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Tim, shakes Kon awake: Babe! Babe! I solved it! I know who framed Roger Rabbit. Come look at my clueboard and check for any holes! Now, we can finish watching the movie. Let's see if I'm right.
kinda random but I headcanon Bruce as having ridiculously soft and plump lips 😭 like to the point that people genuinely consider them one of his best features. And Clark absolutely love them and that was one thing that he noticed ab batman even before the identity reveal and before they got tgt and once they get together he’s constantly kissing him
(He also rly loves the way they look around his cock but anyways!)
I love that headcanon!
No matter how many fights he gets into as Batman, Bruce's lips remain soft and plump, and just perfect in every way.
He often takes modeling jobs where he can show off his lips, and he always wears lipstick to the galas.
Clark discovered Batman's identity all thanks to his kissable lips, because he stared at them an unhealthy amount of time whenever they met.
And then he saw Bruce Wayne in person and it all clicked.
Clark thought Bruce's lips couldn't get any better, but then they began to date, and suddenly he discovered how good they feel against his, and how good they look after a long make out session - still glistening with their mixed spit and extra red because of the many bites Clark subjects them too, always.
But they always look best when those lips are stretched wide around Clark's thick cock and with cum drooling from the corner 😌
Clark has an entire album on his phone full of photos of Bruce sucking him off.
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As always love your work--- Could I ask for maybe omega Bruce dealing with a miscarriage, and feeling like he's cursed?
All his children will hate him, he's a failure of a parent, what was he thinking getting pregnant and keeping the baby? He was always doomed.
He lays around holding his stomach even after he's lost the baby weight. The children aren't talking to him-- for whatever reason, maybe they're all busy with some event, but Bruce takes it as them shaming him for his failure.
Kind of following the internal conflict of Batman is a WHAT?! by Cringe_Fella, Oh we fucked up... by The_Corvid_Ruler, and Not an Alpha by LostMonsterPosts---- where Bruce is insecure about not being a typical omega. He knows what a fuck up he is, he knows, he just thought that maybe, just maybe this time he wouldn't mess up. That this would be it, maybe he could take a break from being batman, just for a bit, allow himself to image what it would be like to not be needed by the city. For it to be quite, and warm, the way he remembers Sunday mornings spent with his mother.
He thought he would be good this time, and if he wasn't, he didn't think his baby would mind. But he should have known.
(I like seeing Bruce in abusive relationships, I feel like he would stay in them for similar reasons to myself "you deserve it" "but they were so nice that one time, if they're nice again I'll stay", if its not your cup of tea you can omit that) His lovers knew. He was only fun, no one in their right mind would actually want to marry him. No one would want an omega so broken, so twisted, so wrong.
One of his children told him so years ago, as a throw away line during a fight. They never meant it, they just wanted Bruce to hurt, like they were hurting, and Bruce internalized it and he never forgot. "I would rather die than be your child."
His baby must have agreed.
I just have a vision of Bruce sitting in the now hidden nursery running his hands along the hand carved bird themed cradle. Him crying alone in this bedroom, clawing at his abdomen, trying to rip out his womb.
Maybe the kids don't know that the baby died, maybe he assumed it and one day the kids come to the house asking about the baby-- Bruce thinks they're being intentionally cruel. He tries to handle it calmly (like your JL polycule, when they confront him about being left by all of the members -- which absolutely beautiful btw, would love a continuation of that as well) softly telling them that he doesn't have the baby anymore, because he couldn't bring himself to say that they died. For some reason one of the kids is unsatisfied by this response and pushes "what do you mean you don't have the baby? did the baby daddy finally step up? did CPS step in?" just kind of crass, rude jokes that had been tolerated till this point. But Bruce is tired, and alone, and he swears he can still feel his baby kicking in his womb even though they haven't been in his body for months at this point.
He breaks down, he starts sobbing and screaming.
And idk what to do with her now, I would love it if you would continue this!-- if it doesn't spark any interest, chill.
also sorry ab my last ask, where it was fully something you already wrote-- I think that this is similar to something else you've written but I think it's still pretty different.
If not, well, shit.
Anyway, love yah!
@icyihug 17, love
This one's messed, people, heed tags
"Duke. Duke." He drags his head up, and blinks away the tears blurring Damian's outline. He glances towards the double doors at the end of the hallway, and his lip trembles as he looks back to Duke. "Are you alright?"
"What?" He stares. "Um. Yeah. Yeah."
The kid's stare in unwavering, and Duke ducks his head. "N-no. I don't— Dami, you didn't see—"
"Richard told me." His voice is stiff. "He explained what happened on the way. What Mother did. That he...mutilated himself."
Duke shudders, presses his clasped fingers to his lips, gags at the metallic twang of blood. "It's my fault. I— I heard what Alfred said to him, and I didn't— I left him alone, and when I found him..." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. He's caked in the evidence of what Bruce did. What Alfred did to him.
