Writing blog ā¢ No idea what is canon, don't know her ā¢ Okayest father defender ā¢ latinoamericana ā¢ ESOL ā¢ Rebobinarte on AO3 {https://ko-fi.com/lacote}
He hates the connotation of even having one, and genuinely gets upset when asked.
"I love my children differently, but equally," is what he says.
Hal, however, has become very vocal of having a favorite child.
And he is very vocal about not telling who it is.
Which seems deliberate, knowing this man, in an attempt to dismantle the Wayne dynasty and tear the batfamily from the inside.
After all, the Bats have a competitive streak.
.
.
.
And so that the manor doesn't get nuked by this competition, the Wayne Family Arbitration Court (yes Bruce, it's a real thing) was put into session in one of the house's many parlors.
"It's gotta be me," Duke puffed his chest out and grinned, standing before his menagerie of siblings.
"Duke," Jason sighed, "We're talking about Hal's favorite kid, not best cockblocker."
To that, Duke threw his shoe at Jason, who caught it, only to throw it at Dick's unsuspecting self.
"HEY!"
"If anything, I would think Hal hates you the most," Damian supplied dryly.
"What are you even on, man!?" Duke snapped, "Reminding you all, I'm even the reason they began hanging out more often again, so much that they started dating AND got married! I fucking parent trapped them!"
"And we thank you for your service," Cass smiled, draping herself gracefully on the couch like a cat who got the nip, "But we all know I am the favorite."
"WHAT."
"Cassandra, I thought you were imaginative, not delusional," Damian snorted, earning him a flick of her fingers.
"Um, Hal likes me because I'm never mean to Dad and I look like Dad sometimes," Cass smirked, "And mind you, I was the first of us that he publicly referred to as one of his children."
"If that's the standard, then I should be the favorite," Damian smiled sweetly, "After all, he prioritized getting custody of me when he and Father married, and faced the entire League of Assassins willingly to earn that right. It is a trust testament to his favor."
"Big deal," Jason rolled his eyes, "I'm the kid he wanted to bring back to life, and the kid that made him want to try again with Dad."
"Okay bitch?" Tim laughed mockingly, snapping his laptop shut, "I'm the last kid he raised with Bruce, and he spent a lot more time with me than he did with you or Dick. Oh, and guess who he asked permission from when he married Dad? ME! Suck it, zombie cock."
Jason grimaced, teeth grinding as he tried to find his words.
He turned to Dick, snapping at his brother's ear.
"Oi, Dick, you just gonna let Timbitch do us like this?"
Dick rolled his eyes and peered up from his phone to swat his hand away, "What's the point? I already know I'm not Hal's favorite."
Then he paused.
And like the performer that he is, he stuck his tongue out, "But I am Bruce's number one!"
Then he dodged everyone's miscellaneous items.
"FUCK YOU!"
"KILL YOURSELF, RICHARD!"
"BOO! LOSER!"
"EXPLODE!"
"OH, GO FUCK YOURSELF, DICK!"
.
.
.
.
.
Bruce turned off the manor comms and sighed, tossing it into some forgotten corner of the bed.
Even without the mics and cameras, he can hear his children enacting bloody murder on each other from downstairs.
He looked down at the perpetrator of the recent madness that took over the family for the last month.
Hal seemed content where he laid, blissfully ignorant at the war crimes he's enabled by posing such a bizarre hypothetical unto their passionately competitive children.
Hal was laying between Bruce's legs on the bed, face pressed against his slightly distended belly, a sleepy, content smile on his charming features.
"Harold."
"Hmm?"
"You're cruel."
"Am I?"
Bruce sighed exasperatedly, tugging at Hal's hair for a moment of admonishment.
Hal only laughed, and raised his head to press kisses on Bruce's stomach.
"How's my favorite child?" Hal asked.
"Growing, definitely attuned to the fact that their father is a menace," Bruce chuckled, "And you can't say you have a favorite and mean it."
Hal hummed, "And I really don't mean it, they know that. I love all of our kids."
