Bruce woke up with a groan, squinting against the afternoon light filtering in through the blinds. Turning his head, he checked the time on his nightstand clock.
2:03 pm. Still early, but he had too much work to do. The historical records of Gotham fires weren’t going to research themselves.
The room spun as he stood up, having to clench his jaw to stifle a cry of pain.
“Hnng…”
Bruce leaned against the wall to get his bearings, involuntarily clutching at his wounded abdomen. It was agonizing, much more painful than the days prior.
Though It didn’t matter. There was still too much to do.
After popping a couple of the pain pills on his desk, he slipped on some pajama pants and a robe and began the trek to the manor library.
Two days ago he’d been shot. Stumbling into the cave after an investigation, leaning on Robin for support. Alfred had patched him up and lectured about resting, as per usual. But the bullet had missed major arteries, lodging itself between his ninth rib and intestines.
Only two units of blood were needed this time.
Compared to the state he'd come home in after other patrols, it was practically a minor injury.
Just the same, he’d sent Jason to bed and told him he’d finish this case alone. Normally the tween would protest, but he’d been really stressed about an upcoming exam he had to study for anyway.
“Good morning sleeping beauty!”
The teasingly cheerful remark came from Jason’s room. Where the boy was surrounded by textbooks and meticulously written notes.
“Mornin’,” Bruce grunted as he passed his son’s room and entered the library. Having to stop and lean on the doorway to catch his breath.
The medication had barely touched the pain, and there was some yellowish drainage visible on the bandages.
So he may have a slight infection in the wound. Alfred could come change the dressings once he was settled in the library. Once Bruce had surrounded himself with the records he needed for the investigation.
Gods, it was hot. Pinpricks of sweat dotted his temples and back of his neck.
Bruce frowned at the cool 71 F displayed on the thermostat and grabbed a canned iced coffee from the library mini-fridge.
While not the most elegant appliance, caffeine necessity outweighed the aesthetic deficits.
Cracking open the can and sipping, Bruce pinched his nose with his free hand. Hopefully the coffee would dissipate the growing headache.
After taking a few more sips and letting a wave of dizziness fade, he disappeared into the shelves, emerging with a stack of books precariously balanced in his available hand.
That had taken far too long, he still had to. . . still had to . . .
A gasp escaped Bruce's lips, trail of thought lost. The pain in his head and abdomen exploding in agony.
The book stack slipped out of Bruce's hand, crashing to the floor along with the coffee can. His arms dangling uselessly at his sides as the room spun.
Blood draining completely from his face as he collapsed.
"Arghh"
Bruce weakly touched his bandages, the fabric soaked. Blood mixing with purulent drainage, courtesy of freshly torn stitches. A painful heat emanated from the wound, palpable even through the soiled dressings.
He was willing to admit to a strong maybe that Alfred had been right about resting. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.
The room was still dancing even as his grip on consciousness was fading. The walls needed practice, they were really uncoordinated.
Worried footsteps made their way over from the bedroom next door.
“Bruce! Oh my god,” Jason ran over to his side, feeling Bruce's forehead with the back of his hand and checking his neck pulse. The boy’s cool hand on the older’s feverish skin was an absolute godsend.
“M’fine. Ss’nice, your hand’s cold. .” Bruce’s words slurred, delirium settling in.
“Alfred!!” Jason yelled down at the kitchen, “Something’s really wrong with Bruce, he’s burning up and his wound’s opened up again.”
There was a clattering of dishes and a panicked clicking of shoes sprinting up the stairs.
A coughing fit wracked Bruce, a painful wet cough from his lung bases. He winced at the aggravated abdominal injury.
“Hey, HEY, none of that,” Jason patted Bruce’s cheek, “You have to stay awake, you promised you’d help me study my flashcards later.”
Bruce cracked one eye open, “Jason youre so’smart n studious. Sso capable. Dont need my help. Im sso proud of you son. . .”
