#Bad Dad Bruce

[brucewaynehater101]

About Tim's kill count: I think Tim tries really hard to be okay with murder. He's accepted that's something other vigilantes do, that sometimes it's the most practical answer. He knows that self defense is a thing, when it's you or them... Well, no one can be blamed for choosing themselves over a villain. He is the smart, logical Robin. He can be rational about murder. Stars know someone has to, and B is too much of an emotional mess when it comes to that particular subject.

So when Tim has to blow up Ra's bases, he tries really hard to be okay with it. He gave them a three minute warning (it's not much, but he knows how fast they are), so technically it's not like it's his fault if they decided to stay. He had to do it, it wasn't even just self defense, he had a civilian hostage to take into account. It was the only logical solution that allowed him to save Batman too. So yeah, he knows his reasoning was completely sound despite the circumstances. Honestly, he deserves Kudos for not losing it considering the amount of stress he was under and the fact he nearly died and lost an organ.

So yeah, he is pretty sure he's okay with it. He knows that if Batman ever truly catches up un his RR reports of that time he's not gonna be happy. He figures he can deal with that (he can't, he can barely deal with his own guilt. Deep down he knows he'll collapse like a wet napkin).

But instead of Batman the one to confront him is Jason having heard from Talia or finding the evidence on an outlaws' mission. And Tim is relieved because this should be easy. Not only is he a master manipulator: Jason is okay with murder, extremely emotional and still feels guilty about Titan's Tower. He's not even on talking terms with B. Tim has the upper hand in this encounter.

Cue to Jason's pov and it's just so painfully obviously that Tim is trying to rationalize the guilt away. Jason doesn't know whether to acknowledge it (the kid looks like he needs to actually talk about it, sue him) or to let him be delusional for a bit longer. He isn't the biggest expert on healthy but that doesn't look like it.

Tim succeeds in getting him to promise he won't tattle to Bruce, and is really proud of himself for handling the situation. Jason is now panicking thinking about what would Bruce do if he finds out (Tim doesn't know the extent of Batman's reaction to Jason killing at first).

(I got a little carried away with the idea of Tim being convinces he's okay with murder and Jason, who is pro murder for certain people, seeing right through him like "Oh honey")

Oh!!! I've seen some fics that cover what would happen if the Bats found out about Tim's kill count or the bases, but I haven't really seen ones with dark/abusive Bruce.

Tw: abuse, murder

Here's what I'm thinking:

Jason is fantastic for being the first to find out. He'd be supportive, understanding, and non-judgemental. He'll have no moral issues with murder. Perhaps he could have some mental breakdowns on the fact his younger brother had to resort to that or the high number of deaths or that someone younger than him had to stain their hands (which could also lead into him finally processing Damian's kills as well), but he wouldn't have any issues with Tim commiting murder.

Then we contrast that with Dick. He doesn't blame Tim. He's fiercely protective of his brother and will beat up anyone who gives Tim shit for it. On the other hand, he does have moral issues with murder. He'd probably have an internal debate with himself. He wants to support Tim, but the kid killed so many people (in this AU). Tim killed in self-defense. Dick has a particular understanding due to his time as a cop, but his vigilante rules have always contrasted with his cop ones (not just killing. Breaking laws, how civilians are treated, who your "allies" are, and whether you can trust your coworkers to do what's right). He's devastated that Tim was in that position and blames himself (maybe even takes those deaths upon his own moral conscience).

Both of them love, care, and support Tim in this. They also have very different ideas about murder.

Tim is also trying very hard to deny to himself how much death is actually on his hands. He's struggling to pretend he's fine and trying to logically convince himself that the deaths are acceptable.

In this AU, Bruce obviously flips the fuck out and acts like a piece of shit. Feel free to hc how far he takes that shit.