Damian's hand hovers in midair, then slips into Duke's bloody palm. He tugs, and Duke is helpless to follow. A nurse waits just down the hall, and he guides the two of them into a patient room. "The electricity is faulty, so the room's out of order," he explains. "You won't be disturbed."
Damian thanks the man, guiding Duke through to the wetroom, shoving him into the shower. He gasps as cold water pours down on him, and Damian steps back from the spray, watching him with aged eyes. He collects Duke's clothes in a waterproof bag, sets out a fresh set on the chair, and does not leave the room, eyes fixed on the floor.
Duke steps out, and has a towel shoved at his face. It smells like Bruce, and he has to try not to cry, burying his nose into the fabric.
He towels off, and Damian works with gentle, telegraphed movements, handing him each item of clothing until he is dressed again. His hair is a lost cause, so he just ignores the water dripping down the back of his neck, and allows Damian to take his hand again.
When they exit, they don't had back to Duke's exile down the hall from the OR. No. This time Damian pulls him to a waiting room, and everyone looks up as he takes a shaky step through the door. "Duke," Cass gasps, and tackles him.
Tears spill from his eyes anew, and he buries his face in her hair, a sob hitching his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry, I'm— I'm so—"
A palm settles on the back of his neck, and his Pack Alpha aqueezes, not quite a scruff, but forcing him to calm through manipulating his instincts. Dick's tangy raspberry scent joins Cass' orange, and he scratches the base of his scalp, keeping that palm pressed against his neck.
"You don't need to be sorry," he assures in a rasp. "This isn't your fault."
No. It's his.
"We all know who's to blame," Stephanie's voice snarls. "And it isn't Duke."
"We deal with him later," Dick barks, the command in his voice pinning everyone in the room. He lets go of Duke, palm moving to rest on his shoulder. "Right now, we're focusing on pack. He no longer is."
"Neither is Bruce, for the record."
Jason bats away the swipe at his face Damian aims with his claws, and makes eye contact with Duke over Cass' shoulder.
"I—" He swallows, throat clicking, and pulls back from Cass. "It was the only thing I could think of. I yelled, I pulled at his arm, but he just kept— So I scented him. I figured the shock would be enough for me to get the upper hand, but he just collapsed."
"He lost three pints of blood," Cass murmurs. Duke knows. Most of it ended up on him. "His body couldn't handle the bond."
"Not after the miscarriage." Everyone flinches, but Barbara just gestures to Steph, who paces like a caged animal.
She picks up where Barbara leaves off, voice trembling with something more powerful than rage. "When you're pregnant, your body needs everything it can get. That includes pack bonds. Bruce has— had one." They're never letting him scent Alfred again. "That isn't enough. It's— the fact is even took is... but it was never going to make it to term. Not when Bruce is half dead from being a packless omega."
"So when I scented him—"
"Too little too late," she clips. "He probably went into grief shock. We won't know until he wakes up."
"Like we didn't know he lost the baby?" Tim rubs his face. "How did we end up so distanced from him that he— that he felt he couldn't tell us that?"
"Tim—"
"We only know because Duke overhead Alfred mock the loss!" Tim shouts. Duke flinches.
Did CPS intervene, Master Bruce? A damn good thing, I say.
"We only know because Duke had to stop Bruce from giving himself a DIY hysterectomy."
The words blur around him, of psychiatric care, of therapy, intervention, JL suspension, moving back into the manor, moving Bruce out of the manor, suicide watch, anything and everything that just makes Duke feel sick.
Then the door opens, and his eyes snap to the white coat that enters.
So basically a Jason that doesn’t have his own ideology or philosophies and just follows behind Bruce and everything Bruce says and does because he’s wrong and that’s it and Bruce’s way is the only way and nobody should challenge that because they’ll always be wrong. Also jason is in the wrong for his relationship with Bruce and he has to change himself and apologize because he’s wrong and nobody else is wrong at all. Just Jason.
Also, Jason as a victim is wrong to want his killer dead and not want to see even more victims because.. Bruce’s way is the best way.
