#i like to image that she looks like martha wayne

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Wrath of Wayne | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician [Part 1/3]

Synopsis: Brought to the dimension where his son is alive, Thomas Wayne makes it goal to put a stop on Bruce being Batman – and he will do it in whatever means necessary.

The speedster brought him here for a reason. He didn’t know what or why but the moment he saw him—them—he knew what it was. For the Reverse Flash it was revenge on the Bat for killing him, but for him… For him, this was what it was. His purpose. His son. The son he lost that day in Crime Alley, when Joe Chill shot him. The son whose death drove him to break his vows as a doctor and don the identity of the Batman to kill every criminal in that godforsaken city. The son whose death drove his wife to insanity until she became his very enemy. 

His love.

His nemesis.

The Joker.

He didn’t need to ask the speedster, who was long gone, nor the computer in his cowl to know that that man sitting on the roof lying on the ground with a woman in his arms was his son. He knew those eyes anywhere, and he imagined how Bruce would look like when he grows up from the moment the boy was born. 

Alfred would tell him countless times how Bruce looked so much like him from the photos of when he was young. With that in mind, Thomas Wayne imagined the face of his son if he had lived. If he had survived that night in Crime Alley. 

He was about to go to his son, to finally meet him, but then Bruce got up and put on his clothes, along with the red-haired woman who laid beside him on that cold roof. 

So, in this universe it was Bruce who took the cowl, then that means he was the one to witness death. It was Thomas and Martha who died that night in Crime Alley in this dimension. But that wasn’t all, the woman with him, Thomas knew that face all too well. Vivian. 

The young professor in Gotham University.

The witch.

The last good soul in Gotham.

His last ray of hope and reminder of his son and of Selina.

In this world, Bruce found Vivian and the two were in some sort of relationship, one he would later realize was in matrimony. The two have been married for decades and despite it, the wife and kids, and one they had just a year prior, Bruce kept the cowl. He kept being Batman.

Why?

Why wasn’t Vivian stopping him?

His Vivian told him to stop and when he didn’t she left, and just as she did — just like the others — she was taken from his world. Car accident, a drunk driver on the road. Thomas didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on him the moment he saw her lifeless body on the ground. 

How tragic. A woman with unlimited power killed by a car accident.

With that image in mind, Thomas knew what he had to do to save his son and the family he built. Bruce Wayne needed to stop being Batman. And how does he do that?

The only way he knows how to… he’ll bring him pain.

~*~

Waynes rise. Those were the words that Vivian remembered whenever she would walk past the Wayne family sigil in their library, which was actually a monogram of their family name, with the latin phrase of: resurgimus. We rise. 

A motto that the Wayne family kept from its founder and until it's living line. Bruce lived up to that phrase, even if he claims he mostly forgot about that phrase Bruce lived up to it. In every adversary he faced, and every rock-bottom he fell to, Bruce Wayne—Batman—rises. Stubbornness, Vivian would tease him whenever she could, but really it’s how he has always been. Defeat was not something that Bruce knows. Nor the world helps. It took her years before she could get him to ask her for help. It would often sound like a command, until, finally, he said “I need your help”. 

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked as he entered the library. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Val’s even had Ace and Echo and Gregory on the search.”

“Mumma!” Valerie reached out for her mother from where she sat on her father’s shoulders.

Smiling, Vivian took her daughter and engulfed her in an embrace, making the girl giggle. “Did you miss me?”

As a reply, Valerie kissed her mother’s cheek and played with her hair.

“Sorry,” Vivian said to Bruce. “I was… I don’t know, I had a — I had this feeling, like, something was calling me to come here.”

“To the library?”

“Yeah. I still don’t know what but it brought me here.”

To the sigil and to the portrait of his parents. 

“Is it bad?” Bruce asked, taking her hand.

“I don’t know. Sorry, not really helpful, huh?” Vivian shrugged.

“Maybe something is happening with the Endless, do you want to go and see?”

“No, if there is something Dream would come and get me. If he doesn’t, then it means they have it under control. Come on, let’s head down stairs, we promised the others a family dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” Bruce said but before they could leave, he pulled Vivian to him, covered Valerie’s eyes with his hand–making the girl whine–and kissed his wife. “If there’s anything, let me know.”

Smiling, Vivian kissed him again and said, “I will. Okay, okay, Dada, get your hand off of Val’s face before she gets fussy.”

Bruce removed his hand from Valerie’s eyes and the girl pouted at him. She’ll get over it after a while, Bruce said and joined his wife and daughter downstairs to be with their family. 

Unbeknownst to them, a figure stood not far from Wayne Manor, hidden in the blindspot of the security Bruce made for their home, and saw everything. This was the life his son was willing to risk for the sake of wearing that cowl?! A family, a happy life with a wife and daughter! A life with her! What can be better than this? Why risk it?

The thought itself erased every doubt he had in his plan. It was dirty and risky but Thomas Wayne knew it was the only way.

~ * ~

“I thought Falcone retired, isn’t he, like, a hundred years old now?” Nightwing mused as they chased up on a lead they got from the movements made by the notorious and oldest crime family in Gotham, that was far from their M.O.

“As long as he’s breathing, Carmine Falcone won’t stop trying to get control over Gotham,” said Batman through their comms as they watched from the rooftop as Falcone’s men pulled out of the warehouses to make the deliveries. Of what? That’s what they were going to find out, but first they needed to trace that delivery to where it was going.

Batman wouldn’t admit it but that night he saw Vivian staring at his parents’ portrait that had the Wayne family sigil on the frame  reminded him of the night of Mammon creeping out of hell to get to her. It brought bad omens to him, even when he didn’t believe in them at all. But after experience, seeing Vivian in a trance, feeling things she couldn’t understand meant something was coming. 

The vans that Falcone’s men drove to the harbor warehouse were filled with guns. Normal to find from them, Falcone deals with them too, but with that amount, along with the explosives, it was concerning. 

“This is more than just a delivery,” said Tim who met with them at the warehouse. “This is enough to supply a whole army.”

“Whose army?” Dick asked. 

Good question, and it was Jason who gave the answer.

“Maroni wouldn’t get these, and Mask has his own suppliers. There haven’t been any movements in the underground either, which means –”

“This is for them… all of this is theirs,” Batman concluded.

“A turf war?” Damian scoffed. “Have they learned nothing?”

“Not at this scale. Falcone has enough to arm every citizen of Gotham… but why? Why make this bold move?”

“It isn’t like him either,” Tim added. “He’s the type of guy who likes to play puppet. Remember the last mayor?”

“The one under Falcone’s pocket? Hard to forget, he kind of drove us out of Gotham for a while,” Jason shrugged.

“We’ll call it a night for now. Red Hood, I need you to keep looking in the underground, ask around if needed but do not engage,” said Batman.

Jason made a mocking salute. “I know that coming home was a bad idea.”

“Come on, chum, don’t act like  you don’t like it here,” Dick teased him.

“Shut it!”

~ * ~

Thomas Wayne remembered Carmine Falcone from his dimension. Like in this one, he too saved Falcone from a gunshot wound which made some sort of a connection between the Waynes and the crime family. Thomas thought of nothing on what Carmine’s father said about the Falcones and Waynes having been bonded with this act of kindness that saved his son, and he hasn’t thought of it for decades until now. 

Unlike the version of Carmine Falcone in his dimension, this one was alive and didn’t have a bullet hole between his brows. He was the one to pull the trigger that night when he went after every crime lord in Gotham. Here, Carmine had his control over the city, not as strong as it was when Bruce had not don the cape and cowl but he had his money and connections in the government. 

That was all he needed. 

When he visited Falcone that night, the man nearly had a heart attack when he took off his mask. Thomas Wayne, Falcon couldn’t believe his eyes when Thomas Wayne walked up to Falcone with his cowl down and the face of an old man. 

“Sei morto!” Falcone exclaimed.

He was. He never felt alive again after the death of his son.Truth be told he’s been a walking corpse for decades until he met Vivian Pryor, then he died again after she, too, passed. 

“You said our families are connected after that night… I’m here to collect a debt,” said Thomas.

He told him his plans, the secrets of his family and in return, Falcone promised silence. No one will know about what they talked about behind those doors, and if he ever says a word about those secrets he won’t hesitate to blow Falcone’s brains all over the carpet. With the goal in mind, Thomas let the man do his work, and as Falcone collected what he needed and plant tend to the seed that they have planted, Thomas made a risk.

He went to see Vivian.

Vivian likes taking Valerie out of the estate and walk around the park where she can play with the other kids her age. Jason has told her stop doing it after the incident of some pedophile taking photos of kids in the park, but Vivian promised to be extra careful, besides Val was missing the company of other kids too. While being born to one of the richest family in Gotham, living the life that can be associated to a royal, Vivian wanted her daughter to have the same childhood that she had. Or better.

She wanted her to meet kids and play with them.

She wanted her to trip and fall and get back on her feet with muddy shoes and clothes.

She wanted Valerie to have a sense of normalcy which was far from what their household could offer.

“Val, be careful now!” Vivian called out to her daughter as one-and-a-half-year-old Valerie held on the seesaw handle while playing with the other kids. 

Cassandra and Duke, who joined them that day, got up from their seats and decided to join the kids at the seesaw, just to add weight and get it to actually work. With Duke holding Valerie, and Cassandra holding the other kids, they went up and down, getting laughter from the young ones.

“How old is she?” A man’s voice broke Vivian’s gaze from her daughter. The man stood just beside the bench she sat on, he wore a white shirt, had a thick-white bead, thick glasses, and a baseball hat.

Vivian didn’t answer, she only looked at the man with a quizzical gaze.

“I’m not a creep, if that’s what you’re worried about…” the man said, his voice a little familiar but she couldn’t put a finger on it. Why is that? “She reminds me of my granddaughter.”

“Where is she? Your granddaughter?” Vivian finally spoke.

The image of the accident flashed in his eyes. Thomas Wayne had to shake his head to rid of the sight of Vivian’s mangled body and focus on the Vivian that sat there, alive… and married to his son.

“Car accident. She and her mother were in a car accident.”

No lies, Vivian sensed. Just sadness.

“I’m so sorry,” Vivian said. “But I still can’t give you my daughter’s age, I’m sure you understand that.”

Thomas chuckled. “I do. And that’s smart of you. You’ll never know, right?”

“Yeah… ever since she was born, everyone wanted a piece of her. The press, Gotham, and even those disgusting people… my son – one of my sons – was against the idea of me taking her here but she would always ask if we’ll go to the park so she can play with the others.”

“She’s friends with everyone,” he observed the girl as she laughed with the other kids.

“Yes, she is… sometimes I wonder where she got it.”

“I’m sure it’s from her mother.”

Vivian was always welcoming. Always finding a way to start a conversation. It was those talks that had him drawn to her.

“My husband says the same thing,” Vivian chuckled.

Right… Vivian married Bruce in this world.

“I see… she looks a lot like you.”

“Really? It’s more of a mix.”

It was but all Thomas could see was Vivian in the girl’s face. The smile, the eyes, and even the laugh. When he saw Valerie had enough of the seesaw and was gesturing for Duke that she wanted to go down, Thomas knew that his time was up.

“Are you happy?” Thomas asked before Duke and Cassandra would return with Valerie.

“What?”

“Are you happy with this life of yours? Is it perfect?”

“Perfect? Perfect is too much to use something to describe life… nothing can be perfect, even gods can't be perfect, there are bumps along the way, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, yes, I am happy.”

“You have no regrets?”

“None.”

Thomas frowned. “I see.” He hesitated with his next question, wondering if it was worth it to give himself that pain of knowing. “And your husband, does he make you happy?”

Vivian looked at him in question and answered, “Very much. I wouldn’t imagine a life without him… I couldn’t. Bruce is everything to me.”

His Vivian never said those things to him. Maybe with good reason too. Maybe Vivian Pryor will always be for Bruce Wayne, no matter in whatever dimension they are. If one of them is gone, it won’t be long until the other is too.

“I think your kid is coming in hot.”

Vivian turned to Valerie and saw her running towards her, before Val could stumble, Vivian got down and caught the girl in her arms. 

“Did you have fun?” Vivian asked as she wiped the sweat off of Valerie’s forehead.

“Dada?” Valerie asked, her gaze over Vivian’s shoulder following the silhouette of the broad-shouldered man that was leaving.

“Okay, let’s head home to Dada,” Vivian carried Valerie in her arms and asked Duke and Cassandra to bring the baby bag. Just as they were to leave, Vivian turned to the direction of the man but he was gone as if he was never there.

Strange.

Very strange.

And it was only now that she realized how strange it was to have his presence around her. It wasn’t normal. 

“Mom,” Cassandra called for her.

“Yeah?”

“Is everything alright, Mrs. P?” Duke asked her.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” Vivian said. “Let’s go home.”

~ * ~

“You’ve been distracted lately,” The sound of her husband’s voice pulled Vivian from her reverie. Before she could turn to him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her nape. “What is that?”

“What is what?” Vivian asked.

Leaning in, Bruce blew hot hair on the glass panel of their bedroom window. A symbol appeared, it had two faces that were inside-profile and attached to each other at the back of their heads. The symbol of Janus. The god of gates and doorways, beginnings, endings, transitions, time, duality, passages, and frame.

