt like he could breathe again. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, basking I'm the silence.

He lost time of how much time had pasted before the doors the coat room opened. His eyes shot open as the door clicked shut. He listened intently, desperately hoping it wasn't another patron. It would be hard to explain why he had decided to hide out in here. At least not in a way that wouldn't start all kinds of wild rumors. He could see the headlines now: "Wally West caught cheating on Richard Grayson at the Wayne Christmas Gala (more on page 4)".

" Wally?" All the tension faded out of his body at Dick's quiet whisper. Wally stepped forward, an overly fluffy brown cloak smacking him in the face. Dick tried and failed to stifle a snicker.

"Yeah Yeah, laugh it up. You try being assaulted by sounds and lights all night and see how your coordination is," Wally grumbled, choosing to ignore the fact that Dick had in fact been doing just that and looked as graceful as ever. He expected a smart remark pointing out that very thing but instead Dick's expression shifted to one of worry.

"Are you feeling over stimulated? " He questioned, lowering his voice even further and stepping closer. Wally instantly felt bad for making him worry. Sure the sounds and lights were a bit much a few minutes prior and he had the small beginnings of a headache, but he was no where near a sensory overload. Definitely no reason for the concern rolling off of Dick in waves. No matter how cute he looked with his face all scrunched up in worry.

"No, I'm okay," Wally soothed, "I just don't think I'll ever get the hang of being pretending I'm fancy. I never was one for undercover work," He teased getting a smile from Dick.

"Wally West, you will never be an aristocrat. But you're you and that's enough," Dick said , his thumb slowly stroking over his cheekbone. Wally let himself smile, allowing his shoulders to drop. Dick was right, he would never be the perfect picture of class nor would he ever have the approval of the people in attendance. But maybe, just maybe, He was something to be proud of. And as Dick leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss, Wally found himself being very proud to be exactly who he was.

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I apologize that this, as many of my other fics, is so late. As I mentioned in a previous post, my best friend recently lost his battle with cancer and I haven't really had the motivation to write, especially as finals creeped up on me as well. Thankfully finals are over and I'm starting to kind of get my motivation back. This fic isn't exactly how I envisioned it. I think I ended up focusing more on the difference between the alley cat and aristocat . I hope its okay and let me know if you have any requests.

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Imagine the batkids fuck up major and a batdad had to step in and clean up their mistake

Everyone kinda embarrassed because of their blunder and Jason is lashing out to protect himself from shame

Dick is joining is cause well he feels bad about it being his idea

Now Tim is arguing too

Damian wants to feel involved and u can’t convince me other wise

Bruce is trying ti make a point about safety thats just fully derailed

Anyway Danny as Fenton is just there in the background around all the bad guys he took out before Bruce actually got there like “awkward” but the moment he tries to just tippytoe his way out Bruce turns to point at him “and don’t think you are getting out of this. Your grounded too”

He just freezes. Can batman do that? Is he legally allowed to do that? Wait what does Batman mean by grounded?!!? Whats his move here.

“Everyone in the batmobile we will discuss this more in the morning”

Oh ok thats his move. Ok yea Batman just grounded him. He better go.

So they r having the ride home and everyone is sulking and Danny is just there confused but doesn’t say anything because hes probably tired and it’s batman wtf you gonna do.

So they are at the cave and Danny finally just “so can I call my family to tell them I wont be home tonight?”

You everyone just stops. And slowly turns to face him. “Ah yea dumb question. I guess uhhh no phones huh?” No one moves. Everyone is pretty shocked. Cause one bruce kidnapped some kid. Two theres a civi in the batcave. Three bruce kidnapped some fucking kid. Four some random kid just got in the car with them. Five holy fuck bruce kidnapped some kid.

Breaks over enjoy post