#Bruce being a good dad

[d-1hater]

honestly one of the main reasons I like dc is that they can’t keep a storyline straight for shit. anything I don’t like is just *not real*. that’s different storyline babes what are you talking about???

like at this point I can consider shit like wfa and hell even well written fanfics as canon bc who knows what’s going on with those funky little people?? certainly not the dc writers

[haveihitanerve]

Okay but bruce is 100% the type of dad who treats his kids like an adult because he doesn't know how to handle kids so he treats them the way he treats adults except, y'know, after dick he learns a little and is also soft and gentle with them and learns how to treat kids, but for the most part bruce is a gentle parent, listening to all of their problems, believing the things they say without a seconds hesitation (until of course he learns them well enough to tell a lie from a truth) but just like- imagine how much of a mind fuck that must have been for his kids

Dick- newly orphaned, and instead of being treated the way most adults are treating him, here is bruce, who understands, and treats him normally. He treats him with sorrow of course, but he also acts like dick is an adult, like he knows that dick can handle things after his parents death

Jason- who was beaten by his father for ‘telling lies’ is now believed automatically by bruce, no matter how outlandish it is(because they live in Gotham so everything is outlandish)

Tim- who was ignored by his parents and told to shut up when he spoke is now waited on, listened to, comforted

Cass- who had her vocal cords ripped out and broken- bruce learns sign language for her, touches her gently, offers quiet words of support and always allows her to read his body language

Damian- silenced by older assassins who know better, every member of the family stops and listens when he speaks, lets him finish what he needs to say, trusts his words without doubt- no punishments dealt out for being wrong

[batfamhastwitter]

A little mini update while I work on part 8! I just wanted to do a little explanation on jason's thought process and why he didn't tell people.

Prev ~ Beginning ~ Next

[noxcheshire]

I think I’d be really funny, if Bruce was a reincarnated Vlad.

This is going to be based off of a prompt I saw (I will find you) where Bruce suddenly remembered his past life as Vlad.

HOWEVER, my take on that is the de-aged Ellie and Dan because the amount of ANGST and self hate that Bruce will go through thinking his past self was not only a villain, but also that sort of person?

It will eat him alive.

It will eat that man alive every time he goes to sleep and another burst of memories pass underneath his eyelids.

It burns him when he wakes up with the phantom touch of a body underneath his hands, of a boy just as young as Damian and thinner too, struggling to escape a grip of a man whose hold was too possessive, and too cruel.

It feels like acid swishing down his throat when he wakes with the taste of oily words filled with threat and something more whispered over the form of a boy. A young boy whose blue eyes blazed furiously back and yet tried to hide the quiet bursts of fear underneath.

It feels like Bruce cannot scrub the man he had been right out of him, even when his skin blisters red until it bleeds. Vladimir Masters had woken spitting and screaming, burrowed like a cold sore underneath everything that is Bruce.

Bruce hates it.

Hates the monster he had once been and still is — because despite the fact Vlad is now Bruce, living and breathing and existing here in Gotham — Vladimir Masters still exists.

He is out there right now in a little place called Amity Park, pulling weight and blood just to get what he wants.

A man who has used and abused for far too long…

Perhaps it was time to see to it, that however and whatever way that Bruce came to be, that it began with Vlad’s unfortunate circumstances back into the Ghost Zone.

[everwalldigan]

Under the red hood alternative story where Jason doesn’t go the drug lord “choose me or him” route and instead hatches a plan to make Bruce love him ‘again’ and get attached to him and then he lets himself get killed again cause CLEARLY Bruce didn’t mourn him enough the first time. It totally makes sense.

Jason, while hugging Bruce after the DNA test came back positive, grinning evilly behind his back: hahahahaha yeah this’ll fucking show him!

Except. He miscalculated. Severely. Suddenly the thought of dying is a terrifying one because his life has never been this peaceful. Bruce helped him finish his school education and convinced him to enrol into university, even helped him take over crime alley’s underground in the meantime.

Jason, while spending time with Bruce, not fighting and just existing peacefully in each other’s company, realising that he doesn’t really fancy dying anymore and his plan is effectively Ruined: fuck.

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him

Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.

How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.

Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.

Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.

Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.

“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.

[littlefankingdom]

It's funny how in fanfics, people write Clark giving parenting advices to Bruce, when in the comics (see: World's Finest: Batman and Superman) and other media (see: Young Justice), Bruce is the one giving parenting advices to Clark, and he is always very serious about it.

After all, Bruce has been a father figure and mentor for longer and more kids than Clark. Of course he doesn't need to call Clark for help to learn how to take care of his kids, Clark is the one calling Bruce for help when he has an issue and Ma Kent is busy.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt in Memes 6

Let's make it some in-world memes this time :)

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[brucewaynehater101]

HI? I need help finding fics or prompts about this one Tim angst concept that I read somewhere but I don't remember if it was a fic or a post. You could also add onto the idea yourself if ur willing! Preferably I need help finding a fic tho-

ANYWAYS

It's basically "Tim doesn't like reading books because whenever Bruce saw him read a book he would get mad because it reminds him of Jason."

