#Bruce Wayne : I'm sorry...

[t00thpasteface]

"i've just been working on a... celebrity impression. it's for a sting operation of sorts i've been putting together. yes as a matter of fact it WILL keep me busy tonight—"

[purpleangiie]

Damian: "Grayson, what are you staring at?"

Dick: "Sh!"

Tim: "Leave him be, D. He's emotional."

Damian: "Over what?"

Dick, staring at the two quiet figures in front of them: "Would you believe that? Jason and Bruce existing in the same space and not throwing a tantrum, but actually behaving like two adults? They're even working together at the same desk. Unbelievable."

Damian: "Wait, has father just ruffled Todd's hair?"

Dick: "And he didn’t even punched him back! I'm so proud of how far they both have come. *sniff* Now we could all be one happy family."

Damiam: *looking absolutely bewildered, gazing up at Tim who just shrugs*

Tim: "Give them 15 minutes."

Damian: "12."

---

Jason: "Bruce. Bruce WHERE IS MY PEN?"

Bruce: "Y-your pen, Jason?"

Jason: "Oh my god. You don't even remember it. My pen, Bruce. My personalized red and golden Montblanc you gifted me for my 14th birthday. I left it here, where is it? You threw it away, didn't you? LIKE YOU DID WITH ANY REGARD YOU EVER HAD FOR ME AND MY FEELINGS? DID YOU FORGET I WAS YOUR SON TOO? WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO LOVE ME?"

Dick: "Damn! We got so close."

Tim: "And that'd be 10 minutes and 35 seconds."

Damian: "-TT- Pay up, Drake."

[violent138]

Alfred totally brags about the kids in public, simultaneously shading Bruce who cannot defend himself using Batman:

Alfred: "Master Duke was a Gotham Genius Grant finalist at 12, and Miss Gordon holds multiple degrees." *side eyes Bruce*

Bruce:

Or

"Oh, Master Dick restored the car himself, he's got a phenomenal skill with automobiles, much like the late Dr.Wayne himself."

Outsider: "Too bad it skipped you, huh Bruce? Can't even change a spare tire."

Bruce: *seething quietly* "I wonder where he gets it."

And

A visitor to Wayne Manor: "These are lovely portraits."

Alfred: "The work of Master Damian, he's practically a prodigy. It's a relief that someone in the family is appreciative of the arts."

Bruce: "I appreciate art--"

Alfred: "Twelve years of piano lessons and nothing to show for it."

Later in the Cave

Bruce: "I appreciate art."

Alfred: "Apologies Master Bruce, it's a little hard to see things around here as you seem to think black is the last remaining colour in the world."

Bruce:

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce enters the conference room on the Watchtower. He is wearing a baby carrier with a baby inside it.

There is a hoo-ha.

"Why is there a baby," whispers Flash to Superman.

Clark shrugs. "It's probably one of the Robins."

"What?" says Barry tightly. "No, none of them are that age!"

"Jesus Bar, it's like you've never heard of de-aging beams."

"I'm not feeling good about the fact that you're taking this so lightly." Barry scratches at his five o' clock shadow. "If it is a Robin, it's very weird. But it's more weird if it's not."

"Maybe it's a Batgirl," suggests Diana, leaning in. "Cass or...or Steph. The purple one."

"That fits the purple diaper," says Barry reflectively.

"Barry stop hyperfixating on this," Clark says. "Let it go."

The baby is crying a little, sucking on its thumb. Batman gives it a chew toy as he continues working, and then produces a bottle out from under his cape, and holding the baby's head at a careful angle, begins to feed it.

"Batman..." Flash says, miserably curious. "Why do you have a baby?" He points at it, as if to make clear what baby he is talking about.

Bruce looks up, his brow furrowed. "Newly orphaned. Mother threw her from the spire of a church tower in Scarecrow-fear-toxin-induced hallucinations. Then she threw herself. I could only save one."