He’d wanted to say more, but the words were lost as his eyes rolled back and merciful sleep overcame him. Head lolling to the side
“I. . .” Jason was at a loss for words, affectionate emotions swelling up along with a horrible sense of dread.
“No no no, “ he confirmed that Bruce still had a pulse then aggressively shook his dads shoulders, “you gotta wake up… please wake up”
Alfred appeared in the doorway, eyes wide in concern, taking in the sight of a crying Jason kneeling by an unconscious Bruce.
“He’s not waking up,” Jason looked up at Alfred with pleading eyes.
The older man sprung into action, years of being a field medic and patching up batman fueling his instincts.
“Grab his legs quickly, we need to get him down to the medical bay,” Alfred reached under Bruce’s shoulders and lifted, trying his hardest to hide his fear from Jason.
A fear that gripped his heart every time Bruce put on the cowl. Every time the younger man came home bloody and battered.
A fear that stuck no matter how many times it happened, how many years he’d dealt with the horrors of battle.
A parent’s fear of losing their child.
Tagging: Killing our boy just for you @nikiexe0 ☺️. @ilovemybruciewayne, I remember you said to tag you if I actually wrote something so here ya go.
ok question, you know about that new horror movie, Obsession? Basically, this guy gets a One Wish Willow thats some toy that can grant any wish when broken. But the wish works like that of a genie, so the wording is taken literally
ok so
the batkids get one idk how. jokingly they wish that "Bruce would love them over everything else"
and everything slowly spirals
Nothing changes
Or
His love for them overrides their autonomy. No more patrol. No more vigilantism. No more heroism. He always respected their wishes even as it ached to let them be in danger like that. But now he loves them more than he respects them. He isn't going to risk losing his children anymore.
He is more open with his love, as it overrides his own insecurities and difficulties with expressing himself. He is everything they ever wanted from him. Everything they thought was true but doubted because why couldn't Bruce just say it?
But is it worth the price they have to pay? Watching Bruce tear apart anyone that stands against them? Tabloids, paps, a heckler in the street.
Jason makes a comment.
Bruce loves them more than anything.
Including his own morals.
Jason himself is the only one strong enough to drag Bruce off the Joker. He's barely breathing. Bruce offers Jason a confused smile and asks "isn't this what you wanted?"
Tim: You know, Bruce is getting up there in age...maybe we should start thinking about letting him go...
Jason: What like making him retire? Hang up the cowl? I don't know about you Baby Bird but I don't think any of us have the ability to take Batman from Bruce.
Tim: Please, I'm not an idiot. I just meant more of a...peaceful...mostly permanent letting go...
Jason: ...
Jason: EUTHANASIA????
Tim: Well-
Jason: YOU WANT TO OLD YELLER BRUCE??? HE'S ONLY IN HIS 40/50s!!
Dick: Who wants to do WHAT to Bruce???
Tim: Just listen-
Jason: I knew you were cynical, but that's just down right murder Timothy. And trust me, I know murder.
Tim: Well would you rather have him go suffering? At the rate he's going he'll be in chronic pain the older he gets! I'm just saying maybe we should let him go now before that happens!
Damian: Let him go on a good day rather than a bad day. I have seen many a equine owners say this. I agree with Drake, we should not let Father suffer, he deserves to go peacefully.
Jason: Damian wha-
Dick: What the hell Tim. I mean you have a point, but still isn't it a little early to think about this? He's still got a few years left in him.
Jason: WHY ARE YOU AGREEING???
Tim: It's never too early to look at our options. I'd rather be prepped and ready than do it all last minute and risk messing up the timing.
Jason: WE ARE TALKING ABOUT BRUCE! BRUCE WAYNE! BATMAN! OUR FATHER?!?!
Dick: Expenses shouldn't be an issue, but we should also decide if we should do it ourselves or have a professional. We can make a fund for it just in case.
Jason: I'm dead. I died again and this is hell. Why am I the only one on Bruce's side here.
Tim: I'll get it set up. I'll make sure he doesn't know about it, I don't want him dreading about it.
