#asshole bruce wayne

[harpersdragons]

Sometimes You Gotta Burn the Bridges to Rebuild It, Chapter 6

Archive of Our Own Link

As the weeks turn into months, his life gets easier. He settles into a new routine, including going out as Nightwing and checking on Tim. He’s never been more exhausted, but he’s never felt more free. He makes time to catch up with his friends again. He reintegrates with the Titans, though he has to be careful what missions he goes on because it can’t interfere with his jobs too much. He’s called out a lot, he has to watch that more carefully. Having a dog keeps him from being too lonely, though it definitely required a change in his routine. He has to be more careful with his shifts, making sure he can get home and take Haley out and exercise her before he goes to his lesson. For some she accompanies him and stays in the office, the kids love her.

Despite it all, he misses Bruce.

He hasn’t had any contact with the man since that day after his gymnastics lesson.

He misses their movie nights, Bruce’s quiet but steady presence. And damn, he misses the manor and all the comforts that came with it.

The days pass slowly, Spring to Summer, Summer to the beginning of Fall, and it sneaks up on him that he hasn’t talked to Bruce or Alfred in months.

Batman has been ever present on patrols, but Dick does his best to avoid him. He’s surprised Bruce hasn’t cornered him on some rooftop and interrogated the ‘new’ vigilante in his city.

Unless, of course, he knows it’s Dick, which is also highly possible. Even then, he doesn’t know why Bruce hasn’t come to yell at him for being ‘reckless’.

It’s an amazing feeling to be swinging from the rooftops again. He has to be extra careful to not get too injured, but it’s not like he wants to get shot.

Surprisingly, it’s not Bruce who approaches him first.

It’s Clark.

Superman touches down softly behind him, scuffing his foot to announce his presence—a habit he picked up from Bruce. It’s usually futile, if you know what you're listening for you can hear the fluttering of his cape, and the light landing he makes.

“Did Batman send you?” Dick asks before Clark can get a word out.

“No. He actually forbade any of us from looking into Nightwing. We wanted to, since you randomly popped up with the Titans.”

”Then why are you here?” Dick doesn't bother to turn around, continuing to stare at the city in front of him.

”Will you look at me, kid?” Clark steps closer.

Dick sighs as he turns, finally meeting Clark’s eyes. It’s been a while since he saw the man, even before he was kicked out. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m worried about you. Batman has been throwing himself into his work more and more, we haven’t heard from you, you disappeared from the Titan’s only to pop up again under a new mantle.”

“I’m fine. Your duties are fulfilled, go report back to Batman if you must.” Dick turns again, readying his grapple.

“Wait, please.” Clark didn’t grab his arm or anything to physically stop Dick from leaving, but something in the pleading tone of voice barred him from leaping off the roof. “Can we go somewhere and talk, please? I haven’t seen you in a while, I think we should catch up.”

Dick sighs, “I have a patrol to finish. We can meet after that.”

Clark beams, “Sounds good!”

“Stay out of my way.” With that, Dick flips off the roof, waiting until the last possible minute to fire his grapple.

Bruce always hated when he did that. Technically, you’re supposed to fire first, make sure it’s secured tightly, and then jump.

But where’s the fun in that?

Dick lives for the moment of free fall, where your stomach flips and the adrenaline hits him just right, the wind rushing through his hair as he flips through the air.

The line tugs his shoulder when he hits the bottom of his swing, beginning the upswing towards the next target. He retracts the grapple as he hits the peak of his swing. He flips again, relishing in the suspension of the moment, a split second as close to zero gravity as he can get.

He lets out an excited laugh as he hits the peak of the next swing, continuing the pattern as he patrols the city.

Here, far away from the exhaustion and the pressure of his civilian life, away from the weight of Bruce’s judgement, away from the imposing shadow of The Batman, here he feels free.

When he crawls in his window after patrol, it’s with a weight lifted off his shoulders, the kind of bone deep satisfaction he only feels after a good patrol.

