Maybe There’s Someone In This Abandoned Clown Factory Who Can Help Us

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Batman isn’t the only one fiercely protective of his Robins.

Jason’s death led to the Rogues turning against the Joker—especially Harley. By then, she had already realized the extent of his abuse and had left him. So when she learned that her favorite Robin—a tough Crime Alley kid—had been beaten to death by her ex the first time she wasn’t around, she went ballistic.

Once, a newcomer held Nightwing at gunpoint and tried to unmask him on live television. When Harvey Dent saw how close this was to his own hideout, he knew he couldn’t let it slide. He wasn’t blind or foolish—he knew exactly who Nightwing was. The first Robin. A ray of sunshine—badass yet kind. Harvey took only a second to recall how that same little Robin had once helped him through a dissociative episode, choosing to assist rather than arrest him. And that was enough. The newcomer was never seen again.

As much as Damian disliked how close Catwoman was to his father, Selina adored the little kitten. He was honest, fierce, and compassionate in his own way. She loved that he shared her fondness for cats and animals. So when the shelter Damian volunteered at was attacked by Black Mask’s goons, Selina made sure that by the end of the month, Roman wouldn’t have a single piece of art left in his collection.

Eddie could hardly deny that his favorite Robin was the third one. After all, that particular little bird not only respected him as the Riddler but could also solve all his riddles effortlessly. So when a few goons rudely barged into their monthly riddle session, Eddie was not amused. He made sure they knew it.

Consider this your warning: Do not harm the Robins. Unless, of course, you fancy some trouble with the Rogues.

Bruce, high on pain meds: i need to- you all have to listen. you deserve to know. You’re all old enough now.

Dick: this is gonna be good

Tim, grinning: what do we need to know?

Bruce: one of you is adopted,

The kids:

Bruce, tearing up: and im SO sorry, but i just- i can’t remember who-!

Jason, gleefully: I’LL REMIND YOU- *mouth covered by Dick*

Bruce: *sobs and then passes out*

The kids:

Jason, shoving Dick off him: GET- off me! wake him up we have to tell him it’s Damian

Damian: ME!?

Jason, looking for somebody else to fuck with now Bruce is down: you look the least like him- I mean come on, those twig arms,

Jason, pointing at a passed out Bruce: you are NOT the father.

Steph: *chokes on a wheeze*

Damian, incredulous: are you- DUKES BLACK

Duke: what and you’re white? don’t fucking start this shit kid

Damian, drawing his katana: i will not have my inheritence questioned like this-

Duke, warningly: *starts glowing*

Jason: *starts filming*

Dick: oh god… Bruce is gonna wake up to Damian in the hospital. what are we gonna tell him?

Tim, eating popcorn: i dunno about you but i’m gonna tell him he got high and started a race war to see how much he panics.

in the background, Duke: *shoots Damian into the side of the wall*

Damian: *leaps back with a war cry*

Jason, looking at his phone: oh you think telling him is gonna make him panic? i’m saying it on twitter and letting him find out through WE getting boycotted

Dick:

Dick: arguably worse than trying to make him kill the joker but ok

Tim: now hold up man i work there too-

I love-love AUs, where Jason adopts a kid and conventionally forgets to mention it to others, but I think it would be funnier, if he adopted an animal, but his family instantly started to think that he hides a child, because, honestly, it is obvious that he will end up with one anytime soon—

Jason, snoozing on his alarm: Hey, sorry, I gotta go. Dick: It is okay. See you around! Jason: *leaves* Tim, whispering: So, I don't want to start a panic, but his alarm name was "feeding time". Bruce, slamming his hands against the table: Finally! This had happened! Jason adopted someone! Dick, no less excited: We won. I am an uncle!

Jason, while scrolling the kangaroo ass carriers on the internet: Hm-m. Alfred, creeping on from behind, very enthusiastic: I would recommend you this one, lad. Jason, shuddering: Jesus— Jason: Uhh. Jason, thinking that Alfred probably knows, so there is no need to over-explain: Hey, thanks, Alfie. Alfred: Anytime.

Bruce, feigning nonchalance: So, how is the baby? Jason, thinking that Alfred just told Bruce about the whole thing: Well, better than ever. Bruce: Good. Where had you found him, by the way? Jason: Her. It is a baby girl, Matilda... And, well, in Crime Alley. Bruce, sniffling, because a) Jason is so him; b) he is such a girl dad himself by the nature: That's beautiful, lad. Jason: Uh, yeah?