Damian: Yes, we should try and enjoy this fickle time we have left with him.
Jason: That's it, I've finally gone insane.
(Loosely inspired by multiple recent conversations I've had about my old Mule. Stand strong Charlie, i know you still got a few years left to ya, and God knows Death is terrified of ya)
Sometimes, I still wonder how Tim Drake came to be so mischaracterized in fanfiction.
This is Tim, he forced his way into becoming Robin (very politely said he would keep all their secrets after being told to go home) had abusive and negligent parents who left him alone as a small child (he went to boarding school and they would actually die for him) had to deal with a cold, kept-his-distance Batman whom he had to parent because of grief (Bruce literally gained new life and pulled himself together because there was a kid that needed him) had no one else around so he was lonely (Dick literally was Tim's best friend after day 1, plus Tim had plenty of friends and a girlfriend) felt like a replacement because Jason was his favorite Robin (self-proclaimed number 1 Dick Grayson fan first, human being second).
with alfred #dead and all, bruce should actually hallucinate him lovingly tell bruce to kill himself and join alfred and thomas and martha. they’re waiting for you, bruce. just a few more steps forward and you’ll have the family you spent your whole life grieving, doesn’t that sound nice? you’ll be at peace, that’s it, just a bit further. that’s a good boy, bruce. do you remember your first steps, into your father’s arms? i do. it’s just like that, lad. don’t keep him waiting, now. can’t you hear your mother? she’s cheering you on, just like back then. step closer and you’ll hear her over the wind. don’t look down, just close your eyes and let yourself fall in your father’s arms. he’ll catch you, i promise. don’t you trust me?
New idea : time travel/magic where the Batkids actually see important events that shaped Bruce, feat. Alfred, and realise that Bruce is a cycle breaker who tries his best. - @superblyscentedflower
The spell seemed harmless enough, the batkids had returned in less then an hour. Bruce had panicked of course, he had began his search for them already (not that he would admit that), but they were unharmed.
Yet the kids seemed.. off.
They looked at Bruce like he was something to be pitied, like he was fragile.
"What's happened? Are you hurt?"
"I- No, no injuries."
"Good, good.." Bruce wondered if asking 'what happened' another time would be 'crossing another boundary', he decided he didn't want to risk it. If they wanted to tell him, they would come to him.. Probably.
"Let's go home, Alfred is just as worried as I am."
The kids stiffened, which would've gone unnoticed, but not by the world's greatest detective, not by batman, not by their dad.
The car ride was quiet and a bit tense, with looks being shared between the kids and then towards Bruce. Bruce has absolutely zero clue what happened for any of this to make sense but decides against prying.
They would come to him, they should come to him. But he can't help giving worried glances in the mirror, what has happened?
The kids stood up —after the dizzyness had faded and their vision had returned to normal— to check in on eachother and their surroundings.
They were at the manor, but something was off. It seemed too cold, too distant, too silent. Like no one had lived there in a long while and the only thing that suggested otherwise was the fact that everything was clean.
Not a spec of dust to be seen. Not a sound to be heard.
"Where... Are we?"
No one had an answer, it was the manor but.. it also wasn't.
"Shh, I hear something"
Scratching. And without communicating any more, the 7 of them moved in perfect unison. In perfect order, like a milatairy force if you will.
While they made their way towards the noise they could hear another, faint crying. Although they didn't really hear the crying itself, they heard the faint gasping for air.
The cries of a child who wasn't allowed to be heard. And maybe that hit some of them harder then the rest.
When the kids came close enough to identify where the noise came from —a cubboard— the noises stopped. Replaced by a hoarse voice,
"Alfred..?"
The kids weren't even near the door yet, how did this kid-
"I promise I won't run along the corrdors again, just let me out Alfred."
And while the safest choice was probably to back away slowely, Tim couldn't let this slide. So he made his way to the door, stopping in front & putting a hand on the expansive wood.
