snakeredbirdbatkatana

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Jason using his guns as blunt weapons is so funny like imagine ur getting shot at by the Red Hood, he runs out of ammo, you think you have a chance and he just throws the fucking pistol at you

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Hi I absolutely LOVE your style! And I was wondering if you would be willing to draw the band au of @strange-birb ? Have a good day ^^

ok i tried my best but i definitely don't think i can capture the vibe right... the designs are so fun tho

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Bernard: I think the Lazarus pit is actually just a bunch of guacamole

Tim: babe, wtf? Are you drunk? High?

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This au again lawl. Where Danny wears these special sunglasses to hide his eyes that also track down ghosts in his human form.

The Justice League tracks down a summoning for the ghost king, an eons old tyrant of the infinite realms and known to bring war and devastation whenever he is summoned.

The cultists do manage to summon the ghost king, except, not how they wanted. They did indeed summon the king, but Pariah Dark is still trapped in eternal sleep and somehow, just, somehow, they managed to draw the lottery and dragged the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep to the summoning circle.

So there the Justice League were, wondering what to do with the (currently) locked away and sleeping ghost king.

Until Constantine's coat flipped itself open and a boy with glowing white hair and a mist of blue blowing from his mouth.

"Old man." The boy greeted.

"Brat." Constantine said.

"Do you mind explaining why and how this," The boy gestured to the Sarcophagus. "Is here and not in Pariah's Keep?"

"Funny story, that one." Constantine said, only half-jokingly. He then went on to explain that the Justice League came to track down cultists, said cultists somehow managed to drag that here, and now they didn't quite know what to do with it.

The boy stood still for a moment, before taking off his sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose and sighed, a large amount of blue flame spilling from his mouth. "Ancients above, why is it every time something notable happens, it's always you?"

Constantine snorted, reaching into his coat for a pack of cigarettes and lighting himself one. "Hypocritical coming from you."

"I know, but still." The boy walked over to the Sarcophagus and sat on it, as if it wasn't the thing currently holding one of the most powerful ghosts in the infinite realms. "You know smoking is bad for you, right?"

"What, you learned that in class?" Constantine snarked, making no move to do anything and causing the boy to sigh again, toxic green eyes looked around the room, falling over each hero present before homing in on Flash. The boy pointed to him. "You. Come here."

"Whatcha want with red?" Constantine asked and the boy simply shrugged his shoulders. "Passing on a message."

The boy blinked once, and if he was surprised that the Flash was already in front of him, then he didn't show it. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a green sticky not, motioned for Flash to bent down and stuck it on his forehead.

Superman was... concerned. There was a heartbeat there, he could hear it, but it was so slow and seemed rather weak, like the boy was near death.

"Alright, now I gotta get old mean and green back to his keep before the Observants get on my case." The boy put back on his sunglasses and got up, waving Flash away and lifting up the Sarcophagus above his head he walked over to Constantine, whose face wrinkled.

"That ain't going to fit." The warlock pointed out and the boy scoffed, probably rolling his eyes behind his glasses. "And you've fit bigger things, just shut up and lift the coat old man."

Constantine did so, and somehow the boy just shoved the entire Sarcophagus inside. The boy was very obviously smug as the blue mist that was blowing from his mouth the entire time petered out. "I'll clean up the mess on my end," The boy said before waving his hand in the Justice League's general direction. "You deal with all that."

"Just get going already, I'm not about to get those sentient eyeballs on my ass."

"Yea, yea. You got enough to deal with as is." The boy then stepped inside Constantine's cloak and as soon as the man let it drop, he disappeared.

Constantine looked around the room, silently assessing the situation as he brought another cigarette to his lips.

He lamented the fact he would have to deal with this sober.

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Just saying Dick’s tendency to put random evidence in his mouth to determine what it is must've been such a pain for Bruce when he was a baby Robin. It probably prompted many panicked calls to Leslie about whether Dick was going to die.

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AUS where Tim is a mini red hood my beloved…

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I wanna see something we're Tim keeps finding worse and worse excuses to commit atrocities. Like at first it's like, "I must kill this man, it is my only option for survival " and then by the end he's like,

Well, Batman didn't make the Geneva convention....

There's 80s music playing! I can't not go on a murder rampage! It'd ruin a perfect gag!

I can't let perfectly good hard drugs go to waste in an evidence locker!

And it just keeps getting more and more unhinged until Batman finally finds out and he has NO IDEA what to do about it

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Prompt 88

  In a world where every human starts with blood that’s a very bright red, only darkening by one taking another’s life, Tim is very careful. Apparently even using explosions in warehouses and wherever else the league of assassins had set up counted as killing, to his slight horror. He couldn’t let his team know of course, even if they joked about joining him if he turned villain. 

  It was one thing to joke, but if they saw his blood, pitch black and dark enough to nearly swallow the light around it? He really doesn’t want to see the horror or disgust. He isn’t going to let anyone know if he can help it. 