Barry looks like the dictionary illustration for the word 'flabbergasted'.

"Oh," is all he says. "Oh. Okay."

"I've found her a good home. She'll leave in a few hours." Bruce looks down, and then mutters to himself, "I just wanted to hold her".

Superman pretends he doesn't have super-hearing.

[varpusvaras]

Bruce: Now you can live a normal life, fall in love-

Jason: Bitch I'm married already and have a job

Bruce: - and- what?

Jason: I've been married for a while now. My name isn't even Todd anymore, it's Harper

Bruce: ...like Arsenal?

Jason: Yes, like Arsenal. Anyway I have a Q-tech tracker and a panic button on me and I pressed it a while ago

Bruce: What does that mean- oh

Bruce: *turns around*

Oliver:

Bruce:

Oliver:

Bruce: Be reasonable, Oliver

Oliver: No *pulls out his automated arrow turret*

[starvinginbelair]

the best explanation of the pre-flashpoint batfamily i think i've ever seen

[g1rlr0b1n]

They are in the thick of it, lives are most likely at stake, lots of them! and Jon's just, "sorry to all the people who die today but my boyfriend isn't picking up his phone."

[frownyalfred]

Since we believe the older Jason gets, the more he looks /acts like Bruce, if he attends a gala because of an obligation (i.e. Alfred guilt trips him and the others) how often does he get mistaken as his dad?

Does he take a little advantage and pretends with the more drunker socialites, and tricks them into donating to the lesser known charities that he knows get ignored and directly impact Gotham's poorer neighborhoods?

(Or does he just starts rumors to mess with them all about his dad's rich boy myth. He def makes shifts the hors d'eourves into almost small chilly dogs if he can)

"Mr. Wayne. There you are!"

Jason turned around, smiling wide enough his jaw hurt. With the slim-cut suit, the thin glass of champagne in his hand, and the angle of his shoulders, the whole move was practically a flourish. It was how Bruce did it, after all -- and frankly? It didn't feel too bad.

The true joy came, however, from seeing the faces of the two women as his identity registered. Their smiles tightened, but didn't disappear entirely. Not Bruce Wayne. Close -- but no cigar.

"Mr. Wayne is my father," Jason said, just a little lower than Bruce normally would. He let his eyes settle on the first woman -- blonde, thin lips, eyes narrowed -- and tilted his head, just a fraction. "But I get that all the time. It's flattering, really."

Was it?

"My mistake. You look just like him from behind," the blonde woman said, her strained smile returning. "Jason, yes? Truly remarkable."

Jason swapped his champagne glass into his left hand, holding out his right to her. "Jason Todd. And that's what I strive for at events like these -- remarkable."

The other woman laughed a little at that, breaking ranks with her friend. She was a little older, with more wrinkles on her face than she should have, at her age. A smoker, probably. "Jessica."

Jason shook her offered hand, giving her a smile. "A pleasure, Jessica."

"Anne," the blonde woman added, like an afterthought. Jason hadn't missed the way she'd avoided giving her name when they'd shaken.

Jason skipped right over that tidbit. "Are you looking for Bruce, then? I can point you in the right direction, but you might need to call a cab. He's at Wayne Manor tonight, unfortunately. A little under the weather."

If you can call three broken ribs and a concussion "under the weather."

"Oh, how awful," Jessica said, holding a hand over her mouth. She turned to Anne. "Did you know about this?"

"Of course not," Anne said, eyes narrowing in on Jason again. "Is he alright? It's not like him to miss an event like this."

Jason realized, idly, that was, in fact, Anne Regis. And that he was, in fact, standing at the Regis Charity night. Which meant Anne was -- in all likelihood -- pissed by Bruce's nonarrival. And disappointed in his replacement, if the way her lips pursed meant anything.

"Well, I'm sure he'll make the next one," Jason offered, shrugging one shoulder. Bruce's suit pulled a little, reminding him that silk and satin had less wiggle room than spandex and Kevlar weave. "Fear not, I did bring his check. And his checkbook, if the one he wrote wasn't...satisfactory enough."

