#batfleck fics

[frownyalfred]

this is how I think Bruce Wayne drinks champagne at galas Clark is attending, just to fuck with him. shades of the real Bruce Wayne, gone before anyone can see them. no one else has super senses that can slow things down enough for them to see all the interlocking micro expressions, the sharpness that's there in his eyes for just one second.

[took-hold-of-nothing]

[multiversxwhore]

*a/n: this fic as most of mine usually do, will divert far from canon. My friend @cardierreh15 unintentionally encouraged me to write this, Ben Affleck is fine as hell(little miss daddy issues), and I did enjoy his version of Bruce Wayne/Batman. I hope you enjoy…if not please keep it moving. Reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated, but reblogs are strongly encouraged. (This was supposed to be posted months ago)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x black(fem) oc

Feature: @cardierreh15

Word count: 2k

Part One: Dive

Deep Dive 

Helena Richards stood in the back of the crowded room, half emptied champagne glass in hand, and a bored expression on her face. Her hazel brown eyes scanned the sea of rich white people, the only reason they showed up was to kiss Bruce Wayne’s ass; but, the reason she’s there is because Cardíerre Lane—her best friend— talked her into it. Cardíerre is also the person responsible for her job at Wayne Enterprise, though she’s never personally met Bruce Wayne, apparently he can’t be bothered to do his actual job. 

“Damn, look at that ass.” Someone’s voice purred huskily from behind Helena, her lips curled into a smirk, she knew only one person that would talk to her like that.

“Excuse me miss, don’t you have a boyfriend?” She teased, her body finally relaxed upon seeing the Metropolis reporter, Helena didn’t like any of her colleagues. Not enough to pretend to be interested in anything they have going on outside of work. Cardíerre grabbed a glass off a tray as it passed by her, she sipped it slowly, her mouth curving into a devious grin. 

“I wont tell if you wont?” The two women cracked up in laughter, the buzzing of everyones conversations swallowed their voices, that didn’t keep Clark Kent from hearing them as he walked through the large archway of Wayne Manor. He snuck an arm around Cardíerre’s waist, a warm smile stretched across his lips, he stuck his hand out, and offered it to Helena. She shook his hand, her lips parted, intending to crack a joke, but the sound of a glass tapping cut her off. A middle aged man dressed in an expensive looking suit walked out into the middle of the floor, he smiled charmingly, the guest began the quiet down at his call for attention. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for joining me, this is a special evening. Wayne Enterprises 100th birthday, so I decided to throw this party to not only celebrate that, but also the people responsible for keeping the lights on.” He paused, and the crowd laughed on cue, Helena rolled her eyes, “well, at least he’s handsome.” She mumbled to herself causing Clark to chuckle, she looked at him, then looked at Cardierre who hadn't heard a word of what Helena said. When he realized her eyes were on him, he let out a small cough as he awkwardly turned away from her gaze. 

“Anyway, I’m going to bore you, please, everyone enjoy yourselves, and please no talk of work tonight.” Bruce swallowed the champagne in one gulp, he handed his emptied glass to a server that was standing nearby, and made his way around the room idly chatting everyone up. Cardíerre turned to her friend who had found interest in her fresh set of acrylic nails, a disgruntled look etched onto her face, Helena isn’t one for social gatherings. That’s the main reason she pitched the idea for Cardíerre to attend the party as the plus one. 

“Don’t look too pouty, billionaire incoming.” Cardíerre whispered, she leaned towards Helena as she eyed Bruce’s movements towards them, Clark tightened his grip on Cardíerre. Bruce Wayne, his only reason for being here tonight, this really isn’t the time to cause a scene, but this would be his only time to get a word in. 

“Babe you okay?” Cardíerre turned to him, she gazed up into his beautiful cobalt irises, worry settled deep within them. He momentarily glanced at her, a quick hint of what he thought was a reassuring smile, but it did not look genuine. When she followed his line of sight to Bruce Wayne, she huffed in frustration, a conversation they had a while ago came to mind. ‘I just don’t like him, Cardi, he seems like a prick.’ Clark complained, to which Cardierre let out a breath of laughter. ‘Well duh, he’s rich.’ 

“Thank You.” Bruce had tried to hand another champagne glass he picked up, and halfway drank on his way over, to Helena; when Cardierre witnessed the expression on her friend's face, she almost choked on her drink.

“You really think a server girl would look this good in a dress like this?” Her tone sounded sharp, and disappointed. Bruce turned to get a better look at the woman beside him, his eyes drank her in, her curves accentuated, and her long copper orange hair falling over her dainty shoulders. His gaze trailed their way up to her face, she did her best to control her facial expression.

“How embarrassing, I’m sorry your name is?” Bruce offered a feign apology, one that seemed rehearsed, because of course he doesn't know the name of his employees. She mirrored his expression, mocking him, Cardíerre thought this to be a bold move considering this is her boss, ‘there she goes getting all hot headed.’ Cardíerre thought to herself. Clouds quickly settled into the sky, at only 7:30 pm on a summer's eve, the outside world darkened, and a bright flash of lightning crackled. Followed by a clap of thunder.

“Helena Richardson, PR department, I’m one of the people responsible for making your company look good while you’re never there.” Her incisive remark didn’t affect him at all, Bruce is aware that he's made an enemy out of most of the staff under Wayne Enterprise, but he knew his priorities as Batman would get in the way of his civilian life. A sacrifice he was willing to make. 

“Helena.” Cardíerre gently grabbed her by the forearm, Helena didn't have to bite so hard, she’s always been more sensitive between the two of them but she’s acting like a toddler tonight. This isn’t her usual behavior, Cardíerre knew her friend to be much softer, tender even, but lately Helena has been acting more attitudinal.

“No, it’s fine, she has a point.” He took a half step closer getting into her personal space, his eyes dropping to her full, luscious lips. The smell of her perfume engulfing him, the neck of her dress dipped lowly giving anyone a great view of her perfect full breast.  Suddenly Helena is out of steam as she shifted the her weight from one hip to the other, her gaze found interest in her diamond studded bracelet. Bruce notices how the skies cleared up, and the little bit of sun that was left came back out to shine on them. His gaze lingered on the view outside Wayne Manor for a moment longer, then he turned his attention back to her. He committed her face too memory, there’s no guarantee he’ll actually see her again after the party is over, if she works with PR, she’s no doubt a busy woman. 

“Forgive me for my absence?” Bruce offered, he spoke in a hushed voice, his tone sending shivers down Helena’s spine. She wanted to hate him, hate his perfectly handsome face, and the way his eyes watched her every move. She wanted to hate how good he smelled, and how perfect his stupid house was. But her hate held nothing, there wasn’t a real reason to be so upset. Though, something is nagging her, but it has nothing to do with Bruce Wayne. 

Instead of clamoring to find an even witter response, she finished off her drink, sat it on the bar top next to her, then took his glass from his hand, and finished off his before placing it back in his hand. She threw Cardíerre a small smile over her shoulder before walking off in the opposite direction. Bruce’s eyes remain focusing on her  as she watches her swaying hips; he admittedly had a hard time tearing his gaze away from her retreating form. 

“Mr. Wayne I’m—

“Cardíerre Lane, and Clark Kent from the Daily Planet, I must do a better job with security.” Bruce looked down at Clark’s extended hand, him refusing to meet him halfway only aided to the tension between the two men. Cardíerre who is standing in the middle of the two cursed to herself wishing she’d left with Helena, Clark, and Bruce’s glares evenly matched, she let out a huff of air no longer being able to take the ridiculousness of their unnecessary hate for one another. 

“We didn't mean to cause trouble Mr. Wayne, we were actually invited by Helena as her plus one.”  She spoke up, an apologetic smile on her lips, when she extended her hand, he held her gently, but did not look away from Clark. 

“No trouble at all, two inquisitive journalists is nothing I can't handle.” His face smoothly transitioned  into a warm, beguiling expression. Clark wanted to punch the smugness off the billionaire's face, but he composed himself, Cardíerre would be disappointed by his actions. That, and he’s not sure if he’s in the mood to hold his punches tonight. Cardíerre laughed off Bruce’s rude remark, people had said far worse things, she momentarily turned to Clark who appeared to be calming down. Bruce said his goodbyes to the couples, and walked off in the same direction Helena left. 

“What the hell was that Clark? We’re here as guests.” Cardíerre hissed through a smile, she tried not to make a scene in front of everyone. 

“I’m sorry.” As all Clark managed, he had a good reason for being so hostile, it’s just not a reason he can share with Cardíerre, not at this moment. He hated keeping secrets from her, but he didn’t want to bring her into more drama. Her knowing about Superman was bad enough.

“Helena invited us here to have fun, not to work, or cause fights.” She would have chewed him out more, but a sudden downpour of rain caught her attention. The water droplets smacked against the glass angrily. 

“What kind of fun can we have with people like this Cardi, I mean really?” Clark continued to rant quietly to her, but the way the lake started to unnaturally stir when it was just clear skies not too long ago made her feel uneasy.

“Cardíerre, are you listening to me?” Clark asked, she rolled her hazel eyes, and grabbed onto his arm. 

“No, but you sure are listening yourself aren't you.” She replied sarcastically. 

“What?” He looked at her confused. 

“Ugh, never mind, look at the lake.” 

“It looks nice, because of course Bruce Wayne would have a house right off the water…prick.” Clark grunted, before he had a chance to go off again, Cardíerre cut in. 

“Not that damn it, get your ego out of your ass, it was just normal skies out, and the wind it’s storming? You don't think that’s weird?” Cardíerre watched as the water continued to stir as if fighting for control. 

“Huh, guess you got a point, now that you mention it, it has been storming on and off since we got here. Maybe we should leave before things get ugly.” Clark is already pulling Cardíerre off in the direction of the makeshift coat room/guest room when she stops him. 

“Wait, what about Helena?” Cardíerre could assume she’d be fine, she usually always is, but her gut is telling her differently. He wants to argue, but the perturbation in her eyes softened him. 