However, this has important ramifications against Damian. Whatever his feelings are about Tim at this point, watching his father abuse a kid he adopted (and considers his own) for the sin of killing? For self-defense? What if Damian ever kills again? Would Bruce react the same? What if there was no other choice? Also, does this mean that his father will never truly love him? Will his past always be held over Damian's head? Will Bruce ever forgive him? Is his father's love conditional? To add on, Damian has complicated feelings about LoA as well. He'd need to process the extreme destruction Tim enacted against the LoA. Just Damian having mental breakdowns.

Cass's confliction with murder and her love for Tim could also be added into this. I don't know much about the arc where she becomes a villain, but that would add to her turmoil.

Now, Alfred is a confusing one. How dedicated is he to Bruce? Is this the characterization where he sasses the man, not so subtly hides his guns around the Manor, and will stand up to the man? Or is this the one who will follow Bruce's lead even if it means psychologically torturing his grandkid? Is he somehow both at the same time? Can the kids trust Alfred to protect them or choose them over Bruce?

Babs would be protecting Tim (and the others in their support of Tim) to the best of her ability. In my mind, she's chill about murder due to her dad being a cop and her working with murderers (like Harley). She'd run interference to protect Tim until Bruce finds out, and then she'd be trying to get him away from Bruce.

Anyways, I'd love to see all of the characters, their feelings/experiences, and the conflict expanded on.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hello!

Is The Drakes Spoiled Brat set after the events of Mama Bird?

Like, uh..

Did Mama Bird come first, causing the Batfam to break apart and then the events of The Drakes Spoiled Brat happen so that doesn't happen again?

Hi!! While I get it can be confusing because of the fact they are put together in my Batfam series

BUT

The two fic's are completely unrelated- Mama bird is Bad dad (and really shitty person) Bruce with a much closer Batfam, ignoring a lot of canon.

Drakes Spoiled Brat is based more in canon (with a lot of fanon inspo) for the events leading up to the whole time hand wave bs. Which more stuff will be touched on later.

[allovesthings]

...Are we meant to understand that Bruce hit him there ? I hope not but the panel is similar to the one where he hits him after Jason's death.

[abyssal-ali]

The Best Bat (?)

R: T+

WC: 1.8k

TW: There is a discussion about death and could be seen as having suicidal undertones.

The small gathering of low-level Justice Leaguers crowded the two more magical members anxiously.

"I wish for the best Bat to come," chanted the one leading the teleportation/summoning.

"Wasn't that a little open-ended? And are you *sure* that won't summoning, like, a flying mammal?" Inquired a Leaguer nervously.

The chanter stared at the asker. "My power is luck. We will get the Bat we want," said the chanter confidently.

Several Leaguers seemed uneasy about leaving Bat-picking up to such a fickle thing as *luck*.

In a poof of smoke a tall figure appeared. Choking, the Leaguers brushed away the smoke...and groaned. "Uh, you're not a Bat...and we wanted someone useful..."

The summoned form glared around the room. "Firstly, rude. I am too a Bat," they rasped, gesturing to their chest piece. "Secondly, rude. The 'real' Bats are useful, but of course I'm Villain and only good at decapitating people and shooting my Jericho. 941's. Well lemme tell you something, 'kay? Villains are people too, and *some* of us are a little more competent than others. So why'd you summon me, I mean, a Bat?"

"We have two different species of alien warships heading for us, and we were hoping for maybe...Batman? Red Robin? *Someone* trusted their luck and asked for the 'best Bat,'" one of the Leaguers explained.

The Red Hood laughed long and loud at that, though the laugh came out rather scratchy and unsettling through the voice modulator.

"Hah, that's a good one. So you were hoping for a hacker or maybe a diplomat? This may surprise you, but I'm not always shoot first, ask questions later. I'm a tactician, and since you asked so nicely, I'll help out of the goodness of my heart."

A Leaguer snorted. "You call getting beat by Batman *tactician planning*?"

Hood fixed his stare on them. "Yes. There's a reason you can't reach any of the Bats right now, and it's because I shut down the city two days ago, the last step in my 10-month 'screw with Batman' plan."

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances and were immensely relieved when Wonder Woman walked in.