"We're not Alfred, little guy."
Tim could practicly hear the gears turning in the kid's head.
"Who are you?" The voice was not trembling anymore, but it was hoarse. Like he'd been screaming... Oh. Oh..
"We're just friends who want to help you," he wispered against the door, while his hand was testing the lock. "I'm going to open the door, okay? Get yourself out of the door's way."
He'd felt the door oppened inwards, and the lock was fairly easy to open, harder then the average lock, but he was done in under a minute.
The door opened and Tim stared at a little boy, no older then 10. He stepped back when he saw the icy blue eyes examining him.
He'd seen those before, they were in every portait in the manor.
"What are you doing with that boy?" A stern voice echoed down the hall and the boy flinched. Actually flinched.
Tim turned his head towards the new voice, the man was Alfred, but much younger and with eyes that looked 10x as old as their Alfred.
He oppened his mouth to form a response but before he could do so the blinding light returned and for a second they felt weightless.
When they felt solid ground under their feet again they nearly tumbled over.
"What the fuck was that about Red?" Jason asked, suprisingly calm for how he was feeling. He'd seen the expression on Tim's face when opening the door and he wasn't quite happy with what that implied.
"That.. I.. That was Bruce.." Tim mumbled, a feeling of familairity creeping its way into his chest. The kid'd had bloodied nails and red eyes from crying, that was nothing he expected Bruce to go through.
Jason was about to ask what he was on about when a child sneaked around the corner.
Oh. That was Bruce.
He looked around the same age as before, although he had a much different vibe about him. Where he'd looked scared and sad earlier, he now looked like he had accepted the situation and tried his best.
Jason expected the kid to see them and freeze, but he didn't. In fact the mini-Bruce didn't even seem to notice them.
The kid looked around to see if no one was watching and then hid some kind of snack or candybar inside a vase. And that's when Jason froze, because he remembered Bruce, his Bruce, letting him leave his hoarded food in places all around the manor.
Why did Bruce have to do that? He was a billionair, why was he hiding away food?
The kid turned towards them and ran. Not the other way, but towards them & before anybody could fully get out of his way he passed trough. Like a ghost Bruce ran trough them & down the hall, towards the stairs.
"..."
"What in the.."
Without another word they all followed the smaller version of their father. They watch as he hides a few more foods in various places around the manor, checking for somebody watching everytime.
Every single time Bruce revealed an hiding spot it was like Jason got punched in the stomach, most of those he'd used himself. They weren't original.
Someone used them for the exact same reason years before.
Once evening hit they waited for Alfred to call for dinner like he'd always had. But it never came.
They had seen Alfred walking around doing various chores, but not a sign that he was taking care of Bruce in any way.
The sun set. Nothing.
It neared midnight. Nothing.
1 in the morning. Nothing.
At 3 there was a change, Bruce came downstaires and grabbed something from behind a book.
The light returned and dissapeared, a lot quiker then last time. They also didn't feel as weightless or disorentated anymore. It was improving.. Whatever 'it' may be.
This time they didn't even get the chance to ask questions, there was yelling just on the other side of the wall.
"You do not get to fool around like this, young man!"
"This is my house, is it not!?"
"Master Bruce, you ruined the furniture with the stunt you just pulled, go outside and do not come back before you've calmed down!"
"Fine, I will! But not because you told me too"
The next thing the kids knew the door slammed shut.
And then the door locked.
"Wait, Alfred, what are you doing?"
"Outside is all the room for you to fool around in, I will let you in ones you've learned your lesson."
"Alfred, it's raining and it's already dark-"
But the older man was gone, the key hanging in front of the window. Teasing. Threatening.
Dick walked up to the door, placing a careful hand on the old wood at around the height Bruce's hand was aswell. But he passed through.
His hand passed through in the same way Bruce had done earlier. Like a ghost.
So he stepped through, sub-conciously still preparing for a thud but it didn't happen, instead he was standing behind the small version of his dad.
Bruce looked older, older then last time anyway.