Anyways, here's some nice Jason daddy's boy headcanons, spanning from Jaybin to Red Hood era
the receipt for the Batburger meal that Bruce got Jason when they first met is framed next to a picture from when the adoption was signed in court
what broke through Jason's Lazarus pit temporary amnesia when he was in the LOA is when baby!Damian first said his name "Jay" in the same happy intonation Bruce does, and it snapped Jason back to focus — Talia said he crawled under the table sobbing, asking everyone where his dad was
every batkid has a signature tactile affection method — for Jason, it was bumping his head with Bruce. Bruce has often aliked Jason into a very grumpy cat. Jason stopped getting mad because the last time he growled about it, Bruce burst out laughing because he actually sounded like a disgruntled kitten
Jason was once tiny and relatively light that Bruce asks him to walk along his spine... Jason tried to do it when he got older and Bruce burped so hard from impact that it actually startled Alfred from 2 floors down
Jason has a pillow in the Batmobile for stakeouts that Bruce remembers to keep clean for whenever Jason decides to steal the car (Jason has not noticed how very convenient it is that the batmobile keys are always where he can find it, even if Bruce expressed sentiments against having the car stolen)
Bruce can still carry Jason but Jason can't carry Bruce — or rather, Jason can, but the last time they did that, Dick made a joke about "one day, Dad's gonna be too sick and old to move lol so this is gonna be your job when that day comes 😝" and Jason got so offended and sad that he didn't put Bruce down for 5 hours (he was thinking about Catherine and how he couldn't hold/carry her when he was young and she was sick)
Bruce has the best room to have migraines in (black out curtains, powerful air conditioning, heaviest blanket) so it is not uncommon for him to flop in bed and have a disgruntled Jason cry out like he's interfering with his territory
Anyways like I said, no need to be rude. I'm neurotic, not daft
I had a response to this before with a nicer anon if you want an actual response. But no, I'm not exhausting myself with you illiterate rat bastards. Block me. Block the batfamily tag. Do literally anything else, I beg you
alfred is not a good person when you sit down and really think about his actions as bruce's guardian. stop reducing such a complex character to the overused trope of the wise, beloved, caring, and witty old man! alfred is a flawed character, just like everyone in gotham, and just like you (speculating).
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so i’m a big fan of age gap superbat but specifically older clark. by older, i mean OLD. i’d say he’s well into his 80s but doesn’t look like it. he looks like he’s in his early 50s, very dilfy like 🤭.
anyways, the main reason why i love it is the concept of clark burning out from being superman. he’s been in the game for decades and nothing seems to change. there is still war, death, pain. it doesn’t matter how many people he saves, how many villains he stops, there always seems to be more coming out.
working at the daily planet doesn’t help him either. he sees how politicians, corrupt businesses, and corporations are affecting the planet. how they don’t seem to care about the environmental effect they have or the lower class people who are struggling to survive.
i’d think the justice league is formed in this au but it’s more of a network instead of a solid group. anyways, he goes to diana and talks to her about how he is considering retirement. he’s been in the business for so long that with the things he’s seen, things he’s done, he’s starting to lose the love he had from it. he doesn’t want to continue being superman if he’s feeling like this. he doesn’t want to dread having to suit up or save people. he doesn’t want that. the people don’t deserve that.
diana, obviously, supports this. she knows her friend very well, and although she is sad about it, she understands why he feels that way. she tells him that it will be okay, that he deserves to rest and focus on his personal life. that if he ever changes his mind, his spot will always be open for him. so clark sets a date as his last day as superman. he begins to tell people in his inner group about his retirement but delays telling the world about it. he’s a little nervous on how it will be perceive and how disappointed the people will be. he decides that on his last day as superman, he’ll do a press conference so that way he can run to the fortress. he even put aside some vacation days so he doesn’t have to face the world after his announcement.
for this au, i’m going to use battinson and his movie plot. he’s gonna be a lot younger than he is in the movies, maybe early to mid 20s?
clark hears about what is happening in gotham. the murders of influential people and how there is a vigilante there working the case. the jl don’t work in gotham. the people there are very hostile to outsiders and a lot of the jl think that gotham is a lost cause. clark himself thinks that way too, unfortunately. as much as he tries not to. he doesn’t pay too much mind to it, though. it’ll just be pushed under the rug, anyways.
but then he hears the bombs. he hears flood water, gotham’s heavily polluted waters, begin to consume the entire city. he hears the screams and cries of people being swept away, drowning, choking. he hears the sound of riffles being drawn and used in a building full of people escaping from the waters.
no one calls for him. no one in gotham calls for superman or wonder woman. no one calls for anyone in the jl. instead, he hears the name batman.
he rushes over. he’s curious, he’s never heard that name before. he knows about the vigilante that works exclusively in gotham. who thrives under shadows, violence, and vengeance. when he reaches the building, he sees a figure holding a flare in the water. he sees how the figure is leading, casting a light in the darkness, a group of people out of the building.
there is a piece of cement that is blocking the only exit out. he sees how the figure tries to lift it. clark flies down on the opposite side and picks it up like nothing. when he moves it out of the way, he realizes that the light in the darkness is batman.
anyways, this begins superman’s obsession over batman and bruce reignites clark’s passion in being a hero.
Idk, this part is just so cute, I wanted to share it-
"B…?"
"Yes, chum?" Dick yawns, fighting the urge to sleep because the young boy knew if he closed his eyes, B would slip away again. "Please don't leave me tonight…"
"I won't, chum."
"Pinky promise?" He holds out his littlest finger. Bruce chuckles and intertwines his pinky with Dick's. "Promise."