Tim: Come on, when are you going to bring Matilda to introduce us? Dick is not getting younger. Dick: Hey— Dick: But also, yeah! I am not getting any younger. Jason, confused: You all are kinda obsessed. Jason: Like, there is literally nothing special. If you want to pat a dog, go and pat Titus. Don't bother my girl. Everyone, dropping whatever they were doing: A DOG?!

I was feeling silly

Batfamily and their Types

At first, it’s just Jason laughing at Dick for having a thing for redheads. Conversation turns real quick when Tim says ‘Oh yeah and that thing you’ve got with Roy is casual?’ Jason is flabbergasted. Dick nearly chokes on his cereal laughing.

Tim and Damian poke fun at their older brothers for sharing a type, making snarky remarks on comms and tossing chips at the couples whenever they meet up on patrol (from a safe distance). When Bart dyes Wally’s shampoo as a joke, causing him to go blond for a week, Tim tearfully begs him to reverse it in front of the entire JL, bawling about how Bart will break up the happy couple. Damian pats Red Robin on the back and explains to the assembled heroes it is because Wally is no longer a redhead. Dick has to do damage control for a very confused Wally that might, and replaces all of Tim’s coffee with decaf for the next two weeks and put glitter on Damian’s Robin uniform. They both agree it’s worth it.

This is until one fateful night. Tim is relaxing with Kon in the manor, watching Steph and Jason engage in a deadly round of Mario Kart (it’s banned and they have to finish before Alfred finds them) when Damian and Jonathan walk in. Kon and Jonathan leave to head back to Metropolis together, and Damian’s a little red and smiling. Jason (without looking up from the game): Ooooo, someone had fun.

Damian: Tt. It was just ice cream. (He cannot look anyone in the eyes, still fighting his smile.)

Steph: Ice cream, huh? Weird, you’re making the same face Tim did when he got a crush on…

A moment of realisation. Tim and Damian whip round to face each other.

Jason: Oh my god.

Tim: No.

Jason: Oh my GOD.

Damian: Silence Todd, it is nothing.

Jason: OH MY GOD. DICKHEAD!

Jason runs out the room as Tim and Damian bolt after him, attempting to disrupt this madness before it reaches its conclusion. They are too late.

Across the manor, Steph can hear Dick’s voice shriek: ‘BOTH THEIR TYPE IS WHAT??’ More yelling follows.

When Cass starts dating Steph, they all think she’s bucked the trend. Duke starts dating Izzy, and everyone calms down more. Pattern broken, right? Izzy still leads and takes part in ‘We Are Robin’ when needed, but has far less caped crusades since Batman returned.

It’s Izzy’s involvement in the youth group that leads to the next realisation. The Batfam have finished a tough patrol after a rough attack on Gotham, several rogues uniting to cause more chaos than average, resulting in several fires and buildings destroyed. We Are Robin members are on the scene as emergency relief and volunteers, handing out water, helping organise the injured, making lists of those still missing to coordinate with emergency services and reuniting people lost in the chaos. Izzy goes up to the Batfamily members in attendance, gathered nearby and all taking a breather, Bruce, Tim, Damian, Cass, Steph and Duke all out as dawn breaks. She checks whether they need any assistance or help, passing out food from a Batburgers that survived the trouble, and chats with Duke for a while.

Tim spits out his iced coffee in shock as he gasps, looking between Duke and Izzy staring at him and Cass and Steph eating peacefully.

Tim: Your type is fucking Robins!

so my siblings look like twins (they are not) and once again my bullshit brain was like hmmmm batfam. So here. Have some Cass and Tim twin content. Featuring my siblings’ and I’s answers to:

”are you twins?”

-

Tim: we used to be.

-

Cass: Legally? No. Biologically? No. Genetically? Also no.

-

Tim: you can see her too?

Cass: *fucking disappears*

-

Tim: we are, but we were separated at birth so she’s older now.

-

Cass: That’s a long story. So here it is! It all started in the summer of 1783…..

-

Tim: well, not until after the accident.

-

Cass: After the witch got us, no.

-

Tim: She’s actually a failed clone experiment. Or was that me? -

Cass: he’s actually adopted but we are biological twins.

