i've searched every combination of words imaginable and i still can't find that gif of the german star trek parody where gay spock is quickly drinking coffee and smoking freaking out PLEASE send it to me i need it urgently
You might have done something similar like this before, but how do U think all the Robins came out to Bruce?
Dick just showed up with Wally, holding his hand and just asked Bruce could Wally sleep over. Bruce said no but said that Wally was very welcome at the house as always but he had to call Bruce Mr Wayne now.
Jason didn't have to say it. Bruce watched the bi panic on Jason's face when he set eyes on Roy after coming back into the family and when Bruce passed comment Jason didn't deny it, just told his dad to shut up.
Tim worked up the courage to tell Bruce officially... Through a WE memo. Bruce signed off on it and gave Tim a huge hug.
Damian announced his intention to court Jon Kent at family dinner. Bruce said fine but no more sleepovers.
Steph walked into the Cave beaming and announced that she kisses girls now and Bruce was like "that's nice, honey".
Cass tugged on Bruce's sleeve at a gala and told him that a nearby woman was very beautiful and Bruce just nodded, because he understood.
Duke was the only one who sat down with Bruce and admitted he thought he might be gay. Bruce hugged that boy and told him it was OK, that it was completely normal and Bruce was a little taken aback when Duke admitted he expected a different reaction. I mean Duke has seen how Bruce is around Clark, Khoa and multiple men? Is Bruce not as overtly bi as he thought? Alfred assures him he's doing just fine.
Doesn’t necessarily need to be NPA but I want to see the batkids reactions when they meet Nocturna. The woman who the fandom parades around as Jason’s “goth mommy” who in reality is a woman who adopted Jason solely to manipulate Bruce. The woman who drugged and tried to/did SA Bruce. I’ve only seen ONE person talk about Nocturna and how evil she is
Also, angst with a happy ending please :)
—🌸🐁
TW: discussion of SA, forced kisses
Damian comes to the family, presenting his case for the fact he believes he has a stalker. Bruce is frustrated he kept it a secret for longer to gather evidence, but accepts the case file without hesitation.
They all watch him freeze. He moved, flipping through the photos and surveillance rapidly, then closes the case file again and walks out of the room with it.
Damian feels goosebumps grow on his arm.
Steph pulls him into her side and tells him off while they wait for Bruce to get back. They all jump when the door bangs open some time on, slamming into the wall, and Jason looms there.
"Where's B?"
Bruce appears behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I was calling Talia."
The two of them stare at each other, until Jason crosses his arms. "She's back."
"And this time she's set her sights on Damian."
Dick stands. "Who is 'she'?"
Bruce scowls, the case file wrinkling in his clenched fist, and Jason rolls his eyes. "Natalia Knight."
Dick blinks. "The woman that took your custody from B?"
"Bruce lost custody of you?" Duke asks, sitting up.
"Otherwise known as Nocturna," Bruce adds, scowl deepening. "A siren of the night."
Jason rolls his shoulders back. "Lighten up, B. She wasn't half bad. She took care of me."
Bruce pins him with a look. "Which she only did because she wanted to use you for my money."
"I'm a pawn?" Damian scoffs.
"She likes money. She flits between crime and partners to get it. For me, she used Jason. Took me to court and adopted Jason because she knew I'd want to stay in his life, and wanted to manipulate me into some facsimile of a relationship to gain access to the fortune."
Damian's eyes drag to Jason, who leans easilg against the wall. "And you...like this woman?"
Jason shrugs. "I wanted to find a way to take her down without putting her in jail. She did good by me, even if she had her own motives, she grew to care about me."
Behind him, Bruce's teeth audibly clench, the case file abused in his grip as it tightens more. Cass narrows her eyes, leaning forward, incidentally garnering the attention of the rest of the room. "More." Bruce's eyes jump to hers. "There's more."
Bruce's body smooths out, hiding the traces of his anger, and he presents a perfectly calm picture that makes all of them suspicious. Tim, next to Cass, mirrors her lean. "B. What did you mean by 'siren of the night?'"
Bruce's lips purse slightly. "As I said. Nocturna had her talents, she used them to aid her journey in crime to fund her lifestyle."
"What talents?" Dick asks. They're working together now, against him, and Jason's eyes dart between them and Bruce.