“You find Lena, and I’ll find our stuff, sounds cool?” Clark offered, Cardíerre broke their huddle with a nod to the head, then split up and went their different ways. 

Helena sat in the living room of Bruce’s home, one leg crossed over the other, and her phone in hand as she scrolled through twitter. A painful pressure began to build behind her eyes, she tried to blink it away, the more she blinked, she began to feel compelled to continue. Soon the pressure moved to her head, suddenly a migraine pounded in her head, she groaned in pain. That would make the second one this month, she shifted her head to one side while keeping her eyelids shut, sometimes it helped. Her face scrunched up as the sound of whispering hissed in her ears, and slithered into her head. She couldn't make out anything of what they were saying, this is a new development for her, maybe she really is going crazy. The winds outside howled, and cried. The rain had turned into hail, the party guests scurried around trying to find their belongings in hopes to leave in enough time to beat the storm before it became worse. Bruce swiftly turned the corner into the foyer where he found Helena hunched over, pain stricken, and whispering things to herself. 

“Ms. Thálassa? Are you alright?” He carefully approached her, at first he thought all the strange weather had something to do with Arthur, but Aquaman has been AWOL for quite a while according to his file. The constant downpour only started a month after Helena came to Gotham, so what was she here for? 

“What’s wrong with her?” Cardeírre came rushing in, after she caught her breath she assessed the situation, naturally she went to comfort her friend, but Bruce stopped her. 

“That may not be a good idea.” He mumbled, he looked around for a weapon of any kind, he couldn't protect himself, and Cardíerre, not without revealing himself. 

“The hail, it stopped.” Cardíerre smiled thinking that things were going to turn out for the better, Bruce paused, the weather hadn't gotten any better, the sky was still dark, and gray with clouds. The water outside had begun to whirl, his eyes widened as the realization had hit him. 

“Go find Clark, tell him that a whole lot of people are going to need saving.” Bruce turned a confused Cardíerre in the direction from which she came, she began to fuss when Helena suddenly rose from her seat. 

“Goodness Lena, you were giving me a heart attack—” Cardíerre’s words caught in her throat, she was shocked by what she’s seeing, the woman she called a best friend appeared a bit unfamiliar. 

Helena turned to face them, her facial expression void, and her irises turned to a seaweed green hue. Bruce held Cardíerre with an iron grip, the house was eerily quiet, the sound of exploding water pipes made her jump out of her skin. It was too late when they noticed it, the oceanic tide had come rushing into Wayne Manor instantly flooding it. Cardíerre stood there, her full lips parted and her eyes glazed over with fear  as gallons of water burst through the walls. ‘CLA—‘ she managed to get out before she was knocked out of the way by the blast of water. Fortunately, Bruce’s suit shielded him in just enough time to save himself, but Cardíerre had gotten swept up in the tide. 

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Turning Point

Note 1: I got the idea for this chapter late last night and resisted the urge to work on it then because I was still fleshing it out. Also, I will be ignoring some "canon" information like the Killer Croc file, etc because I didn't care for the canon version. Faceclaim: Ethan Cutkosky as Jason Todd Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader (Sweetie) Warnings: Violence, descriptive child abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, vague reference of disturbing images on a bad guy's laptop. Sweetie as an alternative to Y/N (for those new to the series)

Jason pocketed the key the baker had given him the night before. He'd been scared out of his mind when Batman had shown up. It had been difficult to eat with Batman staring him down, expression entirely unreadable. But the baker had practically dragged the dubbed Demon of Gotham out of the kitchen.

Jason had a talent for moving without being detected. It was a skill he'd been forced to develop early on. So, quietly moving to the doorway the pair had ducked out, Jason began to listen in. They were whispering, clearly not wanting him to hear their conversation. Too late for that.

"He's a kid. I sincerely doubt he's going to kill me if I give him a place to hide out whenever he needs it." The baker had scoffed.

"You can't guarantee that, Sweetie. You don't know anything about him. He broke in. With a crowbar clearly he planned on using it on something." Batman's response made Jason cringe. He never planned on hurting anyone but he hadn't done himself any favors bringing something that could be considered a weapon.

"Pfft, yeah, on my display case! Bruce, I get that you're worried about me. And that's sweet and all. But this kid needs help!" It was at that moment that Jason realized why the baker had looked so familiar. He kicked himself for not remembering sooner. This was Bruce Wayne's newfound love.

But now he knew Bruce Wayne's secret. He took learning Batman's secret identity as his cue to slink back to his seat before his eavesdropping could be discovered. The adults had returned, seemingly unaware of the fact that Jason had overheard crucial information.

After he'd finished eating, the baker, whom he'd later learned to call Sweetie, had handed Jason a pair of keys. They'd explained the copper-colored one was to the bakery and the silver one was to their loft upstairs. They'd told him if he ever got hungry again or just needed a place to hang out for a while, he could let himself in, in a less destructive way, whenever he wanted.

Jason had been confused as to why this complete stranger was so interested in helping him. He'd expected to get hit when he'd been discovered in the bakery. And instead, they'd fed him, given him access to the bakery and their own loft, and had stood up for him to Batman.

He had just slipped out of the bakery for the second time after having been fed yet again by Sweetie and hanging around for what he assumed was long enough for his stepmother and her boyfriend to be passed out before he got home.

Boy was he wrong. As Jason slipped into the run-down apartment and began to silently make his way to his bedroom, his stepmother's boyfriend, Clay, stepped out of the kitchen, right in front of him, with a beer can in hand. Jason froze, hoping Clay wouldn't notice him. Again his hopes were dashed.

Confusion and surprise briefly flashed over Clay's face, followed immediately by anger.

"Where the fuck have you been, you little shit?!" At the man's yelling, Jason took a defensive stance, preparing for Clay's fist to come flying.

Then his stepmother, Sheila, came staggering out of the living room. "S'going on, baby?" She muttered, glazed-over eyes barely registering Jason's presence.

"Your shithead kid finally dragged his ass in! He has no respect for you or me, waiting so long before he finally shows up!" Clay snarled, stepping close enough to Jason to make the boy grimace at his foul breath.

"The fuck have you been?" Sheila demanded, glaring at Jason.

"Nowhere. I-" Jason's attempt at an excuse was interrupted by Clay's fist making contact with his browline, knocking him down to the floor. The blow made it impossible for Jason to register what Clay was yelling at him now. But he could take a guess.

Steeling himself, Jason kicked out at Clay's shin. Knocking the drunken man's leg out from under him. He attempted to scramble backward up the stairs but Clay was on top of him at a surprising speed.

Another punch, this time to his nose, and Jason silently wished it wouldn't be broken later. Followed by Clay's meaty hands wrapping around Jason's neck. Jason lashed out with both his hands and his feet, making contact on numerous occasions. But it was futile. Clay was too amped up on whatever drugs he'd taken to notice any pain now.

Jason could faintly hear Sheila screaming at Clay to let him go, not out of concern for Jason but out of worry that Clay would go to prison for killing him. Jason's vision was getting spotty and he was certain he was either going to die or at least black out and be left on the floor overnight like last time.

Then suddenly Clay's weight and hands were off of him. It became easier to breathe so Jason moved onto his hands and knees and began taking deep gasping breaths. They were a bit painful but Jason didn't care. He could barely make out the sounds of a scuffle behind him but the blood pumping in his ears drowned out most of the commotion.

Finally, once it became less of a chore to breathe and his heart rate, vision, and hearing returned to normal, Jason realized that someone had saved him. He had an inkling of who it was and the sight of his stepmother and her unconscious boyfriend bound a few feet away confirmed it. He heard the sound of laptop keys clacking in the other room. He followed the sound to the living room, where Clay kept his laptop hidden in the locked coffee table drawer.

There was Batman, typing away. Obviously looking for something to gain Clay further charges.

"How did you..." He started, wincing at the scratching in his throat. He rubbed his neck, hoping the swelling would lessen.

"Did you really think I wouldn't keep an eye on you after your little break-in last night?" Batman responded, not even bothering to look at Jason.

Jason watched him for a second, thinking how odd it was that he had the richest man in Gotham sitting on his ratty couch, using his stepmom's asshole boyfriend's laptop. The richest man in Gotham had just saved him. The richest man in Gotham had no idea that Jason knew he was Batman.

For yet another time that night, Jason was proven wrong.

"You seem to like spying on people, Jason." Batman suddenly said, again not looking away from his work on the laptop.

"Not really spying since you're in a common area of my home." If he didn't know any better, Jason could have sworn Batman chuckled at Jason's snark.

"True. But listening in on my conversation with Sweetie last night..." Bruce trailed off and Jason noted that his tone held no anger or hostility, merely amusement. Which just confused the boy even more.

Before Jason could ask or say anything else, Batman suddenly slammed the laptop closed. A sickened look on his face. Clearly, he'd seen something disturbing on Clay's laptop. Which didn't really surprise Jason. Clay would do anything for a quick buck.

Outrage soon washed over Batman's face and Jason remained rooted in place as he watched Batman storm over to Clay. Jason's eyes grew wide as Batman whipped out a red hot ring in the shape of his bat symbol and he couldn't tear his eyes away as the side of Clay's face was branded.

He only looked away when he saw blue and red lights flashing outside the window, growing closer by the second, accompanied by a chorus of sirens. When he turned back around Batman was gone.

But somehow Jason knew it wouldn't be his last encounter with Gotham's guardian.

[nunubug99]

Surprise!!

I guess I’m :

✨💖 Back on my bullshit 💖✨

Thinking about how Bruce and Clark land on the idea of swapping partners to spice things up. Although it was an of hand joke made under the influence, neither could let the idea go.

Clark bringing it up to you, another meta, and Bruce to Selina. Clark blushes and fumbles through the confession, but eventually he asks what you think. Shock hits you first, but then the more you think about it, the more appealing it becomes.

The 4 of you decide that this will be a way to explore yourself and your partner better. Almost like a couples retreat! Although you all are excited to learn new tips, tricks, and honest feedback that you wouldn’t otherwise get, you all agree it’s best to come up with rules and safe words ahead of time.