I remember something about Tim being banned from the manor library too, but that's all I remember.

If you do help me, I owe you my life because this has been on my mind for WEEKS-

Hi!!! 👋 Not a fic (that I'm aware of). Here's the post, though:

Fantastic premise that Tim hates reading, though. That, or he refuses to admit/do it publicly.

Here's the AU set up:

Tim loves reading (it was a way to occupy/busy himself when no one else was around)

He prefers sci-fi, fantasy, and crime novels

His parents preferred him to read classics and non-fiction

Tim, trying to feel Bruce out and discern what's allowed, resorts to his parents' preferred reading list

Bruce walks into Jason's library to find Tim reading a classic (Maybe The Picture of Dorian Gray or Wuthering Heights or whatever)

Bruce promptly freaks the fuck out

Tim, as a fourteen year old not yet proficient at reading Bruce (and doesn't have the background data yet of what civilian Jason was like), internalized the lesson that Bruce doesn't want Tim reading at all

Tim avoids any libraries when Bruce is around

To the Waynes and the Bats, Tim only reads technical books or ones related to the mission

When Jason starts getting along with the Bats, he teases Tim on his reading habits (maybe a comment or two about how Tim, a rich kid, should be well-versed with the classics). Tim brushes it off good-naturedly.

Jason also invites Tim up to Jason's library and is a little bit hurt when Tim refuses. Jason rationalizes it and doesn't blame Tim, but it was an olive branch by the older one

Jason finds Tim reading a sci-fi novel which prompts Tim into panicking

Then a reveal or whatnot. Anyways, fun concept ^^

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce Meets His Son: Damian (Part 1)

Talia: Bruce, this is Damian. Damian, this is Bruce.

Damian extended his hand for a handshake. Bruce obliged but was unsure why he’s being introduced to the young child.

Damian (confused): Why is he dressed like a bat?

Talia (mock sweetness): It’s his thing.

Bruce (offended): Okay, you don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here. Why are you showing me this child?

Jason, standing behind Bruce, covered his mouth, chuckling.

Talia: He’s my son.

Dick (instant realization): He’s your son? That is your son? Which means... Oh wow. Wow!

Dick started to laugh, but stopped when Bruce gave him a confused stare. He turned back to Talia and Damian.

Damian (waving): Hello.

Bruce (not putting two and two together): Hi... And Talia?

Dick: Oh... Oh, you don’t get it?

Jason: He doesn’t get it. Hahahaha!

He indeed did not understand what was going on.

Talia: Bruce, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this.

Talia took Bruce’s gloved hand. Ra's al Ghul walked over, holding up a camera to record the exchange. Dick and Jason stood by, eager to see how Talia would word her revelation.

Talia: He is my son... and he is your son.

Bruce blinked, not responding. He heard what she said but wasn't sure what to say in return. He looked down at Damien again and this time he's able to see the resemblance to both of them.

Damian (confused): The guy in a giant bat suit is my father? This is the Bruce Wayne?

Damian tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Damian: Not the craziest thing I've had to deal with. Although, mother when you said he was odd about what he wears I did not expect this.

Talia nodded, but when Bruce didn't say anything she was concerned with his silence.

Talia (concerned): Bruce, are you going to say something?

Dick: Bruce?

Bruce gulped. Jason clapped while laughing.

Jason: This is great. I’m so glad I got to witness this today.

Bruce (finally speaking): I’m sorry. I must have hallucinated when you said the little boy standing in front of me is my... son.

Talia (repeating herself): Bruce, he is your son.

Bruce (in disbelief): No, he’s not.

Jason (enjoying this): There’s the denial.

Talia (exasperated): Here we go again. Yes, he is.

Bruce (panicked): No... no, he’s not. I can’t have kids; my swimmers are broken.

Damian: Swimmers?

Talia quickly covered Damian’s ears.

Talia: They most certainly are not. That prophylactic was though!

Dick: You can have kids? Prophylactic? The condom broke?!

Jason: I know, right!

Dick couldn't hold in his laughter anymore and now he started cacking along with Jason.

Bruce (stammering, denial): He’s not... I’m not... The kid is not my son.

Talia (uncovering Damian’s ears): Yes, he is! I got a DNA test done! He is your child. I have your blood from a... not important, but he is yours! The baby is yours!

Damian: I’m 8.

Dick (laughing): Oh God.

Bruce (in a state of shock): 8?

Bruce remembered that night, the night of regret a wallet that had one gas station condom and now he was linked to her forever.

Talia: Mm-hm, remember when you were really sad and I was there to comfort you and one thing led to another? Surprise. Damian, hug your father.

Damian: Um, okay, I have been planning for this.

Damian hugged Bruce who at this moment was wearing his Batman suit and his son who he just found out about was hugging him. The son he now shares Talia is hugging him! Jason walked around laughing and clapping again.

Ra's al Ghul (continuing to record the reaction): She unfortunately speaks the truth. I’m disappointed you share DNA with him, but we have the test. He’s... yours.