- Tim: yes but we have separate fathers. - Cass: *Ditto from Pokémon sounds* - Tim: Well you see I was an only child for 15 years but around 1444 I was standing in the swamp, covered in frogs, but these frogs had human eyes. They also had human feet but that’s not relevant to the story— that’s when the biggest, Jeramiah, started to speak… - Cass: father actually summoned us from hell so we’re not related in any way except that we both possessed the same body for a while until Tim got a separate one. - Tim: I had one but she died five years ago this very day. She died in a tragic bathroom accident. Fell in the toilet.

I hc Dick will be non-verbal for a bit when Bruce first adopts him

Storyediting Questions to Ask

As You Read the First Draft:

Are there place that surprised you as you read your first draft? - Why do you suppose that is? - Is there material there you'd like to expand?

What are the character really doing in this story? - Might they have issues you haven't explored fully yet?

Look to the places that drag. - These might be scenes where you have avoided dealing with something deeper. - What are the characters really thinking in these places? - What are their passions, frustrations, and desires?

Imagine alternative plotlines. - How might your plot be different if ti headed off on another tangent from various points in the story? - You don't have to follow them, but they might suggest other streams that can flow into the main plot.

Think About Structure:

Does you story play out naturally in three acts?

Is there an immediate disturbance to the Lead's world?

Does the first doorway of no return occur before the one-fifth mark?

Are the stakes being raised sufficiently?

Does the second doorway of no return put the Lead on the path to the climax?

Does the rhythm of the sotyr match your intent? If this is an action novel, does the plot move relentlessly forward? If this is a character-driven novel, do the scenes delve deeply enough?

Are there strongly motivated characters?

Have coincidence been established?

Is something happeing immediately at the beginning? Did you establish a person in a setting with a problem, onfronted with change or threat?

Is the timeline logical?

Is the story too predictable in terms of sequence? Should it be rearranged?

About Your Lead Character:

Is the character memorable? Compelling? Enough to carry a reader all the way through the plot?

A lead character has to jump off the page. Does yours?

Does this character avoid cliches? Is he capable of surprising us?

What's unique about the character?

Is the character's objective strong enough?

How does the character grow over the course of the story?

How does the character demonstrate inner strength?

About Your Opposition:

Is your oppositing character interesting?

Is he fully realized, not just a cardboard cutout?

Is he justified (at least in his own mind) in his actions?

Is he believable?

Is he strong as or stronger than the Lead?

About Your Story's Adhesive Nature:

Is the conflcit between the Lead and opposition crucial for both?

Why can't they just walk away? What holds them together?

About Your Scene:

Are the big scenes big enough? Surprising enough? Can you make them more original, unanticipated, and draw them out for all they are worth?

Is there enough conflict in the scenes?

What is the least memorable scene? Cut it!

What else can be cut in order to move the story relentlessly forward?

Does the climactic scene come too fast (through a writer fatigue)? Can you make it more, write it for all it's worth?

Does we need a new minor subplot to build up a saggin midsection?

About Your Minor Characters:

What is their purpose in the plot?

Are they unique and colorful?

Polishing Questions:

Are you hooking the reader from the beginning?

Are suspenseful scenes drawn out for the ultimate tension?

Can any information be delayed? This creates tension in the reader, always a good thing.

Are there enough surprises?

Are character-reaction scenes deep and interesting?

Read chapter ending for read-on prompts

Are there places you can replace describing how a character feels with actions?

Do I use visual, sensory-laden words?

For a Dialogue Read-Through:

Dialogue is almost always strengthened by cutting words within the lines.

In dialogue, be fair to both sides. Don't give one character all the good lines.

Greate dialogue surprises the reader and creates tension. View it like a game, where the players are trying to outfox each other.

Can you get more conflict into dialogue, even emong allies?

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Content warning for death, blood and description of injuries

Another slice to my throat. More stains running down my armour, rivers feeding the nutrients I no longer need into the ground. You stand frozen, gaze blank. You always do when we die. Blue already lies, eyes vacant and staring, neck angled horribly wrong. I can’t see Yellow’s face. Their back took the worst of their injuries, as they tripped and did not get back up.