Let’s meet our cast shall we? :

Y/N :

The Jack of all trades. Making a name for herself along the eastern seaboard, Y/N is a black freelance artist who works as a museum curator. Her power allows her to have superhuman strength, speed and endurance, while her meta gene allows her to bend, absorb, and manipulate solar energy. Much like Clark, her power comes from the sun. Known as the Golden Gladiator, her heroics are only brought up in times of severe crisis. She often prefers her civilian life and the privileges it affords, as her secret identity has only been shared with those she can trust. Wild card : Likes when she and Clark can let go of being cautious and careful. Since they both have similar energy sources, their lovemaking can actually be a way to transfer solar radiation. Whether it’s in the middle of a battle or at home, this has proven to be extremely rewarding over the course of their relationship. Because the two of them are metas, they can focus on each other rather than their ✨destructive✨ actions. Extra Bonus : Y/N is curious to see how this experience will improve her skills and impact their relationship.

Note : Although this is not an OC, as I write Y/N I am imagining some of Teyonah Paris’s characteristics.

Kal / Clark :

Strong and Sensitive. This big boy is the definition of the “Country boy I love youuu!” Vine. Between his responsibilities as a reporter and as earths biggest hero, he always makes sure he has time for you. His biggest asset is his attention to your senses. Over the last few years of marriage, you’ve found that he can always tell how you’re feeling before the words even leave your mouth. His size comes as an added bonus, but his wild card is using it in his knack for overstimulation. As an attentive partner, he’ll make sure that all your needs are taken care of and catered to at the utmost importance. All he asks in return is that you try to keep up with him. :) King of Aftercare. Will talk you through it while showering you with his praise. Both physical touch and words of affirmation are his ways of showing his devotion. Extra bonus : He becomes a slight tease when you’re loopy. He’ll ask you to tell him what you want or how you want it; and when you can’t deliver, he’ll keep going until you can.

Bruce :

Calculating and Experienced. The opposite of the man from Smallville in almost every way. Where Clark likes to be soft as if he was working with clay, Bruce is more equipped to be as efficient and in control as possible like a botanist with a bonsai tree. King of edging. Won’t let you cum until he thinks you deserve it. Will make you beg in the best way. Has a knack for public play and shibari. All his travel and escapades has made him extremely aware of his likes and dislikes, so it’s very unlikely you’ll surprise him with any requests. He’s usually playing brat tamer so this will be a nice change of pace. Wild card : Is not afraid of his sexuality or pushing his limits. He shows his adoration in gifts rather than words. His past consistent lovers would usually be showered in parting gifts, for example Selina’s Tiara collection. You would be no exception to this rule and in his aftercare you will look up things you want. He will get annoyed if you speak up about prices; and as punishment he’ll make you add more to your cart. Extra bonus: Can and will make you cum without touching you. His biggest goal is to beat his personal record of withholding your release.

Selina :

Sensual and Clever. Selina will play her partners like a symphony. The woman is the perfect match for the man who plans for everything. This cat found her way to Gotham City after trying to find a fresh start when her first life was taken from her. Her objective is to leave them wanting her more than they ever thought possible. Wild card : She revels in the idea of being both a brat and a dominatrix. So being able to play with both roles has her more excited than anyone. Before getting down to business, she usually likes to set the mood for the evening. Whether it’s roleplay or even a drink, she finds that the most alluring part to her is the foreplay before the fun begins. Bonus : Although her hands are usually tied up, she’s actually very intentional about her nails during play. Because of this, she dabbles in both S&M as well as sensory play whenever she can.

(Taking inspiration from both the Harley Quinn series and the Catwoman movie featuring Halle Berry)

Although I mainly thought of this because of the endless possibilities that a chaotic superhuman wifeswap would entail; I do credit some of the inspiration from the “Listening Party” Series by @canumoveurseatup-no Aka Bexie. Literally one of the greatest writers of our time! I can only hope that one day I’m able to express my thoughts and ideas like they can ���

Due to my schedule, Idk when I’m gonna actually post 😬 However I will be working on the first installment this week so we’ll see what happens 🤷🏾‍♀️

[watchtowerindistress]

we are not our demons (17/25) - bruce wayne x batmom

Author’s note: What can I say? Damian is veeeerrry competitive.

Let's see if you can detect the John Mulaney reference. It was pretty subtle, or not.

Writing that Bruce scene was harder than I anticipated - that dialogue and even setting up that scene. I think the theme of grief was hard to grasp because I wanted to do it justice and not like a half-hearted attempt. Damn it, that's what happens when you're watching Aaron Sorkin films and want to stay realistic. [Read more at the end.]

Beta-read by Heidi.

Words: 3.1k

Warning: grief

Please reblog/leave a comment.

Series Masterlist | Want to be tagged? | Read on AO3

You hate to feel like you’re being controlled, oh

Sorry if I squeeze too tight, I really hope you know

The reason I’m so scared to let you go, ooh, is

I’m gonna need something to hold on to

- Something To Hold on To by Emily Warren -

Nope, not in the Batcave.

Ellie shook her head when she encountered only Alfred’s back and a variety of work tools lined up in front of him when he tended to his duties as butler/caretaker/technician extraordinaire. He meant business, judging by the dark-gray work apron he was wearing.

She turned away and walked back to the elevator which would be leading her up to the ground level. There was no real urgency to find Bruce. Ellie was mostly curious about his whereabouts when her contemplative thoughts were enclosed with the non-existing sound from the elevator.

Enthusiastic murmurs extended to her ears as soon as the intended floor was revealed to her. The commotion grew more distinct the closer Ellie tread to the living room.

“I’m gonna kill you, Grayson!”

“Yeah, right. You’re still behind. I’d like to see you try.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the gaming console switched on, with the colorful and familiar racing environment of Mario Kart 8 running on the flat screen.

Ellie’s eyebrows rose at the moment she was witnessing. Dick and Damian sat on the couch—both furiously pushing the buttons on their control pads—while Tim couldn’t be bothered with their theatrics. He was reading a gray-hued book in the armchair which was located crookedly on the right side of the couch.

Ellie crossed her arms, focusing on Damian’s character throwing a banana peel behind him and hitting Dick off the meadow track.

“Ugh, stop with your … frigging bananas, Damian!”

Damian’s eyes were gleaming with madness. “Never! Just choke on them and despair,” he cackled.

“Having fun, guys?”

Dick’s eyes stared right ahead when he answered, “Eh, Damian’s a cheat. Does that answer your question?”

His youngest brother rolled his eyes, snorting. “You knew what you were in for, Grayson. Why don’t you just lie down and let me drive over your corpse, huh?”

Ellie’s eyes widened at Damian’s idea of trash talk. “Oh my.”

“Oh really? See those cows on the track? You know what I’m gonna do? I’m going to buy a cow, place it in the Batcave and let it grow into a stunning creature. Then when you love it, and you can’t imagine your life without her, I’m going to make her an honorary member of this family, train her as a vigilante and let her take your place as Robin. How about that?”

With her lips pursing in utter bafflement, Ellie’s eyes met Tim who glanced up from his book. He voiced her thoughts. “They’ve been at it for hours.”

“Sounds like a stimulating conversation then,” Ellie mumbled softly.

Or more like an absurd form of trash talking.

“Do you know where Bruce is, by any chance?”

Dick paused the game as hesitation crossed over his face when he sent Damian a long glance. “Uh, why do you ask?”

Ellie’s eyes barely hid her mounting suspicion, especially after noticing Tim listened attentively. The same could be said for Damian tilting his head, although he didn’t give much away, other than the tension building in his shoulders.

Something was definitely in the air, Ellie contemplated, and put her hands on her waist. It looked like she was forced to play baseball. Or hardball. Whatever fitted the context.

Ellie banished that thought away as soon as it came before she turned back to the heart of the matter. “I asked first.”

Dick sputtered, “What can I say? Maybe Bruce is painting the town red. Not literally, of course. I mean, those days are behind him, to some extent. And it’s 10 in the morning—”

Ellie raised her eyebrows admonishingly. “Richard John Grayson—”

“Yes, ma’am?” Dick asked out of reflex and with reverence laced in his voice.

Damian’s game pad was clinging loosely in his left hand while the palm of his other hand shielded his face in utter embarrassment for being associated with his stepbrother in the first place.

“Anyone here willing to spill the beans?” Blinking slowly, Ellie waited patiently for one of them to crack.

Dick’s uncertain eyes roamed around when he spoke up, “Our dad’s … not here?”

Ellie hummed quietly and licked her lips. “I figured. Are you keeping secrets from me?”

“No?”

Damian wasn’t known for taking pity. One of the reasons why it astonished her so much when he replied, “Father is near the burnt-down premises of the old manor.”

“Uh huh,” she phrased it as a question, not yet getting the reason behind this strange secrecy of Bruce’s disappearance and his children backing him up.

Damian resumed, “He’s at the family mausoleum.”

Dick’s head whipped around in utter bafflement, a movement which prompted the younger boy to shrug his shoulders. “What? Father could never kill me. We’re family after all.” Damian was on the receiving end of expecting eyes shifting towards him. “You know what I mean, my blood lineage is flawless. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Ellie was still processing that tiny nugget of insight Damian just offered before Dick replied in return, “Sometimes you make it so hard to even like you, Damian.”

He shrugged, like he couldn’t care less about being favored in the emotional sense. An adorable frown twisted on his forehead. “Only sometimes?” he muttered under his breath.

Tim filled in the gaps. “It’s the anniversary of Bruce’s parents’ death.”

Exhaling loudly between her lips, she closed her eyes while throwing her head back. “Thomas and Martha Wayne.” Ellie’s eyes focused on nothing at all when she muttered, “Why didn’t Bruce think to tell me?”

Dick supported his arm on the back end of the couch and leaned towards her. “Usually, he wants to be alone. Don’t take it personally, alright?”

Profound anguish bubbled up inside her at the thought of Bruce having to go through that alone.

He pursed his lips and seemed to have discovered something in her sorrowful eyes, judging by his next words. “But … Bruce could use some company for this day. Who knows, maybe he’s going to appreciate you being there for him?”

