Can we all agree it’s canon that Bruce and Jason have this weird competition of T-shirts to talk shit about the other? Like... Bruce walking around one day and the paparazzi take a picture of him in a “proud father of a great kid who’s sometimes an asshole” shirt. Jason sees it and retaliates by wearing a “Wonder where I learned to swear” shirt to an informal party and they just kept going.
I felt that I made too many people cry on my JayBart oneshot 'Warm Bodies', so I thought I'd rectify that with more tears. So, here's Part Two!
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Jason was angrier these days. Love and loss do that to a person. He walked around Gotham with tension in his posture, menacing intent with his every step. His gaze was hard and distant, scaring anyone to be the subject of their attention.
Even those that didn’t know him personally could tell he was very troubled. Tortured by things he’s been through, or rather went through. Haunted by a ghost of his past.
You look so grumpy today, did you accidentally drink orange juice after you brushed your teeth again? A voice whispered from the empty space beside him that used to be filled with sunshine. He didn’t answer.
Whispers went around Gotham about his drastic change. Jason was never a delicate flower, but he was so much more violent. Fights went on longer, drawn out for the satisfaction of release. Punches less pulled. Bullets wasted where they were saved and strategically shot before. More blood on his hands than ever.
His brothers tried to reach out and comfort him in one way or another, but he’d shoot down their every attempt with vehemence. They didn’t understand, they wouldn’t. How could they? How can you look at someone and tell them your entire world was ripped from you? How do you explain how vital it was to have someone at your side, and how suffocating it was when they were gone? How does he tell them he loved so deeply— mind, body, and soul— and that all those things died alongside his person?
I know what’ll cheer you up, let’s go to the library. I’ll help you find a new book to distract you. The black hole where his universe used to be speaks again, filling the space before vacuuming it away again. Jason doesn’t listen.
He doesn’t know why he can still hear his voice. Still feel his phantom touches, or see a flash of golden eyes. He didn’t care. He wanted them to stop, stop trying to replace what he lost, but he also wanted to gather everything he had left of him and never let him go again.
It didn’t matter where he went, the void would follow. It was like he could feel him walking at his side, but where he was all warmth and light, the space he left was cold and desolate. It played the imitation game well, but nothing could replace Bart.
You shouldn’t glare so much, it’ll permanently stick to your face. I think I already see frown lines. It says again, this time accompanied by a gentle breeze ghosting over his temple. A finger poking him attached to nothing.
Jason flinches back and blinks rapidly to clear the image of a teasing smile from his vision. “Stop that.” He grumbles, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, brute-forcing his way forewards like he needed the extra push to carry on.
So he does speak. What’s got you so grumpy today? Bart’s echo falls back into step with him as if nothing changed. For a moment, Jason blanks and wishes nothing ever had. He only allows himself a moment at a time to break and rebuild in the next second. A crash of tides before the Ocean calms once more.
He doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t stop the torture.
Did Bruce do something? Bart pesters, unfazed by the lack of response. No, let me guess. Dick was a dick? The soft sound of a chuckle carries on the wind and vanishes in its current. Jason ignores the stabbing pain when it almost makes him smile.
You can talk to me, you know. About anything. I’m always right here for you. But that was his problem, wasn’t it? Jason wasn’t upset at Bruce, or Dick. He was angry at the world for taking his.
He stops walking, not bothering to turn and talk to the space he knew would be empty. “But you aren’t here.” He speaks to the sky, fighting the rush of emotion that well up. “I can’t talk to you. I won’t get to ever again.” his control relinquishes and he’s left staring at the clouds, vision blurry with tears. His palms sweat, as does his forehead. His throat closes tightly, chest crushing with the weight of heartbreak.
He can’t look, not when he knows he won't see anything there.
Don’t be silly, Jay. I’m always right here. The void answers, whispering sweet nothings. Soft assurances to get him to give in to the darkness, be consumed by its nothingness. Maybe if he lets it swallow him whole, he could be with the real Bart again.