Not like Martin Jordan, who loved Jack, likes Jim, and treated Hal like an afterthought.
Bruce rolled his eyes, "And yet, you torture them so."
Hal laughed, crawling upwards this time to pepper his husband with kisses.
"If it makes you feel any better," he grinned, smiling against Bruce's lips while thumbing over the inconspicuous bump along his belly, "I plan to do this again when we give this little one more siblings."
(SCENE: Jason Todd as Red Hood, trying to teach his goons how to break the law without getting caught)
ā ā ā
āāand if youāre going to run from a traffic stop, do it before you give them your license,ā Jason finished, crossing his arms. āQuestions?ā
A man in the front row of mismatched folding chairs raised his hand. āEven if itās fake?ā
āYes, even if itās fake.ā Jason took a breath before continuing. āItās still your face, height, and weight, right?
Slowly but surely, the group began to nod.
āMr. Hood?ā A skinny twig of an 18 year-old raised a hand.
āYeah?ā
āMy buddy told me that if they arrest you, and they donāt read your, uh,ā the kid stumbled looking nervous. āYour, uh, Melinda rights, they have to let you go.ā
Jason sighed into his helmet. There were times when he appreciated Bruceās breathing tech. The sigh had been filtered and dispersed just after it had finished.
In the intervening moment, the group began to lean forward in their folding chairs, attempting to parse the silence.
Jason lifted one finger.
āTheyāre Miranda rights.ā
Second finger.
āAnd no, they donāt let have to let you go. Best case scenario, theyāll have to throw out anything incriminating you said. Thatās it.ā
A plumber-for-hire perked up in the last row, opening his mouth.
āShit you said during questioning,ā Jason clarified quickly.
āWait. Youāre not supposed to talk during an arrest?ā
Jason closed his eyes. Behind his helmet, they couldnāt see him. He couldnāt see them. It was beautiful, just for a moment.
Someone scoffed.
āWhat are you, a fucking snitch?ā
āDevon,ā Jason said, recognizing the voice, āChill the fuck out. Brady, what the fuck are you saying when you get arrested?ā
Brady was trembling in his seat.
āThat Iām gonna f-fuck them up. And t-their families.,ā he stuttered. āAnd I might even s-steal their dog so their k-kids hate them f-forever.ā
āSee?ā Jason waved at Devon. āTerroristic threats. Not snitching.ā
Nobody laughed. Jason could sense the incoming questions like they were bullets curving toward his head.
āTerroristic threats?ā
āOkay,ā Jason said. āSo remember when we talked about the different definitions of assault?ā
"There's nothing more you can do about this, my dear"
Dick blinked his horrified tears away, clutching at Bruce's middle. Protective. Possessive.
"You promised" his baby brother spoke "You said-"
"I only gave you more time, sweet boy. Another chance." A smile that could only be described as putrid addressed Jason. "I don't remember promising anything to you"
"He's my dad. You can't just-"
"He's not yours" the air turned cold at her growl. Then silence. Dick gasped and bent forward trying to breathe. He saw by the corner of his eye how his little brother fell to his knees, an awful sound coming from his empty lungs. "Don't misunderstand, little one. He's my knight. Mine"
Her words were poison. He coughed at the sudden return of oxygen in their surroundings.
"No. No, stop" He saw Jason drag himself in the wood before the ground felt wet and the smell of gravel and fire and smog attacked his nostrils.
He looked up, dark, wet hair gave way like a curtain to the figure leaning over him.
Dick opened his mouth to scream, when a pair of long, bony fingers stroked his cheekbone with their knuckles. He felt cold puncturing his bones and a quiet chuckle terrified his soul.
He tried to hug Bruce closest to his chest, but his limbs were numb and frozen. Widened eyes in horror as the woman carefully grabbed behind Bruce's nape and under his legs, and lifted him as if nothing.
Richard used all his strength to fall forward, face against the ground, grabbing at what looked like the hems of her dress. He couldn't focus on the sound of mud and oil when he closed his fingers around what should have been fabric.
He tilted his heavy face upwards, locking eyes with empty darkness.