It was telling, how Anne's eyes didn't light up at the idea of a larger gift. It meant that this event wasn't really about raising money -- it never was. It was about seeing and being seen. And Anne Regis had wanted to cash in on Bruce Wayne's presence, not his money. His social standing, his charm, his glamor -- not his checkbook.

"That's lovely, dear. What a thoughtful son." Anne glanced over her shoulder, indicating she was about to excuse herself. "Jessica, it looks like Roger is back. Why don't we excuse ourselves--" heh "--and say hello?"

Jessica gave Jason a warmer smile than Anne. "Stay sharp, kid."

"Tell Bruce I said hello," Anne said, with a nod that might have been charming, several decades ago. "We'll have to do brunch soon."

They left, disappearing back into the sea of people. As soon as they were out of sight, Jason diverted to the back bar, setting down his glass of champagne.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked him, taking the glass before Jason could even look for a discard tray.

Jason glanced at the impressive array of bottles, suddenly understanding why Bruce tended to stick to soda water or seltzer at these events. Every single word he'd traded with the women had been like a spar of its own. He needed to stay sharp. Sharper than he did, normally.

"Diet coke, lime, please," Jason said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty. He put it in the tip jar, not missing the grateful spark in the bartender's eyes.

"Right away, sir."

[emotional-piece-of-meat]

Tim is surprised every time Bruce being a dad. Not even a good one, which he is, but genuinely just a dad.

Like, what do you mean, he asks how was your day and carefully listened to your answer instead of interrupt you on the second sentence and talk about himself?

What do you mean, he cares about you every day and not only when he wants to look like a good dad™ at gala?

What do you mean, he tries to understand your interests instead of saying that it's useless and you have to quit?

What do you mean, he carries you to bed instead of waking you up?

What do you mean, he actually remembers things that you told him?

What do you mean, he stays with you, because you are scared and you asked him to?

What do you mean, you don't need to ask?

And for the first time in his life, Tim thinks that it wasn't his fault. He wasn't a bad child. His father was a bad person.

[messenger-of-babel]

Bruce Wayne Who...

Summary: Thoughts about your relationship with Bruce Wayne.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: So Sorry for the longgg absence. I won't explain it too much but I've had serious health complications that require me to go to the doctor weekly and I've been struggling with that a lot. Half of the Christmas event unpublished stories are done- but I don't want to upload them half baked. I will be uploading them around my original schedule of normal fics, so I'm so sorry this all happened while I was doing that Christmas Countdown. So if you see unseasonal content- that is why. I will ask to refer to the notes section of some of the fics before this. I will be trying to deliver more- please be patient and thank you for reading! (I'm working on my requests next so you'll seen them soon <333)

Love RiRi <3

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Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

had sworn off dating. Being a vigilante was enough work on his plate, and he had already involved too many innocent people. He had already made too many people join him in on his night life, like he was a black hole that sucked in anything around it and slowly suffocated its prey. The playboy image also helped him keep his cover up. After all, who could dare point a finger at Bruce Wayne and claim him to be the Bat, when he was spending the night at the Iceberg Lounge? How could he be the one tracking down criminals from Arkham when he had a supermodel on his arm at the mayor’s winter gala?

