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DUKE !

nightwing | red hood | batgirl | red robin | robin | spoiler | oracle

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Ok so I actually love this piece so much and just because of the additional objects and not even Bruce and Lois. But yes Mr. Steal your girl Brucie Wayne strikes again but like cmon they can all just date 🤷‍♀️

Also Bruce totally gave her Kryptonite jewelry 😭

Also thank you @waveoftheocean for inspiring me to do this and for your posts on TT that have helped me improve my lighting and background skills. I absolutely adore your art so thank you ‼️💕

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is there a style guide/dress code for gotham rogue henchmen out there somewhere

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HER DAD was an ASSHOLE, BATMAN didn't like her, HER MOM couldn't take care of her emotionally... SHE DIED... SHE WAS KIDNAPPED IN AFRICA............. and yet she made it... she was BG.... she stepped up when Bruce was gone.... she did that.

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bruce wayne is the only person on earth to turn his massively untreated ocd into the basis of a successful superhero alter ego. unfortunately this trick did not work on his interpersonal relationships

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"Uh. Actually evil whoriolanus its uncreative. Like we got too much of that in the books already..." sorry I like main villain of a franchise to be evil. Im truly sorry I like read in the books how evil he was and want more of that. my bad.

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lrb, dick grayson is like many of us on this tumblr.com website... his opinions on his blorbo are the only correct opinions and if you say something he doesn't agree with, he will be vague posting or @ ing the person directly about it. your opinion about bruce wayne is WRONG and i can tell you know NOTHING about him because you have only been a fan for FIVE YEARS while i have been a fan for more than FIFTEEN YEARS and also the way you care about him is NOTHING in comparison to the way i care about him, you will never EVER be able to understand him or love him or respect him like i do, you view point of him is infinitely more SHALLOW than mine bc i know the DEPTHS of bruce wayne, your wading pool is NOTHING in comparison to my OCEAN of devotion to him....

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I can’t get enough of your tiny batblobs with their funky little arms. Do they ever grow GIANT or do they remain itty bitty?

Other examples: 1, 2, 3, 4.

Details & math:

He is most corporeal at the edges and in thinner parts like the ears and fingers. The eyes don't ever disappear but they can dim significantly or glow brightly.

His voice is modulated and doesn't come from a designated source. It is pseudo-telepathic. He can do his "hn"s without that however.

The arms can be as long as he wants to a max of 10 meters (typically sticking to under 1 meter and up to 3 for dramatics). Using a grapple gun mimics the arms and can be visibly interchangeable, but it doesn't actually act as an arm or have dexterous use of fingers.

(don't verify my math I only play-tested 3 scenarios) It's not that he doesn't get any bigger or less stable, he just has to reserve that for life-or-death-of-the-universe situations.

He can take a bunch of different shapes and can stretch out like a ferret if need be. However, there are limits:

Super tall = max width:height ratio of 1:20 (ears included) Super wide = max width:height ratio of 1:5 (ears included)

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The very important human aspect:

The change takes place when he puts the cowl on.

Originally, the cowl was part of his physical suit but after a few years of working as batman it became more metaphysical. Now he only needs to mime putting a cowl on and by the time it's over his eyes, he has already mostly transformed.

This makes emergency changing while in civilian clothes much easier, but doesn't provide the protection from harm or grapple abilities that it does when he's in his suit underneath.

It's the same process to remove it. To do so requires an innate understanding of The Bat being a mask that Bruce wears, rather than an inseparable part of his identity (note: although I do think that Batman is an integral part of Bruce, the sheer cryptid nature of the blob is partially a separate entity). Family and friends can sometimes take it off him as well, but it varies:

Diana: Can remove it easily and see through the mask due to her innate abilities with truth magic

Clark: was the first person to be able to remove it, back when it was still transitioning from a physical to metaphysical object.

Dick: Was the first batkid to be able to but only gained the ability once he was Nightwing and it's still a struggle. Despite that, he does it often when arguing with Bruce

Jason: No matter how much he wants, the more he tries, the more elusive the mask gets

Tim: Could do it all along and does it fairly regularly when needing to talk to Bruce face-to-face. It got harder as he got deeper into being Robin but has gotten easier again over time

Stephanie: Was the first person after Tim to be able to do it and she found out she could early into knowing Batman. It came off so easily but was she so panicked by that fact that she's never done it since

Cassandra: Does it easily but gravely and only reserves it for the most extreme situations

Barbara: Has been able to do it for years but it's hard and avoids any situation that would make her do it

Duke: Could do it the easiest and quickest of all, with no hesitations what so ever. As of yet, he hasn't had the chance

Damian: Has never been able to and resents that fact

(Kate only could in dire situations. Helena and Harper aren't aware that it's something anyone could do, however Helena could trigger it by accident)

That's all my immediate thoughts!