“I need you to come back to me,” Jason croaks around the lump in his throat, swaying in place as the energy is sucked out of him, leaving a hollow shell of a man that can barely stand on his own two feet.
It’s quiet for a bit, nothing but the sound of Jason’s sobs and sniffles until the darkness edges closer. Call out for me, Jay. It beckons. Come on, let it out. Yell so loud the Gods can hear you.
And he does. The very force of his anguished shout brings him to his knees. He screams until his throat is hoarse and even when it hurt, he continues. Even when he didn’t have breath in him, he pushes more and falls forwards, face pressed to the dirt. He didn’t stop until he was sure every deity out there could feel his pain and felt the guilt for taking the most precious thing the Earth had to offer him.
A crackle of thunder and flash of lightning broke through his clenched eyelids for a split second, as if Zeus himself responded to his screams. The noise was nothing compared to the rush of blood in his ears. He couldn’t feel anything except cold and alone.
This time when the void came back to comfort him, he struggled to get away. He didn’t want the chilled touch to replace the memory of Bart’s warm one. That was too far for him. He wouldn’t let that happen.
A hand reached out from the void and wiped his tears away, his eyes snapping open at the unexpected touch. It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t the breeze. It wasn’t cold.
“I’m right here.” Bart smiles through tears, stumbling into Jason’s arms and holding him so tightly they molded together. Not even air dared to get between them.
“How?” Jason struggles to find the words, but he didn’t need them to return the tight embrace with an even stronger squeeze. He didn’t need an answer, he had his world in his arms again and nothing has ever felt so right.
“You brought me back.” Bart strokes the back of his head like he used to, gently applying pressure on the back of his neck just like he’d done so many times on nights the guilt and hurt became too much. “But I never went far. You never spoke back to me.”
Jason choked on a sudden sob, tightening his arms around Bart and rocking their bodies in tandem. His speedster never left him. It was always him. It wasn’t his mind playing tricks, it was him.
“I’m sorry,” Jason begs for forgiveness, burying his face into Bart’s neck. He felt like he was on his knees in a Chapple, asking a God to forgive his digressions. The sin of love over life.
“Don’t get sappy on me now, slick. At least take me home first.” Bart jokes, and it was perfect. Jason didn’t think he’d ever hear that quick wit again. But now he has eternity to appreciate all of it all over again.
His speedster was home right here in his arms.
(Originally posted on AO3 by me/aka user CrashCityCentral)
The last thief was knocked out with a swift knee to his face and he fell limp. The distant sirens caught the vigilante’s attention and he let go of the KOd criminal’s hair, dropping him to the ground then slumped into the shadows, hoisting himself up a fire escape and to the rooftop overlooking the dark alleyway where the fight took place. He peered over the edge to the carnage he left behind; a group of 8, 6 men and 2 women, unconsciously strewed across the alley floor, all petty thefts and wanna-be big shots. He left once he made sure none of them woke back up and the police were close enough. He never bothered staying around for these moments, the police were looking for him too. He didn’t always keep his opponents alive. But, like any other corny romance novel, he met someone and they changed him. For the better, which he honestly thought was impossible until that point. He didn’t look back again and instead traveled through the city by rooftop. It was just about time to hang up his helmet for the night.
He jumped from building to building, the close proximity of the cities structures making it perfect for travel. Once he was close enough to his current safe house, he dropped down to the streets and ducked into a darker part of the backend allies where he pulled a bag from a hidden spot. He opened it, stripping his chest plate off and stuffing it inside. He then reached around his head to press two switches on either side of his helmet and slowly pull it off revealing his face. Jason Todd.