"Ah, you are...here to...help?" She asked, sizing up his defensive stance and the Leaguers who weren't terrified, if not a little wary.

"Yeah, I got summoned so I figured I may as well help. Never hurts to be in the JL's good graces," drawled Hood.

He turned to the leader of the little group of Leaguers. "So, what are the aliens and what exactly do you know about the situation?"

Wonder Woman watched carefully from her corner as Hood took charge and began commanding everyone around. He was orderly and aware of issues, he seemed to be skilled in delegating and not overwhelming his subordinates, and his diplomatic interactions interested her greatly.

As ambassador from Themiscyra, she had experience dealing with issues like these and so, once the connections between the ships and Watchtower were set up, she sat beside him to help.

Hood turned in surprise as Diana joined him, not expecting her to do anything more than watch and maybe drag him to a cell once the negotiations were over. She smiled and motioned to the setup. He nodded and they began.

●○●○●○●

Once the negotiations were completed Diana pushed her chair away and stood, extending her hand to Hood.

"Would you like a drink?"

"I wouldn't mind a stiff one, but I don't think certain people up here would appreciate seeing my helmetless face."

"...why not?"

"Well, when blood isn't getting pumped everywhere for several hours, your skin tends to get pale and your features don't look the greatest..."

"What?"

"I was recently revived from a sliced jugular just before I was yoinked here, so my circulation isn't quite back to normal yet."

"You were dead," Diana said flatly, and Hood nodded. "And now you're alive?"

He nodded again and shrugged.

"Just happens sometimes. I always come back--Death seems to enjoy flirting with me more than she should."

"You...die...regularly?" Piped up Superman, the eavesdropper.

"Not clockwork regular, but often enough that it's a mere inconvenience."

Clark and Diana exchanged looks.

"Anyways, aren't you going to haul me off to jail or Arkham or something?"

They looked back at him.

"Well, you did save the planet, so I'm sure that earns you a pass this time..." said Diana slowly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Yes, we appreciate you helping out, Hood. But, why?" Clark added.

"Contrary to what Bats would have you believe, I'm not a complete boor with no regard for human life. I simply exterminate the scum that the law lets away. In Gotham, especially, it's a problem, but I do it for the innocents and victims, for *their* lives, so they can live peacefully, or at least with closure. I'm not so uncouth and careless with life that I'd condemn the whole planet to die-- just the guilty. But I had to save the innocents."

Instead of sounding angry or even passionate, like Diana and Clark expected, Hood simply sounded...tired. Defeated, maybe? Of course, that could be after effects of dying and then being summoned and helping an organization that isn't exactly friendly with you.

"...so, what should we tell Batman about today?" Wondered Clark.

"Tell him whatever you want. Bruce will probably just believe I brainwashed you if you say something good. Say you forced me to help in exchange for looking the other way this once, or you tried to bring me to the Hall of Justice after, but I escaped. He won't believe that I helped you of my own free will. He refuses to see that I am capable of good and I'm not a complete monster."

Clark noticed that *this* rant got Hood a little worked up, and at the mention of Batman his heart rate picked up.

He looked meaningfully at Diana, hoping years of working together would help her figure out what he was trying to communicate.

Diana looked thoughtfully at Hood.

"How did you die, most recently, if I may ask?"

"My showdown with Batman. I forced Bruce to pick between me or the Joker. He picked the clown, like he always does, and he bataranged my throat."

Hood lifted his chin and tugged down the neck of his jacket and underarmour to show a thin scar neatly across his neck.

The two superheroes gasped.

"Batman killed?"

"He has no problem with it if they're already dead-- vampires and zombies are both fair game. I'm part both, I guess, so I don't count."

"I think you need a spar," suggested Diana. "Friendly."

Hood led the way to the empty training room, strangely quite familiar with the Watchtower's layout.

Diana and Hood squared off and they began, after agreeing to no weapons or powers. Finally, Hood pinned Diana, using an Amazonian technique with ease.