"If you break your promise you have to lose your pinky…" A soft rumble from Bruce's chest has Dick clinging closer.
Bruce would still have all ten of his fingers the next day.
In an odd world where heroes, superheroes, and vigilantes exist, there is only one thing missing: Batman.
In this world, Batman doesn't exist, he isn't a concept, not even an urban legend. Why? Because the man meant for the cowl is Bruce Wayne; beautiful, damaged, and fallen Bruce Wayne who's only goal in life now is to give his children a better life, a better future.
Since it's an AU, there may be changes to the dynamics, characterizations, and identities of certain characters. This is a 'What-If' AU after all.
"That was so cool!" Bruce hears the familiar squeal of his second youngest. His head is still reeling. Looking up at the familiar yet unfamiliar boy- man? …holding him, Bruce still sees the kid he first invited into his home; the boy whom he screamed at the top of his lungs for as he landed the winning gold at a gymnastics tournament. His eldest son, Dick, who would run into his arms is now holding him in his after having just faced The Penguin's goons. Protecting him.
How has Bruce failed so spectacularly?
He was supposed to be the one protecting them—he would catch any bullet for them, use his body as a shield, all for them. Not this. Not the other way around.
When Bruce's broken heels hits the floor, he holds onto the man before him, looking up, his blue eyes shining wet with tears. "I'm sorry…" Bruce whispers, throat closing up as tears threaten to spill, forcing a pitiful whimper out of him. "Mom!" "Mommy!" Jason and Tim yell in unison as they hold their mother steady, Bruce's eyes didn't leave Dick's figure until the two had completely embraced him. When he turns around to hug them, his eyes immediately catches sight of two other masked individuals.
He sees how the shorter one flinches when their gazes meet. The taller one nudges him before the smaller vigilante sheepishly hands him his cane. With Bruce's arm still wrapped around Tim and Jason, Bruce grabs the cane with his free hand, pulling at it harshly so that the youngest vigilante gets pulled along as well. The kid tensed up in Bruce's embrace at first—the warmth having become unfamiliar after so many years—but eventually, stiff shoulders melted and began trembling as Bruce's lapel is wet with tears.
Bruce glances at the other vigilante, taller, stronger, and wearing an all-black bat costume that couldn't have been comfortable. Bruce's arms had always been wide, like a wingspan—and much like a bat's, they wrapped perfectly around the four of them. "I am so, so, so sorry." Bruce wails. His youngest child, his only daughter, reduced to cleaning up the system's mistakes. This is not how Bruce wanted their lives to go.
The four of them stayed like that for another minute until gunshots started erupting everywhere. "Kill that damned bird!" They hear The Penguin yell. Damian flinches and was quick to pull away, Cass hesitated and they both turned to Bruce anxiously, itching to go. Bruce nods—they needed to help Dick; the best Bruce can do despite his failures as a parent is to not get in the way.
After watching Damian and Cass go, he finally turns back to Jason and Tim. Both boys were looking at him nervously, Bruce's eyes narrowed. They knew.
That night, at Wayne Manor—after facing countless news reporters at the venue—all members of staff were dismissed for the night. Without the clattering and thudding of cleaning and walking around, The only noise in the manor is Bruce's unsteady movements in the kitchen. None of them got to have a proper meal at the reception, so with their three other siblings coming up, Bruce decided to cook despite his sprained right foot.
He didn't let Jason nor Tim change out of their suits, not yet at least. He wanted answers first. And he wanted them once their siblings come home. Bruce knows they'll come, it's too late for them to hide from him anyway.
Just in the nick of time, The door to the… basement? …opens and Dick, along with Damian and Cass, comes out and the three gathered around the table, taking their seats as they once did some years ago. Dick is now 18, Jason and Cass are 15, Tim is 13, and Damian is 11 when they all finally reunited.
Damian is noticeably fidgeting—he was still so young when he was taken by the League, along with Cass, is it horrible to say he doesn't remember much of the man who raised him, loved, and cherished him? How can he embrace Bruce with hands that have been stained with others' blood? What if Bruce doesn't want him anymore? What if he-
"Dam-dam?" Damian's thoughts are knocked out of him as a plate is carefully placed in front of him. He looks up and he's met with blue, glacial eyes—eyes that are very warm and familiar. "Are you okay, chickadee?" It's ironic how the alias Damian's using now is so reminiscent of what Bruce used to call him. They aren't out of costume yet, but when Damian looks at his siblings, he sees just how nervous they are as well.
Damian couldn't take it. There's a lump forming in his throat—it's been so long since he's seen his mother, so long since he's felt his embrace. Talia's weren't as comforting, and it's not like he could ask his grandfather for hugs. He hasn't even seen Cass since they got taken away—only seeing her again last year when they managed to break out.