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ok fics usually have Bruce being the one to break off a relationship or have commitment issues but like. please consider a Bruce who’s so desperate to recreate the love that he saw between his parents that he puts absolutely everything into his relationships. 

I’m a sucker for role reversal and hey, in canon its not even much of a reversal.

Bruce gets left, like, a lot. Especially in the DCAU lmao. Usually through miscommunication/misunderstandings but not really because he makes the decision to end things.  

A few canon examples: 

Keep reading

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Digging through my WIP folder and I found notes for a story idea I had about a dragon adopting a human.

Not on accident, mind you, the dragon doesn’t just stumble across a human infant and adopts it. The dragon decides it wants to adopt a human.

The dragon explains this to its lich friend: “I want someone to take care of me in my old age! A human would be great! Imagine how easily it could talk the other humans into leaving me alone! And– and it might decide to grow up and become a goldsmith, right? Some humans become goldsmiths. My human might decide to go into goldsmithing too!”

“I think you’re overestimating the percentage of humans who become goldsmiths,” replies the lich friend, who is not terribly discouraging of the idea, but also not particularly invested in it at this point. It seems like a plan with a lot of potential points of failure.

The dragon is undeterred, mostly because it has a whole hoard of gold coins and goblets and jewelry and trinkets that seem to indicate to it that there must, in fact, be a great number of humans who know goldsmithing to have produced all that.

Anyway, the dragon decides to shapeshift into a humanoid form, go into a city, and adopt a human child. It needs the lich’s help, because it doesn’t know anything about human fashion. The lich’s knowledge on the subject is a few centuries outdated, but they attack a few fancy carriage on the road and reverse-engineer an outfit from what the humans inside them were wearing. (Those humans were nobles, it’s fine, it’s a victimless crime)

The lich fusses a lot with the humanoid appearance of the dragon until everything looks just so.

(“Am I actually doing it wrong, or are you just making me shapeshift into something you find more attractive?” the dragon asks.

“If you want me to pose as your husband, this is the price to pay,” the lich replies.)

They go into the city, anyway, and they find an orphanage on the shady side of town, where the tired, overworked and underpaid matron clearly sees there’s something not right about these two, but not in any obvious way she can put her finger on. She’s just happy to have one less mouth to feed.

Anyway, child get! 

She comes along quietly, and doesn’t even comment when she’s taken to a dragon lair.

The dragon is ecstatic with its new acquisition.

(“Does it know any commands?” the dragon wonders. “Sit! Stay! Roll over?”

“You may be thinking of dogs,” the lich points out. “Children do not perform tricks.”

They both looked at the human child, trying to figure out how to approach her.

“So, what scam are you running here?” the little girl asked suddenly, startling both the dragon and the lich.

“I was wrong,” the lich says, “they’ve definitely been teaching children new tricks since I was alive.”)

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i am increasingly convinced that the wedding industry is having a statistically significant impact on young women leaving the mormon church. has anyone looked into this?

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its funny when people act like jason todd has an actual personal philosophy he follows and isnt just a very angry & emotional man who only does what he does due to a refusal to come to terms with his death & current life

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Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

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Sometimes you like the fandom favorite and that's annoying because you have to see all the wild takes that do not interpret them the correct way. Other times, you like the fandom's least favorite and that's annoying because you still have to see all the wild takes that do not interpret them the correct way.

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(BE ASSURED I ENJOY VERY MUCH) (i like seeing bruce suffer)

oooo bruce lost batman... many people say batman is a curse but like. many times batman brings bruce happiness. or like yeah being batman can be a pain for him but like it brings contentment yeah?? and saving people has gotta feel good for him. i can see him giving up his cape but this is not him giving it up 😭 actually does he even have the capacity to feel the loss 😭😭😭

im holding onto that "getting better" promise like a gorilla glue btw BUT im looking forward to the torture sequence too :3 ANYWAY THE FIC IS AMAZING THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

i cried reading your fic where bruce died and then brought back to life by his kids.

being a parent is so fucking scary man what te hell 😭 i know bruce will endure and forgive and move on but thats just because his self worth is in the trenches and he thinks he deserves to be treated like shit but MAN if it was me?? if it was me???? i would kms again ON GAWDDD 😭😭😭

This comment made me howl, holy shit. ∑d(°∀°d)

No, it is terrifying, admittedly, that even your death isn't your own, which is even horrifying considering he died to protect another life. I feel like it's one of the things Bruce would have wanted, and yet, still gives up. BUT YEAH IF IT WERE ME? BRUH, I'D GO CRAZY. AIN'T NOBODY TALKING TO ME, I HATE Y'ALL. (￢_￢;) Retirement for the rest of my fucking life and if I die again I will make my corpse slap you before you pull that shit again. Send my body into the sun before you try dipping me in some goddamn ooze. Grieve like a normal person, damn.