Clark announced Hood the winner and Hood got up, offering Diana a helping hand.

"Good spar," she commented. "How did you know that move?"

He shrugged dismissively. "I've had many teachers, so I know many groups' styles and moves."

"You trained for a long time before baiting Batman. Why?"

"I needed time to plan, to research, to prepare. I needed to be better than the Bat. And now that I have broken him, my work is done. I'm not sure if I'll wear this again," he looked down at his getup for a minute, "but if I do, I will only be the Red Hood to protect the innocent and avenge the victims, not play with Bruce. I may have taken his old alias, but I will *never* be like him," he muttered the last part, but both heroes still caught it.

"What did Batman do to make you hate him?" Asked Diana compassionately.

Hood laughed shortly, startled. "Hate? No, I don't hate him. I thought I did, but I don't, at least not anymore. The problem is that I loved him. He doesn't deserve any of my attention anymore, so I have relegated him to my 'indifference' list. It's pathetic to waste your life over a man who will never change. Now that I've made my point and accomplished my goal, I'm done with him."

"I'm sorry," Diana said slowly, not quite knowing what she was apologizing for, but Hood seemed to know and understand.

"It's okay. I'm going to my mom's island soon for some R+R. It'll be good to see her and the twerp. Sometimes I think he's a demon brat, but then I remember a lot...I'll raise him okay, though."

Drawn out of her memories of how a curly-haired boy in bright colors would chatter away about anything and everything like Hood seemed to be doing, Diana looked at him in surprise. He was younger than she'd thought. She changed her mental estimate of late 20's/early 30's to early 20's.

Then Hood took his helmet off and kissed her cheek.

"Goodbye, Aunt Di. You were always my favourite."

In shock, Diana let him disappear.

"Jason?" She whispered to the air.

●○●○●○●

Five years later, Robin came onto the Watchtower, insulting everyone and everything quite creatively.

Wonder Woman came to greet the poky child. He deigned to let her hug him and in her ear he whispered, "My brother says to treat you well, for you are a true queen and his aunt. He told me to tell you he is happy and to call him. Here is his number," in Ancient Greek, which Diana was pretty sure even Batman didn't know.

The spiky child slipped a paper into her pocket, then proceeded to detatch himself with colorful insults.

Diana smiled fondly at her nephew's brother and left to make a call.

Over the years she had received packages randomly, with letters, new baking, books (self-annotated), random objects/weapons from around the globe, all signed, "With love from your favorite nephew to his favorite aunt."

The last one had been two months ago and held a patch for a lab coat which said "Dr. J. Todd".

The short note with it said he'd graduated medical school and was helping treat trauma/trafficking victims.

Enclosed was a glossy 3x5" grad photo, which she promptly framed and put by her bed.

Bruce had never been able to figure out why Diana and Clark treated him colder. All of the Leaguers around that day had been sworn to secrecy even though it was likely they knew nothing, but the big two were concerningly different around him. He never figured out why.

[iminrage]

the batkids are strong in their own rights. they're used to protecting their friends and loved ones. they are the protective one in their teams.

however, whenever Bruce is around, all of a sudden they became kittens held by the mother. all those protective instincts? gone. they are now with their father and their job is to duck or satay away or run to safety when instructed. jumping in front of harm's way? that's dad's job. them's the rules.

[nightwolf14292]

On one hand, I love a Jason that gets seriously injured and turns into a scared dog. *Mwah*, chef's kiss, 10/10.

On the other hand, I love a Jason that gets seriously injured and reverts back to his younger self.

Jason, seriously hurt, pointing one of his guns at Bruce: “Don't come any fuckin' closer! You just get yer ass out of here, I don't need yer damn help.. I never want yer help with anything ever again..”

Then you get a Bruce that has to try and calm the dog. That sits at the end of the alley a comfortable distance away and waits for his boy to come back to him. Holds his hand out and waits for the dog to inevitably give in and let Bruce take care of him.

BUT ALSO

Jason, slowly bleeding out on the floor of a random warehouse: “...”