“Vivian, what's going on?” Bruce asked, worry laced in his voice.

“I honestly don't know… I've been feeling off lately. And this symbol, it's Janus.”

“The god of doorways.”

“And many other things that associate with doors, transitions, time, passage…”

“Gates to other dimensions?” Bruce guessed.

“A stretch but given the things we deal with almost every week, yes.”

“I'll head to the League to see if there is any disruptions in our readings,” said Bruce.

“Val misses you,” Vivian began. “I miss you. Can't this be done through a call instead?”

Bruce looked at his wife and saw the sadness in her eyes. She didn't want him to leave. All day she's been feeling this and while she had Valerie and their other children, she didn't feel as safe as she would be when he was around. Taking off his jacket, Bruce wrapped it around her and brought Vivian to an embrace.

“I'll contact J'onn and ask for a report. Unless he says there is, I'll stay here and tomorrow I'll head to the Tower,” he told her.

Vivian nodded to his conditions. “I'm fine with that.”

“Do you need a distraction?”

“This is all I need,” she brought him to an embrace. “But thank you, I might consider it tonight.”

“If that's the case,” Bruce reached down and lifted Vivian off the ground, and had her wrap her legs around him as he carried her to their bed. “Val's asleep already, and Dick said he'll take lead on patrols tonight, and Alfred's resting, we have some time to ourselves.”

When her back felt the bed, Vivian welcomed Bruce's kisses and said to him, “Just lay beside me, my love.”

“I will, but let me kiss you first,” he said between kisses.

When he was sure he has kissed every inch of her on her face, her neck and her chest, Bruce laid in bed and had Vivian in his arms. They stayed there in silence and only listened to each other's breathing. As she held her husband, Vivian thought back to the man who approached her at the park bench asking her about her life, her family, and her husband.

Was this a perfect life? Far from it. But she was happy. She said it to Bruce countless times how, for the first time since her mother died, she felt whole again. Being with him filled that emptiness. There was no other life she would imagine.

~ * ~

It wasn't the alert from the Justice League on any anomaly nor from the Dick on the case with Falcone. It was Barbara who woke from his sleep with a panicked voice saying that Arkham Asylum is rioting. Every prisoner--patient--there were free. Bruce jumped out of bed immediately, picking up his clothes from the floor as he made his way to the wardrobe where he kept one of his uniforms.

Following her husband, Vivian dragged along the blanket they shared to cover her nude body and watched as he put on the suit, the cape, the belt, but before he could put on the cowl, she took it from his hands, letting he blanket fall to the ground, then got on her toes to kiss his lips and said, “stay safe, and come back.”

She knew the gravity of this emergency, she heard it from Barbara's voice, and the last time Bruce had to face something this serious he almost never made it back. It reminded her of the many times she almost lost him.

But he was Batman.

He is a Wayne.

And Waynes rise.

“I will,” Bruce promised her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close to kiss her again, deeply this time.

Breaking the kiss, Vivian placed the cowl over his head, masking the half of his face. 

Taking the robe he offered from her closet, Vivian joined Bruce as he walked to their daughter's nursery. He carefully bent down to lift Valerie from her bed and kissed her cheek. Valerie smiled in her sleep and whispered, “Dada,” and nuzzled close to her father's face.

“I'll be back, Val,” Bruce told her before setting her down in her crib and went to the cave. The last Vivian saw him was getting in the Batmobile and driving away, leaving her with Alfred and their daughter with no way of knowing of what's to come. 

~ * ~

Thomas Wayne knew of Vivian's parentage. The Vivian from his world told him about it at one of the nights where he found a moment of happiness. The one he used to have with his wife, but now he found it with another woman. It was wrong, given their age difference, but he can say she enchanted him. Maybe it was her magic---he'd like to think that just to justify what they did---but he knew it was simply him unable to control himself.

Even a man who has lived a nightmare and has fallen into this pit yearns for happiness, even if it was just for one moment. 

“My Mother is a witch,” she told him when he asked about her tattoo. “An immortal witch. Rather, she was one. She was born during the first settlement of Gotham, almost got burned for being a witch. Then centuries later, she caught the attention of the God of Dreams, Morpheus, and they had me. Morpheus wanted to take me with him because of the power I had, but my mom refused, so she hid me from him with some spell.”

From then on, Thomas Wayne read about the God of Dreams, their kind, and learned about the history of Roderick Burgess, a man who was also know as the Magus, and for trapping the Devil in his basement. But that Devil turned out to be Lord Dream himself. He used a book called the Magdalene Grimoire to trap the Endless in a circle. 

He found the Magdalene Grimoire, read through its pages then and kept it with him. 

In this world, it took him days to find the Magdalene Grimoire, and connections in the underground. It was the Ventriloquist who found it for him, rather it was Scarface who did, along with the requirements for him to complete the ritual. 

While Bruce was busy in Arkham, Thomas Wayne had a job to do. And he cannot let anyone else do this. He can't trust any of them with her. 

There was an intruder in the manor. Handing her daughter to Alfred, Vivian armed herself with her Phoenix form and scouted the place. Then there he was. A man standing in the shadows.

Lighting the room with her magic, Vivian gasped at the sight before her. 

It was Batman… but not her Batman. 

This Batman was different, from the uniform, the age, and the demeanor. This was not her Bruce. And this Batman held a gun too.

“Who are you?” Vivian questioned him.

“I am sorry, my dear,” this Batman spoke. “But I cannot have you intervening.”

“You're going to tell me who you — what?” 

Her magic, it wasn't working and… sand? Was she turning to sand? 

“Coin and Song, Knife and Stick… Claw and Name, Blood and Feather…” the man began the spell. 

That spell! Vivian knew that spell. Her father, Dream, told her about it. And the book! He has the Magdalene Grimoire.

“NO!” Vivian tried to fight it but her body turned to sand and blew across the room until it formed inside a glass dome with a summoning circle to keep her imprison. Getting on her knees, she tried to break the glass with her fists or use her magic, but nothing. She can't do a thing. “LET ME OUT!” Vivian ordered.

The man walked towards her, making sure to not let his cape brush over the circle. He can't let her escape and have a chance to use her magic. 

“I apologize, my dear,” he spoke. “I promise you, once we have broken down your husband and he finally submits, I will free you so you can help him back again… and we can be a family without the Batman.”

“Who are you?” and how did he know about Bruce being Batman? What was happening? Vivian has been trying to figure out what was going on for days now, and it seems all those times she finds herself in a trance, the symbols she would write on the window, it was an omen of what's to come. But who is this man?

“Ms. Vivian!” She heard Alfred's voice.

No! 

“ALFRED, DON'T!” Vivian hit the glass over and over, hoping the butler would hear her. “GET OUT OF HERE! TAKE VAL AND GO!”

“Ms. Vivian! Master…” Alfred trailed off as he came to the room, in shock to find Batman. But this was not Bruce Wayne.

“ALFRED, RUN! TAKE VAL AND RUN!” Vivian begged him to. “PLEASE!”

The man turned to Alfred, giving the butler a view of Vivian trapped in the glass, and the face on who he was. Alfred gasped when he took off the cowl.

“It can't be,” Alfred said.

The cries of a child broke their silence, and before Alfred to move, Thomas Wayne knocked him out by hitting him with the gun at the back of the head, and disappeared out of the room. He was gone for a time until he came back with Valerie's cries growing louder and louder. Valerie cried as Thomas held her in his arms, cradling her in hopes of stopping her cries.

“LET HER GO!” Vivian continuously hit the glass, not caring if her hands were already bleeding. “HURT HER AND I SWEAR, I'LL--”

“I will never hurt her,” the man said, and placed a kiss on Valerie's forehead. “She's family after all… my blood. My granddaughter.”

It was then that Vivian saw the resemblance of the man before her to the portrait of Thomas Wayne in the library. 

Valerie's cries grew louder and louder and she tried to reach for her mother and Alfred. Why was her mother in a glass and why was Alfred sleeping on the floor? She wondered, but she can't ask them nor can she go to them because this man, this Batman, was holding her. Keeping her from them.

“Mumma! Dada!” Valerie cried. “Dada!”

“Please,” Vivian begged, tears rolling down her face. “Please, give her to me. Thomas, please…”

Thomas Wayne turned to Vivian and had Valerie close to him and said: “Hush now, my dear, I promise this will all be over soon.”

~ * ~

It was Bane who did it and under Falcone's influence too. Batman didn't know how or why Bane agreed to it but this was the reality now. With Falcone's men releasing all of the patients in Arkham, Bane became its “acting warden” and made the asylum a fortress. Jim Gordon had the GCPD outside, trying to keep anyone from escaping but for some reason, while everyone is roaming free no one was leaving Arkham Asylum.

Normally he would have had backup with him, but as he drove to Arkham, the Falcones started their movement in Gotham too. It was a turf war in the streets, as Red Robin reported. So, he had his Robins handle the wars, disarm them all and get a hold of Gotham with the little manpower that the GCPD could give. Him? He'll deal with Bane and every criminal he sent to Akham.

He put them there once, he can do it again this time. 

Upon entering, he was met by the sight of Bane. Bane wasted no time in making himself known and attacking him there. He knew he stood no chance against the man, especially with the venom, but Batman held his ground.

Waynes rise.

And he did, he rose and he would have taken down Bane if it not for the other player who has been in the shadows all this time. 

“Good job, my boy.”

That voice…

Turning, Bruce met the sight of another Batman.

“Know this, I am proud of the man you have become, but this must stop or they will pay the price.”

On one of the monitors in the halls, this Batman played a recording that came from Wayne Manor. In the first monitor, Bruce saw Alfred holding Valerie as his daughter cried in the man's arms while they were being held at gunpoint, then at the second monitor, he saw a glass dome inside of a circle and holding it was Vivian who was still trying to get out by punching the glass even if it meant breaking her bones all so she could get to their daughter.

“No…” Bruce whispered.

“I have your family, your wife will give it up now?” said this imposter Batman.

Glaring at him, Bruce only said, “You just pissed me off even more.”

“Fine then, it seems you need more than just one beating to break you. I should know known, you are my son after all,” the imposter Batman pulled down his cowl and revealed his face.

“Father?!” Bruce gasped.

Then Thomas Wayne grabbed his son by the head and slammed his face to the concrete floor, knocking him out completely. He has put the fear of helplessness in him and it only brought out rage. Then he shall bring him endless nightmares… just like what his Vivian had shown him before.

[goddessofbees]

Lady Gotham and Clockwork definitely swap blackmail

Lady Gotham wanted a meeting with Dan and Jason, Dan being embarrassed by his pseudo aunt (she likes being called aunty Gotham), I like to think that Jason's her favorite. Clockwork would be there but he got busy with time (ha!)

[tacagen]

we are NOT!! TALKING ENOUGH ABOUT THIS PAGE. LIKE THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DEPICTIONS OF THAWNE TO EVER EXIST IN COMICS!! THE BLOOD!! THE BRUISES UNDER HIS EYES!! THE LIFELESS EXPRESSION!! THE HAIR!! THE BUILD!! THE EVERYTHING!! AND ITS A FUCKING CORPSE!!! HIS RENAISSANCE PAINTING ASS IS JUST LYING AROUND IN THE MORGUE WAITING FOR THE AUTOPSY!!!!

[bloomeng]

This is my official Batfam Magical Girl AU Masterpost (everyone clapped)

(image updated: 9/21/24)

I’m going to do a brief overview and then go into more details for those interested.

Bruce being from old money (and apparently being connected to Camelot) inherited a mysterious mineral with unknown properties. In its raw form it’s very unassuming, but when cut like gemstones and added to accessories it can be harnessed into a tool. By altering the mineral into a wearable item it allows the magic within to be channeled. The magic of the mineral connects with its wielder to create an outfit and (typically) a weapon. These outfits do not grant the wearer special abilities outside of the transformation and the weapon, but when worn the wearer is granted (what is basically) hammerspace and a nearly impenetrable outfit. The uniform granted is not something they can alter the appearance of but will change gradually overtime to reflect how the wielder has grown.

This mineral will henceforth be known as Arcanium. It operates on Kryptonite logic in that it’s— allegedly— super rare but also shows up whenever the plot needs it. (I’m aware it shares a name with a card game, but I wanted my Kryptonite spoof)

Martha Wayne unknowingly started the cycle by turning— what she thought was a rare gemstone— into a brooch. She died shortly after having it made and Alfred held onto it in her memory. Like canon Bruce goes on his journey of self-exploration to train. When he comes back he enacts his plan the way he does in Batman: Year One, where he goes out in basically just make-up, and it goes poorly. He wanders his manor trying to formulate a strategy and is drawn to his parent’s room and finds his mother’s brooch. Cue the first magical girl transformation. From there he alters the brooch to fit his bat aesthetic and the Batman Brooch is born.

Dick comes into his life the same way as canon. Bruce takes him in as a ward, Dick tries to track down Zucco on his own, etc. Bruce decides to use the other raw sample of Arcanium to turn into a second magical artifact. He lets Dick pick the theme, and thus the Robin Pendant is born. The rest is history.

(Before I continue I want to warn that I’m making shit up as I go, so some of this is subject to change as I move forward.)

