After Clark Tells Lois That He’s Superman—and, You Know, The Last Surviving Member Of His Alien Race,

i do love the idea of the Justice League finding out Batman’s identity and the fact that he’s actually just a tired vigilante dad and immediately discrediting his spooky-scary-intimidating reputation, and Bruce just being devastated about it. he worked so hard on that reputation, on that respect, and it’s all down the drain just like that. nobody flinches away from his glare anymore, because they’ve seen him glare at Red Hood and get a spoonful of mashed potato flung into his face for the effort. nobody cares about his threats anymore, because he tried to threaten Red Robin to go home and rest one time and Tim just giggled at him deliriously before mocking his tone and stealing his coffee. they’ve seen him pick a splinter out of a whining Nightwing’s finger mid-meeting. Damian once called him a condomless harlot to his face when he told him not to bring his swords onto the watchtower. he’s lost control.

he decides he wants the fear factor back and in all his brilliant genius, he decides the best way to go about that is to invite the league round for a fancy dinner party, specifically so he can use all his ‘brucie wayne’ acting skills to channel the essence of every creepy-rich-guy-in-haunted-manor movie he has ever seen in his life. it is the only time his kids have been fully onboard and willing to contribute to one of his plans without any complaints. they almost seemed more eager to pull it off than he was.

they spend the entire day making the manor look old and slightly abandoned, much to Alfred’s displeasure, and ensure that the only lighting is a fuck ton of candles, just enough to light the halls while leaving the corners and edges shadowy and ominous. Damian is allowed to have some of his more ‘skittery’ pets roam the manor freely for the night, causing occasional scritches and scratches to come from the ceilings. all of the kids dress in their best funeral attire, apart from Jason who gleefully pulls on an old white shirt stained with blood from when Tim crashed through his window with a stab wound, requesting a medkit.

when the league arrive they’re greeted by all the kids lined up on the staircase, staring at them blankly and ominously, while Bruce gives them all a large grin and ushers them into the creepy looking dining room. the league are somewhat nervous.

during the dinner the kids act completely different than the league have seen them in-mask. polite, cordial, and refusing to show an ounce of emotion. they pick at their food and only speak in vague sentences that refer to various horrific events of their past. Bruce has never been prouder.

the first close call they have to breaking character is when Bruce presents a bottle of red wine without any kind of label. as he pours a slightly disturbed Diana a glass, she asks where he got it from. Bruce happily gestures to Jason as says ‘my second eldest procured it especially for you, earlier today.’

Diana looks across the table at where Jason is grinning eerily at her by candlelight, still visibly stained with blood, eyes glowing slightly green. she pales, and Tim knows he can’t watch her shakily lift the glass to her lips without bursting out laughing. he refuses to be the one who fucks up first, so he dramatically stands up and declares he must ‘go feed the experiments’ before storming out the room. ‘the experiments’ are in reference to the pen of rabbits outside that glow in the dark because Damian rescued them from a testing facility, but given the environmental context it sounds much more sinister.

Jason joins him by the pen to also start wheeze-crying in private about 20 minutes later, because apparently after Oliver Queen had finished with his bbq rib, Damian had leaned over and without blinking stared into his eyes to blankly state ‘i would love to feed your bones to my animal friends, if you don’t need them anymore.’ and from the other end of the table Jason had snorted wine up his nose from how hard he was trying not to break.

amazingly, they never break character, although it came pretty close when after hearing another skitter from somewhere above, Stephanie climbed up from the table into the crystal chandelier and deftly returned to present the table with a large tarantula cradled in her hands, to which Damian stood up and declared, ‘ah, dessert! i will help pennyworth prepare it.’ before taking the animal and leaving to put his beloved spider back in it’s enclosure. the league genuinely seemed to be under the impression they were about to be served a tarantula-based desert, and upon seeing their faces at this realisation Dick had to pretend he’d dropped a fork on the ground so he could duck by Bruce’s chair and stuff a napkin in his mouth while he got his laughter under control. Bruce pats his shaking son’s back below the table cloth, determinedly staring at their guests with that same creepy-grin he’d kept up the entire night.