Not much actually happened, so nothing could go wrong. He was just out there, trusting only himself to get through the night, to protect his section of the city—even if it’s only his by virtue of living near it and avoiding Batman—it’s exhilarating. Even if the weight comes crashing down on his shoulders in the morning. Or even before that, when Clark shows up for their ‘talk��. He pets Haley when she wanders over to him—still sleepy, since she’d been sleeping when he crawled through the window.

He stretches his arms above his head after he changes out of the suit. His shoulders will be stiff in the morning, his body still adjusting to the strain it goes through every night now.

It makes his demonstrations at work a little more difficult, but for the most part he’s still teaching the little kids, and they rarely get into things like the pommel horse or the rings, both of which put a lot of strain on his shoulders and upper arms.

Clark shows up not long after Dick has started making herbal tea. Dick leans against his counter as he watches Clark take in the sparse furnishings of his apartment. The man freezes when he takes in Haley at Dick’s feet.

“What is that?”

Dick raises his eyebrow as he responds. “She’s a dog, Clark. I know you’re an alien, but you’ve been on Earth long enough to have seen one.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Clark rolls his eyes. “Since when do you have a dog?”

“Found in her a dumpster a few months ago,” well, behind a dumpster but that’s beside the point. “And her name is Haley.”

“Ok.” Clark seems to take that in stride, to his credit. “Are you…comfortable here?” He eyes the bed and couch, the space absent of any other furniture.

“I’m fine, Clark. I don’t need much to live. I may have spent nine years living in the manor, but I spent just as much time traveling from place to place in a small trailer.”

“You know Bruce would—”

“Bruce may as well have kicked me out. His guardianship ended when I turned 18. I wasn’t meant to ever be anything more than his ward. I don’t need, or want, his help.”

“You still have a trust fund, you can use it, live a little more comfortably.”

“What part of ‘I don’t want his help’ means I want to use the trust fund he set up? That just gives him something else to have over me.” Dick scowls, passing a mug to Clark and collapsing on his couch.

“You have always been his son, Dickie.”

“Don’t—”

“Let me speak.” Clark’s voice is hard, despite the soft expression on his face. “You can convince yourself you’re better off without him all you want, but don’t fool yourself into believing he doesn’t love you. You’re his son, Dick. You have been from the moment he brought you home. He may have never officially adopted you, and I can’t speak about his reasons for that, but he loves you. No matter what happened between you two, he loves you.”

“He sure as hell wasn’t acting like my father when he told me I could go to college or get out of his house.” Dick mutters, staring into his mug instead of looking at Clark.

Clark sighs heavily, “You know his relationship with communication is difficult, I’m sure he didn’t actually mean that.”

“So, what, That makes it ok?” Dick snaps his head up, “‘He didn’t mean it’ so I’m supposed to just excuse it? I have to be the one to go crawling back to him, to forgive him time and time again? What about when I’ve had enough? I don’t want to be Bruce’s verbal punching bag. I don’t want to fight every time I see him. If he’s not willing to put in the work to change, to recognize that what he says matters, then I want nothing to do with him.”

“Sometimes, we put up with family even when they say or do things that hurt us, or that we don’t approve of, simply because they are family. Bruce and Alfred are your only—”

“Do not tell me who is and isn’t family to me. And you don’t get to excuse actions simply because you allow people to walk all over you if they’re your family. I refuse to allow myself to be continuously hurt because he has a problem with me being independent and no longer under his control.”

“Maybe you should look at how your actions hurt him, or look at this situation from his perspective.”

“Maybe you should stop speaking on Bruce’s behalf. And while you’re at it, stop fucking assuming I’m the only one at fault. Maybe I didn’t handle things in the best way. Maybe I escalated the situation, but don’t assume he’s blameless.”

“I’m not! I’m not blind to Bruce’s faults. I’m only saying you shouldn’t abandon him just because he hurt your feelings.”