Bruce’s insistence on not telling her in the first place came to mind, yet what she said was, “If you say so.” Her open palm hovered between them in an invitation. “Lead the way then.”

Dick walked backwards, keeping the manor in his sights and sustaining a mixed expression of reluctance and wit on his face. His hands were leisurely hidden in the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know how to feel about leaving Tim with Damian.”

“Afraid he’s going to incite him to chaos and mayhem?” Ellie threw Dick an incredulous glance, willing to have some faith in Damian not to corrupt young Tim.

Dick sighed deeply, like that thought had secretly entered his mind. “More like Damian could corrupt him into experimenting on some pedophiles in that Bat-Lair.”

Ellie pursed her lips in real contemplation. “I’d actually like to see tha—” Dick’s raised eyebrow and brightening eyes made her instantly backtrack. “I mean, horrible. Absolutely bad idea.” She adamantly shook her head, letting wavy hair spin around her.

Dick’s snorting was complemented with a tilt of his lip corner. “Yeah, right. No wonder you two get along so well.”

Ellie shrugged, feeling the corner of her mouth twist into a shrewd and crooked gesture. “Something like that.” Brown eyes furtively roamed over the side of Dick’s face. Not knowing if Ellie should even mention what was going through her head, she still felt trepidation slowly rushing through her once her mouth opened. “I’m sorry about Babs.”

Dick’s head promptly turned at the mention of her name. His eyes barely focused on her, they just fixated on a spot near the ground while he hid his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah, me too.” A strained smile lingered on his lips as his head turned straight ahead, content not to look at her when he said it.

“You’re taking it pretty well. You barely seem fazed.” Ellie’s voice sounded almost hesitant; she was trying to at least get someone in this family to talk about their feelings.

Dick’s shoulders haphazardly rose and revealed some sort of indifference to how he was perceived. “Looks can be deceiving,” Dick said, with a casual air. They were walking for some time when out of nowhere, his body stepped in front of her. “What I don’t get is why she didn’t tell me.”

His outburst stunned her into unnerved silence. Dick’s blue-eyed stare was glowing fervently when waves of frustration rolled off of him. A crow cawing in the distance slightly added humor to the tense awkwardness she found herself in.

“Uh, probably too awkward for her. I think she used the word ‘complicated’.”

Dick snorted loudly and rolled his eyes. “So what? Why not add a dose of more complicated? Jesus, dude.” And with that, he shook his head and tread forward.

At the mention of Dick’s love-afflicted misery, Ellie smiled fondly at him. Feeling like they were kindred spirits in need of guidance in all questions of love. “We’re kind of a mess, aren’t we?” Her elbow playfully nudged his side—this tall child be damned.

Dick’s warm breath ghosted over her scalp when he hardly needed to lean down to reach her. Ellie felt touched at the sensation of his arm interlacing with hers, like she was his Victorian companion. Their bleak environment of the high grass and the trees, which had lost their leaves halfway, surrounded their path, like they were truly just taking a walk in the countryside. Ellie was filled with gratitude as she leaned against his side.

“Oh please, your Bruce-related issues don’t even count as issues. Not by a long shot.”

She was begging to differ, since their initial issues had been spurred by their emotional mentality. In the end, she believed that all she needed was time to move past her obstacles of trust. Ellie craned her head back to gaze up at him. “Ditto. Try not to be too hard on yourself, Dick.”

He sighed deeply. “Easy for you to say. I messed it up with her years ago.”

A lop-sided smirk formed on her lips. “You know what they say, acceptance is one phase on the way to recovery.”

Ellie would associate the soft emotion in his eyes when they wandered into the distance with homesickness. “Maybe. One day.”

His pace slowed once the illustrious mausoleum appeared in the distance—a grim construction under the gray-blue skies and sitting next to the marble statues of weeping angels. The ‘Wayne’ name was inscribed underneath the roof, a scripture that seemed almost illegible with the moss growing on the rooftop and extending further.

Ellie exhaled, barely noticing how her fingers clenched on the cuff of Dick’s dark blue—almost black—wool overcoat to ward off the autumn breeze that rustled the trees and swept through her hair.

After coughing nervously, she brushed the strands away which had gone astray on her forehead. Ellie felt the raven-haired man’s concerned gaze on her face, kindling the side of her face.

“You okay?” Dick whispered with a barely audible voice.

Ellie’s wordless nod was coupled with her hand caressing his shoulder. “Thanks for showing me.”

His hands curled into the pockets of his jacket, already moving back. Dick’s thumb pointed in the direction of the path they just wandered on. “You know where to find me.”

Ellie tilted her head, sending Dick a teasing look. “At home? Ensuring that the boys haven’t flooded the place by now?”

His eyes widened at the mere idea before they narrowed again. “Please don’t make jokes about that. Ever.”

Taking pity on the guy, Ellie pressed her lips together to quench her budding smile. “Noted.” With a wave goodbye, she turned around and only heard Dick’s receding steps as he left her to her own quest.

It wasn’t really nervous energy rushing through her, with her stomach tensing or anything like that. To be honest, it felt like anticipation. Bruce seemed to do that every year—mourning his parents on his own, feeling content with it even. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t need someone to lessen the burden of grief.

Without knocking or notifying him of her presence, she twisted the handle and pushed against the heavy hardwood door. The squeaky noise echoing through the vast space made Ellie wince.

Especially when she heard Bruce’s haggard voice before she even saw him. “Not now, Dick, please. I’d rather be alone today.”

Ellie’s head careened around the corner, finally seeing him for the first time. Bruce was lingering in the shadows and stood between two graves. Bouquets of wildflowers adorned the inside of the jars by the engraved stones.

Dismay rose in her at the fact that she wasn’t wearing her glasses to decipher the inscription. She felt her eyebrows furrow when Bruce’s bowed head shielded his expression from her.

“Mind some company?”

Bruce whipped his head around at hearing Ellie’s cautious voice. His wide eyes only emphasized the shock he was experiencing from seeing her at his parents’ resting place.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be alone right now,” Ellie admitted in a whisper.

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows in deep contemplation as his body faced her head-on. “Who told—?” A frustrated sigh left him before he threw his head back with a low groan. “Ugh, Dick.” His hand brushed over the side of his face and exhaled loudly once he realized the person responsible who had babbled his secret.

Ellie closed the door behind her with finality, shrouding the crypt in dreary surroundings, except for the natural daylight streaming through the small arching windows. Ellie’s steps were guarded when she advanced into the sacred crypt. “I thought misery loved company?” She phrased as a question, hoping that her attempt at humor wasn’t that out of place. If anything, her sarcastic nature only intensified in situations where she didn’t know what else to say.

Bruce’s rigid shoulders tensed even further with his next inhaling breath. “I wouldn’t know. Maybe you should ask Kent.”

A confused frown scurried over her forehead. “Are we still talking about happy-go-lucky Clark Kent?” Her feet nudged forward until she was standing on Bruce’s right side, studying him with rapt eyes.

His hands hid in the pockets of his wool coat and his shoulders shrugged morosely. “You should see him when he’s not … celebrating Independence Day.”

Ellie’s befuddlement over the pause was pushed to the edge of her mind. “Okay.”

Her eyes met the inscription on the graves of Martha and Thomas Wayne—the year of 1981 marked as their death caught her eye.

Of course, anyone who grew up in Gotham and called it their home, knew of the infamous day when the golden couple was brutally murdered in Park Row—now dubbed Crime Alley. An event that only amplified the already prevalent criminality rate and extinguished any remnant of hope with their murder.

Her eyes met Bruce’s empty expression and hanging head. “You do this every year? Mourn the death of your parents all alone and without the presence of the others?”

Licking his lips, Bruce replied, “After a while I got used to the solitude I inflicted upon myself. Besides, I’m not the kind to ask for company.”

Ellie gnawed on her lower lip once she heard his confirmation. “If you want me to leave, you can tell me, you know?”

Bruce’s expression of incredulity made her heart swell. At least his loyalty, the need for her comradeship towards her always remained.

“We don’t even have to talk. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. I mean, I thought it’d be nice to talk about your parents. What were they like?”

Bruce’s long silence gave off the impression that he was going to keep quiet before he whispered with an almost unintelligible voice, “I barely remember their faces. It’s been over 30 years and my memory of them is getting hazier little by little.”

Ellie was listening intently while Bruce spoke wistfully, not wanting to interrupt him when he was so deeply engrossed.

“I recall my mother’s hair tumbling over her shoulders. The color of her eyes.” His jaw clenched at the mention when he reluctantly paused. “Martha Wayne was an elegant woman. Had a kind heart for being a socialite. My father was the polar opposite.”

His humored words brought a soft smile on both of their faces. “Rough around the edges.”

“How surprising for a Wayne,” Ellie retorted and tilted her head playfully until the waves of her hair fell like a cascade over her left shoulder.

The corner of his mouth tipped slightly. “He adored her. Loved her relentlessly.” His eyes softened as nostalgia settled over his features. His soft expression focusing on her stunned her into silence. Just imagining their love sounded like a dream.

“They were perfect.”

The fond memories Bruce had of his family reinforced the sentimental feelings Ellie felt rising in her. Being labeled as orphans never felt clearer than now. No wonder they seemed like kindred spirits.

In retrospect, she didn’t know if she would call the marriage of her parents a perfect union. If anything, she could only recall their screaming fests behind closed doors.

The total opposite of her Aunt Mallory and Uncle Nolan which was an appreciative relief to not having to walk on eggshells in the safety of their family. In the end, they were more her family than she could have ever hoped for, and she wanted Bruce to remember the worthwhile moments he shared with his parents.

Ellie turned her body until her eyes gazed up at his scruff. “Hold onto that memory. You may think your memory of them is waning, but it’s the little things that are important. The Wayne legacy won’t die with them. Remember,” her fingers carefully sneaked on the inside of the palm of his hand before they interlaced with his. His skin felt callused against hers, a sensation which awakened her senses.

Bruce’s eyes didn’t even glance down between them, instead they kept on dwelling on her with that piercing yet molten stare. One of his soul-searching abilities Ellie should have gotten used to by now.

