not-so casual batman fan

Rules: keep your ai content/usage away, if you like batcest please don't send/request content of it, always reblog the tws

I HAVE AN OLD DOG AND I'M SCARED OF LOSING HIM STOP SENDING ME ASKS ABOUT DEAD/DYING PUPPERS

Odd One Out (original no pack au)

An Omega Without A Pack (elseworlds)

Some ficlets

Fic links to ao3

Fanarts (gifted)

Humans Are Space Orcs: JL Edition

Miscellaneous

Mini AUs

When Bruce Dies (however temporarily) everything goes to Ace and Damien, emphasis that Damien will only retain control of the estate if he makes certain Ace is his priority. In private Damien receives a letter that Ace is ageless, can't die, and needs a caretaker.

"Grayson did mention that you have been here from the beginning," Damian huffs. "I suppose this explains it."

Ace sits at his knee, nudging it lightly with his nose, appearing almost pleading. He eagerly hops up at the gesture his visible sombre demeanour earns him, clambering up into his lap without the usual air of grace such a well-trained companion possesses.

A grace he has not had since Damian was forced to hold him back from jumping into the hole after Father's casket.

The old (apparently infinitely so) hound drapes himself across Damian, hugging him as if he is a real person, but Damian returning his embrace was evidently the right choice to make as the dog whines, and almost begins to cry.

Duke rests a hand atop Damian's coffin, bowing his head. Words fail him, but he knows what he feels, and Tim hobbles up behind him, he steps away, allowing the haggard, old man to take his place at their brother's graveside.

He walks away from the coffin, then keeps walking, and as he moves further and further away, he sheds his disguise.

His brimmed hat, to shroud his face. His thick jacket, to hide his build. The wig, the latex mask, everything that makes him look the age he is supposed to be.

The only thing he holds onto is his walking stick, still holding up well after nearly a century, a testament to Bruce's craftmanship.

It is a shame that Bruce could not gift his children the same fortification.

Only Duke got that, thanks to his father's poisoned blood.

Well...

Ace presses against Duke's calf, plodding slowly alongside him, and he smiles down at the ancient doggo.

okaythanksloveyoubyeee<3

( sorry if it sounds awkward but it's not a promot so don't feel pressure! I just wanted to share the thought👾)

fic sentence with zero context. no this isn't a typo

The sun keeps setting and the moon lights up the night sky in his place. Bruce's favourite gargoyle, the one named Clark is cold to the touch under Diana's palm; Gotham never got quite hit enough to heat up the statues, even less so in Fall. Clark's hearing picks up on the sound of feet scurrying on rooftops, the distinct 'whip!' Of a grapple gun being fired. The Bats have begun their ritualistic patrol.

Clark and Diana share a long look, their eyes reflecting a truth they didn't want to acknowledge just yet. Their Friday night routine should change, but they can't bring themselves to do it. Bruce would keep them waiting.

Bruce will always keep them waiting now. His burger is gonna go cold.

If it isnt obvious Bruce is dead. Or maybe he isnt, up to you. Inspired by this panel from Superman: Up in the Sky #5 because I'm feeling sad trinity thoughts rn they matter so much to me

Bruce steps onto the rooftop, smiling. "One day you're going to give up on this."

Diana grins at him. "Never."

Clark laughs. "Sit down and eat your burger, B."

Bruce steps up onto the rooftop, smiling. "One day you're going to give up on this."

Diana sighs, resting her chin on her knee.

Clark looks out onto the horizon, a single tear slipping down his face.

Bruce eases himself down onto his gargoyle, looking mournfully at the burger next to him. "You're just teasing me at this point," he grouches, but settles in anyway.

The Batman's silhouette appears on a roof opposite, a few hours into patrol, but when the three of them lift their hands to wave, Dick turns his back, disappearing into the night.

Clark buries his face in his hands, and Diana causes a chip in the brick with the force she slumps back against the wall with. Bruce watches them, and grieves their smiles.

The sun peeks over the horizon eventually, but they wait until light is spilling into the streets to pack up their food.

Bruce would call them wasteful, but, as if just to spite him, they always find a way to make use of the three untouched orders. At this point, Bruce is surprised the Daily Planet's pigeon population aren't morbidly obese, with the amount of Batburger they get.

Diana and Clark fly away from the roof in opposite directions, without saying a word to each other.

They never do.

But they are here every week without fail anyway.

Bruce is so happy to be home at first, embracing his children and friends, but something is wrong. "Tim's out of contact...on a mission. We don't know when he's coming back."

"He needs some alone time. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"Don't worry about it Bruce. He'll be back soon."

Bruce...asks some pointed questions that they obviously don't understand. No one he's spoken to found the clues. Tim did.

So where was Tim and why was everyone acting guilty.

So he investigates, first...Robin.

Bruce stares at the evidence.

Tim left. No one believed him. No one looked at the evidence that Bruce was alive and put it up to Tim's mind cracking after losing Young Justice and Bruce.