“Hurt my feelings?” Dick cuts himself off with a bitter laugh. “He took away my family’s colors. My nickname. As if he had the right to do that. He tried to force me down a path I didn’t want. He was either lecturing me, or he couldn’t even look at me. So maybe I retaliated, I yelled at him, I stormed off, whatever. I may have gotten reckless on patrol. None of that gives him a right to kick me out, offer me an ultimatum, or take away my parents legacy.” Dick drains the last of his tea. “Now I have work in the morning, and I’d like to get at least some sleep,” It’s already nearing four in the morning. “Please leave.”

Alfred would be appalled at the lack of manners he’s displaying, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. He turns around, putting his back to Clark as the man sets his mug down in the sink and makes his way to the door. Dick doesn’t have a separate bedroom, so he can’t go shut himself away until Clark leaves his apartment, so it turns out to just be him standing with his back to the man like a fucking toddler.

He thought talking to Clark would be good. He grew up with the man, he thinks of him as an honorary uncle. He didn’t expect the conversation to go like that. He didn’t expect him to blindly be on Bruce’s side, but maybe he should have.

He lays in bed for a long while, eventually falling into a restless doze.

The next day is his one day off from the diner, and he has a morning gymnastics lesson.

When it’s over, Tim comes home with him.

“You have enough food at home, Timmy?” Dick interrupts the kid’s rant about Lithium mining and its effects on the environment—where he learned this, Dick doesn’t know, but he’s cute as hell when he rants like this.

Tim rolls his eyes and nods, then returns to his rant.

Dick grabs his hand when they cross the street, guiding Tim back to his apartment.

When they get inside, Tim drops his bag near the couch and drops to the floor to greet Haley, while Dick heads to the kitchen to start lunch.

“I still don’t have a TV, obviously, but I have my laptop if you want to play games or watch something.”

“Ok!”

Dick smiles at Tim’s happy tone. “You can grab it, it should be in my bag by the bed. Is your homework done?” He’s not facing Tim, too busy pulling ingredients from the fridge, but the silence is telling. He turns around, and holds back a sigh when he sees Tim.

The kid is holding the laptop, his shoulder’s hunched and face turned towards the ground.

“When’s it due, kiddo?” Dick approaches him carefully, taking a seat on the mattress.

“Not until Monday.”

That tracks, it’s Friday after all.

“Alright, how about this. You work on your homework for a little bit, while I get lunch ready, and then after that we can do something else. Do you have it with you?”

Tim nods but hunches over even more, if possible. “I didn’t want to waste our time together, though.”

“It’s not a waste, bud. I’m happy just spending time together, no matter what we do.” Dick holds his arm up, offering a hug. Tim ducks into his arms quickly and drops the laptop on the bed before wrapping his arms around Dick. “Look, you’re staying here for most of the weekend, so we’ve got time. Your homework needs to get done though. You can work on it a little bit at a time, or you can knock it out all at once. It’s up to you.”

He can feel Tim nod against his chest, and Dick rubs his back until the kid pulls away.

“Alright, go get your work done. I’ll put some music on and get lunch going. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Tim is wickedly smart, but Dick can’t help but offer. No matter how smart the kid is, Dick doesn’t want him thinking he has to solve every problem himself. He’s trying his best to break that habit. Sometimes all you need is a little support, or even just someone to talk through the problem with and you end up solving the problem yourself.

Lunch doesn’t take long, Dick just put a simple pasta together—Barbara’s lessons are really helping. He takes Tim a bowl and drops onto the floor next to him, since it’s apparently better for homework than the couch. Dick’s not one to judge, he’s sat in weirder places (A certain chandelier comes to mind).

Plus Dick doesn’t have a table.

Dick sets Tim’s bowl next to him and taps his shoulder. “Eat, kiddo.”

“In a second, I just need to finish this.”

“Finish whatever problem you’re working on, then take a break and eat.”

“I’m busy.”

“Not optional, kid.”

Tim huffs, but stops working not long later and picks up the bowl.