Bruce, who just so happened to be busting the same criminals and probably just saved Jason's life: “..Jay?”

Jason, sounding like he's tearing up behind his helmet: “..I wanna go home now, dad..”

Bruce: “..Okay, Chum. We'll go home now. I'll take care of you.”

GRGGGHHHHH I WANT TO SQUEEZE THEM AND SHAKE THEM ALL AROUND

[tiger-grace]

Superman: I haven’t seen you at the watchtower for a while. Where have you been the last few weeks, Batman?

Bruce: Rehab.

Superman, worriedly: Oh, I’m so sorry- I never knew you struggled with that. If you don’t mind me asking, what for?

Bruce, grimacing as he watches public footage of Signal and Red Hood starting a dumpster fire out of Pro-Joker merch: ..adoption.

[spicy-apple-pie]

slay Talia

Prev / Index / Next

Commission Info / Kofi (members get comics a week early)

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[somnoir]

Down Bad in Distress

Bruce Wayne is kidnapped... A lot. And it's always so weird that only Batman is allowed to save him. That this dumb, charming, but kidnap-able Billionaire doesn't have a bodyguard.

Now, Bruce can simply go "Oh, we've got Batman. No need to worry for that!" But people are fussy nowadays. He underestimates just bow much Gotham loves their disaster of a prince with a golden heart. Even his company employees are begging him to hire a bodyguard. (This is from the many files being sent to his office, obvious recommendations on competent bodyguards)

Cut to the new bodyguard for hire—who was recommended by Alfred of all people (something about him being the disciple of a good old friend of his). The man was large. Fucking huge. Taller than Jason, if one would like to admit (Jason is his 6'4" baby and this fucking fridge if a man looked 6'6").

But he was all soft and warm. Like a golden retriever the size of a bear.

Anyways, Danny was a rather kind man. When he wasn't following Bruce around and playing bodyguard, he was indulging the kids. Entertaining them with the most obscure things and stories from his childhood. Better yet, Danny would be the kids' bodyguard rather than Bruce's whenever they went out.

It was a miracle when they realized that Damian wasn't reacting badly to the man. Very strange since Damian would think it'd be shameful for someone to protect him during the day. But then again, Bruce once saw Danny effortlessly pick up Damian so his son could coax a cat out of a tree. That was most likely the kicker.

Anyways, Danny looked and felt soft.

It wasn't easy for him to settle into the man's ever present presence, but it's been almost four months since Danny's been hired and Bruce doesn't even flinch when the man brightly greets him from the bottom of the stairs.

"Good morning, mr. Wayne!" Danny would say, all teeth and bright eyes in his suit.

"Bruce," he'd correct immediately.

And then Danny would pause, laugh, and— "Good morning, Bruce."

Then his kids would follow and Danny would affectionately greet them all, ask where they plan to go and if they needed Danny to follow.

His bodyguard was like sunshine and warmth incarnate.

But if course, Danny was a bodyguard.

There were instances where Bruce would have to take a second to remind himself that this man that would look down at socialites like he's ready to crush their hands is the same one who once gave him puppy-dog eyes to back up Damian when his son asked to keep the kittens.

That the same man who grabbed someone by the scruff of their collar like they were weightless was the same one who talked about poetry and literature with Jason.

That the man who once hauled Bruce off the ground and walked right out the gala when the smoke alarms blared is the same one who would gently coax Tim off the coach and into a proper bed.

But right now, that's not his concern. No. Bruce is more concerned about the fact that he's gotten kidnapped again.

Everyone was most likely alerted. They were. He could hear Red Robin, Blackbat and Spoiler talking over the comms, checking in on Red Hood and Robin in case things went off.

"B, don't move. These guys are more prepared than the usual ones." Tim's voice filters into the comms, evidently annoyed. "I've got Oracle checking if there are any bombs in the place."