The Robin Pendant is passed down from Robin to Robin. Each Robin got their own unique look while using it. Following canon, Dick and Bruce have their falling out and Dick gives up the Robin Pendant in a moment of anger. In this au I think Dick, not having the pendant to fall back on, tries to lead a vigilante-free life, but of course falls back into it. During a fight he somehow manages to stumble across Arcanium in its raw form. Recognizing it he takes it with him. Like Nightwing: Year One he has his conversation with Superman and decides to become his own hero. Using his knowledge of Arcanium from his years with Bruce he creates his own magical artifact and becomes Nightwing.

This is a good place to interject that I’m not changing any of their hero names. I was asked about it a couple times due to the caption, “Red Bow & Sailor Nightwing” on my Dick and Jason designs. It was just a silly caption, because I didn’t want to simply state “Jason and Dick Magical Girl au.” But being serious, I don’t really see a reason to change their names, with the exception of maybe Red Hood, seeing as I didn’t give him a red hood. My au operates on Sailor Moon logic where despite the lack of masks no one recognizes them, and it’s just vaguely explained by magic. I think it would be funny if Bruce chose to wear a mask anyway because he’s that paranoid, but we’ll see when I actually design him. Anyway point is Red Hood is lacking a red hood, maybe he secretly has a red hood on his jacket or maybe he really does go by Red Bow, I’ll leave that up to interpretation.

Arcanium does not just accidentally appear. At the end of the day it’s still a mineral and it’s not sentient, but the magic has an element of “the wand chooses the user.” It’s not so much a “chosen one thing,” so much as the magic can sense intention. It doesn’t care about the morality of the user, the magic is more seeking a symbiotic connection. (Meaning yes rogues can in fact wield artifacts.) Simply put, it wants a host that will be able to wield it. In its raw form the magic is dormant but it seeks to be… not dormant, so when it finds those who actually have the potential to create an artifact and use it, it reveals itself. It was not a coincidence that Martha had the inclination to have the brooch made, it was not a coincidence that Bruce was drawn to his parent’s room, and it was not a coincidence that Dick found Arcanium in the alleyway.

Each of the Bats have their origin moments with their own magical artifacts. I don’t have the whole timeline down, but I will say there was a lot of drama between Tim and Damian, because Tim was forced to hand over the pendant. Even though he technically relinquished it, emotionally the connection wasn’t severed. No one was sure if the transition would work, but Arcanium responds to whoever needs it more and therefore who will use it more. Like canon, Tim is having an awful time during that era. On top of all of it he’s had his title stripped from him and he can’t even argue because if it wasn’t the right move the pendant wouldn’t have responded to Damian. Dick tries to comfort him by telling him that Arcanium will appear for him when he’s ready, but Tim is furious and impatient. So like a well-adjusted person he decides he’s going to engineer his own magical artifact artificially. It goes as well as his attempt to clone Kon does. It’s not until Tim starts to get back on his feet that Arcanium presents itself to him. My thinking is that while Arcanium finds its users when they need it most, Tim’s case is abnormal. His acquisition of the pendant was unconventional from the start since he showed up and demanded to take on the Robin role. Arcanium is drawn to individuals who will actually use its properties. Tim tends to rely more on his own detective work, which renders the pendant’s properties pretty moot. Especially when he’s going off the deep end, he becomes a hermit meaning a) he wouldn’t really need/use Arcanium’s properties and b) he inadvertently limited his own chances of stumbling across it “in the wild.”

In a similar vein I believe Barbara’s journey is abnormal in that she forged her own Batgirl artifact that operates a little differently than the others, seeing as she made it without Bruce’s influence. After the accident she shelved it, maybe she passed it down to Cass, but eventually she gets it back. She created the Oracle identity without it, and for a long time the Batgirl artifact is something she avoids using, until she gets the idea to combine it with her computer to create a magic computer… sort of. She gets a uniform that is basically connected to the computer.

Going back to Damian needing the Robin Pendant more, its reaction to his acquisition was unique. As I mentioned previously the suits typically provide a weapon, well Damian is the exception. Unlike all the other Robin’s Damian didn’t need more weapons in his life, what he needed was guidance. For the first time the pendant granted Damian a magical animal guardian, which is how he gets Alfred the Cat in this au. Despite being an animal lover Damian is extremely pissed at this development. He wanted dual swords or a scarier animal at least. He can’t formally communicate with Alfred the Cat but he understands him intrinsically, though Alfred the Cat seems to be able to understand human speech somewhat. Only Damian seems to be able to truly understand Alfred the Cat. (Cue the antics of his siblings trying to figure out what the cat means or trying to control him in any capacity.) Besides being an animal, Alfred the Cat is also unique in that he doesn’t dissipate when Damian isn’t in uniform the way that the weapons do. Like the weapons he can be summoned by the pendant, but he seems to have existed prior to the pendant’s creation. (I’m toying with the idea that while in uniform, the cat would also get some sort of uniform.)

Before I get into Duke and his abnormalities, I want to address the Speedsters in this au. It’ll make sense after.

So the Flash. I want to say I don’t know if I will get around to creating full designs for them. I do have plans for Bart and maybe Wally, but I have determined how I want their mechanics to operate in the context of the au. Not all the heroes in this au are “magical girls,” in fact I’ve made the executive decision that you have to be human to wield an artifact. Arcanium may have magic in it, but it doesn’t grant its user magical abilities beyond the uniform itself. The speedsters retain their canon origins, hit by lighting blah blah blah, only with one key difference: they had Arcanium on them when they were hit. Instead of engineering an artifact Arcanium fused with their bodies granting them powers. I want to keep the magic transformation aspect (because it’s not a magical girl au without it), so instead of using a physical artifact as a channel for their powers, it’s instead the act of transforming that serves as a gateway to their speed abilities.

To me it was always important to maintain Batman’s identity of not having super powers and having to rely on engineering, which is why the Batfam have to physically build their artifacts. In a similar way I wanted to retain the integrity of the Flash’s identity of being meta but also still human. Which brings me back to Duke. I know in canon that Duke inherited his abilities, but for the sake of the au I’ve decide that he either had an accident when he was young in which traces of Arcanium fused with him or his parents had it in them and he inherited it from them, but regardless it’s less potent, but operates similar to the Speedsters. For years he couldn’t fully transform or use his powers and it wasn’t until— with Bruce’s guidance— he was able to create an artifact that allowed him to channel his abilities and transform. Even though he is a meta I wanted him to still have some of those Batfam qualities in there.

But what about the Superfam? They’re not human so how do their transformations work? The answer is simple: They’re not “magical girls.” At least not real ones, they’re faking. They’re not human (Kon and Jon are technically half human but they still get their abilities from their Kryptonian DNA), and thus cannot forge a connection with Arcanium. Truthfully I’m about to get silly— even sillier than this au already is— but I have decided that Clark is a fake artifact wielder. I like the idea that Batman has been operating longer than Superman has, so when Clark decided to become a hero in his own right his only example of how to style himself was from the bat themed vigilante, who might as well be a cryptid, operating out of Gotham. Only blurry pictures of him existed, so Clark designed his outfit based on his Kryptonian origins and Batman’s aesthetics. He had no idea about the existence of Arcanium or how it worked. This is also why Kon’s design looks so much like his canon outfit with a few magical girl elements (and definitely not because I think the lines in his canon suit already lend themselves well to a magical girl aesthetic and didn’t want to change much). Later when he gets to know Batman more he learns about the transformations, to which he panics and invents his own transformation using Kryptonian tech (ex: MAWS’s transformation). For years Bruce goes crazy trying to figure out Arcanium’s effects on aliens and if it grants them abilities on top of the ones they’re born with, and if Clark has plans to use it as a weapon, and how he managed to forge the connection in the first place— Clark comes clean as a fake once they reveal their identities to each other.

Side tangent but I find it hilarious that Green Lanterns are— by technicality— already “magical girls,” considering they’re granted magical accessories that give them powers and transform their clothing. Hal is very clear with the JL that he is nothing like Batman and constantly feels the need to assert that he is not a magical artifact wielder. The non-human members of the team still lump them together anyway.

Things I haven’t figured out:

- what each of the batfam’s weapons are

- what each of the magical artifacts are

- what to refer to magical artifact wielders as

Stepping outside the canon(?) lore of the au for a minute, obviously I’m redesigning DC characters using inspiration from a genre, because that’s what “magical girl” is. It’s a genre. This is why I refer to it in quotes and don’t call them magical boys, because I am always referring to it as a genre, which isn’t a gendered thing. However, in universe they wouldn’t call themselves magical anything, the same way the characters of Sailor Moon don’t refer to themselves as magical girls, but rather Sailor Scouts. As of right now I’m sort of just referring to them as artifact wielders, but I feel like Bruce would come up with a better name. On a similar note, throughout this whole thing I’ve been referring to Arcanium in it’s wearable state as an artifact. I don’t know if that’s the best term, but I can’t think of anything better for the generalized form of Arcanium outside of it’s raw state. For now I guess it will be “artifacts” and “artifact wielders.”

- how the wonderfam fits into this

I really can’t think of a reason why Wonder Woman would be a “magical girl” in this au. She was born with abilities, she’s not human, and I can’t see her altering her uniform to match the aesthetic. A transformation would just be a waste of time for her. I could to see maybe Cassie or Donna wanting to match with their respective teams, and perhaps maybe that’s why they would alter their uniforms? All I know is I want see Tim, Kon, Bart and Cassie as a matching “magical girl set.”

Fin… for now.

[I’m just going to put this here preemptively, because I’ve gotten messages about turning my au into fics or tiktok skits. You’re free to use this lore HOWEVER you MUST credit me not just for the designs but for the creation of the lore. I’ve put a lot of time and thought into this and I love that people love it, so I just ask for recognition. If you want to make something that’s inspired by my designs or loosely based on my au, just a simple credit for the inspiration is fine. You’re free to change things this is just how my own au operates. Regardless I would prefer to be tagged so that people can find me but also because I’d love to see other’s work.]

Current designs:

[acid-ixx]

mild spoilers for chapter six for my series again &. again, but i really feel the need to ramble about this, and i'd love to hear anybody's opinion on this hehe.

as i write outline chapter six (and write for chapter five), i'd like to say i couldn't wait to write the reader's face reveal in bruce's perspective. and it's not just angst, for me, this plays a very pivotal turn for the series— because bruce will spiral to insanity.

to never once see a single portrait of your second youngest child, whose presence has long been erased from the manor, not a single image, nor trace of you is sickening to the heart, even if he scours through the internet day and night for a single memoir of you, nothing— but to find your portrait in alfred's living quarters and seeing you for the first time in forever? graduating a milestone no less?

god, he's in for a ride just analyzing every aspect of your physical appearance.

the color of your eyes, the shape of your nose, the quip of your mouth, the fat in your cheeks; even the length of your lashes! god, does he brand it into the deepest parts of his mind to never forget you anymore. his pearl, his treasure.

the longer he stares, the more he notices and gazes even more, obsessive as he stands lonesome in the room with every bone in his body locking up, his eyes unable to look away from the portrait that showcases his baby child.

and there, there it is that he concludes a detail so small it's unrecognizable for someone who's seen it for his entire life; yet it's all the same triggered deranged emotions deep within him.

— you don't just share him and your mother's traits, no, your smile is also reminiscent of his mother's.

martha wayne, who'd died in his arms, laying in a pool of her blood with a bullet grazed deep inside her body. his loving mother, who caressed his face whenever he'd cry from his nightmares, who'd shown him motherly love that until now he still craves.

she died with her pearl necklace that once decorated her porcelain neck spilling to the ground and stained with crimson.

you wore pearl earrings on your graduation.

the thought alone is enough for him to just snap.

this? this is the child that he's been neglecting far too long? who shares the same, loving expression of his mother's? his child? not even a single memory could be conjured with you but fantasies now do. if your happiest moments were within the picture frame that he holds with shivering fingers at present; could your smile be any wider if you'd be with him?

how come he never once noticed? why is bruce always destined to fail left and right? why, just why is he brimming with jealousy for all the people who must've seen your smile before him, and contempt for himself that he was never there to pick you up from the police station beforehand?

bruce isn't a heckler for favoritism, but a darker part of him is motivated to take you away from wherever you are, and to never let anybody else witness his beautiful, little treasure.

he's gotham's knight, first and foremost. but he's a father, too, with goals to protect his children just like a father should.

and the things he'd do for you, his child, now? anything.

if it means he has to see that smile, then he'll turn the world upside-down.

he has to protect your smile.

[bruciemilf]

No Capes! AU where Bruce and everyone else is an actor.

Famous Hollywood moguls Thomas and Martha would've rather died in real life than make Bruce a child actor so he didn't start till he was 24

It's an ongoing gag that Thomas always tweets "On my way to die again! As if you didn't know" with every Gray Ghost remake

The Waynes are always just. So chaotic

Bruce and Selina constantly bring stray cats on set; Bruce just hides them under his black shirt famously known as a void with no end.

Behind the Scenes cuts have images of this man pulling 10 cats from under there and the director is convinced he has a cryptid on set

They have to edit so much footage because Bruce always says "sorry" after "punching" someone. "Bruce, they have padding, they're fine!" "And no health Insurance. Do something about that."