every member of the league makes their excuses to leave early, much to Bruce’s exaggerated disappointment. the second the last of them is out the door Alfred turns to face the family and says ‘mission accomplished. now get this manor back to it’s proper state.’ and they have the spend the rest of the night cleaning.

totally worth it, in Bruce’s mind. none of the JL will look him in the eye for weeks afterwards, and it was honestly the most successful attempt at family bonding they’d ever had. he wonders if they should make it a monthly thing. It’s also how they find out Damian’s a fucking theatre kid with a gift for the arts which is another revelation in of itself

Okay, but, realistically speaking, Bruce Wayne has got to have a low alcohol tolerance. He’s a lightweight.

Like, think about it—this man rarely drinks. Most of his “drunken” shenanigans are done stone cold sober on account of the Mission, and all. If you get more than two glasses of wine in him he is fucking gone.

Which is part of what makes family dinners at the Manor so entertaining. Assuming that such events are one of the rare times Bruce truly relaxes, it’s not a stretch to think he might indulge in a glass of wine or a bourbon; and this is fine and all… until the Batkids persuade him to have another round with them or, God forbid, do a celebratory shot.

After that? Bruce is wiped.

His kids think it’s hilarious. Drunk Bruce is a trip. He’ll drop insane Dad Lore about his time in the League or a wild JL space mission or something, but then proceed to list in meticulous, clinical detail all the things that annoy him about Hal Jordan, and then all the sudden get super excited and start detailing his latest Superman Contingency Plan using the salt shakers in the dining room table. He switches moods and topics so quickly that his kids would get whiplash if they weren’t laughing their asses off.

And you know the +1, singular, solitary, time that Bruce got drunk in front of Clark will go down in history as the best day of Clark’s life. Bruce spent the entire time baring his soul, praising his children, and describing his world travels… but he also kept getting distracted by Clark’s abs and called him “sexy” no less then fourteen times. (Clark left that bar wheezing with laughter and had to disentangle himself from Bruce and force him into a taxi because Bruce kept trying to make out with him. It was fantastic.)

i dont think this is a headcanon, more of an analysis and social pov, but jason's desire to protect SWs (which, personally i dont think he would be using pc language, they would be hookers, prostitutes, corner girls, working girls, etc.) should be personal.

protecting them out of the kindness of his heart is all well and good, and is probably a small percentage on why he does it, but a lot of jason's outlook has to do with duty, quid pro quos, and exchange.

people never forget that he was a homeless kid, and they never forget that areas like crime alley have a red light district, but so rarely do i see these thoughts married together. if ANYONE was going to try and protect or look out for a homeless kid, it would have been the sex workers. it would have been those girls that stuck their necks out and kept him alive.

and jason would OWE them. for the rest of his life (lives) he would see it as an obligation (there's nothing negative about this word, it is a weight he bears by choice) to protect them. jason's crusade to go after anyone making trouble with HIS girls, should read more like the little brother who's finally big enough to hit their abusive father back, rather than hiding behind his 5 foot nothing sister.

jason's connection to SWs should be seen as their kid brother who has gotten big and dangerous, but is still that little boy they held close when the heat was cut and all they had to give to protect him was their bodies.

everything they had.

I feel like we as a fandom don’t talk enough about how much girls Tim picks up, like this man pulls

I see this and I raise you, Tim flirting with the reporters and just rizzing them up accidently

Hes like so smooth that the reporter —be it a forty year old man or a woman in her twenties— is just like in love with him after interviews and It’s not even something he tries to do, he just talks like that

It’s a meme, he’s like internet famous and it’s because he got a famously super calm and collected reporter guy twirling his hair (very off putting because he’s bald) and giggling at everything he says

tim drake headcannons

- has dark circles under his eyes not even due to sleep deprivation, it’s just genetics. And every one always tell him to get more sleep but he’s like «  no I sleep 12 hours a day I just look like this! »

- googled « am I narcoleptic or just severely depressed » He never really figured that one out

- greatest skill is procrastinating, its not a problem if he’s good at it.