"Are you talking about the perfume?" He murmurs, and doesn't miss the suppressed flinch.
Damian scooches out of Steph's grip. "Jason. What perfume?"
"Uh. She wore this perfume at night. As Nocturna. It was like a siren spell, like a drug. It made people desire her, her partners became obsessed."
"And you and Bruce dealt with her as Batman and Robin? At night?" Steph presses, and Jason nods.
"Yeah, we..." He pauses, then slowly turns his head to look at Bruce. "Bruce. Is that why you don't like Natalia?"
Bruce clears his throat. "I dislike Ms Knight for a variety of reasons. Namely, she stole my son."
Jason steps forward, putting a hand on his arm. "B." The other kids are barely breathing, waiting on confirmation. Slowly, Bruce nods.
"She had an interest. She'd just lost her partner, she wanted the Batman to replace him. The easiest way to do that was to drug me too. To get me addicted to her." Jason's lips part, he takes a step back, and Bruce flinches like it's a rejection. "So she'd wear the perfume, and she'd kiss me, and she tried to convince me to join her."
The room goes silent. Dick covers his mouth. Duke bows his head. Cass presses her fingers into her eyes.
"I...you...she assaulted you, and I've defended her to you." Jason's head knocks back against the wall, his eyes close, his lip quivvers. "Fuck."
"It is as you said," Bruce says roughly. "She didn't show you that side. She wanted to be your mother."
Jason doesn't respond, burying his face in his hands. "Fuck. Fuck. Look, fuck this. She's not— I'm not letting her use Damian to get at you again. Not anyway but... not after that, B."
Bruce's chin wobbles slightly as he nods, and Damian finally stands, across the room in a flash. Bruce drops the casefile, letting it spill out across the floor, and scoops him up into his arms. "You called Mother," Damian states firmly, and Bruce nods.
"We will liase with her. The Demon's Daughter and the Birds of Gotham will take care of this Nocturna. Father, I request you keep a distance."
Bruce's lip quirks, and he knocks their heads together. "Damian. I can handle myself against her."
Steph appears, pressing a hand into his elbow. "But we don't want to have to see you next to... next to a woman that assaulted you, B. We're not strong enough for that."
"I wouldn't be able to hold myself back," Dick mutters agreeably, and Bruce shakes his head.
"I get hourly updates. You run your plans by me."
"Deal."
Jason is the one to say it, locking eyes with Bruce. A promise swims in the angry, green depths, and Bruce nods.
"Very well."
The silence they fall into is not happy, or victorious, but heavy, weighed down by knowledge.
Eyes are drawn back to the pale figure in the pictures spilles across the carpet, where she watches Damian from a distance, something cunning in her smile.
A villain attacks, maybe it's magic maybe it's technology, but for Plot Reasons, Bruce is "trapped" within a pleasant dream. A perfect dream. The kind of perfect that would send any well adjusted non traumatized emotionally starved person straight to the Uncanny Valley.
Bruce is very clearly not that.
And in the waking world, Bruce isn't dying. He's just sleeping. Peacefully, unwaking, why would he ever wake up?
How long would it take for others to realize?how long would it take for Bruce to Wake?
Oo I have a few of those ideas like that.
One of them was focused on Jason, which was the most developed. The dream world was based on what the caster knew about Bruce's life, but because Bruce and Jason are estranged, he was excluded.
And the world keeps having to be rebuilt because he keeps realising Jason is missing, or distant, and no matter how drastic Bruce gets, won't come home (like lying his siblings died) because the caster thinks he won't care.
The JL consent for J'onn to look into his mind. They ask what the world is like, and for the briefest second his eyes flick to Jason. In a family of detectives it doesn't go unnoticed, and everyone's a bit shaken that Jason isn't a part of it even slightly.
Jason tries to pretend he's not torn in two from it.
Zatanna's diagnosis is that he needs to pull himself from the dream, which is nigh impossible.
They're sat in silence, realising they might have actually just lost Bruce.