Sometimes he forgets to take off the costume after filming. The record set for how many Subways he sent into a panic is infinite

That being said, Bruce's kids aren't afraid of him at all, and WILL run up to him everytime they visit to chant "dork! Dork! Dork!" While flocking around him. He cries from happiness

But he cries all the time, so it's hard to tell for what

The movie's soundtrack is just Bruce's middle school playlist, " They said they needed something rotten and terrible, like, -- poison for the ears. If you listen to it you get sick."

Bruce's biggest "diva moment" was refusing to give up the eyeliner and he still sends apology cards to the cast and crew for his " horrible behavior"

"He just kinda said no a bit loud and ran out of the studio while sobbing quietly."

Literally every villain on set is a sweetheart. Selina does her own make-up as well as Bruce's and Oz's and you can see Carmine lurking like a little gobling behind them just to scare her

There's this joke that none of Selina's streams ever go well because the crew is her curse. She's trying to talk about how to steal on set, meanwhile, Bruce next to her, "Did you know cats have no collarbone. Also, the electric chair was invented by a dentist."

You'd think everyone's favorite duo would be Bruce and Selina, and you wouldn't be wrong, but the public can't wait for Bruce and Carmine to have a press conference or interview together

Mostly because Carmine obviously dealt some shady cards in his past and Bruce is so clueless . " Have I ever tried coke...No, I like Pepsi." While Carmine is trying not to laugh behind him

Edward is just as bad. He's trying to tell the director that's not how bombs are made, and someone's head exploding wouldn't look like that, and Bruce is like :O Eddie, I didn't know you were a gamer

Edward is a menace on set and Bruce stays blind to it because he like him. There's rows of videos of Bruce stopping mid scene, going " Eddie," before jumping on the guy like the kitten he's NOT

Alfred still brings Bruce lunch and snacks and he throws down with Oz for no reason. He always brings the kids (read; they sneak in) and it's very clear they're not getting any shooting done that day

Dick, age 10, impatiently asks why Gray Ghost can't have a sidekick. In the last moments of the movie Dick runs in, improvises a scene with Bruce, and the fans love him too much not to include him after

You just leave Bruce alone when his babies are on set; Damian is strapped to his chest cause he's so small that everyone almost steps on him, Jason is giving the writers tip, Tim is taking pics of everyone, and Bruce smothers them with kisses constantly

[figutii]

oh god. i have the idea of the decade fr.

fem!catwoman accomplice x civilian!jason todd

introduction: the boy is mine

bruce wayne's parents get to the black limbo without any accidents. no man with a pistol shoots at martha. thomas wayne never has to step in front of his wife. bruce doesn't have to relive a traumatic event for the rest of his life.

when bruce wayne does political posturing by visiting the yearly circus event near the city border, he doesn't know why it is a 7-year-old that has him on a chokehold. he grants the kid a scholarship, by that establishing a strong bond with the athlete. maybe it was the familarity when he saw the family trio successfully cloud swinging.

it doesn't end there. playboy bruce seems to be a magnet. after half a decade, his sports car gets disassembled on an open street at daylight. he had a meeting nearby. he doesn't file charges but instead sees potential in the neglected, young kid.

"uh, he's just another prick of high-class nepo babies," selina remarks with irony, stretching the thin black fabric of her knee socks over her leg. you know that she likes to play with men as if they are toys in the shape of mice, but still, you almost caught yourself believing that she was serious this time.

"just phone me when it's over and don't forget - if you wrap him around your finger…" her manicured fingernail glides across her matte lips, "then you'll do mami a favour, got it?"

here you are. the unnecessarily long taxi drive has led you to an antique manshion far away from the city center. it makes you raise an eyebrow at how selina has managed to play tom and jerry with the playboy bruce wayne. aren't there enough overpriviliged males in their 40s who don't reside near an isolated forest?

"ms reader? welcome to the wayne mansion, master todd is awaiting you inside," a bald-headed slim butler smiles at you, holding the door open to an entrance that has to be bigger than your kitchen, bathroom and bedroom together.

a neverending maze of long halls follows. portraits that scream auctions with a sum of money you don't want to imagine, a deer head not escaping from the corner of your eye.

"master todd, ms reader is here." so a simple knock on the door isn't how it functions here. the tiles beneath reflect your facial expression and remind you that you most likely wouldn't find your way out of this villa.

"thanks alfred."

when you look up, you almost forget to blink. the image before you reminds you of the several posts you've seen online - where girls decribe the boys they've encountered on their vacation. how they had one second of mutually intense eye contact before walking the other way and never seeing them again. that type of beauty.

black glasses, a shameful realization of a pair of fit arms and tall height. piercing blue eyes that immediately remind you of the copyrighted wayne images selina had shown you with popcorn on your laps.

"thank you mr alfred," you smile, the said man giving you a simple nod before dissapearing down the hall. you get a short fit of phobia when the entirely empty space re-appears.

"you can take a seat wherever you want," he closes the door behind him. the size of the room makes you jealous of your own shitty environment near the east end of the city. selina does have reasons after all. and you are sure that this isn't even his bedroom but an extension by just looking at the other door.

the table is clean and bigger than the second-hand table in your kitchen. chairs that don't scratch against moldy and bloated wooden plates. several posters hang above the pc setup. must be nice to live in abundance.

you don't notice that you've been all by yourself, internally. "which learning material do you want to begin with?" he asks as you eventually stop to slack off. the window grants you view to the trees, a fresh aroma spreading into the room. "i don't really mind… i have difficulties with this part," and with that, the depressing pile of unnecessary notes gets more comprehensible. for the first time in years you understand power point presentations that are devoid of words.

"makes more sense now, thank you."

after hours of learning and taking tips from the raven-haired, you quickly get a new image of the boy. you weren't that worried with how the adoptive son of the bruce wayne would turn out - like you already knew what spoiled brat you had to deal with. however, when he reveals himself as a kind and respectful young man, you feel embarassed at your false predictions.

"so, this is your special field?" your pen points at the bright blue banner of a motorcycle. arrows around it lead to boxes of text, probably describing the technical elemets of the vessel. the name of the vehicle is only quoted in kanji. you wouldn't be able to afford it anyway.

"yes, engineering," there is a slight shrug in his shoulders, him sounding nonchalant. "you don't like it?" you try to follow up with an interesting-sounding question, or at least you try to sound talkative.

"i wanted to sign up for an english literature course but my mother argues it wouldn't be worth the scholarship," he pushes his glasses back, looking at the table while doing so. you think longer after hearing his response.

"i get you. trying to make your parent proud, right?" you don't get too much of a reaction other than a nod. "you could still attend some extra curricula activities." it shouldn't be this complicated for him, no?

he meets your gaze, "i'm over it to be honest. the bookshelves are more than enough." the end of his sentence sounds like an assurance for you, but your are fine with that. you can't change much about it - well, nothing. you have to deal with loud neighbours and noisy people who can't live without permanent provocations.

"how 'bout you?"

you dramatically roll your eyes, which makes him smile. "i'm doing it for the money obviously," you joke. jason peter, as you later find out, reflects the same sarcastic sentiment with a knowing look. "just joking, it just happened to be this" you liar. "i hate every minute there, but hey!"

to have a longer conversation with him shouldn't shock you. he is open and genuine. too bad that you won't get to see him after this. as much as you like to be delusional and supportive of miss kyle, you know that he is a busy student with a schedule that's way worse than what you already have to deal with. ugh, the thought alone triggers you.

but before you say your goodbyes, you want to get some information out of him. not because selina has asked you to do so but due to gossip articles. "so, how is it living away from the city?"

he doesn't seem to be taken back, but more as in i'm used to it. he purses his lips, looking up to the ceiling, "as a child it felt very… hm, peculiar. now i've grown to love living here with alfred and bruce." you don't know why you are happy for him when he lives on more than quadruple the size of hectars. but then, alfred, him and even the playboy - they seem like good guys.

he also shares that he visits his mother on the weekends. that's the last talking point before you go.

"oh, reader! mind if i give you my number?" he exclaims when you descend the steps with alfred.

you can't help the grin. "my pleasure."

when the first drop of rain falls on your leather sleeves you are immediately rewarded with the peaceful scent of petrichor. as much as gotham is and will always be a hellhole, you can't get rid of its nostalgic values.

the billboard behind you is torn down, the face of a woman with a ring in her hand half-watching you stand on the rooftop across the lit apartments. the streets below you don't pose a danger, or at least not yet. you jump from balconies to muddy roof gardens until you reach the neighbouring districts.

the absence of too much police siren and screaming doesn't hold you back from looking out for women, children and other civilians. you relax with the regular rythm of water droplets until you have to scare away a drunk guy from a group of teenagers.

out of nowhere you hear bickering. you don't mind it much but pull up when it gets too loud.

"whaaat? scared, young boy?" three man with caps. "yeah, jus' give us the money 'n you go." another voice chimes in, "why else is a moneybag here, huh?" your observing shouldn't take longer than needed, but when you somehow recognize the pair of red jordans and strands of black hair above glasses, you freeze for a second.

"'m getting pissed now rich fucker! show me the money!"

you transport yourself to the other side, where the boy is standing against the wall. here you have a perfect view from the dripping roof.

"nah, we gotta get him," and when the low-lives stand a meter away, you don't expect jason to throw a punch at the man in the middle.

"the fuck are you doin' you son of a-" the bottom of your heels press against solid surface and you hear an immediate "what the fuck?!" you are a little bit out of balance until you see another mugger getting closer.

you target his knees and hit him on the side of his skull. your throat gets engulfed by wet clothing. another one is trying to choke you from behind but you are prepared and drill your fingers into his face with a kick into his groin. he cries out in pain as he folds into half.

when someone yells, you almost forget the last one. he holds a piece of what looks like a broken drawers in his hands. you are met with resistance as you nudge against him and are able to snatch it away after many attemps. then you smash it against his side.

what you don't expect is jason throwing punches at the macho in a yellow sweater. he does a good job but you take a hard swing with your leg brace and succed at bringing him down.

from the corner of your eyes you catch one of them trying to get up, but you signal jason to run. after turning into an alleyway, it's unbelievable that you still hear hawling. "get that bitch!" you don't say anything, holding tightly around his waist and having your grapple gun ready.

you are too consumed with the fear of falling when you wiggle sideways - opossed to vertically flying - that you almost blend out the stuck breath in his throat. the cityscape at night was mesmerizing to marvel, neon signs of cafés, motels and bars greeting you. different patches in blues, reds, yellows and whites coating bland skyscrapers in vivid colours. the most tireless character has to be the pearly moon above gotham.

your foot land on stable ground, plummeting onto all four. the boy next to you exhales, facing the night sky. you feel guilty for snatching him away like he is a puppet. he's definetely weighing way more than a doll, the close crash against a water pipe being proof. you really needed to get rid of those losers.

"hey-" you stop. no matter if you apologize, this isn't personal. you also fear of exposing yourself, jason todd is not stupid. anyone would put two and two together when they hear your voice. don't forget to lower your tone, or else cut if off completely.

he looks up. you catch yourself melting at the cute cat-like face he makes. cheeks red and glasses crooked. you stand up, beckoning him to do the same, the hook in your hand prepared for another wobbly flight. by the expression he makes - you know he'd rather jump off then risk another possible hit against concrete but the 9th floor isn't save for that.

without another word you have him against you, this time even managing to get smoothly between apartment blocks, spas and shouting men behind their windows. you are too focused to cherish the way he has his big arms around your shoulders. oh, and he is very warm and confortable. his head does move up once or twice, possibly goggling at the billboards.

you even take a detour to stay a little longer in the air, his longer legs entangling with yours. if you get home you immediately have to research how much this device can hold, just for the safety of your future missions.

his hair tickles your cheek when you drop him at a bus stop. the wealthier part shouldn't be as threatening as the east side. you quickly get on the roof of a bakery and crouch down. your index finger wiggles as you get his attention, voice distorting like you have a sore throat, "careful next time." you only see his curious blue eyes before you dissapear under the luna.

the digits on your screen scream anxiety, your thumb twitching. selina told you to just call him although you made it clear that it wasn't easy. there was no chance that the accomplice of catwoman would befriend a millionair's son. for her it's not a moral dilemma, and that's okay. it is just unrealistic for you, personally. a little crush would never last. on top of that, you don't have any right to expect anything. this isn't about you.

"gotham today, my name is valerie vale and we are in front of the crime scene at marco's jeweler. recent cases of high-end brands closing down their shops-" you yank off the cable. your belly aches, repeatingly inhaling for air.

you

hey, hope you're doing fine

how's your week?

the dark blue outlook does minimal work at easing your mind. instead, you take a seat and listen to the sink in the kitchen. you are restless - you can't figure out why. after all, he's free from injuries. maybe you were too harsh on him?

selina wasn't fazed by the incident. "great job sweetie," is what she sung as she danced through the front door. well, it can't be changed. he's well and that should be enough. visiting his parent's home at the end of the week is inevitable. bruce should give him a team of bodyguards if that's what's needed.

it's in the afternoon, sun dipping through the curtains. after some late-night errands you aren't motivated to do anything. your brain collects all your to-do's like a vacuum and you scoff. the brightness of your phone leads you to another fit of rage.

a message.

jason todd

good morning reader, my weekend has been rather out of the ordinary. it's a long story and i don't intend to bore you. how was your day?

you

i wouldn't mind jason

tell me

you face the walnut door weeks after the short exchange. bruce and selina have hit it off, the latter wanting you to accept another invitation. this time you have let the depressing bag of academic work behind and instead brought some books along with you.