Bruce had a million swarming thoughts in his head but all he could think was that the son he did not know about was around Ra's Al Ghul for 8... Years!

Damian (surprised): The guy dressed as a bat is my father? I’m sorry to repeat myself, but he’s dressed like a bat. It's so odd.

Ra: I know. I know.

Dick: Bruce, say something other than “No, he’s not” or “He’s not mine.”

Bruce stood stunned and silent. His oldest son waved his hand in front of his face.

Dick: Oh, he’s actually speechless.

Talia (sighing): To be expected. Jason, I’ll send you a video of his reaction like we discussed.

Jason: Thank you.

Dick: You knew?!

Jason (laughing): For 8 years! Yes!

Damian: Hi akh brother Jason.

Jason waved at Damian as Dick was trying to adjust to the fact that Jason knew for 8 years.

Dick: Why didn’t you say anything?

Jason: I was fucking furious with him and wanted revenge, and this... this is the best revenge. Long-term silent revenge is my new favorite thing.

Dick: I’ll deal with you in a second. Bruce, are you with us?

Bruce fainted, falling backward. Damian looked down at the man in the batsuit.

Damian: I’m not sure I want him to be my father.

Ra (ending the recording): I agree with you, child, but it is what it is.

He walked off with the camera.

Ra: I’m going to burn this onto a DVD and keep a copy.

Talia (frustrated): You do that, father.

Dick walked over to Damian, stepping over Bruce.

Dick: Um, Bruce is just a bit shocked that he can actually have kids without adopting them. He’s a good guy, though.

Damian: Are you sure about that? Jason told me he was ‘not bad.’ I’m not really seeing it.

Dick glared at Jason. Jason shrugged with a smile. Dick turned back to Damian. Damian lightly kicked Bruce’s leg, but the man can only twitch while remaining unconscious.

Dick: Not bad is actually a good description for him, he’s an amazing crime fighter and usually can compose himself. I’m Dick, by the way. I guess we’re brothers.

Damian: That’s your legal name?

Dick (upset, but hiding it): My birth name is Richard Grayson.

Damian: Why do you go by—

Talia and Jason: Don’t ask.

Dick groaned in annoyance and then held out his hand. Damian shook it respectfully, still perplexed by his strange new family—which says a lot.

Previous ---> Jason knew about Damian's existence

---> Dick confronts Jason about keeping this secret

---> Bruce meeting his son part 2

[haveihitanerve]

i have this head cannon that Bruce has a wall in his study dedicated to bad pictures of his kids. like, the exact moment when jason got sprayed by the hose? framed and hung. tim slipping and dropping pudding on his head? up there. dick falling from a chandelier? his open mouthed scream is the first picture up there. he has bad hair days from steph, failed pranks from dick, mid spin photos of cass, half asleep pictures of babs, everyone is up there. And then Damian comes and he sees the wall and he must be up there. But Damian is an absolute unit behind a camera, he does not have a single bad picture. ever. After an intense waterballoon fight they take a group picture and everyone is soaked and miserable and laughing but Damian is glowing, his hair swept away by the water just so and it infuriates him.

[bruciemilf]

Most people think Batman is Harvey Dent’s number one nemesis, but they’re actually wrong.

It’s Joe Chill.

Literally the first thing Harvey should do as a mobster is hunt that fucker for sport. THEN, his second most important foe is the barista who never gets his order right.

To be entirely fair; It is Tim’s first job. (He does it on purpose)

[theredcuyo]

Sleepovers at the manor. SLEEPOVERS AT THE MANOR.

Bruce had always been very wary of who got to and who didn't get into the manor further than the guest spaces, and when Dick appearead in his life with eyes that could make him do literally anything, he feared the day he'd ask to bring a friend over

Maybe that's why he decided to use the ancient ways Alfred has once used against him and Harvey

Embarrasment

Wally West was used as a warning to Dick, and he learned

Dick didn't get the chance to teach Jason that lesson in his time as Robin, but when his little wing and Roy crashed at his place one time, he got it

He'd gotten practice before that, learning from the masters themselves when Tim invited young justice over

Tim got back at him by sending Kory and Babs some of his old stash of Robin photos

Steph tried to escape it, but she and Cass got trapped at the same time by Alfred's cookies, and that day, Tim took notes

By the time Jon first stayed with Damian for a sleepover, Damian knew about the 'tradition' already and he was determined to prove himself over it

He failed when all of his sibblings joined forces, from Dick's retale of when he was his Batman, to Todd's old stories from their time training in the league and somehow Drake had gotten pictures of him when he was younger (Talia gladly contributed)

Was it too late for his father to un-adopt them all?

[arguablysomaya]

the fuck??

WHAT THE FUCK????

[sweethotspot]

WHOLESOME BRUCE AND DAMIAN WAYNE IDEA!!

To keep Damian's need to kill at bay, Bruce gets Damian a retractable toy knife and lets him stab his arm whenever Damian's upset.