"I-!" Bruce smiles and kisses the top of his head. Damian leans into it. "You can tell me everything while we eat; I'm sure you've had a long night." Damian nods and soon, everyone filled their plates and bowls. One sip of the warm stew has Dick's face scrunching up in its sourness. "Is this tamarind stew?" He asks and Bruce raises a brow, "It is… Has your tastes changed?" Dick eagerly shakes his head—he's always been weak against sour foods, but Bruce's tamarind stew was his one and only exception. It's warm, healthy, and Dick likes how the fish goes down easily.
Cass is tapping the table meekly which catches Bruce's eager attention; ["Do you…we, have chilli?"] She signed. Bruce smiles and slides the small bowl of fresh chilli peppers next to him, towards her. "Can I have one too?" Tim asks and Cass was about to pass the small bowl until Jason cuts in. "Don't. He has the spice tolerance of a single grain of salt." Cass tilts her head at Tim, there's a lilt in the corner of her lips and Tim's face turns as red as the chilli peppers. "N-no I don't!" Jason's easy laughter echoes in the dining hall; "Sure you do! You've got white boy taste buds!"
Just like that and the family's already fallen back into rhythm. Bruce's home finally feels right again. Looking back, who cares if his children hid secrets from him? They probably had a good reason, right? This is all that matters. Them, their family. It's all Bruce needs in life…
But Bruce needs to be a parent; so once the banter calms down, Bruce's questions filled the dead air. What happened, why, how did it end up like this? How long have Tim and Jason known? Where were you staying?
Luckily, his children were all willing to answer his questions. "Cass and I were trained to be assassins, but we got separated and have only met each other again last year." Damian's tone was…formal. His manner of speaking is strict. Bruce wonders where his baby who babbled mindlessly went. Seeing Bruce's sad expression, Damian tries to salvage the conversation. "H-However it all worked out in the end! I get to protect you now, mother." Mother? Where did 'mama' go?
Bruce forces a smile, a radiant one. "Thank you, habibi… But that's supposed to be my job… For all of you." Damian cringes at himself and feels like sinking into his chair. ["You've helped and protected us for so long-"] Bruce shakes his head, "You don't owe me anything, baby. None of you do. I'm your parent, it's my job." Cass's eyes are downcast—it's already been made clear that Bruce doesn't like the path they've gone down on, but-
"Jason and Tim have known for six months." Dick cuts in. Five heads swiftly turned to him, Tim's face is ghostly pale. "Dude, what the hell??" Jason snaps back and Dick chuckles, cutting the tension in the air once more. Bruce sighs. "We've… been staying in the cave since we got here." Damian sighs. Now it was Bruce's turn to go pale. "The cave?!" What, with all of those nasty creatures?? "It's not that bad!" Dick defends and Jason's nodding too. "When Tim and I discovered the cave-" Bruce's brows furrowed. "You went back to that place?!"
"It's how we discovered that Cass, Dick, and Damian are back… We saw them in there and…" Tim glances at Cass. Oh how he missed his sister. "It's not too shabby. Jason and I helped them fix it up some more and…" Tim's face flushes, nervous. "I… helped them create their…equipment…" Tim hangs his head low, ashamed to have gone behind Bruce's back. He's been kind enough to indulge Tim and spoil him by funding his projects—only for Tim to go behind his back and use the money for something else.
Bruce felt like he was going to have a headache and heartburn at the same time. "So… you all have been in on this for the past six months and…." He glances at Jason and Tim, both boys looking down shamefully. "have helped with keeping their secrets, 'fix up' that dingy old cave, and created their, what, grappling hooks and others I have yet to know about?" All five of Bruce's children looked incredibly guilty. Bruce couldn't help but sigh heavily. On one hand, they've all gone behind his back; but on the other… They've all built such strong bonds that they're able to network and trust one another with this.
"You've helped one another and yet…" He looks at all three of his now-supposed vigilante children, "None of you decided to 'fix up' the costumes?" Bruce just couldn't stay mad—and he doesn't blame them for keeping this a secret from him either. One glance at all three and he already knew it was them. No matter how long it's been. "What's wrong with our costumes??" Dick whines, and Bruce raises a brow, looking at his son up and down—appraising him. "Really? You're asking?"
Damian snorts. "I told you it was ridiculous." Bruce glares at his baby. "Baby, you're dressed like a street light." Damian chokes on his water. "You're a walking highlighter, my love." Bruce glances over at Cass who shrinks in her seat. "…yours is fine, sweetie." Bruce's eyes lands on the tear on her suit. "But it looks like you all need a costume with a more durable material." Bruce sighs before his eyes land back on Dick who still seems to be cradling his figurative burn.
"Explain to me why you decided to dress like a cheap hooker?" Jason has his head hidden behind Tim's shoulder, trembling from holding back laughter. "Don't get me wrong sweetie—you can dress like a hooker if that's what you want, but please don't look cheap." Dick's face is red and heating up. "Ma!!" Tim has the edge of the table cloth and buried his face in it, hiding his laughter. Whereas Damian looks vindicated and Cass has an amused smile playing on her lips, mindlessly stirring the leftover soup from the stew.