My knees crumble, throat gasping out one last time. I didn’t see Green go down, I heard them like I can hear myself. Their cry cut off, because their brain was targeted. Not their throat. My brain is still stuck trying to make broken vocal cords work.

I blink for what should be the last time.

It won’t be.

“Everyone understand?” Purple looks around at us, all jostling in the belly of the plane, trying to break the tension before our last mission. “We only get one shot at this. We’re counting on you.” They look directly at you as they say that, before turning to where the doors will open.

I don’t know why we don’t get one shot. I don’t know why the gods keep rewinding the clock. You’re the only one that initiates change, so you have to know. I think you’re the only other one who does. The fifth try, you took out a guard I hadn’t spotted. They killed me last time. The seventeenth, you found another way in, after the previous one kept leading to traps and dead ends.

I don’t know why I’m granted so many second chances, and I know I’m alone in remembering what came before. I tried to mention it to Green once. It distracted them, got them killed earlier. I stopped talking after that try. I didn’t want to mess anything else up.

We’re getting close, we have to be. I don’t know what try we’re on, but you get better, stronger every time. Sometimes there’s a stupid mistake from one of us, or a weirdly placed guard, but generally, we’re improving.

Out the airplane, land on the roof, take the fire escape to the fourth floor even though it goes down to the third because there’s too many guards on the third, sneak through the vents, avoid the alarms, climb into the lift shaft and into one of the lifts, ride it down to the basement.

Yes, I can feel it. The death by gravity as I was pushed down the empty shaft. Bones crunching, not able to move my legs. Internal bleeding got me that time. A shot through the window of a corridor, so quick I didn’t have time to be surprised. The phantom pains following me into the next try, aches where my body expects to still find snaps.

This try, we get all the way down the final hall to the vault before the tripwire catches you out. We can still make it, we’ve made it past this point before. Footsteps rumble like thunder above as we dash towards the vault door, weapons and equipment flickering through your hands as you search for something we can use. The vault door creeks as it begins to swing slowly, a ticking clock for our team. Blue makes it in, sliding their backpack off immediately to search for the lock picks they will now need. Yellow whoops as they make it in, keeping an eye on Blue while taunting the guards and hurrying us up. The vault door gets closer to shut. Green makes it in, preparing to take up cover fire through a narrowing field of vision. You’re right behind, squeezing through the shrinking gap. The vault clicks as it closes, Purple slamming into it unable to stop their momentum, and me skidding to a halt beside them.

There’s a small glass window through the vault door, and you walk right up to it, staring at us while you try to slam anything into the door. Looking for a trigger to open the metal lock. Running to get Blue or the others to help, but they shake their heads, already moving on. You return to the window, and I smile back. It’s ok. You might be able to make it this time. This could be the one. You could do it.

The door we came through shatters open as guards pour in. We ready our weapons for a fight, turning away from you, who has gone so still. You never stop moving, not unless one of us is dead, but you can’t do that now. You can make it, you can complete our mission and save the world. We signed onto that, weeks of training and trusting each other before we committed to our shot. Helping people, or die trying.

The stench of blood taints the air as Purple and I engage, holding back the guards to give you as much time as we can. Every second gives you more of a chance to make it. Please, you have to make it. You can do this. Dodging a knife and twisting away from the action, I see you, still frozen on the other side of the glass. A jolt in my back, my breath catching and your blank express do the rest.

I blink.

“Everyone understand?” Purple looks around at us, jostling each other. I smile at you, because you are already moving, already checking weapons and ammunition and equipment again. You could have made it that time.

It’s happened quite a bit. Your chance for freedom, for success, very clearly in reach. But then Yellow will get taken out as a warning that we’ve been spotted. Green succumbs to previous injuries. Blue can’t break the locks in time. Purple gets caught in a triggered trap. I stay behind to buy more time. It resets every time. And although it hurts, and the hollow pain in my stomach has me checking the wound really did disappear like they do everytime, I will smile at you. Because you are going to get us through this. You’re going to make sure one of these times, everybody lives. Every death, every injury, is nothing compared to losing any of us.

It may be selfish, and painful, and at times threatens hellish hopelessness, but whenever it gets too much, whenever the danger gets too close, I know you will save us. You will stay with us, and I know you will keep doing so until one try, we all make it out ok. And I would rather that ending than any other.

Player keeps reloading trying to save every ally in a mission, one of their allies remembers every attempt.