"ah, i'm sure that master todd will be delighted by the present," alfred accompanies you up the stairs. "i'm quite devestated by the state of the heating stove so if you'll excuse me miss reader, i have a long way to go." you immediately reassure him that you can go find his room and part ways.

"jason?" you ask after there has been no reaction. five minutes are gone and you aren't keen on waiting another one. his room is empty but by the sounds behind the other door you allow yourself to sit down. it's not lady-like to barge into someone else's private zone but you aren't going to wait while stuffed bats are drilling holes into the back of your head.

you carefully place the paper bag on the free tabletop and examine. a few movie posters, stacks of literature and portraits of family. the room is halfway illuminated by the long monitor. must have cost three months of rent, you twist your mouth. the look is washed off your face when you stare into the white screen.

"catwoman and accomplice at it again! who is the unknown criminal next to the ex-arkham asylum detainee?"

your heart drills against your rib cage, legs stiff as the sickening font of black letters laughs at you. the door is still closed. you count down. then you do another round and the door doesn't open. that's when you step forward and bend closer.

"17th of this month has witnessed another victim of craftman's businesses throughout gotham city. it's none other then thief and arkham asylum escapee catwoman. after years, the police struggle to identify her real name and location. what we know from past documents are her ambitions: robbing and sabotaging the craftmanship of the working class," you crunch your face at the media fabrication, "a young policeman by the name of jim gordon tells gotham times that catwoman doesn't work alone but rather closely with another criminal-"

"reader."

· .’★: many don't know how muchhh reblogs help and motivate us writers. pls consider doing so and comment ur thoughts. likes alone don't change much. part 2 follows if there is enough support.

[dickheadcanons]

Your brain is literally gynormous. Do you think Damian's and Dick's relationship is paternal? Because, as someone who has actually had to raise their sibling (do not recommend) it looks more like a guy that had too much in his plate trying to be the best caregiver he could, but not really being a parent, if that makes sense. I feel like the idea of him wanting to adopt him feels like kind of a retcon, couldn't really see it in the og run. But of course, it could be because it's not exactly the same as my experience (abusive father, incapable mother, yknow the drill). What do you think? All your posts are so good.

Also while you're at it, what do you think of Dick as a parent? Some elseworlds have played with the concept, and main continuity did something too with Olivia but T*m Tayl*r fucked that up too. I also wonder how Damian would be as a dad, but I don't think I've ever seen any stories with it.

omg anon thank you and thank you for asking!! this is literally one of my favorite topics!! i was thinking about making a post on this and now you gave me the excuse for it!!

Long story short, I don't think that “parental” is a binary thing. I mean, I know several bio-parents who are just guys with too much on their plates, trying to be the best they can, you know? And people can see parent figures in all kinds of relationships that aren’t blood or traditional moms/dads, especially with people who didn't know each other from birth. There are a million ways to be parented, and a million ways to act as a parent.

The way I think about it is, is Dick Damain's John Grayson? No, I don't think so.

But is Dick Damian's Bruce Wayne? Yes. Totally. Absolutely.

More under the cut bc I have a lot of thoughts.

I think to talk about Dick and Damian, we have to start with Dick and Bruce. So much about Dick and Damian is a reflection of the original Dynamic Duo, and I think that's very much the case with this element as well. From the start of their very long comic history, Dick and Bruce have been dancing around their relationship. We get early comics that say they're "like" father and son, we have Bruce saying he couldn't care about Dick more than if he was Bruce's son, but we also have places where they call each other their best friends, where they act more like brothers, etc etc.

When it comes to who our parents are, I think there is the responsibility, and the result. Certain people have the responsibility, the duty, to be our parents, and sometimes (because death or illness or being shitty people), they aren't able to meet those responsibilities. That never removes the responsibility; they don't stop being the parent. But they aren't able to create the result of us becoming good stable adults. That's where other people can step in, where the parental figure appears, and those are the people that we actually point to when we say "they made me the person I am today."

In fandom, we see a lot of Dick not wanting Bruce to replace his father, of him asking not to be adopted. I think this is a fine characterization that works with who Dick is, but Bruce is actually the one to say that he is not going to replace Dick's father. He says it completely unprompted, too. This is withholding the responsibility of being Dick's parent from Bruce, keeping him at a distance and reserving it as an honor for someone who can't hold it anymore, even as Bruce demands responsibility for literally everything else about Dick.

And I think that it's very telling of what Bruce's idea of a father is. The thing about having a dead parent at a young age is that the person of your parents is still tangled in the role of parent in your life; Mom is mom, not Martha, and because she's dead, the image of both Martha and "mom" is frozen. For Bruce, the relationship of father and son is frozen in the relationship of specifically his father and him. Of course Bruce is not Dick's father; Bruce himself is so different from what his conception of a father is. And as a fellow son, for Bruce, someone who just got back from 7 years abroad studying to be Batman, for whom the nearly 20 year old wound is still fresh, the idea of even wanting another father doesn't make sense, particularly for a boy that Bruce identifies with so hard that he becomes the third person ever to know who Batman is.

This looming memory is even worse when it's Dick's turn to be Batman. While Bruce looks at Dick and sees the memory of his own loss, the shadow of his own grief, Dick is looking at Damian and seeing Bruce. Dick knows very well who Damian lost; Dick is grieving what Damian lost more than Damian is. Bruce couldn't conceive of replacing a father, but Dick is struggling to imagining himself replacing Bruce at his job, much less who he was in his personal relationships.

But even if Damian isn't Dick's responsibility, Dick doesn't hesitate to care about Damian's future. "Who's going to save him if we don't?" At the start of the DickBats era, Dick isn't looking at Damian as a family member, really. He's looking at Damian as a victim, abet a very involved, very dangerous one. It's how Bruce looked at Dick too, before he had any reason to know that this kid would become something more to him. But, like Bruce, what Dick does to save Damian is bring him into the thing that is most precious to him; Batman. The mission. Saving people. A way to live in the world.

I know saying someone is the Batman to their Robin is like, a joke at this point. Something unbelievably cheesy. But you google "iconic duos" and Batman and Robin are one of the first responses. There's a reason for the joke. So imagine you are Robin, and your Batman is dead. And you have to go and find a new partner. Dick making Damian his Robin is heavy, just as heavy to me as adoption papers. Bruce made Dick his partner without any idea of what that meant. Dick, and the audience, had 70 years of expectation on what Dick and Damian could be. Dick making Damian Robin was a very specific claim, far stronger imo than just claiming him as a son would have been.

Because, to be honest (and speak to your other question), I don't think Dick thinks a lot about being a parent. I don't really think it's that important to him. Dick is a leader, a mentor, he deals with a ton of teenagers and kids through his vigilante work, he goes to Tim's sidekick parent's meetings and takes Jason skiing and more than that, he's also young. He's in his 20s. He should be at the club. I think he probably thinks he'll have kids in an abstract way, but it's not something he's looking for, consciously or unconsciously. He's not searching for connection, or to fix his mistakes or his past, the things that lead Bruce to adopting sidekicks. He'd be a great dad, and I think we see him being pretty good with his Elseworlds kids, but Dick is a very practical person, and him taking a kid in (vs finding somewhere else they can go) is not really the practical choice.

Except for one kid. There's just been one kid with legitimately no where else to go, where Dick is truly the only option, because going home meant only bad things for him. Dick made Damian part of his family in the ways that mattered to them both in that moment. With their lives, adoption doesn't really make a huge material difference on custody (if Damian wanted to leave, Dick couldn't have stopped him; Damian has access to basically unlimited money and can feed and clothe and wash himself. and possibly already has a phd.), and Dick wanted Damian to choose, anyway. If I recall correctly, Dick says he didn't think about taking Damian with him until Bruce comes back. He thought about taking Damian with him, thought that Damian might be better with Dick (his partner!!!!) than even with Bruce, his dad, the person Dick loves so much, only in the face of them being separated.

Meanwhile Damian, for all his blustering about how Dick needs to "earn" his respect, warms up to Dick startlingly quickly. For Damian, who had never known a father, who in his initial run hadn't even known his mother for more than two years, whose other male family is Ra’s al Ghul, his father is Batman. Even in Tomasi's kinder depiction of Damian's childhood, Damian only knows the Bat. And when he meets Bruce, the first thing he expresses is disappointment. Bruce the man is underwhelming and then goes and dies. So much for the mythic hero!

And then he meets Dick. Who manages to teach Damian something, who doesn't discount his skills even when he's wrong. Who proves that he is better at being Batman than Damian, and shows that he wants Damian around. And, even more importantly, who doesn't die. Dick is stable in a world constantly in flux. Damian screws up a lot in that run, and he leaves for long stretches of it, but Dick is always there when he gets back. There's no blame here, but the truth is that Dick is the one who stays.

Bruce was Damian's father, but what does that mean to someone whose never met a father at all? Bruce might have tried to connect with Damian before he died, but he doesn’t do it in a way that works. He doesn’t give Damian trust, he doesn’t encourage him in the ways Damian finds important…the first person to do that is Dick. Dick gives Damian responsibility, makes him part of the team. It could be argued that Damian didn’t deserve it, but we’re not talking about deserving. We’re talking about what worked. It sounds like as good an idea as making a tiny 8 year old acrobat a sidekick, but it undeniably worked for both Damian and Dick. Does that mean that either of these relationships were parental in the way that we think of it in the real world, in the way that a child psychologist would say is good and healthy? I have no idea. But they are the most parental in the absence of any other parents, and I think that means a lot.

Unfortunately, we don't get to actually see the dissolution of Dick and Damian's partnership. DC conveniently skips over showing us Bruce coming back and Dick becoming Nightwing again; preNew 52, Dick is still Batman with Damian even when Bruce returns, and in the New 52, he's been Batman "Before" and we don't really see the end, just a vague aftermath. But if it did take that kind of change to make them realize their relationship had a flavor of "parent and child", had the makings of something like a father and son, well, they'd just be following in the original Batman's footprints.

[fangedbats]

another snippet based off of this !! probably going to make this a full fic over the weekend

The gala’s music swirled around him, the sounds of laughter and soft chatter filling the grand hall. Bruce stood by the edge of the dance floor, watching as Gotham’s elite danced under the soft, golden lights. The perfect, polished image of the night—until the soft, inviting voice of a socialite broke through his thoughts.

“Mr. Wayne, would you care to join the dance floor?”

He turned to face her, the polite smile he wore often slipping into place. "I’m afraid not, not tonight."

She looked at him with a soft, knowing expression, and for a moment, Bruce felt the weight of her unspoken understanding. She smiled gracefully—accepting his refusal with ease before mingling back into the crowd. She knew, like everyone else, that he rarely danced. But tonight—the night of all nights—it would have been expected.

It would have been her 58th birthday.

Bruce’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass as his gaze turned back to the dancers. The music, soft and nostalgic, echoed a rhythm he couldn’t shake. He was supposed to be celebrating his mother’s memory, honoring her vision for the city she loved.

The Martha Wayne Foundation had been her dream, her passion, and he had continued it after her death—because it was her legacy, because it was right. But every gala, every event, every birthday—it reminded him of the quiet moments they had shared. The moments before the world was ripped away from him, before his mother’s warm embrace was forever lost.

Martha had loved to dance. He remembered those nights, when he was younger, when she would twirl him around the living room, her laughter echoing against the walls. He could still feel the warmth of her hand on his, the gentle rhythm as they danced together, the way her smile would light up the room.

How she had pulled a awestruck Thomas into dance while Bruce watched. His parents' laughter had floated around the room, timeless then and in his memories still.

He had been too young to understand how precious those moments were, how fleeting. But now, every time a dance floor called, it was as if a piece of her was still there, waiting for him to take her hand, waiting for him to feel her presence. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

His mother had believed in Gotham in ways that no one else had. She had worked tirelessly for the city's people, long before Bruce could fully understand her efforts.

The Wayne Foundation had grown, changing lives, just as she had dreamed. Even now, it flourished—because of her vision.

As he watched the dancers, he felt the bittersweet pull of his memories. It wasn’t the gala he resented. It wasn’t the celebration of his mother’s work that he avoided. It was the quiet moments he couldn’t forget—the way she had held him, the way they had danced together, the way he had felt her warmth and her love.

For a long moment, Bruce just stood there, letting the music wash over him, honoring the woman who had given him so much more than just the foundation—she had given him a sense of purpose, of belonging, that he was only now beginning to understand.

The music gradually softened, and Bruce found himself standing at the edge of the crowd, eyes scanning the room. The event was a success, as always, but his mind was elsewhere, still lost in the quiet ache of memory.

He caught sight of Alfred, moving through the crowd with his usual grace, offering his own quiet brand of support as he approached Bruce with a subtle, knowing smile.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said softly, “It’s a fine evening, isn’t it?”

Bruce nodded, though his expression was distant. “Yes, it is.”

Alfred’s eyes glinted with understanding, and he paused, looking out over the gala. “I noticed you didn’t take the floor tonight.”