"Please..."
She slowly turned around, smiling. A known song hummed while she moved out of his view. Away of his begging and Jason's cries. Far, far, towards the decks, until he couldn't see them anymore.
The sound came back. The streets shone once again under the yellow lights. Jason's sob echoing on his ears.
Then the comms came back to work, and worried voices flooded his senses. What could he say to their questions?
Gotham had finally taken Bruce away from them.
Mwah @sa-satan it wasn't so terrible, see? No tears from this one :)
I think our opposing Superman stories ending with the same result is kinda hilarious bc like he really was boring and now that's my baby boy chew toy and I just wanna shake him vigorously and see what happens š (Watching my adventures with Superman currently and oh my god??? Hes so???? I just wanna gnaw on him š)
Hal... Oh Hal... Maybe. I am weak to a good mentor story. And once I like someone I mostly ignore their crimes depending on what they are so... Yk... He still has hope. He keeps treating my Brucie right and anything is possible š„°
My favorite headcanon is that everyone ever is fiening for Bruce and I don't just mean slutty party girl Brucie, like JL is just collectively losing their minds over Batman's emotionally unavailable cookie.
We all know Hal likes it when he's bratty and mad at him bc he's just that type of man (the right kind lol).
But Clark is this š¤š½ close to bashing his head into a wall bc Batman did the thing where he runs off by himself bc apparently he, a man dressed like a bat, is infinitely more capable than his several super teammates. It's so stupid. Like he's so smart how can he not see how stupid that is?? Yet Clark thinks he looks so fucking cool. Batman is literally his hero.
Diana sitting and watching him do the stubborn thing bc she's just waiting for the opportunity to wrangle him. Then he has his little fit bc he absolutely had that covered! And maybe he did, but she just thinks it's fucking adorable. But she also just enables him a lot bc she loves his crazy (news flash: they all do!)
Or Ollie who does not yet know Batman is his Brucie but is noticing little things and he thinks he's going crazy bc there is no fucking way that Brucie Wayne is this tall dark intimidating mysterious figure with obvious attachment issues. But that auraaaa bro. That aura. He wants him bad.
Okay lemme shut up I think you get my point š I just think Bruce Harem is the best way sue me š¤·š½āāļø (I said that already please don't sue me š¤”)
- Hal Skeptic Anon š
Don't worry anon, I fw JL harem imagines too... esp with Bruce at the heart of it all
ESPECIALLY WITH OBLIVIOUS BRUCE
AND DREADFULLY AWARE BATFAMILY
.
Bruce coming down the training room while Duke and Hal are taking a break
Hal purposefully doing his arm guards and bandages wrong so Bruce fusses over him.
"I would think your propensity for injuries would make you more adept. You're such a child sometimes."
That's when Hal thinks to steal a kiss, smirking at Bruce's flustered expression after. "Maybe you can call me 'baby' sometimes then?"
Duke is gagging and looking at the security cameras in the corner like "BARBARA GET ME OUT OF HERE"
.
Diana giving Bruce flowers randomly, smiling and saying "I thought about you plenty in the Hall of Justice garden... beautiful, blooming and, fertile..." she winks and kissed a rose, before teasingly putting it against his mouth.
Bruce is blushing hard. Damian is watching in horror because "grown ass man reacting like a middle schooler with a crush."
.
Oliver is actively checking out Bruce during a gala, from a distance, dirty look turning sweet when Bruce turns to him to say hi.
Cass, who isn't having this shit, tugs at Dinah and snaps: "Get your man off my dad"
Dinah looks her in the eye and smiles, "Only if it means I get on your dad too."
It takes Jason playing peacemaker to get Cass away from the silver knives at that moment.
.
Dick is the most tired of them all. He was there when the justice league was founded, and with it, everyone's romances blossoming
"We're just friends."
"Clark made you his mom's soup and ran you a healing bath."
"That's us being friends."
