How Is Trump Alive?? Like Hes Rlly Gone Thru His Whole Life Like That …. And No One Has Ever Just Fuckin

give battinson a robin and have it be stephanie brown

I don't think people understand or grasp the comedic and fluff potential of Jason's goons gentle parenting / KNOWING he's young without knowing he's young.

They debate on his age, most settling between 16-20, but nine of them think he's twenty-one, but then again, they also suspect he doesn't have an I.D. They know he's a legal citizen, he's giving t the accent and Gothamite-born-and-raised attitude, but they don't freaking know, man.

Jason died when he was fifteen and lived with assassin ninjas for the next four years after rising from the dead, as one does... He doesn't know EVERYTHING, and sometimes he does stupid, childish things.

His goons are adults, some have children, some have children Jason's age, they're mostly all older than him, and so they kinda just... Just take to it, sometimes?

They side eye the f%#& out it him when he smokes, like, is he ALLOWED to so that? Boss, what about your health?! You're still so young!?

And Jason isn't even entirely aware of it, he's independent, of course, but deep down he's still just a fifteen year old kid who didn't grow up properly. Forced to grow up to fast, then not at all, and he doesn't realize it, but his goons do.

I really want to give baby Damian Martha Waynes eyes.

And then take them away before Bruce has a chance to see them.

Just like for one reason or another the Batfam ends up having to go to the League and Damian is sent off by Talia to join his peers in morning katas while the elder family members meet in her office for something.

And of course all of the Batfam are little snoops so they walk around her office and look at the documents and few pictures she has. And then suddenly Tim notices something.

"I thought Damian had your eyes Talia?" Tim says staring down at a picture of a 3 or 4 year old Damian with muddy green eyes rather than the bright almost toxic ones the family is used to.

"No, not at all, I don't even remember what color my eyes originally were." Talia responds barely digging through some files that Bruce needs.

"What does that mean?" Dick asks harshly.

" You didn't truly think the Al Ghul eyes were truly the Al Ghul eyes did you?" Talia scoffs "They're Lazarus eyes, why do you think Jason's eyes match ours?"

"I. I didn't think of that, huh" Jason mumbles dragging his hands along the different books Talia keeps.

"So... So when did Damian die?"

That brought silence to the room.

Jason stopped walking, Dick stopped breathing, Tim was looking sadly at Talia, eye shifting to Bruce as he stared at a wall.

"About 3 months before his 5th birthday, it was before my Father and I started to actually train him. An assassin snuck in after infiltrating the guard for a few months. Apparently he wanted Damians death to be slow. He perforated a lung, I managed to get there and kill the bastard, but Damian couldn't be saved without the pit." Talia says robotically.

"I do miss his eyes though, such a soft green" she almost whispers.

Bruce walks over to Tim, lightly taking the photo.

His breath shuttered for a moment.

He stroked his fingers over the eyes that he will never see again, that were taken from him far to soon. Both times.

"Those are my mother's eyes." He says

"He had my mother's eyes."

He stares, unable to do anything but mourn what he didn't know he lost again.

"Do you have more pictures from before?"

"Of course beloved, I'll make you copies"

The room remained silent spare the shuffling of papers and the drag of Bruce's finger over the glass frame

btas bruce robot going against its programming and sacrificing itself for the people of gotham..... bruce wayne your heart is so strong......... your soul is a virus.......

Jason maintaining his villain status after reconciling with his family and having specific reactions to his siblings coming to stop whatever bs he’s planning based on how annoyed he is with them like

Tim, crashing through a skylight: Red Hood what are you doing

Jason: Red Robin, how good of you to join us.

Tim: can you just like. Stop.

Jason: not unless you admit that I was right about that argument we had 3 weeks ago

Tim, thinking:

Tim: THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH EATING MAC AND CHEESE WITH A SPOON

Jason: YES THERE IS

—

Jason, getting ready to fight: Spoiler. You’ve really been pissing me off lately.

Steph, waving her hand frantically: wait wait WAIT. I know I’ve been annoying BUT. I have gossip.

Jason, signaling his men to stop doing whatever they’re doing: this better be good

—

Dick: little wing, can you please just. Not do evil shit right now. I have a headache.

Jason: nah I think I will

Dick: but. We got pizza last night. You said you had a good time.

Jason: yeah, but it’s my job to piss you off so.

Dick, pinching his nose to hold off a migraine: you’re an asshole. You better not complain when I whoop your ass.

Jason: bring it, dickface

—

Jason, calling off his men, ready to slip into the playful arguments that he and duke usually have:

Duke, Very Tired Student and Vigilante at the end of his shift: I helped you change the home screen of the batcomputer to that image Tim had of Batman tripping over his own cape, Can We Not Today?