“You’ve got a whole litter of Bat-kids at home. Without question, they’d stand behind you, no matter what.”

Despite the dreary mood, Ellie lips curled from witnessing Bruce’s wince at the mere mention of so-called Bat-kids.

He tolerated her playful acknowledgment, but chose to tighten his hold on her, exhaling deeply. His warm breath blew over her scalp and ruffled her fine hair. Content to merely bask in their shared silence.

A/N: Yay, first mention of Bat-Cow. I don't even even know if I'm going to include her, I just wanted to bring some easter egg/nostalgia. As I researched, I realized that Damian became a vegetarian the moment he met Bat-Cow, unlike my series, but I appreciate how he secretly adored animals and that's why he chose that eating lifestyle.

Dick's idea of trash talk was kinda inspired by Jane Lynch in Glee who didn't want to stoop to a cat-killing joke. Well, same here. I don't want to hurt Bat-Cow.

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath​ @ravenmoore14​ @alwayshave-faith​ @ikranfuad​ @daydreaming-gemini​ @bluegalaxyprime​ @liadamerondjarin​ @steph21369 @andrewswifes-blog​  @yanna-banana​  @blackmagicwoman

[lex-munro]

For those prompties: 3, 28, and 15

First of all, this is not what I meant to write when I saw this set of prompts.  Just gonna put that out there.  I totally thought I was going to have some set of murder-husband pairing go on a date, but that was absolutely not what happened.

Set in the same 'verse as my Suicide Squad stuff, a month or so after the end of Princess (which, yes, I have the end and almost none of the middle, I know, and I did say I was posting it as scraps so that I wouldn't stop and agonize over things when I have bits that could be posted, but you guys all know that if I were a dragon, I would be camped on a mound of unfinished stories and forgotten jellybeans).  My stuff diverges from canon, notably in having more than one Robin (in the DCEU, it's currently canon that Dick was the one Joker murdered, and Bruce had a psychotic break that sent him into a violent downward spiral including straight-up killing some dudes, and never got himself another birdie) but also by ignoring The Suicide Squad (because Rick Flag).

So, here we go with short kidfic with background Batjokes. Sorrynot sorry.

***

  First Chance • First Kill • First Step

Bruce liked to think he was dealing with the situation…reasonably well.

A child had shown up on his doorstep (kind of a disturbing trend, actually) and declared himself Bruce’s son.  No audience, no publicity.  Just a kid of maybe ten years standing there with a serious look on his face and eyes almost identical to the ones Bruce saw in the mirror each day.  His name was Damian, and his mother was Talia Al-Ghul (well, the timeline didn’t not match up), and he was more than happy to submit material for as many paternity tests as the famous Batman wished to run.

A ten-year-old who’d been mostly raised by assassins would no doubt chafe under Alfred’s watch even worse than the boys before him.

All right.

“First chance we get, you’re getting a cell phone of your own,” Bruce said.

Damian just blinked at him.

“You know how to use a smartphone?  I know when I trained with the League, they didn’t much care for modern technology.  Said it reduced self-reliance.”

“Might as well say carrying a knife reduces self-reliance,” declared Damian.  “Tools are for using; it’s obtuse to reject them on some delusional moral ground.  I don’t have extensive experience, but I know the basics.”

Bruce put him in the room next to Tim’s, then gave him a tour before depositing him in Alfred’s care.  The next day, they gave a brief obligatory introduction of Damian in a small press conference (bolstered by a positive genetic match on the Batcomputer, easily replicated should questions of custody and ‘legitimacy’ arise, especially from the Board of Directors).  Day three was Monday, so it was back to business as (mostly) usual.

“I might stay in tonight,” he said as he slipped into his jacket.  “Maybe send Tim out on his own when he gets back from Metropolis.  I’m still feeling that broken toe, and I almost missed a landing because of it last night.”

“My goodness, setting a positive example for the young master already,” Alfred teased.

“If you have time, could you look into the schooling situation?  Maybe Gotham Academy.”

“Of course, sir.  Ancillary to that, perhaps you could turn your evening toward an outing with the lad—further acquaintance on more neutral ground, one might say.”

And, because Alfred was nearly always right, Bruce agreed.  Dinner at a little place with small crowds and good food, off the beaten path.

All of which led to the current predicament:  five armed assailants who thought a billionaire’s son would make for a nice ransom.

The very instant Damian had control of the knife that had previously been held against his face, Bruce struck.

Poorly disciplined, poorly trained.  They were complete novices, all easy-to-dodge stabs and wild swings.  Bruce didn’t even need to use his bad foot (good thing, since it still ached just from walking).

When Bruce had knocked out the last would-be kidnapper, he rushed to his son’s side.

“Damian?  Are you hurt?”

The kid wasn’t even out of breath—but he was covered in blood and looking wide-eyed at the man he’d stabbed.

Bruce knelt and checked for a pulse; he was strangely both relieved and sorrowful when he found none.  “He’s dead,” he said gently.  “He can’t hurt you.  Okay?”

Damian blinked and started to shiver.  When his teeth started chattering, Bruce shucked his jacket to wrap around his son’s skinny shoulders.

“That’s the adrenaline wearing off.”

“I’ve never actually killed someone before,” Damian said quietly.

Bruce paused.  He decided to reply with, “I wish neither of us had to know what that felt like.”

“What…what happens next?”

“Well, when I get in a bind, step one is always ‘call Alfred.’  But we should go ahead and call the police, too—these guys attacked Bruce Wayne and his mysterious new heir, after all, so we had to defend ourselves.”

“Does this happen often?”

“Uh.  Less often than it could, but definitely more often than you’d expect in a city with high-profile vigilantes.  Less often since, uh, a certain…well, since my current romance became more or less public knowledge.”

Damian took Bruce’s phone out of the jacket and dialed.  “Hello, Alfred?  It’s Damian.  I killed somebody for the first time just now, and Bruce is trying to talk to me about his boyfriend.  Yes, very awkward.  He says we’re going to call the police, because it was self-defense.  Oh, about that?  I don’t know what his plans are on that front, but Mother said the clown is, quote, ‘surpassingly sinister and not particularly trustworthy,’ so perhaps Bruce won’t want me to meet him.”

Bruce hung his head with a sigh.  Seemed like he’d managed to prestige into a challenge-level of child rearing.  Adopt, rescue, be adopted, be bulldozed.

“No, it was the first time, so I don’t know how I feel, except sticky and in need of a bath.  Bruce, Alfred says I deserve to be introduced to my stepfather, but that I can speak with the police and have a bath first.”

If this was anything like what he’d done to Alfred as a child, he owed the old man some serious thank-you gifts.

“Yeah, sure,” he said faintly in defeat.

.End.

[rotblume]

ahahaha, Scar who was voiced by Jeremy Irons who also played Alfred in the DCEU movies, it fits perfectly

srsly, great idea and honestly completely plausible for me

also, first date plans are perfectly fine, but I gotta admit, I personally like to imagine Bruce as Ace(Spec) more often than not .. there's just something about the feelings (Pining, Misunderstandings, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) when it comes to a real - potential or even new - relationship in contrast to the public mask of our favorite "playboys"

really, it's the same with Tony Stark - a while back I read this tumblr-inspired fic (and the second part of it's series as well as the inspired-by story) where his indeed promiscuous behavior was a result of over-compensation because he never figured out when he 'could safely' say "no" and it totally pained me to read that and it is a similar premise with this just recently discovered fic where Bruce is in much the same position

... oh, AND that's another ship right there (one of the only handful CrossOver Pairings I can actually imagine): IronBat - perfectly normal humans among Supers and Aliens, if normal means rich, clever and broken with unhealthy coping mechanisms, their characters absolutely similar yet also wholly different

Imagine along with his contingency plans to eliminate each member of the League, Bruce also has 'first date' plans as well. Somehow, these files are leaked and to each members dismay (or elation), the date ideas are all spot on.

They ask why he's done it and Bruce replies 'the same reason I have plans for if you go rogue. I want to be prepared.'

[acourtofidiots]

thinking about batfleck & him bending me over the bed 🫣

[kaizsche]

me trying to browse through batman x reader fics only to find almost none of batfleck fics (dies inside)

i want dilf salt and pepper batman GIVE HIM TO ME

[frownyalfred]

Ever since I read two fics about Bruce's kids being in the tower when it's falling, it's made that scene a million times tastier. Like, in one fic, the kids all lived and helped other people, and Bruce was a terminator trying to get to them and make them leave but they kept helping others to his great pride and anxiety. In one they all died and it fucked me up, particularly when Bruce told Clark after the events if BvS, and holy shit, I was crying like a little baby like that shit just hits different.

Just, grieving dad Bruce, who doesn't have superman and Tim to stop him from killing, trying to avenge all five of his kids like 👀👀👀 it was so good!

Yeah!! Not to get too weird about BVS (again) I think there are some serious parallels between 9/11 and the attack on Metropolis that critics really intentionally overlook -- not just that the destruction is similar, but that Bruce's anger/fear/etc closely parallels the US reaction in the immediate aftermath.

He lost a whole skyscraper of his employees -- people who were supposed to be safe in Metropolis, safer than they would probably be in Gotham. And yes, in certain fics, he loses not just his loyal employees, but his kids, too.

I will be the first one to mock BVS (for a variety of reasons) but the whole "oooh Batman started killing and acting OOC out of nowhere" thing always seemed kind of silly to me.

There's a reason his first adult on-screen introduction in that movie is literally him running into a dust cloud in shirtsleeves and loafers -- it's not about Batman. It's Bruce Wayne lifting beams and dragging children out of harm's way.

The Black Zero Event/Battle of Metropolis likely resulted in the death of thousands of people -- several times the destruction of 9/11, though I'm not sure if anyone ever gave an exact number.

It's strange that an event that is clearly presented to evoke that parallel is taken as a mediocre or misguided motivation for any character, much less Bruce -- who is in a unique position as a vigilante to actually do something, however small, about it.