Bruce’s gaze turned back to the dancers. “I can’t.”

Alfred’s smile faltered, and he placed a hand gently on Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s not about the dance, sir. It’s about the person you are honoring. She would be proud of everything you’ve done for this city, for her foundation. For Gotham.”

Bruce’s throat tightened, and he exhaled slowly. “I know. I just... I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Alfred gave him a reassuring look, one that spoke more volumes than words ever could. “When you’re ready, Master Bruce. You’ve made her proud already.”

Bruce gave a tight nod, his eyes lingering on Alfred for a moment before he turned back to the podium. The evening was moving forward, and it was time to fulfill his duty—to honor his mother’s memory in a way that didn’t require a dance.

With a silent sigh, he made his way toward the stage, the murmurs of the crowd dying down as he took the microphone. He adjusted it with a steady hand, trying to steady his emotions, to focus on the words he needed to say.

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming tonight,” Bruce began, his voice calm but firm. “Tonight, we honor my mother, Martha Wayne, and her tireless work to make Gotham a better place. Her vision for this city—her belief in its people—has shaped everything the Wayne Foundation does.”

His gaze swept the room, taking in the faces of those who had gathered, those who had contributed to the cause his mother had built. For a moment, he felt a sense of warmth, a connection to the legacy she had left behind.

“She believed in giving people the opportunity to succeed, to rise above the challenges they faced. And that’s a belief that still lives on in all of us.”

Bruce paused, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “We carry her work forward not because we have to, but because we want to. Because we owe it to her, and to all those who still need us.”

He cleared his throat, trying to push back the lump in his throat, but it was harder than he had expected. He wasn’t just honoring her memory. He was honoring the hope she had brought to Gotham.

“I miss her,” he added quietly, his gaze softening as he allowed himself to be vulnerable, just for a moment. “But I know she would be proud of the work we continue to do here. And I promise we will keep fighting for Gotham’s future—just as she always did.”

The room was silent for a beat before the applause began, and Bruce allowed himself a small, genuine smile. He had said what needed to be said. He had honored her the way she deserved.

As he stepped off the stage, Alfred was waiting nearby, his presence a quiet comfort. Bruce didn’t need to say anything; Alfred knew him well enough to understand the weight of the moment.

“I think she would have enjoyed that, Master Wayne,” Alfred said with a slight nod.

Bruce nodded, his chest tight but lighter than it had been all evening. “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.”

Alfred gave him a soft, proud, smile. “You’re welcome, sir. It’s an honor to serve both you and your mother’s legacy.”

Bruce glanced out at the crowd one more time, seeing not just the celebration of wealth and status, but the tangible impact of his mother’s work, carried on by those who cared.

And for the first time that night, he felt her presence again—not in the dance, but in the work they were doing together, for Gotham.

[phantoms-lair]

Batman Exalted thing - The First Exaltation

Bruce sometimes wished he crafted the identity of a reclusive hermit rather than a media darling. All he wanted to do was buckle down on the imminent attempt at a dimensional invasion and try to think of a way to solve it without relying on a power up from the enemy.

But instead here he was in an interview, talking about his company and charity work. "There's been some criticism of the Martha Wayne Free Clinic as of late. Some are skeptical about the noted criminal cliental." asked the interviewer.

Bruce fought back his annoyance. "My mother believed, as do I, that no person is expendable. Some have made poor decisions. Some had poor decisions made on their behalf without their consent. Some are children. All of them, all of them are entitled to medical care. The moment you start adding restrictions, it becomes all too easy to add more and more until only people who have been chosen as the 'right' people can gain aid. And there is nothing more abhorrent to me. Everyone in Gotham deserves care."

Will you protect all the people of Gotham?

Something twinged in his mind as wrong about the question, but he answered anyway. "Every last one." Bruce reaffirmed.

"That's quite a statement, given Gotham houses individuals like Scarecrow and the Joker." The interviewer pressed.

"They're still human. If Scarecrow had a heart attack in Blackgate, he'd still receive life saving care. Outside should be no different."

"But should that be the case? Do people like that deserve to be saved?"

Will you save them?

Bruce fought the urge to scowl. "Of course. And if I can save their minds too, I'll do it. I refuse to give up on anyone."

"MmmHmm." The interviewer looked at him like she'd figured something out. "You had a well know friendship with Harvey Dent. Between that and your charity clinic serving villains, it seems you have some connections to the wrong side of the tracks. Maybe the squeaky clean image of Bruce Wayne is hiding something else?"

Is your philanthropy really to help others, or just a cover?

He stood up, letting a sliver of his anger slip through. At this point it would be stranger not to take offense. "I watched my parents die in a mugging. It would have been so easy to act like you. To judge and look down on people I could easily blame for my grief. But my parents loved Gotham and wanted to see it rise above it's own ashes. And in trying to see their wishes granted I grew to love the city too. All of it. Good and Bad. And I will never give up on it or stop fighting to make it better."

Do you think you can protect the city?

"I will protect Gotham till the day it kills me." Bruce snarled, rising to his feet. And he knew something wasn't right. Something was feeding into his emotions. But it was too late to stop it. The screens cut to static as Bruce Wayne exploded.

~

The Bats had gotten their first, because of course they did. Jim was listening to his radio as he made his way to the studio, not saying a word.

Some of the reports were positive. Everyone else had made it out of the studio. Whatever had caused Bruce Wayne to explode in a dizzying array of light hadn't affected anyone else. This being Gotham, every had evacuated quickly. And the studio didn't seem to be catching ablaze. Small mercies.

From the radio he heard that most of the Bats had shown up, despite it being the middle of the day. They'd sealed the place tight, with Spoiler and Signal bodyguarding the entrance, saying only Gordon himself could get through. His men had tried to force the issue and they'd threatened Black Bat in retaliation.

Jim pulled into the crime scene that was likely the death spot of Gotham's Favorite Son. Spoiler was at the door, arms crossed, while Signal was talking to the EMTs. When she saw him she nodded and moved aside.

Jim didn't know what he was going to find inside. But whatever it was, it wasn't this. Despite video of the explosion going out before the feed was cut, Bruce Wayne seemed to be alive and well, sitting of the set with his head in his hands.

The power literally rippling off him was new. A bright blue energy flowed from his eyes and into a beautiful display rippling around him. It was Gotham, not any one part of it but a rippling view of the city from Park Row to Bristol ever shifting and changing, leading into a night sky with bats flying around. All contained in a very familiar, albeit larger than life silhouette of a sharp eared cowl and cape. The imagery plus his being there for the first conversation with Quill made it obvious.

Bruce Wayne was Batman. And he'd just Exalted, publicly, while in his civilian persona.

"Does one of you powers include seeing the future?" Nightwing asked someone on the other end of the phone. "Then I don't think not being able to accurately get into the mindset of a manipulative sociopath is a personal failing."

"What does Quill say?" Bruce asked in a completely exhausted tone.

"That you're an Exigent, like her. You're in 'Iconic' or 'Bonfire' anima, which is a representation of your soul and power and it's going to take a while for it to calm down. Also that in retrospect it makes sense as he wants a throne to be a power behind and Batman would never accept a throne but Bruce Wayne is more vulnerable. as well as already being a power in the city."

"Nightwing!" Robin hissed, glaring at Nightwing,

"He's involved." Bruce said in the same tired voice. "He's been involved since before you were born. We can trust him, and against Ketchup we need all the help we can get. The question is, what is our next move?" "If you want to kill off Bruce Wayne, now is the time." Red Robin said idlily. "Drake!" Robin shouted reprovingly. It wasn't just Bruce. It was Bruce's whole damn family. "What? He can make a new identity easily. All the paperwork is in place for Uncle Eddie if we need something in a pinch. But this would allow him to devote his time to his actual interests rather than juggle a very public identity that mostly annoys him." Red Robin shrugged. "Most people don't change identities like a coat, Baby Bird." Nightwing said, gently. "They need to get on my level." Red Robin sniped back.

"Killing off Bruce Wayne is not an option. I can feel the ripples of my death having an affect in the city. People are already planning to use it to roll back a lot of the philanthropic works I've done." Bruce blinked. "That interviewer was accepting a bribe to discredit me."

"How do you know?" Gordon asked. "I just do." Bruce sounded more bewildered than tired.

"Can an Exigent be the chosen of a location, like a city?" Nightwing asked Quill. "She says yes." Bruce sat up straighter. "Ask Quill what we should say. Her whole power revolves around stories and that's what we need right now."

"Okay, give her a minute." Nightwing instructed. "Okay, send out word that Bruce Wayne is alive, but under some kind of magical effect. Unknown, but a curse hasn't been ruled out. Bring in Justice League members know to work with magic as cover. Have them recommend isolation until the effects are fully known, which will give Bruce the privacy he needs to get this under control."

"I'll get on the official story then." He was going to get answers out of Batman, out of Bruce, but later. "If news of your survival isn't slowing down the plans, let me know. Nightwing, I take it you can call the Justice League." "There's someone else you need to call first." Bruce reminded Nightwing. "He's panicking right now with the news, but won't admit it."

"Oracle's already keeping Agent A informed." "Not him. R2." Nightwing snorted. "And he pretends he doesn't care." Jim saw himself out. And much as it still burned a little that something was obviously being kept from him, Bruce had said nothing to try to hide his own secrets or that of his children's. Which meant R2, whoever that was, was likely someone else's secret that Bruce didn't feel at liberty to say, like Oracle and Agent A. So fair.

That was for later. They all had work to do.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Gotham Year One | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Magician!OC

Synopsis: Vivian tells the story of her first year in Gotham and her first encounter with the Batman.

Gotham City. They say it's an anarchy city. There’s not a night when that place ever has peace and quiet, and any smart person would rather not move there at all unless they’re on the run. But it was the only place that actually gave me a shot. 

Five universities, four I passed on the entrance exam and application essay but only one offered a full scholarship. It was a hard choice for me and for my family but we all knew it was for the best. So much has happened to me last year that maybe getting a change of scenery and being far away from anyone I knew in that life would be good.

It took a lot of convincing before Dad finally gave in, a lot of talks and arguments, and eventually I asked help from his parents, my grandparents, who were willing to lend me the money to help me settle in Gotham. 

After a seven-hour long flight with only seeing the clouds and, occasionally, the ocean, I finally saw the city. From here, Gotham is clean, shafts of concrete and rooftops. The work of long generations of families who either established themselves to live in the borders of the city or those who have lived in the very heart of Gotham.

So, this is where Mom grew up.

She never really talked much about Gotham, and when she does it always feels like some bad memory. Just as Essex is to me after that night.

I shouldn’t expect any special treatment, I don’t have any relatives that I know of in Gotham, if there were they never bothered to reach out at all, but it would have been nice to have someone waiting for me with my name on some board. 

“It’s Bruce Wayne!’

“Bruce Wayne’s back!”

A bunch of reporters ran past me like I was some sort of ghost they thought they would run through. One asshole literally bumped against my bag and didn’t apologize. He had the nerve to actually say: ‘Watch it!”

Asshole.

The man must be a celebrity since everyone ran up to see him and the fact there was a reporter in the scene saying, “The twenty-five-year-old heir to the Wayne millions declined to comment on rumors of romance in his life or on his plan on his return to Gotham after many years abroad. We’ll keep you posted on Gotham’s richest – and best looking  – native son. Tom?”

Wayne. So, he’s the owner of the Martha Wayne Foundation, the one that accepted my scholarship application all because I said my mom was a Gothamite. The foundation that helped me get to Gotham University too. 

Bruce Wayne… he looks like a prick.

~*~

The apartment I got was a little far from university. Normally, students would take dorms on campus, either buy or rent a condo close there too but with the limited funds I was getting from the Martha Wayne Foundation, I didn’t have that kind of luxury. The apartment was a little small for three occupants but we made it work. My roommates were nice enough to give me the single room while they took the shared bunks since they knew each other longer. The living room was basically our dining place and kitchen, and we only had one bathroom to share.

The place was two bus rides to Gotham University, had some diners and stores around that I could apply for a part-time job. It had a decent security measure which was basically the gated front door with the buzzer. Not that safe but I didn’t tell Dad that.

“Hey, Liverpool!” One of my roommates called for me when I was about to head out to get dinner. They started calling me that when I mentioned where I was from. “Didn’t you say you came from the airport earlier? Did you see him?”

“Who?” I asked, pulling down my headphones.

“Bruce Wayne! He just came back from God-knows-where! Did you see him?”

“Uh, yeah, I saw him.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“I didn’t really stick that long.”

“Is he really that good looking in real life too?”

I looked at the T.V. and saw the image of the man at the airport. The twenty-five-year-old millionaire who was keeping up the facade of charming and mysterious. “Yeah, that’s his face alright.”

“Did you at least ask for a photo?”

“I didn’t really stick around that much. And I don’t really know him — I mean, I know of him and his family but not him as a celebrity,” before she could ask another question, I cut it, “I’m heading out to get something to eat. You guys want anything?”

“Nah, we’re good. Have fun!” 

“Okay! See you later!”

“Hey, wait up!” Jack, my other roommate, closed the door just as I was about to leave. “Listen, Liverpool. You’re new here, and… maybe going out alone isn’t the best thing to do?”