Jason slung the bag over his shoulders, now casually dressed in a tank-top and his suit pants, walking back to the main roads and towards the direction of his safe house, acting as casual as ever. This had been his constant routine. Once at the door, he pulled his keys out and unlocked a padlock that kept a latch shut. When the latch was opened he entered a six-digit code the door clicked and was pushed open. From where his warehouse was there was a glimpse of moonlight shining through the windows and now open the door, with only his shadow blocking out the only source of light in the dark room. Jason closed the door again slowly and tried not to make a sound as he locked it once more and put his keys on a nearby table. The room was a deafening silence, almost making his ears ring. It wasn’t always this quiet. He moved to hang up his gear and walked further into the house. His movements were slow, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was tired or sore from fighting. It could be both. He let out an exhausted sigh before reaching the bedroom, moving the door handle slowly so the creaking wouldn’t disrupt the silence. There was a figure on the bed, laying there and waiting for him. It didn’t move when he came fully into the room and shut the door or took off his boots. It didn’t move until he walked over and was hovering over the bed and sat on the edge.
“Hey, Bart,” Jason said without even bothering to look at the boy laying down beside him.
“Welcome home, Jay,” Bart replied, with his usual animated grin. Though it was dark, Jason could practically see that smile. Something about the way he says it now makes it sound rehearsed. It was the same reply Jason got every time he came back, followed by the usual questions asked at rapid-fire. “How did it go? Did you kick ass? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m not hurt,” Jason said, his reply just as practiced. He didn’t bother answering the other two. He couldn’t. He just stared at the same place he zoned into when he sat down.
“You seem sad. What’s wrong?” Bart asked. Though he didn’t hear it, Jason could feel Bart move closer.
“You know what’s wrong.” The silence was too much. It was all wrong. All of it.
“What do you mean, Jay?” Bart’s voice still feigned the innocent confusion it always had.
Jason loved that about him. He loved how confused Bart got sometimes. When Bart gets too confused he gets frustrated and makes this cute pouty face and his leg bounces more violently the longer he thinks. It was just so him .
“Please don’t act like you don’t know.” Jason’s tone was nothing but pain. His voice was leveled but his mind was anything but. It’s been a long night.
“What’s wrong?” There he goes again. Those same routine lines. Those same replayed words. Those same concerned eyes.
Jason refused to look at those eyes. He knew if he did he’d cave and just accept this. But he couldn’t.
“You need to leave, Bart.” He swallowed hard, regretting the words but not taking them back either. This needed to happen. For both of them.
“I don’t understand.” the smile in Bart’s voice was gone. What was left was just concern. Jason cried.
The first few tears slipped out unannounced until they all just started pouring out. Tears and broken sobs. He wiped them away quickly, eyes screwed shut. There was a tingling sensation like someone had grazed their fingers lightly, over his cheek. His hand was so cold.
“Don’t cry, Jaybird.” Bart soothed. Jason reminded himself he couldn’t look. If he looked it became real.
“Please stop, Bart. Just go.” He rubbed his eyes. The ear-ringing silence came back. In the back of his mind, Jason knew he’d be back, just like he always is. But he was alone for now, his thoughts leaving him in peace until the next time. He opened his eyes.
Jason felt like crying again. He didn’t want to push him away, he didn’t want to tell Bart to leave. He wanted nothing more than to cave in and just collapse, letting Bart’s words soothe everything away and kiss him until he didn’t feel anything but loved. To listen to his rambles again and be praised with every villain he didn’t kill.
He wanted all of that back, he wanted his speedster.
Whatever his mind was doing to him was sick. Bart was dead. He has been for some time.
Tim: Bart, you have to stop stealing my siblings.
Bart, leaning on Dick, legs over Jason's lap, getting his nails painted by Steph, getting his hair braided by babs, and showing cute animal pics to Damian: I have no idea what you mean.
Molly Weasley, bless her, had started off making the ‘Weasley sweaters’ as a form of telling George and Fred apart. But they still switch their sweaters, cheeky bastards. After they got theirs, everyone wanted it, so that’s how the tradition is born. If you have a sweater, you’re official.
