Batman’s whole basis is the idea of scaring criminals, right?
well, sure, outright intimidation through brute force works for that.
But the whole reason a bat was chosen is that the average person doesn’t understand how cute and cool they are, and finds them creepy and gross.
So let’s play that up. A Batman who uses his training in escape artistry, stage magic, and contortionism to move in ways people think humans shouldn’t be able to move. A Batman who reacts to things that he shouldn’t be able to (because his suit is wired with sensors and Alfred is monitoring things through hacked security feeds). A Batman who has a Slasher Smile.
Give me a Batman who, for the villains, seems like a cryptid. An urban legend on the level of creepypasta, some half-glimpsed shadow who, instead of being scary because of his muscles, is scary because holy shit what was that? What just happened? I’m outta here, man!
Give me a Batman where his battles with characters like Scarecrow and the Joker seem more like one of those crossover films where two horror movie monsters fight it out.
reblog, this had exactly one thousand notes. I was not expecting that, so i feel i should specify in regards to Robin:
I mean a Robin who is unsettling precisely because of people having the reaction of what the fuck is this bright and cheery child doing hanging around with an escapee from the SCP Foundation?
I mean a Robin who is a little too bright and cheery, maybe. And you start to wonder amidst all the smiles and quips, why exactly this particular “robin red-breast” has that shade of red on their chest. Why the red looks a little more brownish, why this child smells coppery when they lean in close to tell a joke. Are you sure they’re a child? Are you sure there’s just one of them?
While you’re wondering this, back at the Batcave, Bruce and the like six different kids who act as Robins are having a laugh and reapplying the fake blood Alfred bought in near-bulk quantities at the Gotham Party City during the last After-Halloween sale.
It’s often been remarked that Spider-Man’s schtick wouldn’t work nearly so well if he didn’t live in a town with so many tall buildings, but consider: how well would Batman’s “I am the night” routine work if he was operating out of a normal city where people actually live, rather than a perpetually twilit urban hellscape that looks like the Art Deco movement had a one-night stand with Soviet Brutalism in a wrought-iron-and-gargoyle factory?
That is my favorite description of the Batman aesthetic ever.
For a long moment, the inside of the car was silent except for the sound of a burger wrapper.
Nightwing started to take a bite, then stopped with a sigh.
Even he could not pretend that this was normal.
“What is she doing here?” he asked finally.
“I’m helpin’,” Harley said, somehow managing to say it quite clearly even though her lips never touched. Her lipstick was a dark matte, and getting a dark matte just right required surgical precision that she could somehow still manage in the back of a moving vehicle without any lights.
“Why, though.”
“In case he needs backup!”
“That’s why I’m here,” Nightwing pointed out.
“Sure,” she said, somehow making the word sound entirely composed of vowels, snapping her compact shut. “Now.”
Nightwing sighed. “I was ten minutes late.” He looked to Batman, who said nothing. “Ten minutes.”
“A lot can happen in ten minutes,” Harley said, primly putting her things back into her bag.
Batman still said nothing, but tilted his head just enough and just long enough that Nightwing knew he was looking pointedly at his fries.
“I’m not apologizing for the fact that I wanted real food,” Nightwing said. He turned around in his seat to look back at Harley. “Have you seen his little protein shake things?
“They’re his robo-fuel!”
“You know he’s not a robot.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
Harley and Nightwing both looked at Batman. Nightwing turned back around in his seat. “I had a busy day, I didn’t have time to eat, so I got some food. It was a totally reasonable thing to do.”
“What’s even your day job?” Harley wondered. “Y’ain’t gettin’ paid for this.” Then she gasped. “Are ya in college now?” she asked, delighted.
“He dropped out,” Batman said before Nightwing could respond.
Harley gasped even louder.
“Now, wait a minute,” Nightwing began, before Harley interrupted by cuffing his ear. “Ow! Harley!”
“That’s Dr. Harley to you, young man.” She looked to Batman. “Tell him he has to go back to school.”
“He’s an adult now,” Batman said. “He can do what he wants.”
Harley narrowed her eyes at Nightwing. “Is that why ya had that mullet?”
“It was not a mullet–”
“Is this what youthful rebellion looks like when a dork tries to do it?”
“You’d know better than I would,” Batman said.
“Hey!” She backhanded his shoulder, then sighed. “I guess I did go to med school.” She reached over Nightwing’s shoulder to grab a fry. “But I also did a lot of coke.”
Nightwing, mid-sip, choked on his iced tea.
“A looooot of coke,” she added, chewing. “In retrospect I was prolly self-medicatin’.” She put a hand on Nightwing’s shoulder. “Not that that makes it okay,” she said. “Listen to your Aunt Harley. Don’t do coke.”
“Yes, Dr. Aunt Harley.”
“If ya needed money for school, ya coulda called me,” she said.
“You don’t have any money.”
“I can get money.” She paused. “An’ I’m real good at gettin’ scholarships.”