The concept of like an unwanted resurrection is so interestingggg, hehe. Thank you sharing omg (//▽//) 'cause you're so real for this, honestly.

I've been, like, sitting on the next chapter because writing group dynamics + batfam is fucking huge, ughhhh, so here's a snippet I like for you! Currently too obsessed with Invincible to continue rn, but if you want more snippets just shoot for my inbox lol.

Was his heart still rotting? Or, did it lay there, beating? 

A thinly hand brushed through his hair, softly. Another settled upon his wrist, where his pulse lay, a quiet thump, thump, thump. Bruce imagined it slowing down, drifting away, grinding to a halt. He imagined the interlinking veins underneath his curdling like fruit skins left in the sun, blood turned flaky, brown, dry. Still, his heart pounded. Still, he breathed. Nothing lost to rot. 

He truly was alive. He was alive, wasn’t he? 

(Why—)

His eyebrows furrowed, a neuron fired off and dying just as quickly, lost.

You are alive. 

“My boy,” Alfred whispered, voice cracked, dragging Bruce’s dazed eyes back to his own. “Oh, my darling boy. I was going to bury you. Bury you.”

“M’sorry.” 

A thumb traced his eyebrows, down from his hair, as the other hand gripped his own, tightly. 

“Don’t you apologize. Don’t. I do not—I need not to hear such things from you. You have—you have done so much for this world”, then a bit quieter, voice shaky, “Too much, one might say,” and laughed, an awful wet thing. “Far too much.” 

He held Bruce’s hands, firmly now, both hands. In the dim light, Bruce could see him slightly rocking, eyes wet, a bitter smile upon his face. 

“…You ought to rest now, properly, love. You’ve—I,”, and he made a strangled noise, like a cleared throat. “I’ve gotten the chance to see you again. That’s far more than I could ever ask for. A blessing. Oh, what a blessing. But if you could pardon this selfish man, love, I just beg of you to rest. I will be here. Always, always, always.” 

He uttered it feverishly, like a mantra with a spell behind it, some ghastly forces moved by his very lips, a passionate vigor. Squeezing Bruce’s hand once more.

“I—I will not fail you, love.” And there was a gentle kiss planted upon his forehead. “I do not—I struggle to—there are challenges in affectionate expressions between us. And never have I regretted what I robbed of you than when you were lost to me. You are precious, love, you must know this. Cherished. Treasured. A son of mine, truly, one I am proud to raise and behold. A father of many, and oh, I do not know how you do it, they are—they are a bunch of fools at times, but I cannot, oh Bruce, I cannot blame them for bringing you back to me. I wish I could.” 

And there was a gentle kiss planted upon his forehead, a careful, hesitant thing. “Rest, love, please. I will be there when you rise, and every morning after.”

He felt—Bruce felt suddenly far too young, a memory slamming into his brain, his mother’s cloying perfume sunken into his very nostrils, a necklace, cool and icy, tapping his nose as she bent over and kissed him right on the forehead. He felt his eyes burn, a motion stirred forth before he could process it, really, with a body not yet rotting, and a mind nearly too sluggish to think. His father’s cologne, the stench of whisky, an itchy bit of scattered beard against his cheek. The smell of a hospital, pristine, clean, the galas, smoke and alcohol and perfumes and Alfred, like fresh bread and teas, garlic and oils and soups. There was something terrible chopped in his throat, not decayed, foul, and festering, but horrible all the same, an agony made familiar. 

“M’sorry,” Bruce pushed with heavy teeth, a weighted mouth, nerves sparking, searing in pulses, with every moment. His eyes burn. They blur. A tear slides down his cheek. 

Nothing else could crawl out of his mouth. He wadded through the slog of existence, thick and sluggish, trying to peel back his brain and offer something to explain, to feel reality firmly in his grasp, to grab hold of what to do, what to be, but it was useless. He felt stubbornly shoving a circle into a square hole, childish, ill fitting, with nothing else to try for. He barely felt alive. Everything ached, sporadic nerves firing back to life, clearing pathways once bound to rot.

He grabbed Alfred’s hand back and squeezed. 

Alfred breathed in, a shaky, long thing, and held onto Bruce’s hands as if they could turn to ash, blown by the wind, at any moment, squeezing back.

“I—I’m sorry,” Bruce spoke again. 

“Of course you are,” Alfred murmured, low, and smiled something sharper, tinged with something Bruce couldn’t process.