Bruce stayed silent, watching the masked men and women walk around, guns in hand and crates surrounding them. He had been knocked out during a party. The last thing he saw was Danny's eyes—god, it frightened him a bit. How those pretty blues suddenly turned green like Jason's.

Then he was here. Most likely with a concussion.

"B?"

"I'm okay... Be careful..." He murmurs under his breath, hearing his children sigh in relief.

"Good. We've got Red Ho—What the fuck is that?" Barbara immediately cut herself off, her voice strained and pitched with surprise.

"Oracle?"

"Spoiler—Do you have a view on that?" Oracle frantically asked. "Shit—the cameras just went down. Guys?"

"is that—" Stephanie chokes out, "Is that Danny?"

Bruce froze. Danny?

Jason always knew that Danny was kinda off. The first time he met the man, it wasn't his size that Jason immediately noticed. It was how his eyes flashed green when they met his. At first, he felt threatened, ready to attack whatever the fuck thought it was a good idea to infiltrate his family.

But then... Then Danny smiled at him. Offered his hand with a kind greeting. Jason took that hand and... And felt calm. Like the buzz in his head melted away, like the Lazarus was cleansed.

And Danny most likely knew. Because the man was smiling in satisfaction, like he was pleased that Jason suddenly didn't feel starved and angry and hurt.

"I don't know what happened to you kid, but whatever the hell did, it wasn't good for you. Hopefully you'll get better now." Danny whispered softly and then withdrew his hand, tucking it behind his back.

Jason doesn't know what the fuck Danny was but the man was worth keeping around.

Admittedly, he turned to Danny a lot nowadays. Jason can't call Bruce all the time. No. His relationship with Bruce still isn't good enough to warrant Jason to call him constantly.

But Danny? Again, Jason doesn't know what the hell this guy is but whenever Jason was in trouble, he dialed Danny's phone immediately. And he came... Every, single, fucking time. No questions asked, just pick Jason up and patch him up like nothing.

Danny was a good guy. Like sunshine, like golden retrievers. All teeth with some fangs.

And that same guy just snapped a man's neck with his bare hands.

"Hood... Are you seeing this?" Robin asked beside him, equally stunned as they watched their usually kind and sweet bodyguard effortlessly tear through the group of men with his bare hands. There was already blood around. Everywhere, maybe. Some already on Danny.

"He's on a fucking warpath." Jason murmurs. Every bit of admiration he had for Danny just multiplied by a thousand when he watched him grab a gun right out of a guy's hand and slam it into their head. Fucking amazing.

If Bruce doesn't square up and ask this guy on a date, Jason would have to start planning to parent trap them.

Fucking shit, he needed this guy as a dad.

The doors don’t just open—they explode off their hinges, a violent crack echoing through the warehouse. Guns swing up, barrels glinting under harsh light, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the figure in the doorway.

Bruce’s pulse slams against his ribs.

And then Danny walks in, dragging a half-conscious man by the leg, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake. He doesn’t even look winded.

Blood stains his usually pristine uniform—smeared across his face, streaked over the white of his shirt, soaking into his knuckles. His tie is gone. His collar is open, a few buttons undone, exposing a sliver of skin beneath the mess. There’s blood on his face, drying in streaks, and his knuckles—his knuckles are raw, dripping, alive. He looks… disheveled. Lethal. Gorgeous.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! THAT'S DANNY!" Spoiler screeched, "HE'S BODYING THOSE FUCKERS! RED! RED, ARE YOU FUCKING SEEING THIS?!"

"SOMEONE RECORD THIS! SHIT! SOMEONE RECORD THIS!" Red Robin replied, equally loud and frantic as if trying desperately to find the old camera he used to stalk Bruce many years ago.

He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t hesitate.

Danny launches the man he was dragging, sending him crashing into the nearest gunman with a sickening thud. Before anyone can react, he moves—crossing the room in impossibly fluid strides, twisting a wrist until a gun clatters to the floor, elbowing another man so hard in the ribs that something audibly cracks. A shot goes off, a wild, panicked attempt—Danny doesn’t even flinch. He snatches the arm holding the gun and bends it the wrong way. The scream is immediate.