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Has to throw that all out of the window the moment that he catches sight of you. When he meets your eyes for only a moment across the sea of people at the Gotham Museums grand reopening, to which he had donated personal items of his family's. His heart lurches in his chest and adrenaline courses through his veins like he's in a fight. You look away after a moment, but he stays fixed on your form as you disappear to talk to some of the curators. Bruce takes a deep sip of his champagne; mind muddled suddenly and distracted the rest of the evening as Alfred drives him home.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Still doesn't think that it's love that has him. He's a stoic man deep down, with the facade of a charming smile and a friendly arm around the shoulders. He doesn't consider it love when he goes out as Bruce Wayne more often, taking impromptu visits to the museum once he discovered that you were an employee there. He doesn't even call it infatuation when Alfred points it out to him. It was merely him making sure that the billionaire image remained intact, and that he was in the public eye.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Eventually caves and admits his feelings to himself, head in his hands one night. His skin is a storyboard of scars that criss cross lines across his chest and arms. He had tried to brush it off originally as just his playboy persona finding a good alibi for future reference, but late-night thoughts on rooftops had cleared his head. This was the true him that liked you, the scarred black hole that was undoubtedly going to try to drag you in and suck you of what light you had. He spends the night with an anguished heart, trying so hard to contain the ache that had begun to settle there every time he thought about not approaching you.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Practically fawns when he catches you at work, stumbling over his words as he catches you at the end of your shift. He regains his composure and manages to ask you out quietly, giving you an out if you said no. He felt like some teenager, red faced and anxious. He had fought the Joker countless times, stared down Bane and left with his ribs beaten blue. Yet this somehow made his hands shake, hiding in his pockets. The anxiety all but evaporates when you give him a chance, letting him know your address and to pick you up at six that evening. His head felt light, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. His breath heaves out in a sigh, and he nods, agreeing and promising to send a car around at six. He left the museum that day grinning ear to ear, and this time it wasn't his persona doing the smiling for him.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Spoils you as much as he can when you give him the green light. After you've tested the waters and have been dating for a few months, he's enamoured. He bought your apartment for you outright and changed the deed to be in your name, so you never had to worry about rent. Bruce doesn’t want anything in return, he just wants you to be safe and happy. Not that he's really been a man of words, the written mess of symbols and letters clog up his throat when he tries to speak. No, he'd rather explain his affection for you in deep stares and gentle hands on your shoulder of back. He loves that you aren’t deceived by the callouses or the rough texture of his palm. He loves that despite the nicks and scars and occasional bruises on his knuckles that you don’t shy away from the coarseness that emanates from him, your body leans in and relaxes instead. He loves that you make him feel softer than he is.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Can't bring himself to tell you that he's Batman but wishes to do so desperately when he sees you lying next to him in bed. You're still fast asleep wrapped in the sheets, arm tucked under the pillow as he gazes down at you. He wonders what you'd do if he shook you awake gently, if your nose would scrunch up as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. If you would be more irritated or concerned at being roused from sleep. He wants to show you all of him. After all, you're the person that's come closest to seeing the real Bruce he thought he lost years ago. Yet when he thinks too hard on it, he feels sick, like he's leading you on. He can't tell you who he is on nights you aren't tucked in next to him, when he's out on the street. He can't tell you that everyone in this family is in on one big secret, and that there are shared glances and knowing looks traded behind your back. He feels like a liar.

He is one.

He wants to not lie anymore, to involve you into his fold. He had come close once, before Dick pulled him aside and told him it was probably for the best that he didn't. But Dick wasn't here now, was he? He could just reach out and-

His hand hovers as he reaches for you. No, Dick was right. This was for the best.