“You’re a genius,” Batman reminded her, managing to make the statement of fact sound not at all complimentary.
“That did help,” she agreed.
“Why is she actually here?” Nightwing asked.
“She has some leads on Crane.”
“I’ve been tryin’ to find him so we can have a nice talk about medical ethics,” she said with a grin.
“She wants to cave his skull in with a giant hammer,” Batman corrected.
“An’ you’re gonna try an’ stop me!” she agreed, still just as cheerful. She leaned forward to drape her arms over the headrest of both front seats. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”
another dumb headcanon: superman is nice to birds because of course he is, and helps out birds who are in distress. also he can fly around with them. birds see a lot more of superman than they do of most people, basically. the unexpected consequence of this is that the crows of metropolis recognize superman as a friend. sometimes crows just follow him around like a weird flock, or try to give him shiny things. but mostly please just imagine luthor trying to gloat while threatening superman with kryptonite only to have a crow steal it. or just, generally, lex luthor getting attacked by crows. if that does not improve your day i don’t know what to tell you.
“What is that?”
Superman followed the direction of Batman’s gaze. A crow had landed on the rooftop beside them, and dropped a bottlecap near Superman’s feet. “Oh! Hey Francis. Is that for me?”
“Caw,” said Francis.
“Do you have a pet crow?” Batman asked.
“No, I don’t have pets,” Superman said as he bent down to retrieve the bottlecap.
“You named it.”
“Not this specific one,” Superman explained. “I just call all the crows Francis.”
“… why.”
“Caw, caw,” said Francis with a flap of its wings.
“I don’t know. Just calling them ‘crow’ felt rude after a while. I’d name them individually but I can’t actually tell them apart. Except for Old Francis and One-Eyed Francis.” Superman tucked the bottlecap into a small pocket on the back of his pants.
“Why Francis?”
Superman shrugged. “It’s gender neutral. I don’t want to misgender them just because they’re birds.”
“Of course you don’t,” Batman sighed, looking back out at Metropolis.
“Caw,” Francis added.
“Do you keep dog treats in your utility belt?” Superman asked.
“Why would I do that.”
“… in case you meet a dog that needs to know he’s a good boy?” Superman suggested. Batman shook his head, but opened a small pouch on his belt and held out a small treat. “See, it was a yes or no question, I don’t know why everything has to be such a production with you,” Superman said as he took it. He tossed it over by the bird’s feet. “Here you are, Francis. Keep up the good work.”
“Caw, caw,” Francis said. When it realized no more treats were forthcoming, it flew away in a flutter of black wings.
“You’re unbelievable,” Batman said, shaking his head again.
Superman took his eyes off the departing crow to look back at Batman, and frowned. “You know,” he said, “it’s really weird seeing you in costume during the day.”
“Don’t start.”
“It’s like seeing your teacher at the mall.”
“Don’t think I won’t take care of Poison Ivy without your help, if I have to.”
Superman shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
But…what if the crows also recognized him as Clark Kent? This mild-mannered reporter who doesn’t seem to do anything in particular to the crows that would make them like him, but they’re not afraid of him at all, and they keep trying to give HIM things, and Clark being a nice guy, he just. Accepts the bottlecap. Says thank you. Keeps walking. Lois adds another factoid to her “Weird Stuff About Clark Kent” file.
Maybe he tries to convince his coworkers that everyone is friendly with crows in Smallville. That the farmers discovered how smart crows are and decided to make friends with them instead of chasing them off.
Maybe he tries to talk the crows into palling around with him as Superman but going their separate ways as Clark Kent.
Please imagine Superman on top of a building holding Clark Kent’s glasses and trying to explain the concept of a secret identity to a flock of attentive birds.
Alternate universe where Kal-El’s baby pod comes down behind Wayne Manor after the deaths of Bruce’s parents. Alternate universe where 15-year-old Bruce Wayne pulls an alien baby from the flaming wreckage and hikes across that big ass miserable lonely estate back to the house, listening to Kal cry the whole way, not sure if he would die in Earth’s atmo or not.
Imagine a young vigilante in the making having no idea what to do, but knowing – just knowing – that he can’t turn the kid over to anyone and then imagine Alfred realizing this after a few hours just… “You’re holding him incorrectly, Master Wayne.”
I’m just saying, there’s less moral ambiguity to bringing your bouncy/floaty adopted younger brother on patrol with you when he happens to be bulletproof.
Justice League meetings in this world would be interesting, to say the least.
Bruce is like 40 years old and Kal is like 25 and as set out on his own as Superman. It’s the same: the Justice League is headed by the world’s beloved Superman, Bats is funding it from the shadows. The world’s greatet hereos, lalala. The primary difference is just Batman says odd things to Superman sometimes like “Did you eat this morning or just pretend you don’t need caloric intake again?”
And instead of just chuckling magnanimously Supes gets all like: “I’m not having one of your gross protein shakes, Batso.”
*Batglare*
Supes drinks the fuckin shake but he does NOT enjoy it.
A Beautiful Monster 