Bruce’s breath catches.

Another man rushes Danny with a knife—big mistake. Danny catches his wrist mid-swing, wrenches it to the side with bone-snapping efficiency, then drives the same blade into another attacker’s thigh. The man howls, but Danny is already moving, slamming someone’s face into the nearest table hard enough to leave a smear of red on the wood.

They never stood a chance.

Two minutes. Two damn minutes, and the entire room is a battlefield of unconscious, broken bodies.

And Bruce cannot focus.

Bruce barely registers Jason swearing at him through the comms, telling him to get it together. He can’t.

And then Danny turns to him.

His face is splattered with blood, his chest rising and falling steadily as he steps forward. His hands, bruised and raw, reach out, and Bruce swallows hard.

Danny kneels, gaze flicking to Bruce’s bound wrists, and his touch—gentle, so gentle—works at the ropes with precise care. The knots had been tight, biting into his skin enough to bruise, to draw blood. Danny’s jaw clenches at the sight.

Bruce should say something. Should thank him. Should not be thinking about how unfairly attractive he looks like this—wild, wrecked, utterly devoted.

But he can’t help it.

He’s so gone.

"Mr. Wayne."

On instruct, Bruce corrects him. "Bruce."

And Danny pauses.

The chaos settles—not in the room, where bodies lay crumpled, groaning, and barely conscious—but in him. Just for a second. Just long enough for Bruce to see it.

Blue flickers into green. A warning. A promise.

Bruce doesn’t look away. Can’t. Even as Danny tilts his head, something unhinged curling at the edges of his smile. His chest rises and falls, slow, deliberate, the blood on his face catching the dim light. His knuckles, split and raw, flex at his sides before he exhales a laugh—low, sharp, guttural.

Almost a growl.

And Bruce—God help him—feels something thrill in his spine.

Then Danny takes his wrists. Carefully. Reverently. Those same hands that had snapped bones and silenced screams mere moments ago now hold Bruce’s bruised, bloodied skin like it’s something precious.

Then—cold.

Not warm. Not comforting. Cold lips, pressing soft against each wound, his touch featherlight against the raw skin. Bruce shudders.

Danny pulls back just enough for Bruce to see his lips—stained red with his blood. And he grins, sharp fangs more prominent than ever, his eyes molten with something Bruce can’t name.

"Bruce…"

Danny says it like a prayer. Like a promise. Like a goddamn claim.

Exasperated. Excited. Fond. And something else entirely.

"Try not to get kidnapped again, Bruce… Or I might just end up blowing up Gotham to get you back.

Bruce’s breath stutters.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Bruce is so utterly gone.

(Someone laughs in the background, shadows curling at their feet. Lady Gotham is pleased.)

Part 2 | Masterpost

[anxi04]

tim and bruce have an odd relationship to the rest of the family. they don’t act like father and son but it seems like they have a “deeper” bond than the others

bruce seems to take tim’s advice more seriously, bruce actually takes a break if tim tells him, tim still gets benched but not nearly as much as he should, and most confusingly, tim benched bruce once. not alfred benching bruce, TIM.

normally bruce has to be forced to take a break, and normally by alfred, but if tim says “you’re benched for a week” bruce? listens?

they have no idea why. some of them ask dick if he knows since he was there but he’s just as confused

and then despite all that there’s also such a strain between them? it’s really on the line of a professional relationship and almost a care taker. it’s very confusing. and then the times bruce gives tim a present or anything like that and tim stops and stares at him for a second, like he’s dissecting bruce. no one is able to fully figure it. until bruce is de-aged to tim’s robin era.

tim is very adamant about most of them, but especially jason and damian, do not reveal their names to him. for the time being they have a strictly professional relationship with their father who doesn’t know them.

