As a little Christmas gift 🎄 for myself, I commissioned @tally-kiza to draw the following scene from Ch. 4 of Stepping Stones:
One evening there was a live music program scheduled to air on WGCR, Slam Bradley’s farewell concert at the Gotham City Opera House. Bradley sang in that swanky style Arthur was fond of, the kind that encouraged heavy smoking and heavier necking. She snuck in her pocket radio and headphones, then failed at reading the Gotham Journal, distracted by his serene countenance as he lay his head in her lap, nodding to a tune only he could hear.
From their greying hair to deeper wrinkles, this is a wonderful glimpse into Arthur and Sarah's life seven years later! 💜 You made their visits in Arkham beautiful. Their faces carry the peace of certainty that love will lead them through difficult times.
The worn patches of his lost-and-found sweater are a great touch, as are the music notes by his ear. Her dress suit is perfect, a nod to how she must be racing from the office straight to the hospital. 🏃🏻♀️
The bench is perfect, exactly as described! The lively blooms and bushes behind them lend the drawing a vivid sense of hope.
As always, Cal did a great job. Your pen strokes perfectly capture the tenderness in this paragraph, the vulnerability that weaves its way through the whole story. I'll be forever grateful for this work. 🥰
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Then and Now Pt 1
Happy holidays, all! Here’s some holiday cheer, batfamily style.
For @tajmah
Then
The grounds of Wayne manor are covered in more snow than Bruce Wayne has ever seen in his entire six-year-old life. It blankets everything, and there isn’t an end in sight.
When he clicks on the little radio by his bedside, the DJ on WGCR is gabbing away.
“-Believe all this snow! It’s like the end of the world out there, folks. Stay safe. Stay home. Have a happy holiday.”
Bruce lights up as he peers at his calendar. A week to Christmas, and Hanukkah already in full swing.
The tap on his bedroom door makes him turn around, finding his father standing there, looking amused. “Pretty wild, huh, Champ?” Tommy asks, amused.
“It’s so much snow!” Bruce cries.
“Yeah,” Tommy chuckles. “It’s a good thing I already had the week off.” He reaches out for his son, nodding towards the door. “C’mon. Alfred’s got a mountain of pancakes waiting for us and your mother is reassuring all of her friends that it’s not a big deal if they cancel all of their party plans.”
Bruce can’t help a grin; he hates those parties.
When they get down to the kitchen, Tommy steps over to Martha - who is still on the phone - and kisses her cheek lightly before settling down next to Bruce on a stool at the island.
“I know it’s disappointing, Mitsy,” Martha says, winking at Bruce. “But clearly God wanted us all to stay home this year. We can still donate to the children’s hospital, after all. We’ll just be doing it in our house slippers.”
Bruce grins to himself as his mother says goodbye and hangs up, pretending to faint against the wall, the back of her perfectly manicured hand against her forehead.
“Oy!” she cries jokingly. “What will we ever do without a fancy charity Christmas party? How can we donate to charity without the incentive of booze and gossip?”
“I see the cancelations are going well,” Tommy jokes.
“I thought Angela Gastire was going to have a nervous breakdown,” Martha tells them as she sits on Bruce’s other side, reaching out to neaten his hair. “Apparently, the Christmas Eve gala’s cancelation is, and I quote: ‘The worst thing that has ever happened.’”
Tommy gives her a pained expression. “Please tell me you didn’t bring up the Holocaust.”
“I did not,” Martha smiles sweetly. “Just for you, I held my tongue.”
Bruce giggles and his mother winks at him again.
“What do you say, Boychick. It’s just gonna be us for the holidays. That okay?” she asks.
He nods eagerly as Alfred sets a large stack of pancakes in front of him, and the snow keeps piling up outside.
*****
Now
The snow is so thick, he can barely see where he’s going as he swings from one rooftop to the next.
“This is ridiculous, B,” Batgirl’s voice chitters in her comm. “There’s nothing going on. Nobody can even see in this, let alone do crime.”
“She’s right, Boss,” Oracle’s voice chimes in. “There is literally nothing going on. There was an attempted robbery the cops took care of an hour ago, and other than that, zilch.”
“Hnn,” Batman sighs slowly before tapping his comm. “Batman to all operatives: meet at the cave for debrief.”
A chorus of relieved groans sound off, and he can’t help his lips from twitching into a slight grin.
On the way back to the cave, he pulls up WGCR. “-Worst snowstorm Gotham’s seen in nearly 35 years! Stay safe, everybody.”
When he gets back to the cave, everyone is gathered around, warming up, as Alfred distributes cups of hot coffee.
“So that was a little pointless, huh?” Dick asks, grinning.
“You said it,” Jason complains. “It is too damn cold out there.”
“It’s good that we got a patrol in,” Bruce tells them as he settles into the chair in front of the batcomputer. “We may not get to go again until the snow lets up. And no one is sure when that will be.”
“So what do we do til then?” Duke asks.
“Well, it is the holidays,” Bruce says, sitting back. “And it’s been quite some time since all of us have spent time together outside of our costumed responsibilities.”
“Tell me you’re dressing up as Santa,” Steph begs jokingly. “Please. Please tell me.”
“Father would never do something so deeply undignified!” Damian cries. “And we do not need the holidays.”
“Sure we do,” Tim says. “I know I could use a break. And I would not say no to Alfred’s chocolate peppermint cake roll.”
“I’m sorry, did you say chocolate peppermint cake roll?” Harper perks up.
“I suppose I could dust off that old recipe,” Alfred beams.
“Are we really falling for all of his holly jolly bullshit?” Jason asks, a little bewildered.
“Heck yeah, we are,” Barbara chimes in, shifting her wheelchair over smoothly. “I even left a sourdough starter here that we can use for fresh bread!”
Bruce grins to himself, and sits back as everyone chatters around him.
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