[took-hold-of-nothing]

Tired Bat Dad™

[bruceewayne]

bruce wayne and every question lmao

bless you laro for i am very bored today

Send a character + one or more of these question.

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

first of all he's very cool and intelligent. and he's very emo and relatable in most adaptions.

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

the fact that he listens to nirvana

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

his whole Rachel Dawes relationship.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

omg i would love to see him in bobs burgers??

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

probably something in the way - nirvana because of it being in the movie

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

we both have mental illness lol uhm actually we both have fake personalities we put on in public spaces and we're both very determined

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

they don't try to make his playboy personality who he really is as fun as that would be i appreciate that we all understand that's not who he is

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

nothing comes to mind right now to be honest i like the fandom very much. if anything I don't like that a lot of people don't like batfleck or don't treat him as well :(

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

yeah definitely i think so. im more of a nightowl as well.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

hm. im not sure if he would be open to it but i would say yes.

11. Would you date this character?

YES im already in love.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

he likes cereal. especially sugary kind.

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

🦇

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

black. black. black. or all dark grey lol.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Selina!!!!

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

rachel.

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favorite that you're fine with?

Talia.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

hm. selina again i guess.

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

rachel canon?

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

i have no idea. he's not really a best friend type guy.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I don't write fic thankfully lol

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

something i like is when they acknowledge Alfred and add him into the story and I don't like when they don't talk about him like it doesn't feel genuine.

23. Favorite picture of this character?

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

hm... I'm not sure.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

i just thought he was the coolest and now I still think so.

[haloabove]

Fic writers who imagine batfleck as their batman/Bruce Wayne, i see you and I’m devouring all your content.

[watchtowerindistress]

we are not our demons - (24/24) - bruce wayne x batmom

Author’s note: Just as promised, the last chapter. Hope you’ll have a wonderful year.

This is the end. I can't believe we're at the end.  Would you excuse me, please? *cries in a corner* Okay, I'm back. Would you guys please let me sleep in my hibernation?

As I was, again, looking for a list of reporters, I found out that Carrie Fisher was in Smallville. Guess who I just incorporated to be the news anchor at Gotham City News? [See you at the end.]

Beta-read by Heidi.

Words: 3.6k

Warning: fluff, past animal abuse, mentioned death

Please reblog/leave a comment.

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

When he stares at me, you see he cares for me

You see how he is so deep in love

I know that he loves me ‘cause it’s obvious

I know that he loves me ‘cause it’s me he trusts

- Brown Eyes by Destiny’s Child -

Ellie was already waiting for Bruce standing behind the banister while the Batmobile ceased to a halt on the platform. Her fingers were clinging to the metal as Bruce found himself staring at her through the windshield in anticipation as soon as he stopped the ignition.

Bruce’s gaze roamed over to the dog sitting on the passenger seat. He was panting with an open snout and curiously looking at him with wide brown eyes. During their drive to the asylum, one clown had the privilege to sit in the backseat while the other was forced to rest in the trunk which was reserved for criminals. Not that he had much choice in the matter of being his comatose self.

“Wait here,” Bruce spoke under his breath, hoping he would understand him and heed his request. If he wanted this to remain a surprise for Damian, he would do this right at least. Jumping outside, he slammed the door shut behind him.

“Was Ace Chemicals as eventful as I imagine it to be?” Ellie inquired with an open curiosity and followed the railing to inch closer to him.

Hesitation lingered on his features after he ripped off the cowl from his head. “You could say that.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Morrow was already gone. Left that place abandoned. But I found some of his samples he left behind. Sending the chemical compounds to Fox later. Let’s see if he can make sense of the research he was working on.”

Understanding lit up in Ellie’s brown eyes when she nodded. Bruce could feel her appraising him with an assessing gaze before she tilted her head.

“Why do I get the feeling that there’s more you’re not telling?”

Bruce was rubbing his fingers together. “Because you know me better than anyone else?”

Damian used the opportunity to stand up from his chair by the screens. Looking at his father with a scrutinizing eye, he walked closer to Ellie’s side.

Bruce chose to reciprocate his stare and sighed. “Listen, I found something at Ace Chemicals, and I thought it’d be a nice gift for you, Damian. If you want it, that is.”

Damian was about to cross his arms over his chest, but then he thought better of it. “Depends on the gift.”

Accepting that as sufficient, Bruce strode over to the passenger door before opening it.

The animal jumped out with elegant effort.

Ellie gasped with a squealing sound. “Oh my God.” Her hands were covering her mouth in stunned delight, probably to mute any other adorable sounds from leaving her lips.

Tim’s curious and honest eyes saw through the grid that shielded his small body.

Ellie’s hands were sitting now on her waist. “Is this now a typical family, with a dog included? I didn’t know we could bring pets into this joint.”

Bruce sent her a tired look. “Please don’t call it a joint either.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and advanced towards the platform with the dark vehicle. She waved her hand behind her in invitation before she looked over her shoulder. “Come on, Tim.” Ellie nudged her head at the new family member while staring at the younger boy. “What about you, Damian?”

A cautious but eager Tim took Ellie up on that offer by clasping his hand in hers. The youngest Wayne remained quiet yet followed behind his brother at a safe distance. Uneasiness spread over his face which was usually a blank expression of ‘I couldn’t care less’, haughty arrogance or one of pure annoyance.

Ellie knelt down about five feet away from the cautious creature. With a friendly look meant to put him at ease. “Oh, someone’s just a huge ball of fluff, aren’t you?” Her hand was lifted over his snout before her eyes met Bruce, no longer speaking with that higher voice usually reserved for children or animals. “What’s a dog doing at Ace Chemicals?”

Never before did a heavy sigh enunciate what a heavy heart was resting in his chest. Just imagining the kind of doom which was inflicted upon this animal tore at him.

“Do you really want to know?”

The scar on the canine’s nose and the quick bandage around his ribs was giving her a pretty good guess. There seemed to be some contusions on his forehead. She was gazing up at Bruce with heartbroken sympathy.

The Great Dane was licking her hand after cautiously sniffing the unfamiliar scent.

Before Ellie could even voice her thoughts, Damian beat her to it. “Tell us.”

His son’s visceral reaction made Bruce’s eyes widen in dazed silence.

Ellie’s eyes caught Tim’s again who had been hiding behind her and waved him over with a quiet, comforting voice. “Do you want to stroke him? Let him get close to you.”

Following her example, Tim carefully brushed the patch of his head that wasn’t scarred.

Bruce was visibly fighting for words. “They wanted to hurt him. Dog fighting, stuff like that. They intended to give him the Joker treatment, like they did to all the other dogs who died over the course of time.”

Damian clenched his jaw at Bruce’s explanation before he glanced back at the dog in question.

“So, if you want him, he’s yours. There’ll be rules of course. But I need to have your word that you’ll take care of him. He needs a family after all. Or I’m forced to send him to the shelter. But I think you’re smart enough to know which kind of fate he’ll face there.”

Damian was studying Tim’s reaction to being so close to him and watched in fascination how his giggling shook his body when his face was licked. Tim was gingerly caressing his neck while Damian stepped closer.

Ellie chuckled with a fond expression on her face. “Don’t rush him.” Concern extended over her face when her eyes wandered back to Tim before she glanced at Damian. “He needs a name if you want to keep him,” she spoke lowly.

“A name is permanent.” Damian whispered with furrowing eyebrows.

Ellie smiled fondly and gazed at him teary-eyed. “It is. That’s the beauty of it.”

“And I can’t keep calling him ‘Ace’ in my head,” Bruce offered helpfully.

Damian patiently offered the inside of his palm after assessing him for injuries. Inquisitive brown eyes were staring at him. They were almost at the same height.

Something warm and wet was brushing over his injured hand. And not the one he had offered to him.

What a strange creature.

If Damian was apprehensive before, plain confusion took over his eyes. His uninjured hand, like it had a mind of its own, carefully stroked his back as he joined Tim in his ministrations, mindful of the injuries littered over his body.

Leaning forward, the raven-haired boy framed his snout and stared into those soulful eyes. “I’ll take care of you now.” He breathed in calmly before a realization hit him. “His name is Titus,” Damian stated in pure wonder.

“What’s it from?” Bruce murmured softly with a slanted head.

“Titus Andronicus,” Damian clarified monotonously.

That explanation was a clear indicator to how he was as a person.

Bruce shook his head. “Jesus Christ.”

Ellie’s gaze switched between Bruce and Damian in uncertainty. “Is that a play?”

“It’s Shakespeare. It’s one of his most violent plays actually,” Tim conveyed to her.

Ellie’s eyes were focusing on nothing when she sighed in acceptance, “Great. Titus it is.”

~ Ellie POV ~

Damian’s gift from Bruce had certainly come as a surprise, especially how the kid took to the new addition to the family. Ellie would have expected him to pretend not to care, like he always would, but it filled her with relief that Damian was instead looking at Titus with compassion at what he had to endure under the tyranny of Joker.

Ellie was now sitting on the couch in the living room, with her arm slung over the back and looked over her shoulder into the kitchen. The boys had been sent to their beds and hopefully a quiet night would remain.

“How is Alfred going to like the idea of a dog added to the mix now?”

Two empty glasses were in one hand while the other arm cradled the bottle of red wine. Half of it was filled graciously as Bruce stood next to her. The intoxicating noise of him pouring the drink filled her senses before the glass was placed into her hand.

“A dog is a good idea for Damian,” Bruce reminded her after pouring himself a glass of wine. He sat down next to her.

Ellie watched in rapt fascination how his throat bobbed with every gulp. “Oh, I see that. A dog is a lot of work. We need to do check-ups, see if he’s got the shots, if he’s maybe chipped—”

“He’s not. No owner. And money’s not an issue here,” Bruce interrupted her with certainty and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Said the rich person,” Ellie mumbled under her breath. His asserting words made her remember something else when she exclaimed, “Jesus, do you have an x-ray machine on your belt? Oh God, why am I even asking?”

Another huge gulp of the fruity taste would do her some good.

“Just check with Alfred first if he’s maybe not a cat person.”