And Tim didn't come back, but the reports do have an encoded message and he makes a call. "Talia, do you know of the whereabouts of Tim Drake?"

Talia clicks her tongue..."He worked with Ras briefly. I heard through my contacts he was dead...I'm sorry."

Bruce hangs up, phone cracking in his grip.

"Why not give him back?"

Ra's cocks his head. "I awaited your return, Detective. Your son was admirable, fought more so, and died an honourable death. The treatment he received before departing the USA was nothing if not disrespectful."

"You didn't trust them."

They hadn't even realised Tim was dead.

The old man's eyes pierce him to his core, as they always have. "I didn't think that you would appreciate me washing my hands of him so callously."

Bruce nods weakly, stroking the urn, holding it close. "Thank you, Ra's."

"Indeed, Detective. I shall leave you to your reunion."

Bruce opens his mouth, then closes it again, nodding once more. Ra's has already gone above and beyond for him, he cannot ask anything more.

Yet his former mentor seems to sense his unsaid words anymore, and steps closer, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Bruce... You raised a strong boy. You should be proud."

"I am. I am."

"Good." Ra's pats his trembling form, and steps by. "Take him home, then. Let him rest."

Bruce nods, bowing his head as he is left alone with his son. "Come on, chum. "Let's go home." He kisses the ceramic, and stands on weak legs.

Home.

Home is supposedly where the heart is.

The building exploding under them wasn't.

Bruce crawls from the rubble desperately looking for Jason. Not again. Not again. Not again.

He does what he's rarely ever done, "SUPERMAN!"

Strong arms wrap around him, staring at the collapsing rubble with a frown, listening to Batman, no Bruce, fall into a flashback. "Jay, Jason, please, not again not again."

It's difficult to x ray in Gotham, lead and curses making every structure a little obscure to his vision, but he spots the two...bodies.

He digs them out, setting the grinning joker aside and carefully carrying the body of Jason Todd out to Bruce. The skull is cracked open, body badly ripped into by shrapnel, and carries them both to the manor.

Superman lands in the Cave, touching down on the stone floor as gently as he can, not daring to jostle his cargo.

He walks slowly to the medbay, as slowly as possible, not wanting it to be over just yet.

But all too soon, he's standing in front of a bed, and bows his head. Bruce touches down on the mattress first, Jason after, and Clark indulges his friend, encouraging them to fall in towards each other.

He pulls his hand back, but not so far that he is no longer touching Bruce. He allows his hand to stay on Bruce's leg, not ready to let go yet.

Abruptly he finds himself to be kneeling, pressing his head against that same spot, clutching onto Bruce as his cries fill the cave.

He'd tried— he's tried to convince Bruce to leave.

But no amount of assurances would make him allow Clark to look for Jason alone.

He screamed, he crued, delirium took over, and Clark could not bear to deny him. He could see the truth. Bruce didn't know, he probably wouldn't have cared, but Clark knew.

So he let Bruce stay. He pulled Jason from the rubble and placed him in Bruce's arms.

Then he picked up his best friend, and flew back to the Batcave.

Bruce weeped, stroking Jason's mangled skull, whispering apologies over and over until he choked on his own blood, whispers turning to gurgles, apologies morphing into deprived gasps for air, then it all stopped.

Clark knew the explosion killed Bruce.

Stephanie didn't know why Deathstroke was chasing her. She did know she made a mistake and got herself cornered. She pants as she dodges, unable to strike back.

Stephanie stumbles, the sword rips through her thigh, and she falls. She crawls backwards Deathstroke letting her hit the short ledge, following her without a care in the world.

Deathstroke pauses, "Your not bad kid, if they bring you back, look me up if you ever want some real training."

The sword swings, a baton and batarang is thrown, and Spoilers head hits the floor.

"Black Bat, Robin, Robin, Red Hood, Deathstroke apprehended, signal called off."

"Situation resolved, Spoiler retrieved."

"Scene looks good, guys," Oracle agrees, going along with it. Bruce baulks, and sees Dick do the same, at the mere implication.

But they're lying for a reason.

A reason they cannot afford to let the others see.

Slowly, everyone agrees to head back to the Cave. Cass last of all, muting her comms and clearly waiting for them to give something away, but pretending to organise GCPD response with Barbara seems to fool her well enough.

Bruce changes the comm channel, and promptly moans. "Oh, God."

"Steph."

"FUCK!"

"Oh, Stephanie," Bruce curses. "God, I— I'm so sorry."

She doesn't respond.

Her decapitated head is eternally frozen in fear, mocking their failure to protect her.

Twice. Bruce failed her twice.

I've been getting a lot of posts on here about intersexism the last few weeks (hoooooly fuck it's rotten out there), and:

Male omegas being the lowest of the low in omegaverse societies because they're intersex. Alphas do not want an omega with penetrative genitals, and even if they do, by some measure, accept a male omega as a mate, traditionalists advocate for mutilation, and the penis is usually removed from the omega after they are mated.