The rest of the night passes peacefully, and soon Dick is leaving Tim behind so he can go patrol. He doesn’t like doing it, the kid has been left enough in his life, but he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Ok, he does, he could just not patrol, but he doesn’t like missing patrols. Not now that he’s finally back out on the streets.

He puts Tim to bed (he’s not fooling himself, Tim definitely isn’t sleeping, but as long as he doesn’t leave the apartment, he’s fine) and crawls out his window.

Patrol is significantly busier tonight, though it’s a lot of petty crime rather than big cases.

Eventually, though, he gets a break.

He drops onto a roof and leans against a gargoyle.

The back of his neck is tingling, as if someone’s watching him. He has a feeling about who it is when he hears a small squeak and a lot of rustling, as if someone is scrambling to leave. Dick sighs as he turns around.

“No use hiding, kid. I know you’re there.”

There’s silence, and then more shuffling and Tim comes into view.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.” Dick glares down at the kid.

“I just wanted to get pictures! I don’t have enough since you stopped going out as Robin.” Tim pouts up at him.

Dick sighs and crouches down. “I can’t do my job out here if I’m worried about you. That’s why you’re supposed to stay home.”

“But—”

“No. I’m taking you home, and you’re going to stay there this time.” Dick doesn’t wait for a response, he scoops Tim into his arms, warns him to hold on tight, and starts grappling back to his apartment.

When he gets back, he sets Tim on the ground and glares down at him. He resists the urge to rest his hands on his hips—no matter how much he wants to—he doesn’t want to make Tim feel like he’s being lectured.

“That was incredibly dangerous, Tim. Do you even understand the gravity of what you’re doing?”

“I know it’s dangerous! I’m good at staying hidden, I’ve only ever fallen twice, and I’ve never been caught.”

“Until today. What if it wasn’t me that caught you? What if it was any number of Gotham criminals? What if you couldn’t get away?”

“That’s never happened before!” Tim stomps his foot on the ground indignantly. Honestly, if Dick wasn’t so angry (worried), it would have been adorable.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t, Tim!” Dick has to force himself to keep his voice level. He will not yell at Tim. “You can never guarantee your safety. Just because it hasn’t happened, doesn’t mean it can’t.” He softens his voice and crouches down to Tim’s level.

“I just want to be able to see you in action! I haven't been able to get good pictures recently.” Tim lowers his gaze to the ground.

“Bud,” Dick sighs, “I can’t do my job out there effectively if I’m too busy worried about where you are. I need to be able to trust that you are where you’re supposed to be.”

Tim sniffs slightly, “Well how am I supposed to get my pictures if I have to stay in the apartment?”

“You’ll just have to find something new to photograph, or we can set up situations that are controlled, and stage pictures of me flipping around rooftops or something. But I can’t have you in danger.”

“No one’s ever cared before.”

“Well I do. I am here, Tim. I’m not your parents. I want to know what’s going on in your life, I want to be present, and I need you safe. Do you understand?”

“What if you train me to protect myself?”

Dick takes a moment to think about the question. He’s not necessarily opposed to the idea, self defense is a good skill for anyone to have, but he doesn’t want Tim to have the same life Dick leads. He loves what he does, but that doesn’t mean he wants other kids to follow his path.

“I’m not opposed,” Dick takes a deep breath in. “However, there needs to be an understanding. I don’t want you on the streets as a vigilante until you’re at least sixteen. Preferably it would be never, because ideally it wouldn’t be necessary, but I doubt that’s realistic. So if that happens, you will need to promise me that you won’t try to convince me to take you out on the streets.”

Tim nods, a glimmer of hope in his eye. “Ok. I agree.” His voice has an odd watery tone, and sounds suspiciously shaky, but Dick doesn't call him on it.

“Ok, thank you. I need to head back out and finish patrol. Do you want a hug before I go?” The kid is touch starved, Dick’s been trying to hug him as much as possible, but after going so long without physical affection, it tends to make him uncomfortable and touch avoidant.