So, he lies down next to you again and drapes an arm over your middle, convincing himself to sleep it off.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Considers keeping you in his life forever once the tabloids start running marriage speculations about you both. You've been dating for a while and recently have been out of the public eye. Of course, you were just sick, but a few weeks off were enough to substantiate rumours of eloping and a honeymoon. He can’t deny that he thought of it when he made public appearances, or when he was out in the shopping district and his eyes lingered on the engagement rings just a tad too long. Yet he is the same Bruce who shoves that feeling down deep inside him so it can't surface again or bother him at the board meeting he has in thirty minutes.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Leaves said meeting early to find you at work, taking your lunch break. Who pulls you outside and tells you he has something incredibly important to tell you with a slightly wild look in his eye. You can't help but be taken aback, wondering what's gotten the ineffable billionaire agitated. You think of a million scenarios. He needs to go into witness protection? He got involved with gangs? threats on his life again? he's being blackmailed? Blood money? He leaves as soon as he came, driving himself back once telling you to meet him at the manor that night after work. Immediately after work. He drives back to the manor with his pulse thrumming against the skin of his neck and fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel. he was going to tell you. He was going to risk everything on a gamble, and he couldn’t help but feel the pit beneath his feet trying to swallow him whole at the implications of it.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Jumps up from the sitting room the moment you step in the door, hands jittery despite the glass of scotch he had been sipping. Whose nerves get the better of him in that one moment despite spending years training away that fear. He was fear now, he was the Batman. But in this moment, he felt more man that he had felt in a long, long time.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Feels like he could collapse as you listen to his admission. He's placed all the cards in your hands, enough to extort him forever, expose him and his identity. Make the world crumble around his ears in such a dramatic fashion that the Justice Leage wouldn't even be able to save him from it. He wasn't just gambling with his identity, he played with the lives and identities of everyone he was connected to, every Robin he had raised and trained. So, when you hold those cards he gave you and fold them to your chest, swearing to never tell a soul, the breath leaving his lungs makes him feel boneless.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Thinks for the first time, that there was a way to unite the Bat with Bruce Wayne. That when he goes to hug you, he knows that he risked it all on that gamble, but it paid off in ways that he couldn’t have imagined.

and that was enough for him.

[emin-folly]

Yeah I'm sorry but I seriously don't buy the whole "Batman can sneak up on Kryptonians and other superpowered aliens/people cause he's ~Batman~" BS

Personally what I think would be much more in character and frankly way funnier is if just about every superhero can see/detect Batman, they all just choose to humor him cause of his fragile ego lmao 

 Low effort comic cause I tired aha

[black-lone-knight]

It's been two days since Dick’s arrival at the Wayne Manor. Currently Dick is holding a magazine with a picture of him and Bruce on its cover.

Dick: What's a DILF?

Bruce, chocks on his tea: What?!

Dick, shows the cover: Here, it says you're a DILF.

Bruce: Ah, it means...

Bruce: ...

Bruce: a Dad who Is Loving and Fantastic.

...

Months later.

Superman: Batman has told me a lot about you.

Dick as Robin, enthusiastic: He has?

Superman: Yes, your Dad loves you so much.

Robin: Holy hotdogs! He's a real DILF.

Superman:

Superman:

Superman: Oh yeah... He certainly is.

[overlyobsessed223]

decaf

Hal might have physically made it to the emergency Justice League meeting Batman had the audacity to call so suddenly at 4 o'clock in the morning, but mentally he’s still half asleep. The room is dead silent, even though mostly everyone has arrived by now, save for Barry—who they’re expecting to be fifteen minutes late as usual—and Clark. The only solace Hal is able to draw upon is that he’s clearly not the only one royally peeved by the ungodly wakeup call, as Dinah and Oliver are both glaring daggers at Bats and Arthur has already made three snappish comments since he got here five minutes ago. 

All Hal knows is there better be a damn good reason for this.

Clark showing up a minute later with his arms full of donut boxes and coffees doesn’t exactly ease the high tensions in the room, but Hal does perk up a bit when the smell of strong coffee hits his nose. He mumbles a quick, “thanks, man,” when Clark places a coffee with Green Lantern written on it in front of him. Grabbing it, he’s about to take a long, desperate gulp when he sees, out of the corner of his eye, Clark place a cup labeled Flash in front of Barry’s empty chair. Even through the brain fog that’s severely impairing his ability to think, he remembers something important. 

“Hey, that’s decaf, right?” Hal asks, breaking the silence in the room. Clark turns and gives him a questioning look, so Hal points at Barry’s coffee and elaborates. “Barry’s coffee. It’s decaf, right? He doesn’t drink anything with caffeine in it.”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s decaf,” Clark clarifies, offering a cheery, chipper smile that burns Hal’s retinas. He looks well rested and ready to start the day, the midwestern farm boy in him making him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of them. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget.”