Meanwhile Bruce is fighting the spell, having it regenerate around him again and again, desperate to find out what is happening to Jason.
bruce struggles to talk about the things he really enjoys because it feels like every conversation ends when he tries to join in. he sits in the shadows and silences his steps because he hopes people will forget he’s there and be themselves around him, if not with him. the first time he noticed his family get quiet when he walked in, he left soon after to dry heave in the bathroom. he didn’t come back. the first time only cold misery showed up for dinner with him, he stared at his plate, unable to move, for an hour. he never took a bite. he knew only loneliness awaited him, even as a child, but for awhile there, he really thought…
well. he knows what he’s like. he should’ve known better.
Jason: Stop calling me baby. I am twenty years old. I have dragged murderers from the back of my motorcycle. My scarred hands smell like gunpowder. I hate you and I will never be soft again.
Bruce: Yes, of course, I understand.
Bruce, deadpan introducing Jason to literally anyone: This is my baby boy. My sweet little darling. My silly goose. Bambini. Small one. Duckling. Spider monkey. Pumpkin. Itty bitty.
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
Bruce and his kids (honestly half of them are fighting each other as much as they fight him) are at odds AGAIN and of course this entire family has avoidance attachment issues, so most of them leave Gotham rather than actually talk things out.
The few that stay in Gotham avoid him outside of the bare necessities of patrol.
So he does what every member of this family does when they want not to think. He shuts off the silent comms and picks a fight he knows will hurt. Croc appears to be body guarding Penguin as he meets with two face. Perfect.
Except he hasn't been sleeping. So the goal of getting hurt to distract himself turns into survival fast. He's down for only a second, but it's enough time for a spray of bullets to batter his body armor.
Waylon is clearly wondering where his backup is, or why he isn't retreating, telegraphing the slightly slow punch in the hopes that someone will call him back maybe. He's close with Roy and Jason enough that he's hesitant to actually hurt the bat. For whatever reason he's stopped before he does permanently damage, sent out of the room.
Harvey Dent is in control, looking at his estranged friend in concern with Uncle Ozzie clearly of a similar mindset. For once, the penguin drops the facade, "Oh, little chick....Harvey, how long are you in control?"
"Long enough. I can leave in time if I feel Two-Face resurfacing."
"Good enough, let's get him out of the suit before I take him back to the lounge."
...
Ie, Bruce has a bad day and Uncle Ozzie refuses to kill what's left of his chick, even if it would make things easier.
CW: non-sexual nudity, injury
Waylon glances back, but Harvey gestures for him to continue. They need to see. He turns back around, and Waylon throws maybe the worst punch he ever has. The Bat is too dazed, and it connects with his chin, sends him crumpling to the ground.
The hybrid man stares down at the unconscious Bat, and gives them a confused look. Harvey opens his mouth, but Oswald steps forward, drawing Waylon's attention to him. "That will be all, thank you. We'll deal with him from here."
The scaly tail disappears around the corner, and Harvey slumps, following Oswald closer. Bruce's armour is not a suit he should be wearing to fight Croc, and even in the suit, he can read the exhaustion in his old friend's frame.
"He came to hurt."
Oswald nods. "You seen many Birds around lately?"
Harvey shakes his head. "You think that's why?"
"I think he's a damn fool." Harvey crouches, scooping the Bat into his arms, and Oswald strokes a hand over the cowl. "Bring him to the Lounge. I'll deal with his car and meet you."
Oswald turns away, waddling off to the corner Bruce would've hid the batmobile in, and Harvey heads to the other side of the lot, depositing him in the back of his two-tone sedan. Harvey feels his cheeks warm as he unlatches the clasps of his old friend's armour, the scandalous reasons behind his knowledge of their locations making his cheeks colour, and he moves all the kevlar plates to the boot ones he's extracted them all. Bruce is left in just his undersuit, which is inconspicuous enough, and Oz'll surely have something ready for him when they arrive.
Bruce whimpers quietly throughout the drive, twisting, thrashing in the backseat, mind tormented by unknown horrors.
Harvey pulls haphazardly into the car park behind the Lounge, and dives into the backseat. "Bruce, love, shh. Shh, it's okay."
Bruce's face pushes into the hand cupping his cheek, expression smoothing out some, and Harvey strokes his cheekbone for a beat, something long-lost and tender blooming in his chest.