“I’ll just go across the street, don’t worry. I’ll be back. Eat and run.”

Jack sighed. “Wait here.”

“Okay…”

He left for his room and came out a few minutes later wearing his jacket and shoes. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to —”

“I don’t know what they told you about Gotham. But it’s not a place for someone to go out at night alone.”

“I can handle myself.”

“It won’t go well in my conscience if you were ever mugged or worse out there. And it’s your first night here,” he got out a twenty-dollar bill. “My treat.”

~*~

The diner was decent, they had good food, passable for a three-dollar meal, but bad coffee. Really bad. Jack purposely didn’t tell me how bad it is just to see my face when I take my first sip. 

“How’s Gotham so far?” He asked. ‘Homesick yet?”

“Not so much, maybe when I’m alone it’ll kick in.”

“Not close with family?”

“I am. We are close. It took a while for my dad to let me do this – travel across an ocean to got to a university in a place that I know no one.”

“What about your mom?”

“She died a couple of years back.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t know. You’re going to GU too, right?”

“Yeah.”

I waited for a while to hear an explanation but he didn’t follow up.  “What are you taking?”

“Engineering — well, software engineering. I got in on a scholarship. The Martha Wayne Foundation. You?”

“History Majoring in Symbology and Iconography.”

“An odd choice. You don’t really hear many people taking that specific course around here. Especially pretty girls like you.”

“Really?” I smirked. “It’s my first night here, at least wait a couple of days before saying something like that.”

Jack raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry. But can you blame me? It’s not everyday you find a fresh face in Gotham. Let alone someone who still has high hopes in this dump.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“I’ll  give you three days before you start cursing these streets and its people.”

“Don’t need to wait three days,” I couldn’t help the grin. “So, you and Heather… are you both…”

Jack shrugged. “We’re old high school classmates who found a familiar face during the entrance exams and thought of renting a place. It was a good plan – two people sharing an apartment — until the jack-ass who own the building raised the rent.”

“Hence the two-bedroom apartment became a two-bedroom for three,” Vivian concluded. “I get it… can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“I’ve read about Gotham, its history, the families, but the Waynes…” Jack grinned. “I’m just asking because I saw Bruce Wayne in the airport and he seems like a big deal, and I feel like I should know him considering I’m also in the Martha Wayne Foundation — well, my scholarship is.”

Jack took a breath. “Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s Prince… the youngest millionaire there is, and only because he was born in the right family. Where to begin?”

“He’s that complicated?”

“No, but I don’t want to scare you or something.”

“Believe me, I don’t scare that easily.”

“Everyone knows about the Waynes, especially Bruce Wayne. They’re like — well, for a time, they were Gotham’s saviors. They were people who actually wanted to make a change. Can’t say they were like Kennedy but, you get the picture. Doctor Thomas Wayne was the head of the family, he married Martha Kane — daughter of one of Gotham’s old rich families too. 

“Come close. Look there. See that? There, just beyond the train rails, you’ll see a tower with all the gargoyles. See it?”

I followed to where he pointed outside the window. It was dark but when the helicopter passed by the sky, a silhouette of a building appeared. 

“That’s Wayne Tower, the tallest building there is in Gotham. That says a lot on how rich the Waynes are and how powerful they were.”

“Were?”

“Almost twenty years ago, Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot in Crime Alley. The family was just heading home from the theater – God-knows-why they went to Crime Alley in the first place. But to witness it all was their son, Bruce Wayne.”

“Shit.”

“Since then, they said, Wayne became paranoid or something, then he started to self-destruct, then he disappeared and a couple of years later he came back.”

“And no one knows where he went.”

Jack shook his head. “The reason why I didn’t want to tell you is because… if powerful people like the Waynes can be shot down just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “What chance do we have down here?”

He has a point.

~*~

It was wrong. I knew it, but I blame homesickness.

I couldn’t sleep thanks to jetlag, and I can’t exactly walk around the city at this time. The sound of the police cars was a dead giveaway to that. So, I decided to just smoke at the fire exit. Turns out my fire exit was connected to the other room where Jack and Heather bunked.

It started as an innocent time of smoking and drinking — he brought a can of shitty beer with him — then one thing led to another, he was kissing me and we were in my bed.

He wasn’t that good. The entire time I was just faking the sounds I made so it wasn’t awkward silence. There were times he hit a spot but it wasn’t as fulfilling as John would. I had to resort to playing with myself while he fucked me. 

When he came he pulled out, despite wearing a condom. Old habits, he said, while I was left with nothing. 

“You good?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” I went to put on my underwear and my shirt. “I… uh… thanks, I guess?”

He chuckled. “No problem.”

“But you do know that this won't happen again, right? I mean, I like –” Liar. “ — but it’ll just be complicated with us there in the place and you’re sharing a room with Heather.”

“Just a one-night thing, I’m cool with that,” he shrugged. “But if you ever want to again, you know where to find me.” He got up from my bed and left the room. 

Good job, Vivian. First night here and you already fucked your roommate and compared him to your ex-boyfriend who tried to kill  you. Get yourself together.

~*~

The semester started sooner than I had hoped, rather sooner than my jetlag hoped. But I was more than happy to start going to classes just to get away from that apartment. Jack and Heather were nice, they were good roommates, but it was awkward to be in the same place as two people who were — as Jack said — just fucking, and Jack constantly flirts whenever I hang out in the living room or his self-made invitations whenever I would step out.

His reason: he didn’t want to find his new roommate’s face on Gotham News tonight as one of the city’s latest victims. 

I got a job. It was at the diner I frequented since coming here, the owner welcomed part-timers more than full-time employees. My shifts there are graveyard hours, which was perfect since there was rarely anyone coming in and I get to study. But tips would be nice too. Most of the customers here are either GCPD grabbing a grub or those you’d not make eye-contact with.

After years of running around with Constantine going to shitty places, dealing with shitty and sinister people, you’ll learn to read people and other beings. And these have the face that says trouble.

“What cha readin’ there, sweetheart?” One of the men in the booth called out to me.

“Just a book,” I answered and went back to reading.

“Yeah?” He went out of the booth and approached the counter I was at. “What’s it about?”

Shit.

“It's Telling the Truth About History by Joyce Appleby, Lynn Hunt and Margaret Jacob. It’s Historical Methodology.”

“You wanna be a history teacher or somethin’?”

“In a way. Excuse me, I’ll just head inside to check if your orders are ready.” And to get the fuck away from you.

But the man grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. “Come on now, dollface. How about you read to us a little?”

“No.”

His companions laughed. “Look at that, she can’t stand to look at your ugly face!”

He scoffed. “Come on, you’re coming with us, dollface!”

“I said, no –”

“Let the girl go,” a deep voice with a Jamaican accent echoed in the diner. Vivian knew that voice.

Standing by the glass door, a slim man with a zig-zag beard, wearing a white suite and hat watched them with intense eyes. 

“You,” I didn’t even know I was talking until the man turned to him and nodded in greeting. “Papa Midnite.”

“So, you her papa, huh? Didn’t know, dollface here was that kind of girl. What? The book was just for show?” The man holding my wrist pulled me closer to him and pointed a gun at my face.

What the fuck?!

“If you do not let her go, all of you will die right on this floor,” said Papa Midnite.

“Is that right?” His companions got up and pointed their guns at Papa Midnite. “We were going to apologize for our friend’s behavior but now that you mentioned about bashing our heads in, we can’t let that slide.”

Midnite smirked. “I didn’t say I was going to bash your brains, I said, you are going to die.”

The air changed, and one moment the men with the guns were on their feet with their weapons, the next they were on the ground with blood coming out of their bodies. In fact there was a trail coming from that door where Midnite stood.

“What did you…” I asked.

“They died the way their earlier victims did. With holes on their chests. Call your manager from his break and tell him what happened. I will wait for you outside, Vivian Pryor,” Midnite bowed and left.

I did what she told me to do. I told my manager about the men and he called 911. She was suspicious about the coffee I served and the order slips in the queue, but she decided not to ask. She just went along with my story and told the cops the same thing. We were questioned by GCPD, mostly I got the questions. Luckily, the man asking the questions was a kind man and he was new to Gotham too.

Lieutenant Jim Gordon.

If it had been his partner, Glass, I was sure to have been dead the next day. The way he looked at me and those men, it was the kind that says he was on someone's payroll.

Lieutenant Gordon let me go after my story was cleared out, and my manager let me head home early too. As I took my path home, I saw Midnite again. He was waiting this entire time in the shadows.

“Vivian Pryor,” he greeted.

“Papa Midnite,” I said. 

He smiled. “You have grown. The last I saw you, Madeline carried you like a kitten.”

“I remember you too. You and her were… you were kind to us. Midnite, my Mom, she’s…”

“I know. I felt it,” Midnite placed a hand on his chest. “Madeline was a friend. The day she died, I felt her soul leave this realm.”

“I couldn’t find her.”

“And you shouldn’t have tried. You were just attracting the wrong kind of company.”

“Too late for that,” I laughed cynically. “Are we just going to talk here or are we going somewhere?”

“You have classes tomorrow. I’ll walk you home… We'll talk while we walk.”

“Thank you, Midnite.”

The walk was short but Midnite and I circled the block a couple of times to catch up. Not the safest thing to do but I was with a voodoo witch-doctor, so I was in safe hands. He mostly asked about Mom and what happened to us after our last encounter when I was a kid. Turns out he’s heard all of the things I did with John Constantinen. We’ve made a name for ourselves, as it turns out, in our circles.

“What brings you here in Gotham?” Midnite asked.

“I needed to get away.”

“From what?”

“Something happened…”

“Care to elaborate?”

“We took a job as a priest. Some towns were experiencing hallucinations that led to multiple homicides. Turns out it’s the signs of a demon trying to claw its way out of a body. Long story short, it was an exorcism gone wrong, and John thought it would be a good idea to trap the demon inside me and kill us both, because the little shit fancied me.”

“What did you do?”

“I burned everything. The whole block, I was just lucky that no one was living there but the two girls died. John lived, Chas is fine, Ritchie got this demon-infused cancer. And I… I can’t sleep. Well, that and jet lag.”

“And your solution is to move to a city like this?” Midnite laughed.

“It’s the last place where magic would be… or so I thought.”

“Gotham has dark secrets, Vivian. Everything you see now is just smoke and mirrors to the truth below. The owls like to keep watch on things.”

“What?” I laughed. “What’s with the owls?”

“We’re here,” Midnite stopped before my apartment building. “If you are in need of help, call me,” he handed a black calling card to me.

It wasn’t exactly a number. It was simply his name. “Thank you, Papa Midni–”

He was gone as if he was never there in the first place.

~*~

He first appeared on the news with the headline of a giant bat vigilante. Jack and Heather scoffed when we saw it, I simply brushed it off. Then he became a recurring thing on the news as Batman — the GCPD started calling him — were taking out criminals left and right. 

Personally, I was rooting for the guy. After getting mugged that one time while heading home from campus and the police doing shit, I’d feel a lot safer if Batman was around. But why a bat costume, though? Wouldn’t it be easier if he jost ran around with some bullet-proof vest in tactical gear than spandex and a cape?

The police have been trying to capture him. The unfortunate person to get the job was Lieutenant Gordon. What the hell did he do to get on the Commissioner’s bad side?

Months since this Batman started his crime fighting, the streets were a little safer to walk around, still it would be foolish to do so. But police sirens were not so frequent now in the streets, if there was it’ll be in those areas where Batman wouldn’t be or they were trying to capture the vigilante. 

Then there was this one incident that really shook Gotham. The GCPD were able to surround the man, trapping him in a building. We felt it all the way from where we were. The heat, the rumbling of the explosion. GCPD dropped explosives onto those, supposedly, empty buildings just to take out the vigilante.

All of that just for one man, and still Batman got away.

I was reading the newspaper about it during my visit to the Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic at Park Row  to ask about my scholarship, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and dump the paper in the bin as soon as I finished reading the article. I should be reading the material our professor told us to go through Alexander to Actium: The Historical Evolution of the Hellenistic Age. 

“That’s an odd thing to read,” a voice of a man interrupted me before I could finish the second paragraph.

Holy shit! 

“You’re Bruce Wayne,” said. “What are you doing here?”

He raised a brow at me and pointed at the plaque that says Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic and below it was The Wayne Foundation.

Right. Stupid question, but he’s kind of an ass.

“What’s that about?” He asked.

“It explores the political, cultural, and social transformations of the Hellenistic period, from its development from the conquests of Alexander the Great to the rise of Roman dominance at the Battle of Actium,” I explained.

“A wide reader?”

“Reading material for class.”

“Didn’t know they taught that in Gotham Metro.”

“GU.”

“Gotham University, and you’re in this clinic because…”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Vivian Pryor!” The nurse called for me. 

Getting up, I gathered my things and went to the hall where Dr. Leslie was, “Excuse me, Mr. Wayne… ass.” I muttered the last part.

So what I’m a student of GU? Not everyone there is rich like him.

~*~

It was a false positive. 

Good.

~*~

I never thought I’d ever come across Batman. It was one thing to read about him or see him  on the news, it’s another to be the person he was helping. It was stupid of me, really. It was right after my shift, but instead of heading home, I thought of visiting Midnite’s club. I should have just taken a cab than walk, but cab fares were expensive.

