Makes Me Laugh. Every Time.

hermeto pascoal, iporanga, 1985

Dick started his truck back to the cave. "How can you live with yourself after letting me die?" Dick ignored the hallucination, the real Jason wouldn't be anywhere near here.

The hallucination this time was ruthless, mocking him every chance it got, bringing out his fears and making his gut sink. By the time he arrived at the cave his eyes stung a little but the hallucination had finally disappeared. Dick took a breath to compose himself.

"Wing! How'd it go?" Tim called out when he entered the Batcave.

Dick smiled back. "Great, got the information we needed"

Damian came over. "Did the new gas mask work?"Huh?

"Why would I have used a gas mask?" Dick swore that every head in a twenty foot radius snapped to him instantly.

Jason started checking him over with his eyes. Mother-hen "Because there was a shit ton of left over Fear Toxin in that building"

Oh "Is that why the hallucinations were worse this time?" Maybe it was the Toxin in his system, maybe it was the fact he was exhausted but he didn't think it through fully before those words tumbled out of his mouth.

Jason's hands were cupping his face now, moving his head whichever way to get a better look. "You have hallucinations often?"

Shit, There's no way I'm getting out of this, am I? "only once in a blue moon"

"You had hallucinations and you didn't tell any of us?" Oh gosh, Bruce is mad too.

"We weren't talking when they started, didn't think it was a big enough deal to call about"

"When did they start? Why didn't you tell me when we started talking again?"

I'm getting interrogated, aren't I? "Not long after Jason died and I knew how to deal with it by the time we talked again.

Tim started mumbling incomprehensibly- if it started shortly after Jason died... -before asking Dick a question. "What are your hallucinations of?"

He was reluctant to answer, Jason might blame himself if- Damian was hugging him, his head tucked into Dick's side as he rested under Dick's arm. "You don't have to deal with it alone, imbecile."

"..I taught you that" Damian only grunted affirmatively into his side. Dick couldn't find the heart to lie anymore. "I saw Jason"

Jason let out a pained sound, from the pitch Dick could tell he was trying to hold it back. Tim seemed to be in that state between caring brother and analytical vigilante. "Did you continue to have Hallucinations of him after he came back?"

"Stayed the same, the only real difference is now Jason's older sometimes."

Jason let out a croak "I'm sorry, Wing"

Dick's heart clenched, this was what I was trying to avoid "it's not your fault, if anything I'm to blame"

Jason pulled him into a hug, Damian didn't fight it either. "Shut up Dickhead."

Tim finished typing what he learned and dragged Bruce into the hug with him, he'd have to ask Dick more about his hallucinations later.

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

By Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

Faith

By sun.after.winter

The sides draw closer

Repulsion and longing,

Back and forth, back and forth

Tossing me out to sea

It's been so long,

Years it's been encroaching

Crawling, wave by wave, ever closer

To drown - or to fly

Do I turn back, or do I turn my back

Symbols that once meant so much -

Safety, love, hope, closeness

Now a symbol taunting me, to choose

He's god, he's love, he's hope, he's resilience

So why do I hold back?

Am I still his child?

Loveless, as I am.

Picking and choosing between his words, his laws,

Simply so I can belong?

[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled “do not stand at my grave and weep” after the poem by mary elizabeth frye. the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]

a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”

i do love the idea of the Justice League finding out Batman’s identity and the fact that he’s actually just a tired vigilante dad and immediately discrediting his spooky-scary-intimidating reputation, and Bruce just being devastated about it. he worked so hard on that reputation, on that respect, and it’s all down the drain just like that. nobody flinches away from his glare anymore, because they’ve seen him glare at Red Hood and get a spoonful of mashed potato flung into his face for the effort. nobody cares about his threats anymore, because he tried to threaten Red Robin to go home and rest one time and Tim just giggled at him deliriously before mocking his tone and stealing his coffee. they’ve seen him pick a splinter out of a whining Nightwing’s finger mid-meeting. Damian once called him a condomless harlot to his face when he told him not to bring his swords onto the watchtower. he’s lost control.