However, Tim nods again and collides with Dick a second later.

Dick is smiling as he heads back out. He ends up heading back to the same roof he found Tim on, and he perches on the edge next to the gargoyle. After the busy start to patrol, he figured it would be similar for the last half. Technically, he’s already finished running his patrol route for the night, but he doesn’t feel comfortable heading in yet. It’s still too early.

So, he observes the city.

Eventually though, the peace has to come to an end.

Because, apparently, the universe hates him.

The nearly imperceptible fluttering of a cape.

Again.

This time it’s different though.

The distinct fluttering is accompanied by the sound of a grapple retracting, and a nearly silent thump of boots hitting the roof.

Bruce

Dick glares resolutely out at the city and refuses to turn around. He can feel Bruce’s heavy gaze on his back, waiting to be acknowledged.

Bruce doesn’t wait that long.

“You know, when I fired you, that was meant to be permanent, Robin.”

White hot anger lashes through him.

He jumps up and spins around, stalking closer to Bruce. “I am not Robin. You made that abundantly clear. You don’t get to come over here and control me again. I’m making my own name for myself, without you.”

It’s not the same as the speech he’s rehearsed in his head, but it’s pretty damn close.

“I want you safe!”

Nope, he’s ignoring how similar that is to the talk he just gave Tim.

“You don’t get to decide for me!” Dick draws up to his full height. He’s shorter than Bruce, especially when the man is in the batsuit (he definitely has lifts in the suit, but he won’t admit it), but he refuses to cower. “You made me Robin. I’ve only become what you made me.”

“No, Robin—

“My name is Nightwing” Dick interrupts.

Bruce keeps talking, completely ignoring Dick. “You didn’t ‘become what I made you’. I trained you to be better than this.” Bruce glares at him. “I trained you to be smarter. Always have backup. Only take reasonable risks. I mean, what is your suit even protecting?”

So what if he took some liberties with the design choices on his suit.

…and the choice to not zip it up all the way, leaving half his chest unprotected.

The high collar is dramatic

“What’s wrong with my suit?” Dick asks indignantly.

“Do I really need to point that out?”

“You have no right to come over here and tell me how to live my life.”

“You’re being reckless! You don’t have a support system. You wouldn’t do acrobatics without a safety net—”

“I think you’re forgetting that that is exactly what we did. That was the allure of our show. Well, aside from me being the ‘child prodigy’. The danger of doing what we did, the suspense, that’s what drew people in.”

Bruce’s voice is cold when he responds again, his face hard. “And look how that turned out.”

Dick’s face shutters, mentally slamming down every wall he has to keep the hurt from showing on his face.

He didn’t think Bruce would stoop so low.

He’s spinning on his heels, and readying his grapple to fire, when Bruce jumps forward and grabs a hold of his arm.

“Wait, I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

It ‘came out wrong’. But that’s not the same as not meaning it.

“I don’t care,” He fights to keep the waver out of his voice. “let go of me, Batman.” The grip on his arm loosens, and he tugs his arm free, jumping off the roof.

Tim is, thankfully, asleep when Dick gets back.

At least he won’t see the tears streaming silently down Dick’s face when he takes his mask off.

He moves blindly through the motions of taking his gear off, trying to stay as quiet as possible so he doesn't wake Tim up.

He didn't sleep much that night.

He forces himself to stay upbeat through the rest of his weekend with Tim, and puts more effort in than usual to avoid Batman on patrol.

As soon as the weekend is over though, Dick returns Tim to his house—no matter how much he hates sending him back to that mausoleum.

Once Tim is safely home, and Dick has returned to his apartment, he allows the emotions from his “conversation” with Batman (not Bruce, he can’t let himself believe that was Bruce speaking) to overwhelm him.

“He’s just—” Dick cuts himself off and blows out a hard breath. “He’s insufferable, Wally!” Dick had called to rant to his friend on his way home from work on Monday. “He thinks he knows everything and refuses to accept anyone else’s input! And he has to control everything! Why can’t he just accept that I’m an adult and leave me the fuck alone!”