Jason, thrown off: you good man?

Duke: finals.

Jason: ah.

—

Cass: red hood.

Jason: oh hey.

Cass: are we fighting?

Jason: nah, you made dickface feel old two days ago and I got a picture of the face he made, we’re good.

Cass:

Cass: can I take a break here?

Jason: yeah, I think I have some snacks if you want

—

Bruce: red hood.

Damian: hello, hood.

Jason: B. Brat.

Bruce, who had lunch with Jason last week and is sure they’re on good terms: is there any chance we can—

Jason, squaring up: nah old man, we’re fighting.

Damian: Am I required to participate?

Damian, attempting the puppy eyes dick taught him through the mask: I finished that book you gave me and I was hoping we wouldn’t fight so we could talk about it

Jason, who was only planning on fighting Bruce: don’t worry about it, brat. You just go foil my evil plan while I’m fighting B, and then I’ll take you for ice cream.

Bruce: hold on-

Jason: no. I need this.

Damian: this is acceptable. I will be finished posthaste.

<Kinda continuation of: prev>

——

Dick: Have you ever doubted that I love you?

Bruce: …

——

It wasn’t a fight. At least it didn’t really feel like all those usual fights, and Bruce was pretty sure it wasn’t a fight. But then again, he’s always been wrong in guessing about his children.

Dick seems… distant. Distant but still close. Usually when Dick wants to be distant, he leaves. His children are very good at leaving and not telling him where they are. He always knows, though, he’s Batman.

Bruce doesn’t remember any scathing words being exchanged between them. No heated glares, heavy air, stilted conversations. Nothing that usually promises an argument is to come or has passed without Bruce realizing it.

But for some reason, Dick was still lingering around the hallways. If Bruce turned around, he would see his eldest child standing around the edges, his body tense, and a perturbed expression on his face. Just watching him, waiting for a moment that Bruce was honestly scared to come.

It was starting to worry Bruce. His baby has always been a bright and shining star, even when he doesn’t want to be.

But Bruce also knew that if he tried to pry, he would only push Dick away. After many years of trail and errors, Bruce decided the best course of action would be to let Dick figure it out himself or come to Bruce on his own.

Strangely enough, it didn’t take very long for Dick to come into his study, his face trying and failing to adopt a calm and nonchalant expression as he sat in the edge of his desk.

“Hey B…” Dick said lowly, fiddling with one of the snow globes he had on his desk. Bruce had gotten that specific one from Dick when they first visited Zitka at the zoo when he was nine and Dick had begged to get something from the gift shop.

“Dick.” Bruce nodded, setting down his pen and giving his son his full attention.

Dick let out a shuddering sigh and set down the snow globe. Bruce’s hands twitched with the urge to fix it and set it straight, but then Dick turned the globe and moved it to the exact position that he liked.

Bruce couldn’t help the small twitch of his lips. He was probably being too obvious, Dick most likely remembers the several panic attacks he had when Dick was a child, unable to process and handle when his prized possessions were askew. He worked on it. He's fine now.

“I heard something pretty interesting… from Jay.” Dick started haltingly, his eyes staring deeply into Bruce’s. “You guys had a pretty… deep convo recently… right?”

Bruce felt stupid. A deep conversation? He’s assuming that Dick means an emotionally charged conversation but he truly doesn’t remember anything like that happening recently.

“Okay, okay, I can see you racking your brain, so I’ll just tell you,” Dick said, grabbing his Dad’s hands and holding them in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed when he started digging his fingernails into the flesh of his arm, close to drawing blood.

Shit. He always fucking does this. Making Dick worry and take care of him like he was an invalid incompetent manchild.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Dick murmured causing Bruce to purse his lips together silently. “Seriously, it’s okay B. I know why you are the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Bruce nodded silently because it was easier to do so than argue why he should’ve already grown out of his childish habits. You’d think having the media point out his self inflected scars when he was 12 would’ve kicked him out of the habit already…

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about? I don’t remember any particularly deep conversation with Jason.” Bruce rumbled, tilting his head to the side when Dick’s nose scrunched in annoyance.

“Of course you don’t, just like Jay said…” Dick huffed under his breath. “Okay, let’s just… blurt it out. Get it over with.”

Dick seemed to try and hype himself up, squeezing Bruce’s hands tightly before releasing and continuing the action a few more times.