"It's-" Dick groans, flustered and embarrassed. "I'm trying to lean towards my acrobatic roots!" Bruce didn't seem impressed by the reasoning. "I'm pretty sure there are better designs for that, chum." Dick huffs.
Looking at the costumes, it does seem like the three of them have a theme going on… Birds and Bat? "What… have you decided to call yourselves?" Bruce can't have himself slipping in public and accidentally calling his children by their names or nicknames. ["Batgirl… bats are scary and needed to instill fear in our enemies."] Cass signs and Bruce nods, seemingly agreeing. Bats are scary.
"You would call me chickadee and birdie… and Dick said I could have Robin, so…" Damian's face was red, suddenly feeling shy. Bruce wanted to tear up. God, he just wants to cuddle with them now. "Nightwing." Dick says, the embarrassment has seemingly faded away now. "I… went with Robin at first, but when we were finally reunited and agreed that we would protect you and Gotham,
"I decided to pass it on to Damian and adopted the name Nightwing." Dick smiles up at Bruce. "Do you remember? Whenever I couldn't sleep I'd ask you to sing me lullabies and you'd even called me nightingale even though I was bad at singing?" Dick chuckles. "How could I forget?" Bruce smiles. Whatever grievance, disappointment, or betrayal Bruce felt was erased—even if it's just for tonight. "I was inspired by it, and…" Dick looks away for a while, "A teacher of mine, a mentor, told me this legend from his home… A famed hero called Nightwing." Dick clears his throat. "I'm… very sorry, momma. I know this isn't what you wanted for us."
Bruce looks away, it was true. He still feels like such a failure. "But you raised us to fight for what's right. I don't think I could ask for a better momma." Dick stood up and was about to go in for a hug but Damian beats him to it—already on Bruce's lap, arms around his mama's neck and face buried in the crook of Bruce's shoulder. "Mother- no- mama!"
Neither Damian nor Cass received Bruce's gifts as he sent them; making Damian feel like his mama has abandoned him, forgotten him. It sowed a seed of resentment in Damian for a long time until the three of them reunited.
Talia accidentally slipped once, mentioned something about a letter from Bruce, one that Damian knew nothing about. If there was a letter… then was there something more? Damian wanted to know. There had to be, right? Mama couldn't have just- he couldn't…! It drove Damian insane. Thus, he escapes; and when he did, he encounters Cass who had also broken out of the League of Shadows.
It was just the two of them for some time until they met Dick during his travels. They learned that Bruce did actually send them a lot of things. Not just letters, but gifts, memorabilia. Cass broke down for the first time when she finally saw the blanket and plushie that Bruce has knitted her.
Damian also cried when he was sent his favourite stuffed toy and baby blanket. There was an obvious cut in the blanket and was replaced by a patch of what Damian assumed was Bruce's shirt—that just about broke him. His mama had probably been distraught since he lost them. He wished they could take all of Bruce's letters and gifts home, but they were still running away from the League so they had to move quickly and could only bring a few of what Bruce had sent them.
Their first night back in Gotham, Cass refused to separate herself from the blanket and so did Damian.
It took a second for Bruce to process the chain of events that just happened. Before he knew it Damian, Dick, and Cass were on him, locking him in a hug and suddenly his suit and lapel were wet. Jason and Tim were standing back, they've had Bruce all to themselves for five years, so it's only fair that the other three gets their moment with him.
But when Bruce's eyes met theirs and his arms opened even wider, there were no hesitations and all six of them were wrapped up in each other.
"…Will you let me remake your costumes?" Bruce asks amidst the cuddle ball. There's an audible groan Dick.
Bruce wraps his scarf around Damian—it's the next day and Wayne Enterprises has already done damage control and only selected necessary journalists who wanted to cover the situation. But that's not where the Wayne family is headed today. "I don't understand what happened, mama." Damian huffs, seemingly disappointed as he fiddles with the fringes of the scarf. "Uncle Harvey was so bereft. He kept screaming for you even though I told him you were safe."
Bruce sighs, kissing Damian's forehead. "He ran into the fire…" The tween mumbled. "Which is why we'll be visiting him today. Along with you getting your vaccine shots." Damian flinches, looking up at his mother with furrowed brows, indignant. "I'm a trained assassin! I don't need rabies shots!" Bruce frowns. "Then give up the cave." Damian huffs and looks away—grumbling. Bruce chuckles fondly at his baby. "Come on, I think your siblings are waiting for us downstairs."
Bruce will be reintroducing Dick, Cass, and Damian to society next week; for now however, they'll spend their time together as a family.