"Come on, you big lump," he mutters, and pulls him out and back into his arms, breath stuttering some when Bruce's head lolls to rest against his collarbone, achingly intimate, and a relic of years before. Before Harvey irrevocably tore the two of them apart, and did things Bruce will never forgive him for. Sometimes he looks at blood on his knuckles and thinks he can hear Dick crying, sobbing for Bruce, but then the goon he's actually torturing begs for mercy, and Harvey will come back to the present, and put a bullet through their skull.
A goon is waiting by the back door, and holds the door open for Harvey, allowing him to carry Bruce into the establishment. He heads right down to the basement, then further down again, into the sub-basement, and enters Oswald's private floor.
The man himself appears, mutely opening a door before disappearing down the hallway, and Harvey adjusts Bruce in his arms and walks inside.
He strips Bruce further, until he's just in his underwear, and Oswald walks backwards into the room to open the door, and approaches where Harvey has him laid out on the bed. Each of them take a cloth from the bowl of warm water, and red slowly dyes it as they wipe away fresh, sluggishly bled stains, and dry, crusted patches alike, until they can reveal untreated wounds, the beginnings of infections, and a patchwork of mottled bruising across his entire body.
Harvey is the one to take up the suturing needle, while Oswlad eases Bruce's head into his lap, and the billionaire bat finally begins to stir, but Harvey can't be sure whether the topical anaesthesia simply isn't enough, or the gentle touch from Ozzie's rough hands over his head dragged him back to wakefulness.
"Hey, sleepin' beauty," Harvey murmurs, pausing his motions, and Bruce blinks blearily at him. "You're alright, beaut, we've gotcha."
"Safe?" Bruce double checks, and Oz grunts.
"Only a few of the boys saw Dent bring you down. They'll keep quiet."
Bruce hums, not yet relaxing. "And you two?"
Harvey sighs, and strokes his hip. "Two's worried for you too. He's noticed the signs you're slipping. I ain't gonna hurt you, beaut."
Oswald traces Bruce's hairline with a calloused thumb. "You're safe, Chick," he swears gruffly. "On ya Pa's life." Bruce melts into his lap, giving in, and Harvey returns to stitching up his wounds. Some are older, ignored, but it's clear that Waylon's claws nicked him a few times, slicing deep enough to need attention.
He's a good patient, trained himself to push through the pain years ago now, but Oswald draws his attention away from his wounds anyway. Well... his physical ones.
"Why you going out in this state, Chick? You're looking for trouble."
Bruce's chest rises, stills, then falls again, the sound tired down to his very core, exhaustion suffusing the action thoroughly.
"I just needed something to take my mind of it," Bruce whispers, bringing his hands up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. Oswald says nothing as he tugs his hands away, gently massaging his hands with his thumbs in small, circular motions.
"Off what, love?" Harvey looks up at him, and sees tears slip past closed lids.
"I fucked up again. The kids are gone. They won't speak to me. I-I'm just sick of this losing battle to be a good father, because I'm failing miserably."
"Chick, you're a good father—"
"I just wanted something to just make me forget. I didn't want to keep having to— to look around as see they're gone, that I drove them away again. Maybe if my body hurt then I could ignore my mind."
Harvey sews up another cut and pins him with a look. "That ain't healthy, Bruce, an' you know it."
Bruce just grunts. "Didn't work anyway."
They stew in miserable silence, Oswald still just petting Bruce, while Harvey shares a look with him to confirm his assessment that his other wounds will be fine with just the bandages Harvey wraps over them.
Then Oswald is shifting back, grabbing the bowl of water and moving away, while Harvey quickly moves to wrap Bruce in one of the plush blankets folded in the corner, then pick him up again. "We'll take your mind off it," he promises, lifting the duvet for him and Bruce to slide under. Oswald sits on top of the duvet on Bruce's other side, because they both know he'll have to slip away and banish the birds coming to hunt down their injured father, and probably deliver the lecture of a lifetime to whoever comprises the rescue team.
But he's not leaving yet, and picks up a remote, aiming it at the DVD player, and the Gray Ghost title begins to roll.
Bruce makes a happy noise, and Harvey kisses his temple, releasing him slightly so he can slump into his uncle's embrace, and drops down the bed to rest his head by Bruce's hip, an arm over his lap to curve back over his waist.
They'll take care of him. Maybe just for tonight, but they'll take care of him.