It was cold, really cold. Too cold for Bruce to be outside without a hoodie. Not in the Gotham winter.
To Dick it feels like he's under-reacting to the fact that Alfred, their loving butler, just locked a child outside in the Gotham-winter-night. But there've been a lot of discoveries about Alfred and Bruce's childhood, could you even call it that? in the past.. it felt like days.
Bruce took a step back, not a single ounce of anger or sadness on his face. Just.. Acceptance.
'He accepted it? He accepted the fact that he might freeze here? Or starve? This boy looks like he hasn't aten in days!?'
And Bruce just sits down under the nearest tree. Cold, wet & hungry. Dick sat down next to him, arms around the little boy like Bruce, their Bruce, had done countless times to him. To them.
His siblings neared them, sat with them, trying to give the littlest bit of warmth to Bruce. The rain slowely turned into snow as they sat with him, not touching but hopefully close enough for the boy to feel the slightest bit loved.
12 hours. 47 minutes. 23 seconds.
In the snow, underneath a tree. Not a word spoken, just the quiet humming of a boy. A boy much too young.
And then the light returned, a bit sloppier this time.
They returned to the manor, the warmth welcomed with open arms.
At this point they knew the drill, although they really wished it'd be over soon. It's been about 24 hours, and the kids really can't stand how familiar the boy's face is.
"Master Bruce, don't you think you're being childish?"
No response, that's new.. Odd.
"Very well, suit yourself then."
Cassandra checked if they could touch stuff again, she could. Good, the last 12 hours where horrible.
And then they all saw Bruce, much older at this point but still young. Sitting at the end of a dinner table, no food, no people, just plates & cutlery.
And the silence Alfred left him with.
Speaking of Alfred, it didn't look like he could see them as he'd just walked past them without batting an eye.
They weren't sure if the residents could hear them and therefor stayed silent, comunication consisting of looks & nods.
They moved again, but as soon as they stepped in eyes view of Bruce the boy looked up, eyes wide, still silent, hand grabbing the first thing he could throw; a knife.
They all ducked, years of training seen in a fraction of a second.
But this kid hadn't gone to training yet, Bruce was way too young to have gone already. But the knife penetrated the wall behind them, moving a bit from the sudden stop & then staying there, halfway in the wall.
Bruce opened his mouth but there were no words, just the quiet breathing and his stance that indicated that he did not trust them.
"We're safe, we won't hurt you."
He seemed to relax a tiny bit, still on edge but not about to throw a fork anymore. Cass started making her way to his side, slowely, trying not to scare him or make any sudden movements. Kind off how you would aproach a scared cat.
"What's happened?"
No response,not verbal atleast, but the way his body tensed tells her enough. She slides over a notebook and a pen, which she carried with her in case she went non-verbal. Maybe in the back of her mind she also kept it in case someone else needed it.
"How can we help you?"
The boy's pale hand reaches for the papers carefully, checking for any chamge of mind before scribling down 'Just stay, please'.
She nods before passing the note down to Jason who eyes it suspiciously.
They could wait, it's not like they had much of a choice anyway. Whatever spell that had been, it's been quite clear what the point was.
The note made it full circle and landed back with Bruce who's blue eyes had followed the strangers with a suspicion that could rival Jason's.
"Would you like to tell us what happened?" Dick asked, pointing at Bruce but nothing in particulair.
The younger Bruce eyes them suspiciously before writing down a single word.
'Bullying'
"Almost forgot that'd happened.." Duke whispers somewhere at the end of the circle they'd created.
But before anyone could start comforting Bruce the blinding white light returned, for much longer and completely fucking up their balance.
As they returned to reality they all stumbled fir a bit, their balance gone to shit & the light had been much brighter this time.
They checked their surroundings and came to the conclusion that Bruce was no where to be seen and took the oppertunity to make conversation.
"Right. So, what the fuck's going on?" Jason exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.
"This-" Duke huffed "This is Alfred?"