I can’t even remember why I needed to go there, not after being held at knifepoint. He came out of nowhere with a knife to my neck and dragged me to the alleyway. His friend, who has been waiting there, held me back while he went through my bag. He threw my books and my notes to the ground and pocketed my wallet and walkman. 

Fuck! Not again.

Why did I need to see Midnite again?

Why did I need to go to his club?

What was it about?

The next thing I knew, his companion grabbed me by my shoulder and pinned me to the wall. He forcibly kicked my legs to spread and I could hear his belt —

“NO! HELP! SOMEONE HELP!” I cried out.

“SHUT UP, BITCH!” He hit me at the head with his gun.

Fuck that hurt and it made me go dizzy. 

I haven’t used my magic in months now — almost a year — I don’t even if I can cast a spell. But with the best I could, voice slurring, I tried to cast an incantation just like Midnite: “D-die–”

The man was removed from me. The next thing I saw was a shadow beating them down to the ground. It was the Batman. He was huge and he was beating down them down like they were nothing. But he wasn’t invincible nor was he perfect in his form. 

“Look out!”

“AUGH!” Batman hissed as one of the men stabbed him at the thigh over and over, making him fall, and the man took this chance to beat the Batman with his companion. 

Forcing myself to my feet, I grabbed one of the metal pipes lying around and whacked the two across the heads. The fell to the ground and silence came to the alleyway. 

Shit, did I just kill them?

“They’re alive. Concussed but alive,” Batman said. “GCPD will be here shortly… I need to…”

“You need to run,” I said.

He nodded. “Are you okay?”

“I am now… but what about you? You need medical attention!”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be on the rooftop waiting for them until they get you. Hopefully, it’s Lieutenant Gordon who picks up this call.”

“You shouldn’t be moving too much,” I reached for my scarf and used it to wrap around his injury, making sure it was tight to stop the gushing blood. And against my better judgment, I whispered a spell to heal his injuries, it won’t heal fully but it will speed the process to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. He did save my life.

Batman only looked at the black scarf around his injured leg before moving again. But this time he went to the fallen men and took something from their pockets. He even collected my things, placed them in a bag, and handed them to me. 

“I’ll be on the roof to make sure you’re safe. Just stay put.”

I nodded. “Thank you. Thank you, Batman.”

He nodded again and launched his grappling hook and zipped up. The last I saw was his cape.

The GCPD arrived fifteen minutes later. Luckily, it was Jim Gordon. I told him that it was Batman who saved me and already left, heading down a random direction I pointed to. He had officers running down that path while he got me in his car so I could be brought to the station for questions and to be checked by their medic. As we drove away, I saw the silhouette of Batman on that roof. He left once Gordon made a turn down the block.

He really did wait until I was safe.

~*~

A year and a half in Gotham and now I’m flying to Rome, and all it took was a lot of sleepless nights and reading, studying, and moving out of that apartment to really pull myself together. Even my professors were surprised when I became eligible for the semester in Italy. While I do look forward to it, I’ll admit, I’ll miss hearing and reading about Batman on the news.

[arkhameirs]

BRUCE WAYNE + MARTHA ARKAHM - a study in expression ; there was something very mysterious and endearing about my mother. at times she was so secure in who she was and what she wanted to be ... that i remember being awed and her presence was an awesome force. then there were times where sadness engulfed and there was no light to be had , those times i told myself that she had somehow gone away ... that she had ebbed away as does the sea upon the shore. her behavior wasn't a reflection of the child that she couldn't bear to look at but ? she felt deeper than anyone else. how was i , at a child meant to deal with my father's indiscretions ? - they tell me i look like the spitting image of her , we have the same arkham features that when i look into the mirror i'm left with nothing but fear. the fear that history , her history is staring back at me. i love her , and i forgive her - she is human , and loved me as best she could. i wonder now , would she approve , would she love the son that had so deeply fallen from grace ? - bruce wayne entry #1457 sept 24th , 2023.

[ev-arrested]

OK if you want Dick/Tiger prompts I have like eight rattling around my skull of varying degrees of fleshed out so I'll just. Spam you.

First up: Mr and Ms Smith AU Dick and Tiger are both spies (maybe Bruce followed in Alfred's MI6 footsteps to fight crime and pursue justice instead of doing it via kevlar fursuit so the Batfam is a spyfam), married, and they live across from an equally married but still superheroes Midpollo. Midnighter and Tiger have THE most suburban dad rivalry going and it annoys the hell out of both of them to have any part in a suburban dad rivalry until Midnighter gets a fancy garden tech inspired grill and Tiger HAS to one up him to make him stop looking so fucking smug. Absolutely nobody knows how when or why Dick and Tiger got married, except for Helena (she officiated) and Dick's gym students (witnesses/flower girls). It's all fun and games and Tiger being awestruck and horrified that Dick looks sane standing next to his family UNTIL Tiger's organization starts investigating the identity of the Bats and. Well. Love conquers all in the end. Possibly with the help of how great Dick looks in an evening gown with a thigh high slit and Martha Wayne's pearls. I have a very vivid image of absolutely everyone in slightly bloody formal wear standing around as Dick and Tiger do a vow renewal while the dust is still settling and Dick's siblings are sundry shades of obnoxiously overdramatic sobbing, Bruce looks like he's eaten a lemon, Apollo and Midnighter are there as Tiger's groomsmen because at some point during the conflict he was forced to deem them adequate backup in battle, Helena is yet again stuck officiating, Dick's gym students are his bridesmaids. Dick is wearing the aforementioned evening gown with a thigh high slit but he's added a veil that was visibly made as part of a $5 Halloween costume. Tiger is absolutely slaying in deep reds with gold embroidery. He and Dick renew their vows in the smoking rubble of whatever ballroom just exploded and it is the first time almost everyone present has ever seen Tiger smile.

You’re in for a treat when Dick Grayson week starts tomorrow. I had an ancient Mr. and Mr. Grayson sketch from like a year ago that I fucking excavated, and turns out tomorrow’s prompts include “Spyral Crew”, so guess what sketch is (probably) getting posted and when

[maniacwatchestheworld]

After about-faces so very graciously gave me a list of Elseworlds stories to check out that heavily involve Harvey... Of course my brain decided that the first Elseworlds story that I should check out should be one that wasn't on the list at all! :D

I ended up reading Citizen Wayne. A story in which Harvey and Bruce are both found dead and wearing silly costumes after falling off the roof of the city courthouse, and so an investigator from the District Attorney's office has to go around and find out what happened by interviewing people who knew Bruce and Harvey. Honestly I liked the story. But I'm also the pretentious sort that enjoyed Citizen Kane as well!

But the reason that I read it? Because it's the story where Harvey Dent is Batman and Bruce Wayne never was. And honestly I just dig the idea. I wish that we could know why Harvey decided to become Batman specifically, but the nature of the story understandably left that entirely ambiguous. They show us why Bruce never became Batman (in this universe, his mother is still alive! Martha kept Bruce from doing anything that would lead him down the path to becoming Batman because she doesn't want him to die stupidly. Turns out he died stupidly, being a hero regardless!), but sadly they never tell us why Harvey wanted to adopt the image of a bat specifically. Becoming a crime fighter who terrifies the shit out of criminals? Actually that perfectly tracks with Harvey's character! But becoming Batman specifically? It honestly doesn't make much sense with the kind of person that Harvey is. Harvey becoming a vigilante makes complete sense! I like vigilante Harvey! But Batman Harvey is a little more puzzling. However I will admit. I just LOVE what Harvey does with it!

I ADORE this Batman outfit for Harvey! Honestly, it's even better than the other Batman Look Harvey has. Harvey clearly took the assignment of 'Batman' and made an outfit that is entirely his own and different from what Bruce would make, and I absolutely ADORE him for that! This outfit is just so... HIM! And so I REALLY like it!

Less fancy gadgets and gimmicks. Harvey has a utility belt with a few tricks in it, but not nearly the kind of fancy arsenal that Bruce would come up with. His outfit is much more like a military dress uniform than the outfit of an acrobat, and I could easily see this outfit as being padded, armored, or even bulletproofed. He managed to accomplish the silhouette of a bat, but in an entirely different way than Bruce did with the cape. Also the mask is a lovely piece and I like it a lot. This outfit is simpler than Bruce's, probably cheaper, and more easy to maintain and replace, and has less versatility than Bruce's, but that suits Harvey just fine. Harvey tends to be pretty straightforwards as a vigilante. He sees evil being done, he finds it, and then savagely punches it until the crime stops, or until the perpetrator is dead. He doesn't need fancy gadgets or gimmicks. He just needs tools to get him to the heart of a crime, his fists, and a way to flee without ending up dead. It's a GREAT outfit, I honestly enjoy Harvey being Batman like this, and I just wish that the story wasn't predicated on the fact that Harvey and Bruce are dead from the outset!

Like... I freaking WISH that we could see more of this Batman! He's neat! He's unique! Sure, he's a murderer, but I just think that this idea has potential and wish that I could just see a little more of him! Why does he have to be dead...? Shame. >.<

I wanna bring him back to life.

[consultingsister-a5]

i can't believe you have that picture on your wall.

a meme / from @batfall

"Which one?" Cee calls from the other room, finishing off their drinks with a flourish. Maybe she can't cook, but she can make a good drink. "The vagina one? Oh--" She comes in behind him, glasses in hand. It's not 'the vagina one' he's looking at.

It's a black-and-white picture, although she is pretty sure it wasn't originally black and white. She just thought it looked classier that way. The image is taken by someone standing, with four smiling faces looking up at them. Cee likes to think it was taken by her own father, although she has no memory of her father with a camera in his hand.

The two women look the same age, and the two small children, each perched on their mother's knees, must have only a couple months between them too; maybe a year. The children's hair is damp and sticking to their foreheads and they have towels wrapped around them. Cee doesn't remember whose pool it was; there was nothing with the picture to suggest it was taken in England or America. It's too focused on the beach chairs and happy families. The whole story behind Mrs Holmes and Mrs Wayne's bookend smiles has been lost to history. Along with the women themselves.

It was a mystery if the two women ever got past small talk. Did Violet Holmes admit to her 'friend' that she felt as if she was losing her mind? the picture was surely taken only a year or so before her death after all. Did Martha Wayne pat Violet's knee and say, I know what you mean. These old houses are haunted, I don't know where I begin and the darkness ends anymore. Could they have saved each other if they had?

None of this is obvious in the old picture. It's just two loving, happy mothers and two protected, happy children. That's why Cee likes it. If you didn't know the women, the picture wouldn't stand out among the many other happy smiling faces on her wall. They look normal; it makes her feel normal."It's nice, isn't it? Do you want a copy?"

[bruciemilf]

Got anything for fem!Bruce & Uncle Ozzy?

I love the image of tiny Bryce just. Observing the people around her. Building connections and relationships with particular, precise details that paint abstract memories for her.

She remembers how funny her dad and uncle Ozzy sounded; The spicy rush of their accents, how every word was pronounced with laughter in them,

“Look atcha fatha puttin’ oregano in the bolognese sauce like a fuckin’ animal,— never do that, alright? It’s a sin”

“Stop scarin’ my baby girl, ya fuckin’ ice rat,”

“See, Mr. Doctorate over here don’t believe in hell, — but I seen it. Tastes like oregano.” Their laughter tasted like nicotine, — they didn’t smoke the same brand. Her dad made a point to only smoke light at Alfred’s request, but they never smoked around her

She remembers a potent scent of whiskey they drank over a poker table, where she’d sit on her mom’s knee. Martha always won, and Alfie always accused her of cheating

Her Russian accent would come through, soft but pronounced, “It is not cheating if I have my lucky charm” and she’d press a soft kiss on Bryce’s hair

Uncle Ozzy only smoked knock off vintage Cuban cigars and refused to get anything else. He said the fancy stuff were for tourists

After her parents go under the ground, he only eats pasta with oregano in it

She remembers his car; A classic Maserati, leathered with soft cushions. She’d drive her to and from school, putting her seatbelt on, and tell her stories,

“You listen to me, alright, — Alfred ever wants to ground you, or say he knew better at your age when you get in trouble, you call me, alright? I’ll refresh his memory. “

When she goes to boarding school, he’s there to take her. Bryce still remembers the heaviness of the ride, the way the road seemed to drag on and on. “Listen, slick,”

She still doesn’t know why he called her that; Her mom used to say it was because she was quick witted and always had a smart comment to make.

“Those little shits are gonna make you feel bad. They’ll say nasty, mean shit, cause they’re young, and they think it won’t last. But don’t let ‘em. If they go low, you go lower. Never let people feel like they can step all over ya. Okay?”

Her voice sounded little; Most 10 year olds did. “Okay. Can we get ice cream after you pick me up, uncle ozzy?”

He lied to her only once.

“Sure, kid. I got your back.”

When she’s an adult, she’s too burdened by Gotham, by Batman, by a cross she nailed herself to, to take notice of his absence. Bryce Wayne misses her uncle. Batman and Penguin don’t miss each other at all.

Deep down, she knows he knows.

When she drives him to Arkham, him in the passenger seat, she knows.

“Stop by the drive in, kid. I want an ice cream.”

Bryce says nothing. The ice cream is good.