Wally hums. “Do you actually want him to leave you alone?”

Dick sputters, nearly interrupting.

“I’m not done, Rob. Do you want him to leave you alone, or do you miss the version of him that could hang out with you and not get into a fight?”

“Obviously the second one—” Dick cut off as a pipe shoves hard into the small of his back (and yes, he knows it’s a pipe and not a gun. He’s not an idiot).

“Hand over your money.” A voice comes from behind him, clearly a young kid trying to deepen his voice to sound more intimidating.

“Rob, you alright?” Wally asks at the same time.

“Wally, I’m gonna have to call you back.” Dick hangs up the phone, despite Wally’s protests. He raises his hands slowly in a gesture of surrender. “Kid, how about we make a deal?”

“Who ya callin’ kid?”

…is he joking? He forgot to even deepen his voice that time.

“You. And I know you don’t have a gun, because that’s clearly just a pipe you have jammed into my back, so how about you take a step back, and I turn around, and we work out a deal?”

The kid does pull the pipe back, and when Dick turns around he’s holding it over his head, ready to strike.

Dick lowers his own hands, but keeps them in sight and open palms facing the kid.

“I can still beat you over the head with this pipe, and I ain’t afraid to do it.”

“I believe you. But I don’t think that’ll be necessary. What’s your name, kid?”

“What’s it to ya?”

“Curiosity, mainly. You don’t have to tell me your real name, but I’d like to be able to call you something other than ‘kid’.” He hopes he can help this kid. His sweatshirt is dirty and wrinkled, his hair greasy, jeans torn, he’s clearly living on the streets. His face is gaunt too, so he clearly isn’t getting enough to eat.

The kid eyes him suspiciously, but cautiously lowers the pipe. “Jay. M’name’s Jay.”

“Ok, Jay, why don’t we grab lunch?”

[dieselsonictheforth]

I got to the point where I have two hc Batmans/ batfams.

I have my sometimes questionable, but otherwise good-dad™ kind of Batman,,

And then I have his evil twin and his wet-cat/kicked puppy family whom he dragged down with himself.

[spicy-apple-pie]

Bruce posts this to his twitter with the caption "So proud of Gotham to be an accepting and inviting place where me and my family are free to be ourselves ❤️❤️❤️"

(HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYBODY!!!)

Commission Info / Kofi

[frownyalfred]

kid at school: so what does your dad even have down there? some kind of sex dungeon?

12 year old Jason Todd, who has been the cause of no fewer than three (3) separate arguments in the Batcave in the last 36 hours and has been forced to do inventory on every single water sample Bruce has ever collected from Gotham Harbor going back ten years as a punishment: god I fucking wish

kid: what?

Jason: I mean -- yeah, something like that

[thedevilundercover]

Tim Drake de-aging fic but everyone is just kind blown how that little monster is the Timothy Jackson Drake that they know.

He’s not even a gremlin, he’s just mean and knows a little too much about stuff than the usual rich brat.

Damian: tsk, you’re such a disgrace the Wayne name.

Tiny!Tim: yeah? And your mother should have swallowed, but we’re both here aren’t we?

or

Jason, thinking he could bully smol Timmy: you stopped so low that you replaced a dead boy! *emo edge lord noises*

Baby!Tim, having learned new slang words via duke and Steph who think this whole thing is hilarious: have you ever thought about just getting better?

Jason: ex-fucking-cuse me?

Tim, shrugging: dying really is just a skill issue ngl

it would be even more funny if he was like this only to Damian and Jason so everyone thinks Tim is such a smart, adorable little boy but the two of them are screaming at Dick and Bruce to get that fucking demonic child exorcised

[deadsetobsessions]

A scene that’s been buzzing in my head but I can’t seem to find the words for:

Danny: we should do some sibling bonding activities guys

Tim, a tired Robin: *points towards the fifth exploding building they’ve evacuated this week alone* two-face and riddler are helping

Dick, in a burnt smelling Nightwing suit: That’s not- okay, that’s not like an activity we do with the intention of bonding though

Jason, holding his helmet out hopefully: We can beat up the joker?