No one had an answer on either of those questions. It's not like they really wanted an answer, not really.
"You really haven't changed, have you, master Bruce?" Alfred's voice cut through the air like a bullet.
"Alfred please, I don't think I can handle this right now." That was 100% Bruce, he sounds much older & much more tired. Not yet The Tired Dad Voice(tm) though, they supposed that happened later.
"Always so emotional, master Bruce. You're home now."
"That's not the point, Alfred. They were my friends."
The kids all looked at eachother in unison, they all knew where this was going.
Bruce was sitting hunched over, head in his hands, clearly upset. If they could tell, why couldn't the older man who was standing behind him, cleaning some older-looking vase.
No one said anything after that, Alfred just finished up and left, leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts. Bad idea, especially if this was after his training-years.
Damian clearly remembered how supportive Bruce had been during the transition from the LoA to the manor, he'd been very understanding. He thought him slowely how to be a child, a son.
They carefully made their way around the corner, a lot more careful with the fact that sometimes they can get percieved.
But Bruce didn't seem to notice, not when they coughed either so they took the chance to gather around him. A cuddle-pile subconciously formed around their dad, they'd hugged the kid version, younger version and now they just needed to hug their dad.
When Bruce stared sniffing and hiccuping all of them tried their best not to cry with him, but when Damian started taking shuddering breaths they all broke.
How could have Alfred looked at their dad like this and leave him? How could Bruce give them the support he never got, even when he needed it most?
The white light was really flickery this time, and the only reason they didn't fall over was because they were holding eachother.
When they opened their eyes they stared right into the icy-blue eyes of Bruce. Smaller again..? So much younger. Why had they gone further back in time?
"Master Bruce. You can't let your education go to waste like this." His voice was raised. Alfred actually raised his voice, he did that?
"But Alfred, he made fun of my parents!"
"That is no excuse young man, one more call from the school and there'll be consequences." Bruce looked down, nodding his head.
"What was that?"
"Yes, Alfred.." Bruce's voice was barely above a whisper but Alfred looked too tired to fight the boy on it. "Go to bed, master Bruce."
Duke really wished he could punch Alfred, but he was physically unable, he also couldn't because it still felt wrong deep in his bones & he didn't think he'd win the fight.
His time at school after his parents' "death" wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows either. He'd really struggled, he wanted to spent all his time looking for them, school wasn't the priority.
And Bruce'd had the same problem. Except he saw his parents die, he saw it happen. And now his only parental figure didn't understand, not realising the affects that can have.
The following transition of white light was really dim now, still disorientating but less blinding.
"You are doing what?" Alfred's voice was the closest to normal it had been in a while, the kids would sigh in relief if they weren't focused on the tone of his voice.
It was mocking, Alfred was mocking someone. Bruce probably, why would he-
"Dress as a bat and run around, fighting muggers?"
Oh. What the hell. They'd imagined this conversation plenty of times but witnessing it..
"Did you hit your head, master Bruce?" Alfred's voice seemed genuinly concerned, except for the way he said 'master Bruce' as a swear. Like it disgusted him in this moment
"I can't let anybody go through what I did, Alfred. You don't have to help me," Bruce inhaled, "But you can't stop me either."
Alfred really wasn't supportive of Batman, was he? They hoped it was mostly out of concern, please let it be out of concern.
Them it hit Steph, she also needed to prove herself to Bruce. It took a while and she hadn't been very happy with how dismissive he'd been in the beginning but..
He'd given her a chance.
Alfred had not.
Bruce had given her chances and time to prove herself, he'd been suspiciois —but really, who wouldn't have? Her dad was an enemy of Bruce— but she'd had a chance.
Then they were suddenly back in the open air, no light, no weightlessness, no dizzyness. Just a quick teleportation.
Green Latern had the alien —who'd cast the spell— in a ball, the magician furiously banging against the green orb.
As soon as Batman spotted the kids he ran walked over, barely containing the urge to hug them. Maybe when they were back at the cave, if they'd allow him.