Speaking of which, Bruce's brows furrowed as he sees his children gathered around the living room, with Tim holding a giant newspaper. Curious, Damian runs ahead of Bruce and tries to see what the newspaper says, but Jason and Tim attempted to hide it when they realized Bruce and Damian have arrived. "Is everything alright?" Bruce asks, eyes already on the poorly-hidden newspaper behind Jason. He looks at Dick for an answer, but sees his eldest looking extremely irritated at best and ready to kill at worst. Cass's face is blank which sends shivers down Bruce's spine.
Bruce sighs, "Give it to me." His hand is laid out for the newspaper. "Uhhh…. no…?" Jason looks away. "Jason Todd-Wayne." Jason whines and surrenders the newspaper. Bruce is no stranger to tabloids—neither are Jason and Tim. The media attributes Jason's acting career to Bruce's wealth just because his mom decided to build a foundation in his honour. For Tim it's him being labelled a traitor to the Drakes for choosing to be a Wayne—the farthest the media has taken it was pointing at Tim as the prime suspect for the Drakes' Fire Incident. Bruce sued the publication.
Reading through the article, Bruce's face darkens.
The Myth of Redemption: The Curious Reinvention of Bruce Wayne.
Throughout the course of the history of rehabilitating one's public image, we will see a familiar pattern: apologies, disappearance, more apologies and supposed self-reflection, and then of course; charity. It is believed that nobody has done this better than the now-beloved Bruce Wayne.
CEO of Wayne Enterprises and devout father of five—this is how he is known today.
But once upon a time, he also used to be America's most promising actor. A prodigy, they claimed.
Borne from the old-money wealth of the Wayne and Kane family—two of the founding families of the city of Gotham—it was no doubt that the young heir was beloved by the masses. Audiences adored him. Critics praised him. He was also lovingly known as the "Pearlescent Prince of Gotham".
Then tragedy struck. The small family of three was gunned down that faithful night in what was formerly known as Park Row, now Crime Alley.
At seven years old, Bruce Wayne became the sole survivor of a targeted shooting incident. The attack left a permanent damage to his left leg, leaving him with a limp still visible to this day. The nation grieved with him. But the world continues to spin and the living must keep on living. Everyone learned to move on. Everyone except for Bruce Wayne.
Following the death of his parents came the death of his promising acting career. Disappearing for eight years, no one has heard from him, not even Wayne Enterprises' representative at the time said anything. Many believed that the young Wayne heir has become disconsolate with grief and chose to isolate from the world instead.
That decision was more or less respected. Nobody would push a grieving child into the spotlight—the cameras, the reporters. The life of a celebrity is taxing especially with the heavy weight of grief.
But then he comes back after his years of self-imposed isolation. However, he was no longer the grieving child star when he came back. Although inhibiting the same prowess for acting, something has noticeably changed in Bruce Wayne.
A young man with a trust fund the size of a small country's GPD, a growing reputation for excess, and having absolutely no interest in becoming a cautionary tale.
Nobody saw it coming. The parties—perhaps it would be understandable—but the following four years became a masterclass in self-destruction. Nightclubs, mansion parties, tabloid scandals.
Alcohol, drugs, more alcohol, more drugs. Repeat.
Along with enough rumors of romantic(?) partners to fund a gossip column's publishing house for the next decade. Depending on which publication you've read, Wayne was reportedly either searching for meaning, or collecting bad decisions to add to his web-infested awards shelf.
Many of his defenders call it a 'coping mechanism'. His critics call it irresponsibility.
But this writer, who has seen it happen in real time, will say it was inevitable.
There seemed to have no bottom to Wayne's downward spiral. However, it is quite an impressive feat on how well he cleans up for formal events. So much so that one would never be able to guess that the young Wayne heir was abusing fentanyl.
Every scandal often blurred into the next, equally as outrageous as the last. His family fortune insulated him from consequences—as evident with his continuous role offers—consequences, that would have destroyed any other person.
However… after the tragic disappearance of Bruce Wayne's lover, the reaction from the young scion was immediate once it has reached national news.
Whatever tenuous control he had maintained over his life appeared to have collapsed entirely. Several reports revealing repeated overdoses, hospitalization, and extended periods of seclusion.
Perhaps for the first time, Wayne looked less like a grieving star and more like a man coming apart in the most public display of self-execution. Rumors circulated that the Wayne fortune was being used no longer for luxury, but rather to keep their sole living heir alive.
Then, like a magic act, Bruce Wayne disappears. Nary a news nor word of where he's gone to. No statements from Wayne Enterprises, not even from the Wayne Household as then-represented by faithful servant Alfred Pennyworth. For almost three years, Bruce Wayne has disappeared from the public lens yet again.
Reports suggested he left the country. Others say he was receiving treatment overseas. But a few conspiracy theorists have claimed that he has died and was replaced by a doppelganger.
Then he came back.
And somehow, impossibly, annoyingly, sober.
