Bruce truly hates magic with every pump and beat of his heart.
What kinda curse is Slang, anyway?
“This is the best day of my life.”
“Bro really thought he ate with that.” Bruce physically feels a full body shiver, charged with nausea and cringe. “This is level 10 cringe. Can’t have shit in Gotham.”
Dick is his earth bound angel, but he laughs like a demon at him, holding onto Jason for support, pledging his eternal loyalty to Zatana and her pettiness.
—
“Hey, old bat, hook me up with an adrenaline shot.”
What he wants to say is Jay, do not try and fight with 6 bullets in your stomach.
What comes out instead, through Bruce’s grit teeth and intense, fierce glaring, “Not you trying to go back to your corpse era. See how I only took 2 shots? Very demure. Very mindful.”
Jason passes out from blood loss, but mostly laughter.
—
“Chat, is this real?”
Stephanie barely bites back a full belly cackle. “I think he just asked us if we copied.”
“I wish I was Jason, 15.”
—
“This is not a slay environment. Killing is flop behavior.” He keeps his eyes shut and buries his face in his hands. Trying to convince Damian not to stab someone doesn’t seem to work.
Damian gives him a pat like he’s a pitiful cat. “I’ll only stab the non lethal areas.”
“God, I wish that were me.”
Wheeljack attempts cooking for his human friends. It goes about as well as you might expect.
Half of them don’t even know what banana bread is but they’re always down to roast Wheeljack
Since we all agree that people of the Alley of Crime adore Red Hood and believe in him, I think it is time to imagine Jason in a scene similar to the one from OG Spiderman, where his identity is accidentally outted in front of crowd of people, and they all are just choose to protect him and help him out.
So maybe Gotham is facing especially nasty trouble, and vigilantes are on the receiving end this time. So maybe Jason is thrown at the dirty Alley in his part of town, wounded, with helmet flying off, and there is just a crowd of people staring as bleeds out, astonished. And Jason thinks, oh, that's the end — he can go and shoot himself, honestly, because he just failed the man rule every vigilante have: never show your face, never reveal your identity.
But people are... helping him? His eyes are half-open, breath laboured and pained, but all he hears is gentle murmuring:
'God, he is just a kid...'
'He must be younger than my son.'
'Poor child...'
He feels soft elderly hand against his cheek as someone from the crowd, an ex nurse, comes closer to bandage his injuries, while a kid, barely with the size of his helmet, brings it back, sticking out their tongue as they try to place it back on his head, to hide his face.
'It is okay,' the old woman reassures him. 'You are safe with us, son. We hadn't seen anything.'
Jason's eyes sting, because, oh.
It is his people. He loves them. He will die for them.
And they love him just as much.
He still waits for someone to out him, though. But the week ends, the villain is out of the picture, and no one says a thing. The only proof that it ever happened is civilians, who keep waving at Jason — not Red Hood, just Jason — when their paths cross somewhere in the shops or streets.
And that's how he knows that it is them; it is them, and they keep him safe as much as he keeps safe them.
And you’re asking why I picked her over that stupid town? Anything for her.
pov: eres un mini-bot apunto de ser adoptado en contra de tu voluntad.
soundwave: ahuevo casete nuevo 😁
Big fan of this version of superbat :)))))
worms
a falling star fell from your heart 🌠
oh to have someone gently caress your scars with so much love
24They/Them ; He/HimTransmasc EnbyI like girls + DemisexualAutistic
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