"BARRY IS LITERALLY VIBRATING NEXT TO YOU LIKE A MASSAGE MATTRESS
honestly one of my favorite things about fanfic is when you can see the canon influences come out in really subtle ways. like a canon line thats mentioned once as a throwaway is suddenly the entire premise for a fic or it influences the characterization or something. its just so cool to see how people weave their ideas around a source material, especially if its not a detail i'd thought about before
The Bat's cape slithers across the floor, producing not so much as a whisper beneath the humming of electricity from the flickering florescent lights fixed overhead
Heavy-set boots don't make a sound as the Bat slowly moves through the hallway, white lenses cataloguing every inch of every surface, waiting for his progress through the facility to be interrupted.
He's made it into the bowels of the compound with a bone-chilling amount of ease, his decades of experience lecture his progression, pointing out all the glaring, neon signs that this is a trap.
He knows.
But he came here for a reason.
Only one door populates the long stretch of corridor, and he comes to a stop in front of it.
The slightest breeze of cool, filtered air brushes over the bare lower half of his face, and he narrows his gaze at the slightly ajar stance of the door.
Definitely a trap.
Carefully, batarangs poised at the ready in each hand, he nudges the door open with the toe of his boot, and ducks through.
Empty.
The Batman creeps further into the labatory, head on a swivel, looking for any clue as to what he is being guided into, but puts away his weapons. It seems he is alone.
Rows of cabinets line the walls of the relatively small room, filled with all sorts of chemicals, and an array of lab tables divide the room into two, a strong line down the middle. None are particularly tidy, he notes, cataloguing their chaotic surfaces, but that is not out of the ordinary for a lab, he can say from personal experience.
He stops, to take a look at one such collection of papers, thumbing through creased pages, and hums under his breath. The sketches on some pages, the strings of formulae on another, entire stacks of scribbled out, incomprehensible notes.
Nothing out of the ordinary, but something about them pings a memory, to Tim's experiments, years ago, now.
He hums again, flicking his eyes over to the fridges standing unassumingly at the side of the room.
Blood.
Dozens of vials of blood.
He picks up one rack, lifting it higher to inspect it, and narrows his eyes at the labels.
B.W. Batch 32.
An alarm blares in his mind, and he silences it. He knew he was being led here, and chose to go along with it.
This fascility, this labatory, these experiments...it's all to do with him.
As if it was just waiting for him to make the discovery, there's a loud, haydraulic hiss, followed the the gasp of air releasing, and Batman whips around, hand going to his belt, andā
Nothing is there.
He scans the room just to be sure, and allows his eyes to catch on the now-visible lid to something, stretched up to the ceiling.
Still ready for an assault, the Bat slinks over to the far end of the lab, eyes fixed on that container, wondering what could be inside....it.
Oh.
Batman stares down at the container, studying the lure that brought him here.
He's not entirely sure who laid down this breadcrumb trail for him to follow, and isn't sure it matters.
Clearly they know him well, which is more of a threat.
He looks away, frowning.
Can he take it? It might not be the wise choice anyway, but considering he doesn't know whether or not it's a weapon, that makes it even more unwise.
And yet...
He looks back at it.
He can't just leave.
Right?
"Sorry, Damian," he murmurs, hoping his youngestānot so young anymoreāson forgives him.
The door flies open, and Batman steps in front of the container, watching the oblivious scientist waltz in.
"Got your bottle, Terry, how are..."
The chipper voice cuts out as he makes eye contact with the impassive lenses of the Bat, who tilts his head, watching.
"Shit." The bottle slips from shaking hands, and the scientist stumbles back through the door they came from, turning tail and running, a scream of "HE'S HERE!" ringing out after them.
An alarm blares through the room, the lights turning red, and Batman scoops up the little, swaddled body from it's barely-even-a-cot, lifting it close to his chest plates. It doesn't seem bothered by the sudden racket, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes, and Bruce smiles down at him, lifting a clawed finger to stroke the plump cheek.
"Hello, Terry."
For @ilovemybruciewayne for putting up with me. <3
sometimes u headcanon a character as a sexuality but then also ship things that contradict that. sometimes you ship things you would NEVER EVER want in canon. this is because these things are fun and silly and not legally binding.
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