Danny, always ready for clown beat downs: and set his shit on fire?

Tim, who was raised by Danny and hates the guy who killed his favorite Robin: and fuck up his taxes and send the IRS after him?

Dick, who’s a protective, vindictive, and the og shit stirrer of big brother: toss him off a building or two?

Jason, holding back tears: I don’t fucking hate you losers too much, I guess.

Batman, on the comms: No-

Agent “I don’t have a ‘No-Kill’ Rule so fuck around and Find Out” A, running the comms: Oracle, cut Batman off from the planning session

[business-as-usual-bats]

Does anyone remember that fanfic where the Justice League thought Batman was this loner with no family/friends because he always volunteered for the Christmas shift at the Watchtower and never stuck around to socialize, but in reality Batman's just jewish and doesn't have free time bc he's trying to be a single mom to half a dozen kids

[dukeofthomas]

Can't believe Bruce canonically picked up a random 12yo homeless child who had no intent to become a vigilante and suddenly thrust Robin onto him without asking if that's what he wanted because he missed Dick (whom he fired because being Robin was too dangerous) and people still act like any take that's not "all the Batkids became vigilantes on their own completely independent of Bruce (who tried so hard to stop them but sadly just couldn't do it)" is a complete idiotic bad-faith take and that you're crazy if you disagree with people saying that Bruce has never ever absolutely NEVER picked up a kid for the purpose of making them into a vigilante.

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

So many depictions of the main DC Trinity have Clark be the tallest of the bunch. And while yes, he is a big ol' farm boy, I have to disagree and state why I think the opposite: Clark should appear to be the shortest.

Basically, Bruce and Clark are supposed to both be around the same height (6'3" or smth). However. Bruce also canonically pads his suit to look larger than he is for intimidation. You combine that with his cape which blankets around him and makes him look like a tall shadow, and he kinda just always looks like a hulking beast straight out of a fairy tale. He just feels much bigger than he is.

And Diana is like 7 feet tall. I'm not usually into the whole like "my opinion is the only correct one" but I am here. She's an Amazon AND the daughter of Zeus. She towers over everybody and I will not take criticisms on it.

Artistic depiction.

[idunnodudeijustwokeup]

Listen, I love when Robin is the name and costume Dick choose almost purely as a homage to his parents and the circus, but I do think it is incredibly funny (and in character) when in Jeff Lemire’s Batman and Robin he chooses the costume design purely because it would piss Bruce off! 10/10 work and decision making, really sets the standard and expectations for every Robin going forward right here

[mostlikelyshutup]

these came to me in a dream

[phantobats]

I hate All-Star Batman and Robin, The Boy Wonder with my entire heart.

But it is also the only comic run to ever give us a Batman so petty that he wasted all of his time painting himself, Robin, and an entire safehouse yellow just to spite the Green Lantern while drinking Lemonade.

[frownyalfred]

having Batman as your dad is so cool (training, adventure, being treated like an equal) but people also forget that Batman is Bruce without the cowl, and Bruce is the kind of asshole who’ll watch you faceplant after a missed flip and go “hn….suboptimal.”

[littlefankingdom]

Tumblr: You seem to like Bruce Wayne, aka Batman.

Me: Yeah, I do.

Tumblr: Then can I recommend you these posts tagged "Anti Bruce Wayne"?

Me: Why do you hate me so much?

[incorrectbatfam]

So I (24F) just moved to Gotham and something kept knocking against my fire escape so I removed it entirely. Then last night I heard a yell and two minutes later Batman came knocking at the door asking if I could put it back because it's "obstructing justice" or whatever but I really don't wanna.

[farshootergotme]

Game-night in the batfamily has got to be crazy. You're putting a bunch of geniuses against each other and that's asking for chaos to happen.