- plays piano

- will randomly ask Bruce “ are you mad at me” and then Bruce will say “ no of course not- why did you do something you shouldn’t have” and Tim’s like “ no I just wanted to check » cause he overthinks.

- eats and drinks most things out of mugs, his family or friends will tell him to stop drinking coffee and he’s like «  I’m eating goldfish, what do you think I’ve been chewing »

- has really big eyes, and kinda stares at people a lot without saying things so they are either thinking «  aww he’s so cute » or «  why is he looking at me, it’s like he’s staring into my soul, can he read my mind! Why is he still looking at me!! »

i've said before that i love the english teacher jason todd headcanon but a similar one i think is very much overlooked is art teacher damian. in fact, i don't think i've ever seen it before. but i think it would be AWESOME hahaha

Damian: *carrying a large box* occasionally, my own sophisticated vernacular does not do justice to a situation . . . so to paraphrase one of my students . . . this sucks ass Jon: *grabs box, then raises brows* i was going to tease you for that . . . but yeah. this thing is freakin' heavy. what is this??? damian: *looking EXTREMELY tired* clay. for my students to make . . . sculputes out of. jon: *weary* why the hesitation? damian: more often than not their sculptures are more bomb than sculpture. jon: . . . ah. how does that work exactly? damian: *staring into the distance* now why would i trust you with the knowledge of how to make a bomb, jonathan.

Damian: welcome to class, students. today we will be participating in one of my personal favorite mediums, painting student: what do we paint? damian: anything but batman. i know you enjoy memorializing vigilantes in your art, but he angered me last night and as such the sight of him would sicken me students: one brave soul: what did he do? daminan: *straight-faced* he ate the last of the peanut butter in the pantry and failed to buy a new jar. now, for the paintings--

jason: *groaning, head resting on the papers strewn over his table* god, my students are so dumb damian: *framing and hanging up art pieces gifted to him by his students* i cannot say i relate, todd jason: *under his breath* fuck you too

damian: *peering over jason's shoudler at grading jason is doing* what is all this? the red marker? jason: *chugging coffee like its a shot* mistakes i have to correct for them damian: *frowns* that is a lot of mistakes. jason: how 'bout you? how'd your students do on their assignment? damian: well, jenn forgot that we'd moved on from abstracts, so her landscape appears as if it has stepped foot out of a picasso rather than the monet it should have been, but i have graded her with the abstract scale rather than the realism given that it was a simple mistake. her usage of tones and textures impressed me, and while the expressionism and irrealism is slightly off-putting in a landscape, i have found it quite pleasing to the eye. jason: i have no fucking clue what you just said but okay

Peter Parker my favorite heat seeking missile

art based on Existential Crisis Mode on Ao3 by @luciaintheskyainthi. Why draw actual scenes from the media when i can draw them in love and happy instead?

(also, art progress alert? lessgo?)

realistically i have a phone with tumblr in it but ideally i have a nokia brick and a accounting magazine subsribction

Danny's Nest

Tim gets sacrificed in a ritual to summon "the ALL powerful conqueror, Phantom". And by sacrificed, I mean Tim really dies and Danny is forced into his body forcefully.

There's no coming back from that. Not even after the cultists are stopped.

Tim: So Duke, you officially been at the manor a year, how are you liking it?

Duke: I’m finally settling in. I’m no longer worried Bruce is going to send me away.

Jason: I get that. I thought I was just some charity case. I was terrified that I would mess up and end up back on the streets. I stole a bunch of expensive looking things and kept them in a go bag. I was prepared.

Damien: I too feared being sent away. My grandfather would have been disappointed. I was prepared to fight to the death to prove my place in the family.

Dick: I was sleeping with a knife in my sock in case he sent me back juvie.

Cass: (signing) I feared disappointing him. I felt like I needed to earn my place here.

Steph: He couldn’t get rid of me if he tried. I am like glitter.

Tim: Same. I think he tried to kick me out like 6 times. I just laughed and walked past him.

Duke: Are we just going to ignore Dick’s knife comment?