“Jason said that you think that we hate you, but like, I really don’t know where that came from, and I’m just super confused because I don’t think I’ve said it that often, and yeah I’ve said it, I probably shouldn’t have, really shouldn’t have since you think that I hate you, well you think that all of us-“

“Chum.” Bruce stopped his son’s rapid word vomit with one word, his eyes crinkled with fondness and amusement as he squeezed Dick’s hands back. “Sweetheart, I didn’t understand a single word you just said. Slow down for me, okay?”

Dick took large gulps of air, his face burning with embarrassment as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Right! Right duh, I just- ugh…”

Bruce absentmindedly trailed his eyes over Dick’s face, so much older than when he had last seen him. Maybe a little gaunt… he’ll make Dick some brownies, the ones he used to make when Dick was smaller. Maybe they could watch a movie later, anything that would get DIck to fall asleep.

“Dad…” Dick breathed softy, making Bruce’s heart race. Uh oh, why was this a Dad moment? Did Dick want something?

“Jason came to me and he told me that… you think that I… we hate you. Do you?”

Bruce let out a confused hum. Was that the important conversation he had? Bruce didn’t feel like it was an important conversation; it had been mostly resolved by the time Jason decided to leave. Well, Bruce felt as though it had been resolved.

“… you said it,” Bruce said slowly. The last time he said that, Jason had gone silent and stared at Bruce with a horrified expression before hugging him. It was a nice hug, so Bruce guessed he had read his second son’s expression wrong, and it was all okay in the end.

“No, B, I could… I could never…” Dick’s throat dried up. Why couldn’t he just force the full sentence out? 'No, I don't hate you.' Why does his tongue feel like it's a million pounds? Why do his lips refuse to move?

Bruce hummed sympathetically and nodded his head, like he understood, like he could sort through the mess in Dick’s mind. Bruce had always had an uncanny way of peering into all of their minds when it was the most jumbled, and yet, he was getting it completely wrong this time.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. It makes perfect sense.” Bruce nodded, having the fucking audacity to pretend that it did make sense. Like Dick hating him was perfectly normal, like living in a house and caring for people who he thinks hate him is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Wha-? No, Bruce, it’s not supposed to make sense!” Dick ran a hand through his hair, carelessly ripping through the knots and tangles, barely feeling the pain radiating from his scalp. The one in his chest hurt a fuckton more.

Bruce chewed on his lower lip, unable to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, he settled for digging the heel of his foot against the dorsum of his other, still bruised painfully from a rough night of crime fighting alone.

“What did I do wrong this time?” Bruce asked, wanting to know why Dick was here and why he seemed so… distraught. Not even angry, which was somehow worse.

He had to have done something wrong, after all, both DIck and Jason had come to him separately to rehash this same old conversation. Something must have happened.

That, for some reason, seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“Dad, you know we love you… right…?” Dick whispered quietly. “You know that I love you, right?” Dick tried to grin, hoping that he would see his father’s face transform into a smile, to hear his deep chuckle of amusement, to listen to his Dad say ‘yes, of course I know that you love me, that you all love me.’

But it never came.

Bruce was quiet. No he was completely silent, staring at his son with a truly baffled expression that Dick has only seen very few times in his life. Like the words coming out of his son’s mouth were such an obvious lie, and he was trying to figure out why he was lying right to his face. Like Dick's love was such an unreachable object for him that there was no way he could already have it.

No no no no no no-

“Dad-!” Dick choked on a sudden sob, forcefully tearing its way out of his throat without his permission. “Please! Tati please! You have to know that I love you!”

Bruce swallowed and slowly extracted his hands from Dick’s grip, well, he tried to. Dick held on tight, steadfastly refusing to let go. “Dick, sweetheart, let me get you a cup of water. I don’t know why you’re crying, but I promise we can figure it out together. I’ll be right back, I swear.” Bruce said, his voice giving away how stressed he was in this situation.

Dick desperately clawed at his Dad’s hands, trying to stop him from leaving, but somehow Bruce escaped his hold. He always escapes his grasp.

As Bruce quickly fled the room, Dick slid down off Bruce’s desk and onto the floor, curling up into hisself. Trying to hide away from the shame and horror that was threatening to explode from his body.

How could this have happened? When had he stopped telling his Dad that he loved him? When had Bruce stopped believing him?

Dick tugged harshly on his hair and wailed, waiting for Bruce to come back.

Boss is asleep, cannot stop me from frogposting

In your Dick but everyone else is ducks pic, I noticed no Duke Duck, but I’m just very curious as to what a Signal ducky would look like lol

Oh Yeah you're totally right I kinda loose track with illustrations like these I always want to include a bunch off stuff but then I forget😅

I’m gonna use that as an opportunity to draw the whole Gotham gang as ducks (it not all of them just the ones I kinda of know^^)