“Cool, cool,” Hal nods, settling back in his chair. He finally goes in for a sip of his coffee and barely manages to refrain from moaning out loud when the bitter taste hits his tongue. “Thanks,” he adds as an afterthought. 

The silence resumes. Only, Hal realizes that instead of everyone in the room staring at Batman, they’re now all staring at him, with varying looks ranging from confused to bewildered. Or, in Bruce’s case, unamused and unimpressed.

“What?” Hal frowns.

“That was just very, um,” Arthur trails off, as if he can’t find the words to complete his thought. 

“Cute,” Dinah interjects to finish the thought hanging in the air. She suddenly seems wide awake now, leaning forward eagerly whilst gripping the edge of the table with both hands, eyes glimmering with way too much knowing for Hal’s comfort. “Adorable, even.”

“Shut up,” Hal rolls his eyes, but to his horror he can feel his face begin to heat up. He fixes Dinah with a glare and hopes to god Clark will have the decency to not call attention to the way his heart has begun to pound against his ribcage. “For the last time, Barry and I are just friends. And for the record, making sure your buddy has the right drink does not mean you’re in love with him.”

“Uh, huh,” Dinah says, but the smirk on her face tells Hal his point didn’t quite land the way he’d intended it to. Meanwhile, at the opposite side of the table, Hal sees J’onn pull out a miniature notebook out of his pocket and begin carefully writing notes, as he tends to do when conversations about human culture come up.

“Why didn’t you ask if my coffee is decaf?” Oliver cuts in, sounding oddly hurt.

“Do you… drink decaf coffee?” Hal asks, confused. 

“No,” Oliver glowers, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at his untouched cup of coffee.

“Then why would I—”

A hand slams down onto the table, and with that the room goes silent as everyone turns to where Batman is looming over them, appearing in no mood for small talk or discussion of Hal’s love life. Hal thinks this might be one of the rare times when he and the Bat find themselves in strong agreement.  

“Might I remind everyone at this table that we have an emergency, globe threatening situation on our hands?” Bruce glares around the table. “We should begin briefing now; Flash can be filled in on what he missed at the end.”

Ten minutes into a very tense briefing, Barry finally decides to show his face. His face is even more shadowed with sleep deprivation than anyone else, and Hal instantly suspects he didn’t sleep at all, but he figures he’ll grill him on that later. Barry’s eyes brighten when they land on the cup of coffee and full box of donuts in front of him. 

Barry picks up the coffee, inspects it for a second, and that’s when Hal leans in and whispers, “I checked—it’s decaf.”

And the way Barry beams at him, it does what even Hal’s coffee couldn’t achieve—it has him teeming with energy, ready to start the day.

[violent138]

On a very stupid note, can you imagine how embarrassing it is for Bruce Wayne, the most paranoid and secretive man on earth, that whenever there's drama in his family it inevitably reaches a significant portion of the superhero community?

And he can't even go after any one person, because Alfred would tell Dick (who tells Wally and Donna, especially if it was really stupid), Steph would tell Kara (who would tell Clark, who would tell Diana, who already knew via Donna), and Tim would tell Kon, Damian would tell Jon and Connor, Duke tells Jason about it, and because Wally told Barry Hal now knows (and other Lanterns), J'onn knew because Bruce was fuming and Clark was trying to figure out how to bring it up, Cass told Dinah and Barbara so now the entirety of the Arrowfam and Birds of Prey know too and so on.

[gorefatale]

If Robert Pattinson's Batman is "Battinson," then David Corenswet's Superman is... Superwet???

[varpusvaras]

Jason arriving home with a black eye and split lip: hey

Roy: hey. Oof, that looks bad

Jason: yeah, well, you know how it is-

Roy: yeah, Gotham, am I right?

Jason: -Batman doesn't kill you but he hits hard

Roy: 😀 what?