  So it’s a really shitty situation when one of the henchmen of one of the rogues decides to break his nose and about fifty-something people are suddenly very aware of his very high kill count. He has a choice here. And he isn’t entirely sure if he wants to deal with the consequences of either of them. 

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Picturing Martha and Thomas- especially Thomas- as shallow aristocrats who just don't quite understand everything that Bruce has become. Why he has so endeavored to stopping crime, to adopting children, to throwing all that he is to "fix" Gotham. Their idea of activism is typical- galas and programs that can be deductible on taxes. Not whatever Bruce has gotten mixed up with, with no sleep, saving people they don't see as valuable like addicts and people who 'got themselves into their own mess" with familial cycles. and they REALLY just don't understand his children at all. (this applies more to Thomas overall, because of some depictions in the comics. I should really just write my own story but I LOVE the idea that Bruce has glorified his parents much, and thought that his goodness came from them, when it really came from himself.)

*resists the urge to write this fic too* oh my god what if they're only good in his memory. what if he and everyone else idolized them because they were dead. what if they were flawed and sometimes selfish and don't want to help Gotham like Bruce does. what if Bruce has to reconcile his mission with their current beliefs. what if they don't like his kids? WHAT IF THEY DON'T LIKE HIS KIDS??

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Real fights are messy and I'm sure biting, scratching, scrambling away on your ass are all on the table and encouraged, but sparring matches in the Batcave between the Bats are probably sick as fuck when they try (aka the siblings are not bent on just beating the shit out of each other), because they're using a meld of techniques from about a hundred different martial arts, tapping into their unique strengths, and a near inhuman reading of each other (both from years of working together and experience) and an insane reflex time.

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“Scream if you have to,” is such a terrifying phrase to hear from Bruce. But I think the Batkids actually need to hear it — whether they’re getting a bad break reset, or having a wound cauterized, or something else extremely painful — it can be a relief to know you’re allowed to yell and make noise. Relieving to know that Bruce says it’s okay to scream.

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tim: sweet dog you got there. gordon: yes, this is our new drug-sniffing dog. tim: still training huh? gordon: red robin.. what do you mean? tim: ... tim: nevermind...

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bernard: i just love true crime, don't you?

tim, trying to impress him: i may or may not be a war criminal with a hypothetical body count in the triple digits who's trained under multiple trained assassins as their apprentice

bernard: ???

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Dick. Why are you licking mystery substances off the ground. Stop.

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The batkids taking shit from each other- the intimacy of knowing where the other persons weapons/gadgets/things are

The most commonly “pickpocketed” person is bruce, and he gets so used to it/they get so good at it that sometimes he forgets to take it back or replace it. 

Batman and Red Hood are staking out a new villains headquarters and jason is bored so he reaches over to bruces side and pulls out three lollipops, working through them one at a time. Bruce doesn't even flinch, even as jason's hand digs deep into his side to reach the last one. Then later he has to calm down this little girl, reaches for the pocket, and finds he has no more lollipops to comfort this child with. So he reaches over to Nightwing, who is currently in deep discussion with a police officer, and tugs some sweets out from his shoulder pocket and hands it to the kid. Accidentally, he also takes a replacement grappling hook wire with it, since dick is a mess and has all sorts of shut crammed in every pocket thats not supposed to be there, but he just shrugs and tucks it into his own replacement wire pocket. Then dicks line breaks a few days later and he reaches for his pocket- and its empty. So he does a double backflip off the building, lands on top of a swinging red robin, snatches some replacement wire from his boot pocket, recharges his gun and is gone within a few seconds. Tim continues on like nothing has happened. When he lands on the next roof, Spoiler is waiting for him, and he gives her a quick kiss, reaching to the back of her waist band to grab a small knife and throw it at the goon coming up the stairs. A few days later steph is hanging upside down with cass and reaches for her knife, only to come up empty handed, so she just grabs the one cass has strapped to her thigh and peels her orange with that instead. Cass shrugs, drops from the ceiling on bruces shoulders, pecks his cheek and takes one of his daggers from his chest pocket. Three days later damian yeets his katana at Riddler(it misses but the villain is traumatized) but now the young robin is out of a weapon, so he ducks under cass’s legs and takes the dagger, sending it flying into a nearby goons gut. Bruce is both horrified and proud of his children and instates a weekly meeting to double check that every has all of their things. A very startling amount of gadgets and knicknacks are passed from hand to hand at these meetings, returned to their rightful owner. Bruce, naturally, has the largest pile that he has to put away. The kids all snicker into their hands as he glowers, shoving the weapons and pepper spray and gum pieces(“why did you take them if you weren't even going to chew them!!!”) back into his suit as they all finish up an hour before him and just watch. 

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writing batfam fanfic really has me google “list of worse places to get shot” and “mortality rates of a chest stabbing” because i’m trying to figure out what wound is concerning enough to warrant being dragged home by your overbearing mama bird brother but not be brought to a legitimate doctor by said brother

#literally sometimes I wonder if I am on a watchlist because I have to sound like a serial killer #dcu #batfam #batman #batfamily