Heyoo, my batfam and bart connoisseurs!
Interested in an upstarting multifandom server?Come join me and our new friends!
Hang out, kick up your feet. Talk fics, fanart, prompts, headcanons from all sorts of fan bases! DC, Danny Phantom, Dr Who, Good Omens, Marvel, crossovers!
Come over and let’s chat!
if you've wanted a discord server that isn't limited to a single fandom, but instead has any fandom you want to chat in, good news!
there is one!
it's pretty much brand new, so there aren't many people, but as it grows I'll be adding different fandoms, so if there's something you're interested in and it doesn't have its own channels, just let me know.
there are currently channels for Danny Phantom, DC, the DPxDC crossover (because lets face it dpxdc is it's own fandom at this point), Marvel, Doctor Who and Good Omens
I hope to see you all in there!
“Hey, I saw your wanted poster and can I just say they don’t do you glory you are gorgeous would you like some tea?”
I cannot explain this in words currently but Jaybart is Davekat coded, that is all
idk as someone with adhd, which is what I headcanon Bart with, I could see the reading the whole library thing. I've burned through wikipedia articles and thousands related to them just cause, I could probably burn through a library in relative two years if I had the time off work and a reason. I do admit that his becoming more serious and Kid Flash was hella scuffed though ngl. Also this is in no way me saying that headcanoning him autistic is wrong, just offering another perspective. Hell he could be adhd and autistic, whatever way the character resonates with you.
Hyperfixation is actually very common! Bart has shown plenty times that he can focus his efforts on one thing while at superspeed, like when he does his homework that takes him two weeks in his perception of time, but a couple of seconds to the outside world. So the library thing doesn’t actually surprise me much! I think it’s great he’s expanded his knowledge and used his eidetic memory for more of a practical purpose. He’s basically a walking fact book of infinite knowledge and him knowing the entire human nervous system, how to take something apart and put back together, plus all those fun facts by memory is the coolest.
But on the other hand, Bart has a “danger deficit disorder” as it’s said. He’s gotten better at distinguishing real danger from nonexistent ones, but it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s the type to stop for a second. Bart thinks on his feet better than all the speedsters before him, and he comes up with plans that don’t need to be thought out so much as improvised. He’s the king at improvisation. Taking that away from his character basically strips him of a big thing that makes him unique and himself. It was a big no on their part. Listening to a plan means that’s wasted time to be saving people, stopping to look at his surroundings means that something could have been done quicker to stop his enemy. His mindset is what makes him impulse and they deprive him of that when making him “Kid Flash”. So uncool.
I think Mark Waid did a great job of keeping Bart’s development at a casual pace, keeping his character the same while still leaving room for growth. Plus, coding him with ADHD was a conscious decision on his end, which I find fantastic.
This newer version of Impulse feels too different to me. And after, y’know, DYING five times, you’d think he’d be less… cheery? Like— He was never to begin with! He’s, in simple terms, as teenager as they come. Not too bleak of an outlook, but not a peppy one either. Finds violent video games amusing and fights kids, steals cars, swears a bit, but not as much as people probably expect from highschoolers. He doesn’t just like to fit in, he wants to blend in the background, go unnoticed. Stay quiet and handle situations as they come.
Him as Kid Flash feels too off for me. Bart as anything but Impulse just feels like a violation.
Ever notice how whenever there's a green eyed ginger, there's always a black haired, blue eyed beauty to be paired with them?
I've noticed this with every show I watch, theres always that pair unless of course it doesn't have a ginger (Because shows always have someone with black hair for some reason)
Snart: You know, that stuff will kill you one day.
Hartley, drinking an entire bottle of Wine: Exactly.
Owen, smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed this up.
Bart, eating raw cookie dough and non-stop junk food: *nodding quickly*
⚡Bart And Batfam⚡ Headcanons + Theories, Fuck the Flash, Impulse + Rogue Supremacy
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