Bruce Wayne was finally sober. Clean. No scandals to report, no arrests, no late-night photographs that could be interpreted salaciously, nothing. For journalists used to covering disasters, this was profoundly disappointing.
Many were awaiting yet another fall. Yet miraculously, it never came.
Only his philanthropy work and charities, his quiet appearances, and his frustrating commitment to staying out of trouble were the only things of note.
However, perhaps the strangest part of Wayne's new chapter wasn't his clean, new shell. But the children.
Richard Grayson, son of two acrobats from Haly's Circus; Damian, whose last name and background remains unknown; Jason Todd, son of a drug addict and thief; and Timothy and Cassandra Drake, children of the late Jackson and Janet Drake. Each child appearing at different points in Bruce Wayne's life.
Now some may wonder if this is yet another one of those carefully orchestrated publicity campaign—a stunt to show how much Wayne has grown over the years. Yet instead of a dramatic unveiling in a magazine spread, each adoption seemed to have carried on a quieter approach with almost little to no fanfare aside from the obligatory public introductions and a brief interview from Wayne himself.
But it doesn't change the predictable applause of the masses.
"How inspiring,"
"How generous,"
"What an upstanding young man."
The praise flowed and overflowed seamlessly. Effortlessly.
Yet one simply cannot act blind regarding the mythology being constructed around him—for one is not a renowned actor like Bruce Wayne.
The grief-stricken child,
The troubled teen,
The redeemed adult,
The benevolent father.
Every chapter fits a little too neatly. A little too curated.
Every headline seemed so eager to transform a deeply flawed man into a saint.
But perhaps Bruce Wayne has truly changed. Perhaps sobriety has endured and persevered. Perhaps the scandals are genuinely past him and five, young children have found a warm, loving home in Wayne Manor.
All of that may be true.
But let's not forget that redemption stories have always been the public's favorite work of fiction for it allows everyone to forget the chapters they once condemned.
The man who has infamously drowned himself in substances and notoriety is now presented as the very image of grace and responsibility. The heir who once seemed determined to squander every privilege bestowed upon him since birth, is now being applauded for his charity work and foundations. The celebrity once synonymous with recklessness, sins, and vices has somehow become the patron saint of second chances.
And maybe that's exactly what he is.
Or maybe, we simply enjoy rewriting history until the ending feels satisfying enough.
Either way, Wayne's sprawling estate has become the centerpiece of a narrative the public desperately wants to believe—a grand manor occupied by a damaged survivor, and the children he has gathered beneath its tiled roof.
A family, they call it.
But I beg to differ.
A house of orphans, more like.
Bruce felt like throwing up. Did his kids read everything…? No… no, they weren't supposed to learn about his… his-
"Mom…?" Bruce flinches and turns around, all of his children are staring at him. How is he supposed to face them now? They know… they know just how ugly and filthy he truly is.
Gripping the newspaper, he flashes them a smile. "Let's go visit uncle Harvey." A series of murmurs comes from his beautiful brood and they all stand up to leave. Bruce tosses the newspaper aside and grips his cane just a little bit tighter until Dick offers him his arm.
Damian looks down at the news paper, he didn't get to read it like the rest of his siblings, so he decides to call over a maid and have it taken to his room. Before he hands over the newspaper, Damian's eyes catches the name of the author.
By: Clark Kent, Senior Journalist from the Daily Planet.
i only write bottom bruce and i know somewhere in the back of my mind that he tops sometimes but im a very self-indulgent writer therefore IM making him bottom bc I want to FUCK him
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Omega!Bruce, after being deflowered: "If you do not wish to marry me for my body, will you at least marry me for my money?"
Alpha!Minkhoa: "I have my own money-"
Omega!Bruce: "I have more! What will it take for you to-!"
Alpha!Minkhoa: "I will not marry you, Bruce. I'm sorry. But I do not... Care about you. I shall be leaving soon, somewhere far away and-"
Omega!Bruce, tears spilling: "You say you do not care, yet you choose to leave! To flee for my sake!"
Omega!Bruce: "If you truly do not care, then stay!"
Alpha!Minkhoa: "You will be... Miserable with me, Bruce. You do not wish for that. You would not want a life with me if you-"
Omega!Bruce: "I do! If misery is the price I must pay, then it shall be so."
Alpha!Minkhoa: "Bruce..."
Omega!Bruce: "I would rather be miserable with you, than be happy with someone else."
Alpha!Minkhoa: "...."
Alpha!Minkhoa: "In matters of your honour, I have already spoken to my cousin. He shall marry you, your caretaker has already given his blessing. He is a kind soul, he will take care of you."
Omega!Bruce: "No... No, don't you dare do this to me!"
Alpha!Minkhoa: "You will learn to love him in time... He does not care that I have ruined you. You will have beautiful children, Bruce. No doubt they shall all look like you."