Bruce smiled, like he knew a secret she didn’t before he answered, “He is, but he never mentioned that he hates dogs.” Bruce held up his chin with the support of his hand.

Ellie snorted quietly, shaking her head, and letting her wavy hair dance around her. “You just thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Most of it. I’ll take care of the rest tomorrow.” His warm and molten gaze lingered on Ellie’s face and set her body on fire with a slow burn. It felt even hard to breathe. “But we still need to have that talk,” Bruce murmured in such a gravelly voice that something deep in her belly thrummed deliciously.

Gazing in exasperation at the glass she was carrying in her hand, like a newly discovered recognition, Ellie groaned, “Is that why you pumped wine into me? So I’d let my guard down?”

Okay, this sounded way more horrible than she wanted it to.

Bruce’s teasing voice instantly put her at ease again. “Well, I heard it helped in most situations. You don’t have to hide from me. I just want to talk to you.”

Ellie grunted. “Gah, fine.” She emptied her glass by knocking it back. “You first,” she blurted like a yawning sound as she tried to get the liquor down her throat.

In a challenging way, Bruce sent her a lazy smirk. “Why did you kiss me?” he spoke slowly.

“I don’t know. It’s like I said, the routine was hitting me hard and suddenly I was right there with you, a few months ago, when things were just easy.”

Bruce’s gaze remained patient. “Things haven’t changed.”

“Yes, they have.”

“No. You’ve only seen behind the curtain and discovered the true baggage of everything.”

Bruce’s simple way of seeing things deflated the air in her lungs.

“I know I kept things from you. But nothing has changed for me. I still want you in my life. All I want to know is if you want to share this life with me too.” Bruce paused in thought, giving Ellie just enough time to process. “I still am crazy about you, and I know I’ve been getting these signals from you too.��

Ellie’s voice turned soft at the reminder he was uttering. “I know. Because I’ve been getting yours. I’ve seen these looks you’ve been sending me. And these lingering touches.”

Those molten pools from before turned into an earnest expression. “I want to share my life with you. All of it. And I want every part of you. The woman who absolutely adores my kids. My partner who supports me out in the field. And my friend who just obliterates me with her knives as words.”

Ellie was getting misty-eyed just from the vehemence of his words and the way they hit her. She felt at a loss for words as she stuttered, “That’s not—I’m trying not to be that person. I don’t want that piece of me who hurts people in a warped attempt to protect someone else.”

Bruce leaned towards her. “I’m saying I see every puzzle piece of you, and I worship everything about you that makes you you.”

Ellie shook her head to clear it. Her mind was getting fuzzy from all the affirming words. “God, why are you trying to make me so emotional?” She didn’t hide her tears from Bruce when she chuckled with a thick voice.

Bruce smirked, patiently waiting for her reaction. “Are you in or out?”

“Geez, if you’re going to be so demanding about it.” Ellie snuggled her fingers around his neck. Framing his face, she let her breath ghost over his cheeks before she whispered, “I’m crazy about you too.”

Bruce’s eyes were twinkling with mischief. “Yes, or no?”

Ellie licked her lips before she finally sealed her fate and gazed into his eyes. “Hell yes,” she whispered fervently.

If she thought she could breathe easily as soon as Barbara was set free from her aching pain, saying yes to him was a whole different level of breathing.

It felt like Bruce was giving her the air to breathe.

A relieved smile extended on Bruce’s lips when he gazed into her eyes. Bruce tilted his head—the only warning he gave before he leaned forward and pressed his lips on hers with a quick swoop.

Ellie hummed quietly at the familiar and lingering feeling slowly warming her inside out. Ellie hummed quietly at the familiar and lingering feeling slowly warming her inside out. His lips softly brushed against hers, like he was trying to get to know her again.

She tightened her hold on the back of his neck and welcomed his probing tongue seeking entrance. Bruce exhaled a heavy grunt from deep within his chest at their final touch. Ellie tilted her head back, needing to feel him closer. Needing a second to breathe, she let her forehead touch his.

“I’m not letting go now.” His warm breath caressing her face didn’t help matters in her racing heart.

“Bruce Wayne, such a romantic.”

Bruce and Ellie were lying intertwined on his couch, with her resting on top of his chest and her hand lingering on the thick pullover shielding his beating heart.

“I guess you know what that means, right?”

Underneath her, Bruce was stroking her arm. “Hmm?”

“Gotham’s most eligible bachelor has been finally snatched off the market.”

Instantly, his hand let go of her shoulder and his body tensed. “I didn’t say you were my girlfriend, Rhodes.”

Ellie groaned at Bruce’s idea of a joke. “You’re such a—” She punched his chest at the audacity, “—jerk, Bruce. It’s really scary when you’re making jokes like that.”

Bruce chuckled deeply, letting his upper body shake with the movement. “Do you remember what we talked about when you moved in?”

Ellie tilted her head back to gaze into Bruce’s face. “Be more specific?”

“Remember when we wanted to see how things would go regarding your living condition?”

“I remember a certain someone who offered to just buy the whole apartment complex in Midtown,” Ellie taunted him mercilessly.

Bruce sighed deeply. “Sue me. Would you at least consider letting your lease expire?”

Ellie blinked slowly as she chewed it over. “Maybe. I meant it then. You think you can suffer through our routines? Have me 24/7 at your side?”

Brushing away the hair from her forehead, Bruce grunted, “If you’re sleeping in my bed again, I think I can manage.”

When he said saucy stuff like that, it was hard not to jump him instantly.

Her playful whisper nuzzled against his chest. “Still all heart.” She tapped his sternum at the tempo of his heartbeat. “I deem Wayne Manor my home now, so no worries about that, Bruce. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Bruce let his lips brush over her temple. “Good to know.”

With a heavy heart, Ellie finally admitted to him, “I don’t know if Babs is ever coming back. She’s on her own path now. You think you can settle with me instead of the Oracle?”

Bruce exhaled a sigh. “I think you two are very different people. There’s no comparison. With different strategies in missions. But it won’t change how your insight is most invaluable.”

“That sounds good. Since it still hasn’t changed how I want to remain your eyes and ears.”

Warm breath blew over her scalp. “You do know that I have a satellite just for that, right?”

Ellie chuckled. “Please, we both know you need me.”

Bruce whispered into the dark, “With all our cards now on the table, is there something you’re not telling me?” His assessing gaze met the side of her face when those fingers kept stroking over her scalp.

“What makes you say that?” Ellie inquired carefully.

“I know you by now. All your quirks and micro expressions included.”

Swallowing thickly, Ellie revealed, “I need to be certain of my suspicions before I can include you in this.”

Bruce had always been a touchy-feely person. Ellie had gotten used to it over time and just thought he wanted to reaffirm himself that she was truly his.

Bruce was softly caressing her cheek. “Then let’s find that out together. No more secrets.”

Contemplating that for a few seconds, Ellie finally nodded her head. There weren’t any disadvantages to having someone support her in her quest. Not to mention, keeping everything out in the open could feel liberating in a way.

“Ready to go to bed now?”

“Alright, fine, but no hanky-panky. Only cuddling.”

Bruce groaned underneath her at the restrictions. “Fine.”

A week later

~ Nameless POV~

A masked figure stood on top of a roof while he was overseeing the city of Gotham. He breathed calmly through the mask, knowing how everything was slowly unfolding. Yanking his phone out of his back pocket around his waist, he watched the live feed of Gotham City News.

Liz Tremayne, a journalist reporting for the news network, spoke into a microphone, with the closed gates of Arkham Asylum behind her. “—with Joker back at Arkham.”

His skin-tight cowl revealed two white-covered eyes. Those eyes studied the olive-skinned woman’s mannerisms as twisted poison streamed through his veins.

“After three years of inflicting terror on this city, the clown prince of crime was sent to the psychiatric ward.” The reporter pulled out her small notepad and looked down to verify her intel. Her chin-long black hair swept in the wind with the hectic motion. “The Joker’s patient file, which has been disclosed, revealed an erratic amount of time at Arkham Asylum and constant escapes out of the mental institution.”

The news anchor of GCN, a 40-year-old woman with reddish hair and scarlet-colored glasses on the bridge of her nose, pursed her lips in contemplation. “Has there been any statement coming from a spokesperson at Arkham Asylum?”

“Truth be told, Pauline, everything has been kept under wraps. We only just managed to get a brief statement from Amadeus Arkham who stated that the Joker was currently indeed in their care, but other than that everything has been classified. Backgrounds to his admission have not been disclosed yet—”

He pocketed his phone again before a grunt exhaled through the red cowl. “Hmm, is that so?”

His blood-red hood slung over his cowl while his eyes strained observing something at a distance. The sound of police sirens echoed like a constant into the night of Gotham.

Two content young boys stepped out of a coffee shop before a female voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Timmy, wait!”

The masked man’s head jolted in suspense. He observed a young woman with wavy chestnut hair follow behind them. The familiar face strongly resembled the photo in her file.

“There she is,” he thought to himself with strong suspicion.

The woman jogged after the older boy and adjusted the collar of his jacket before brushing her hand through his windswept hair.

His jaw clenched when he saw the young boy from behind. The brunette’s hand remained on his shoulder before her gaze met the other child and tilted her head at him in a dry manner.

The younger boy left his hands in his front pockets and stomped towards her with a groan. The closer he got to the car parked at the curb, more tension took over his body until he stopped in his tracks. He twisted his head for a few seconds, leaving the masked man on high alert. Ever since he identified the youngest boy, the tension only rose in him.

Before long, he finally disappeared into the backseat of her car while she was holding the door open.

People were predictable. They had their own little rituals and routines which made them easy to understand and to locate. It also made them stupid. But this one didn’t always stick to the plan.

He had been watching her for a few days and had her file memorized by now.

Elizabeth Rhodes Teague

Took her mother’s middle name after the death of her parents.

The masked man frowned to himself. No one changed their last name unless they wanted to run away from something. This one would prove to be the perfect leverage. With just the right amount of connections he needed. And this time he would do whatever it takes to extinguish anyone standing in his way.