I fear it’s very beneficial for the people around Bruce Wayne to keep him as far away from inhibition lowering/truth serums as humanly possible cause if that man said a FRACTION of the depressing and self deprecating stuff he thinks about 24/7 out loud EVERYBODY is developing a drinking problem
Follow me and my journeys of rereading Batman cannon! I have the memory of a goldfish so this is a great way for me to remember everything going on. I have read a large amount of cannon comics but I wanted to read them all + some extra's for fun.
Bruce's perfectionism when it comes to himself is honestly so undone in canon and in fanon. People often talk about him only thinking about himself but they don't talk about the WAY that he only thinks about his self. Food for thought.
Bruce being able to defeat the worlds best fencer after only 4 weeks, thats my smart and cool son right there
Him getting stuck so fast is connected with the fact that he didn't really plan this journey and he kinda just ran away from Alfred. I think that this shows his childish side, he is barely 18 and he wants to charge the world but he truly isn't ready for that-even the training.
Bruce wanting freedom but Alfred being against has always been a big thing in Batman stories and I do like it when affects how Bruce acts in general. Alfred's overprotective nature but his lack of parental care leads to Bruce having this weird relationship with him that is shown heavily in not just this comic, but many after.
My little dramatic Bruce that is still afraid of heights. Love the humor here.
Bruce and his love for robbers </3 But to be honest, a bit of a spoiler, I am not the biggest fan of their relationship because he is 18 and she is much older. I know they never really get together but I just don't think that Bruce ending up with romantic feelings for her is the way that I would go. Honest, I would have made Bruce's feelings more of an older sister/mom to her than romantic. But hey, thats just me.
It good that Bruce realizes this ig.
And if I say this is where his mentality of Criminal's can and should be rehabilitated started because he lived the life of crime (even if not extreme). Also, Martha and Thomas Wayne really haunt the narrative when it comes to Bruce. We lowkey don't know shit about them but they are the cause (well their death) of almost everything bad with Bruce and Gotham as a whole.
Not really apart of this but Lucie was lowkey using him to steal. I don't really mind that I just find it a little funny. Your like 18 and some 30 year old lady is teaching you by stealing.
Bruce calling out for his mother and thinking that he was going to die... Its just too good. I lowkey wish that his father was mentioned with him a little more. Maybe he doesn't make an effort to do so because his face is more like his father's so he is always reminded of him and has something to remember him by more than his mother. Something like that maybe, probably just over analyzing this :/
I know that Bruce doesn't drink because of cognitive stuff but lowkey Bruce not liking to drink because of his father's addiction that is in some comics>>>>>>
Connection to Bruce's dedication to the mission to the point of death. Especially early batman Bruce, oh how I love you Chip Zdarsky, what a writer you are.
GET THIS OFF MY SCREENNNNNNN!!!!! Bruce we are going to have to have a conversation about your heavy want for romance with genuinely almost everyone you meet but whatever.
And here comes my least favorite nigga. BITCH NIGGA HENRI
Follow me and my journeys of rereading Batman cannon! I have the memory of a goldfish so this is a great way for me to remember everything going on. I have read a large amount of cannon comics but I wanted to read them all + some extra's for fun.
Bruce's perfectionism when it comes to himself is honestly so undone in canon and in fanon. People often talk about him only thinking about himself but they don't talk about the WAY that he only thinks about his self. Food for thought.
Bruce being able to defeat the worlds best fencer after only 4 weeks, thats my smart and cool son right there
Him getting stuck so fast is connected with the fact that he didn't really plan this journey and he kinda just ran away from Alfred. I think that this shows his childish side, he is barely 18 and he wants to charge the world but he truly isn't ready for that-even the training.
Bruce wanting freedom but Alfred being against has always been a big thing in Batman stories and I do like it when affects how Bruce acts in general. Alfred's overprotective nature but his lack of parental care leads to Bruce having this weird relationship with him that is shown heavily in not just this comic, but many after.