they finally get some of the picture when they see tim start acting as bruce’s caretaker. tim switches between being gentle “hey, you need to sleep” to screaming at bruce. it always works. tim knows exactly which version bruce needs and it scares the team cause that has to require some practice

they’re then also thrown for a loop when they hear bruce call out jason’s name in a shocked voice, which makes sense cause he doesn’t know jason is alive but jason still has his helmet on so what? and then they hear a voice none of them have heard. except dick goes pale and jason’s breath hitches. and suddenly tim is responding to jason’s name and acting weird, almost like what some of dicks stories described jason as. and it’s so fucked up when they’re watching time act like someone else and bruce going along with it

the dynamic they’re getting is also fucked up once again when, during one of bruce’s really bad days, tim straight up acts like bruce’s parent. and bruce reacts well.

they’re all horrified by this. the realization that tim and bruce’s relationship has so many layers and that they do act like father and son sometimes. except bruce isn’t the father and tim isn’t the son

[dc-gotham-instincts-wild]

(Before Janet Drake died)

Tim: Bruce:

Tim: Please don't ask.

Bruce: Why are you breaking into my house with a broken arm. Tim: I don't want to talk about it.

Bruce: Why not go to your parents? Tim: ....I don't wanna go home right now. Bruce: *scoops him up* ….come on, little one.

Jason who also broke in: *Sees Bruce with Tim* Holy Gotham what happened to the Replacement.

Bruce: He won't tell me :(

The rest of the Batkids: *summoned*

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

Tim: You can't just run around here shirtless! Where's your binder!?

Jason: Shit! Where is my...... Did you forget I'm cis?

Tim:........maybe. It's hard not to when your tits are bigger than mine

Damian: You forgot too, idiot

Jason: Why don't you wait until you're taller than my tits before you run your mouth

Bruce: I will give you each $500 right now to talk about anything else

[dcxdpdabbles]

Jack: What do you want Alfred: Son, please- Jack: Not your son. Not since you walked out on Mom to go to jolly old England. How's that going, by the way? I heard you walked out on your daughter there, too. Alfred: I know I wasn't the best Father, and you have no reason to forgive me, but this is a matter of life and Death. Jack: Oh, big surprise, good old Dad only comes around when he needs something. How about some tea and biscuits while we're at it? Alfred: Please listen. A few hours ago, the Justice League was compromised. Batman was able to send me a coded message that they were being mind-controlled by ghosts before he was captured. You and your wife are the only known contacts for Phantom. The world needs his help before the Justice League goes on a planned massacre. Jack: ....Fine, but only because thousands of innocent people could get hurt. *Turns to shout up the stairs* Danny! Can you come down here?! Alfred: We don't have time for your kids. We must move before- Jack: Unlike you, I always have time for my kids, but no, this isn't just a moment when you met your grandson. You need Phantom, don't you? Alfred: Yes? Jack: Then you need Danny. Danny: Did you need me, Dad? *looks at door* Who's this? Jack: The man who would rather be a butler/nanny to someone's kid than be a decent Father. Also, your new teammate for the upcoming battle. We're going to punch Batman in his dad-stealing face. Danny shifting into Phantom: FINALLY.

[greenglowinspooks]

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

[sparkoflena]

As somebody who has written Batfamily fanfiction (mostly for myself but I have like two things public), Bruce Wayne's relationship with his kids will always be the hardest part.

Yeah, I could fanon it. But I do try my hardest to be at least vaguely canon-compliant in terms of characterizations/relationships.

BUT the history of Bruce Wayne as a father changes depending on the author you read, which Robin is Robin-ing at the time, and what trauma Bruce happens to be going through. Is he going to be deeply supportive of his kids and attend their events and be both awkward and proud? Is he going to hit his kids? Who knows, certainly not DC writers.

(I'm of the opinion that Bruce Lost-His-Parents-At-A-Young-Age & Adopted-Kids-Like-Him-To-Build-A-Family-He-Didn't-Have-As-A-Child Wayne ABSOLUTELY should be a Good Parent[TM], albeit a bit Overprotective Dad. But there are only a handful of authors who follow this depiction)