A/N: Welp, looks like we got ourselves a Bat-Hound called Titus! Batfam's complete in my eyes. I didn't think Bat-Cow was fitting, so I just grant you Damian's support dog, and like in the comics was a gift by his father. Initially, Damian was supposed to discover Titus by himself and the adoption was supposed to be his own idea. Unfortunately, Joker broke his arm, so no patrol for him. You can thank that green-dyed bastard.

The dog was only supposed to make an appearance in the next part of the series, but I wanted the family to get used to their new family member.

Before I leave, I left the end kinda like a teaser for a possible last part but also kinda closed-ended because I didn't want people barge down my doors again. So please, you want to tell me you want to read the last part, go ahead, compliments are always welcome, but please don't ask me the question of WHEN since I just squeezed this part out of my soul.

Stay safe everybody!

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath​ @ravenmoore14​ @alwayshave-faith​ @ikranfuad​ @daydreaming-gemini​ @bluegalaxyprime​ @liadamerondjarin​ @steph21369 @andrewswifes-blog​  @yanna-banana​  @blackmagicwoman ​

[lex-munro]

[Suicide Squad] Nimrod

Once, a powerful ruler tried to build a tower to the heavens…

self-indulgent batjokes-flavored SS/BvS/JL, installment 17.5.  a standalone fragment set immediately after Princess part 17.

this piece is rated PG-13 for brief violence and discussion of a jailbreak; the Princess series as a whole is for mature audiences.  It is edifying, but not completely necessary, to have read the Dark Nights: Metal event.

BAR.

Nimrod 

It’s a taunt.

Waller is absolutely daring him to run headlong into her trap.

He’s been putting his hand in the lion’s mouth, and now she wants him angry and overconfident enough to put his head in.

To an extent, he’s falling for it.  He watches the video again and again, getting angrier every time he sees the moment Joker gets upset.  The fist in his hair changes the entire line of his body, broadcasting tension and violence as he manipulates the cheap handcuffs.  Boot to the knee, fist to the nose.  Bullet through the window.  Flag through the door.  Floor lamp to the head.  Joker drops down with a knife just as the camera drone retreats.

Bruce knows he didn’t kill that man—he wouldn’t.  He promised.  But there are a lot of things a knife can do besides killing outright, and it’s possible Joker was upset enough to ignore the knowledge that Bruce would still be disappointed if he inflicted a fatal wound and walked away.

Bruce is also self-aware enough to acknowledge that some of his anger is coming from the frustration of other people touching what’s his.  It’s a character flaw he’s had since at least the death of his parents; more than one therapist has suggested it’s part of a need for control, related at least in part to a savior complex.  If he can’t even keep people from touching Joker, he can’t protect the man.  Couldn’t protect him from the situation that led to his fall at Ace Chemical, couldn’t protect him from Jason and their subsequent mutual wrath, couldn’t protect him from Waller.

And if she manages to get him killed…

Bruce has no idea what kind of creature he could become.

He’s left failsafes, of course—taught Dick and Tim and Alfred what to do, put automated protocols in place, left instructions for the League in case they need to take him out.  He hopes he’s imagined himself as much more dangerous than he truly is, so that they’re properly prepared.  He almost killed Clark once…maybe he would be an even more terrifying monster.  In Bruce’s nightmares, Clark only wanted to wreak vengeance, and only on a single world; in desperation, Bruce might take his wrath out on many worlds, seeking one where he could regain what he’d lost, destroying everything in his wake and laughing over the corpses of whole universes…

He shakes the thought away.

He has to get Joker back now, regardless of the state of Arkham, regardless of ‘Warden’ Strange and Dr. Crane.  He’ll need at least one accomplice, and he can’t depend on Flag to pull it off alone—not in the heart of a prison built for extraordinary prisoners.  He can’t ask something so morally ambiguous of Barry or Clark.  Arthur could be helpful, in the middle of the bayou.  Victor.  Diana.  He briefly considers dragging Zatanna or Shayera into it, but assumes neither would be willing to help rescue the Joker, of all people.  Constantine might be willing to lend a hand, if he’s sober; he spends a considerable amount of time at Joker’s club, after all.

The computer beeps.

No.  Arthur’s in Malaysia and Constantine is in Poland.  Not enough time.  Joker’s mistreatment might be enough to sway Victor into helping, but he won’t be at his best in a fairly confined killbox surrounded by guards firing from cover…

High heels on stone.

“Bruce?” Diana calls.  “If you keep skipping dinner, you’re going to hurt Alfred’s feelings.  Even Barry was here tonight.  Tim said you were down here obsessing over something.”

“He’s not a hundred percent wrong,” Bruce admits.  “Was Lois here?  Did she manage to get that interview with Hugo Strange?”

“Friday morning, apparently.  They’ve offered her a tour of Arkham Island.  They’re going to tell her all about their revolutionary new therapy that they hope to use on the criminally insane nationwide.”

“Because that’s not a disturbing thing to say at all,” Bruce grumbles, pulling up more schematics and blueprints.  The only way in and out without a small army (or a lot of casualties) is from the air.

Diana steps closer.  “You have files on all of us?” she asks with a note of displeasure.

“Yes, I have files on all of us,” Bruce replies.  “Myself included.  Every observation and conversation on Barry’s abilities, which may theoretically give him the power to travel through time or between alternate universes.  Every suspected Themysciran spy and her potential provenance.  Every known type of kryptonite and its effects on Kryptonian biology.  Every case I’ve ever taken on, and everyone who’s interacted with the Batman.”

“And files on your nemeses as well?”

“My files on Lex Luthor are particularly extensive.”

She’s quiet for a moment.  “Barry says he’s evil—this Joker of yours.  A madman.”

Bruce feels his face go hot with the immediate rush of anger, then cold with calm.  “That’s an oversimplification.  Joker is indisputably unwell, but with the appropriate guidance and motivation, his more violent urges can be controlled.”  He glances at her.  “His feelings are real.  Our feelings are real.”

“Doesn’t look like much,” she says mildly, indicating the latest Arkham intake pictures.

“He’s smart as hell, and tenacious.  Moral imperatives are meaningless to him, but he has his own boundaries and priorities.  He pushes me, challenges me.  In his own words, he makes me spectacular.”

“Kal-el said you don’t believe in killing…yet you romance a murderer?”

“You don’t have to understand us.”

She nods with what he thinks is approval.  “Can I see his file?”

Bruce feels his cheeks warm—surely the file will reveal the extent of their mutual obsession…  But so be it.  Let it all hang out, so to speak.  “Of course.  You and Clark have full access to dossiers on the computer.”  With just a few clicks, he expands the full file.  Case folders line up across the screen, auxiliary to the collection of Arkham and Blackgate records, the original Ace Chemical incident, property files on the Jokers Wild club.

Her eyebrows rise.  “Prolific,” she remarks.

After a moment, Bruce pulls up the old file on Jack as well.

She’s a fast reader, apparently, because just a few seconds later she says, “Oh, Bruce,” in a tone of mild parental exasperation.

“As you can see, we’ve actually been together a year and a half longer than he can remember.  There’s something about knowing him as two vastly different people…my brain wouldn’t let me leave it alone.  So.”

“I understand,” she says, and he believes her.  A woman of her age, with the things she must have seen and lived through…no doubt she has obsessions of her own, like Captain Trevor.  She nudges into his space to click open the most recent case file.

Everything he has on Joker’s time with ARGUS, including the taunting videos Waller has been sending under the guise of ‘keeping him informed.’

“He’s been particularly unhinged since he parted ways with Harley Quinn,” Bruce says.  “I asked him to seek treatment, which I’ve discovered did not go well.  Apparently, his therapist at Arkham didn’t believe him about our relationship and was trying to convince him it was a delusion.  Then she drastically changed his medication.  He was ripe for the picking when Waller got her claws on him.”

“You want to get him away from her.  Doesn’t she coordinate the Justice Society?”

“She also runs Belle Reve Incarceration Facility, a prison for meta-human criminals where she stores all her favorite expendable toys.  She sends them on dangerous wetworks missions in exchange for ten years off their sentences for each success, with the understanding that they could very likely be killed, and that she could end them herself if they misbehave in the field.  Let them out like rabid dogs, shoot them if they bite the wrong hand.”  He forces himself to unclench his fists.  “She stole him right out from under me, and he could’ve been dead by the time I found out.”

Diana turns her head sharply.  “Is she using him to extort you?”

“Almost definitely.  She’s framing it like she’s doing him a favor, letting him work off his sentence and letting him have supervised visits with me…but she means it as a trap.  I just don’t know when she plans to spring it, or how to get out of it.”

“She’s with the government, so she still has to operate within some rules…”

Bruce nods.  “Which is why she isn’t trying to use my family as leverage.  But he’s just psychotic criminal scum, so she can do what she wants.”

“Do you have a plan?”

He pulls up the aerial view of the prison and tells her what he has in mind.

Afterward, she gestures to the open courtyard where they’ll be dropping in.  “Kal-el could—”

“Clark would not—and cannot—break into a prison to steal an inmate.”

“One who was being tormented and sent to his possible death on a regular basis?  I think he would.”

“And I’m telling you he can’t, because that place is still run by the government and they already watch him like circling vultures.  One toe out of line would send them running to LexCorp, potentially even setting the man himself free on yet another technicality, to make them weapons that can kill Clark.  He is a living, breathing natural disaster under the wrong circumstances, and I intend to prevent those circumstances for as long as possible.”

After several seconds of silence, Diana puts a hand on his shoulder.  “Just the two of us, then.  Let’s go.”

“I may have to stay behind in order to get him out—don’t let the League come after me.  Especially Barry:  he’s starting to take too many risks.”

She hides a smile.

“What?”

“I just think it’s funny that you treat Barry like a child, but not Victor.  You do know Barry is two years older?”

He ignores her.  “The number one priority is taking away Waller’s leverage, so if she gets me, she can only get me.”

“In that case, we’re taking my jet instead of yours.”

He frowns.  “You have a jet?  I don’t remember ever seeing—”

“I know.” 

.End.