he decides he wants the fear factor back and in all his brilliant genius, he decides the best way to go about that is to invite the league round for a fancy dinner party, specifically so he can use all his ‘brucie wayne’ acting skills to channel the essence of every creepy-rich-guy-in-haunted-manor movie he has ever seen in his life. it is the only time his kids have been fully onboard and willing to contribute to one of his plans without any complaints. they almost seemed more eager to pull it off than he was.

they spend the entire day making the manor look old and slightly abandoned, much to Alfred’s displeasure, and ensure that the only lighting is a fuck ton of candles, just enough to light the halls while leaving the corners and edges shadowy and ominous. Damian is allowed to have some of his more ‘skittery’ pets roam the manor freely for the night, causing occasional scritches and scratches to come from the ceilings. all of the kids dress in their best funeral attire, apart from Jason who gleefully pulls on an old white shirt stained with blood from when Tim crashed through his window with a stab wound, requesting a medkit.

when the league arrive they’re greeted by all the kids lined up on the staircase, staring at them blankly and ominously, while Bruce gives them all a large grin and ushers them into the creepy looking dining room. the league are somewhat nervous.

during the dinner the kids act completely different than the league have seen them in-mask. polite, cordial, and refusing to show an ounce of emotion. they pick at their food and only speak in vague sentences that refer to various horrific events of their past. Bruce has never been prouder.

the first close call they have to breaking character is when Bruce presents a bottle of red wine without any kind of label. as he pours a slightly disturbed Diana a glass, she asks where he got it from. Bruce happily gestures to Jason as says ‘my second eldest procured it especially for you, earlier today.’

Diana looks across the table at where Jason is grinning eerily at her by candlelight, still visibly stained with blood, eyes glowing slightly green. she pales, and Tim knows he can’t watch her shakily lift the glass to her lips without bursting out laughing. he refuses to be the one who fucks up first, so he dramatically stands up and declares he must ‘go feed the experiments’ before storming out the room. ‘the experiments’ are in reference to the pen of rabbits outside that glow in the dark because Damian rescued them from a testing facility, but given the environmental context it sounds much more sinister.

Jason joins him by the pen to also start wheeze-crying in private about 20 minutes later, because apparently after Oliver Queen had finished with his bbq rib, Damian had leaned over and without blinking stared into his eyes to blankly state ‘i would love to feed your bones to my animal friends, if you don’t need them anymore.’ and from the other end of the table Jason had snorted wine up his nose from how hard he was trying not to break.

amazingly, they never break character, although it came pretty close when after hearing another skitter from somewhere above, Stephanie climbed up from the table into the crystal chandelier and deftly returned to present the table with a large tarantula cradled in her hands, to which Damian stood up and declared, ‘ah, dessert! i will help pennyworth prepare it.’ before taking the animal and leaving to put his beloved spider back in it’s enclosure. the league genuinely seemed to be under the impression they were about to be served a tarantula-based desert, and upon seeing their faces at this realisation Dick had to pretend he’d dropped a fork on the ground so he could duck by Bruce’s chair and stuff a napkin in his mouth while he got his laughter under control. Bruce pats his shaking son’s back below the table cloth, determinedly staring at their guests with that same creepy-grin he’d kept up the entire night.

every member of the league makes their excuses to leave early, much to Bruce’s exaggerated disappointment. the second the last of them is out the door Alfred turns to face the family and says ‘mission accomplished. now get this manor back to it’s proper state.’ and they have the spend the rest of the night cleaning.

totally worth it, in Bruce’s mind. none of the JL will look him in the eye for weeks afterwards, and it was honestly the most successful attempt at family bonding they’d ever had. he wonders if they should make it a monthly thing. It’s also how they find out Damian’s a fucking theatre kid with a gift for the arts which is another revelation in of itself

this is a poem