My little dramatic Bruce that is still afraid of heights. Love the humor here.
Bruce and his love for robbers </3 But to be honest, a bit of a spoiler, I am not the biggest fan of their relationship because he is 18 and she is much older. I know they never really get together but I just don't think that Bruce ending up with romantic feelings for her is the way that I would go. Honest, I would have made Bruce's feelings more of an older sister/mom to her than romantic. But hey, thats just me.
It good that Bruce realizes this ig.
And if I say this is where his mentality of Criminal's can and should be rehabilitated started because he lived the life of crime (even if not extreme). Also, Martha and Thomas Wayne really haunt the narrative when it comes to Bruce. We lowkey don't know shit about them but they are the cause (well their death) of almost everything bad with Bruce and Gotham as a whole.
Not really apart of this but Lucie was lowkey using him to steal. I don't really mind that I just find it a little funny. Your like 18 and some 30 year old lady is teaching you by stealing.
Bruce calling out for his mother and thinking that he was going to die... Its just too good. I lowkey wish that his father was mentioned with him a little more. Maybe he doesn't make an effort to do so because his face is more like his father's so he is always reminded of him and has something to remember him by more than his mother. Something like that maybe, probably just over analyzing this :/
I know that Bruce doesn't drink because of cognitive stuff but lowkey Bruce not liking to drink because of his father's addiction that is in some comics>>>>>>
Connection to Bruce's dedication to the mission to the point of death. Especially early batman Bruce, oh how I love you Chip Zdarsky, what a writer you are.
GET THIS OFF MY SCREENNNNNNN!!!!! Bruce we are going to have to have a conversation about your heavy want for romance with genuinely almost everyone you meet but whatever.
And here comes my least favorite nigga. BITCH NIGGA HENRI
de-aged bruce wayne but he's in his training years, a young twenty-something and, and oh god, he's talking about what he'll do after. he's (comparatively) bright-eyed and his intense passion is more blazing than dark and imposing, and he wrinkles his nose in playful distaste, and he makes sly jokes, and he offers small smiles, and, and, and he believes he'll live to see an after.
dick has to put his head in his hands, after bruce tells him he wants to travel the world again, peacefully, when his job in gotham is done. tim is quick to reach for the ginger-ale for the nausea rolling in his gut as bruce is hopeful about going to med school, of saving people with gentle hands. jason finds himself in that alley after bruce describes his dream for the people of park row, not crime alley, park row. he doesn't leave for a long, long time. damian goes to spar but ends up just sitting at the mats, staring off into nothing, after bruce shyly mentions a beautiful woman he wants to settle down with. cass tries to go to sleep and forget the hope emanating from bruce, hope and conviction and (comparatively) none of the weary resolution or thick self-hatred that she and bruce knew all too well, when he speaks of the milestone that will let him know he can be stop, a soldier dreaming of a declaration of peace.
they didn't know batman was supposed to be temporary. they didn't know bruce started this with the intention of stopping, because they bruce they all knew would never stop. they didn't know he never intended to sign the rest of his life to this, this violent duty that stretched him thin between gotham and wayne charities and the justice league.
they didn't know, or perhaps just forgot, that their dad used to want more from life than just mission objectives.
The Justice League is fully convinced Batman was a teenage father.
The first to realize this was—oddly enough—Jordan. Perhaps because he was the one who paid the most attention to the weirdly soft(?) and trusting way Batman treated his Robins, it stood out as an anomaly against the usual grumpy, asshole-ry way he treated just about everyone else (and Jordan in particular).
This, perhaps, made Hal more prone to paying attention whenever Batman and his little bat-clan interacted; eventually, he just sort of… assumed Batman was their father, and assumed everyone else had assumed the same thing as well.
Such assumptions were confirmed when Nightwing, during an extremely critical mission that had nearly gotten all of them killed, shouted “Dad!” at Batman in a moment of panic.
No one had really been concerned with that at the time (they had all been a little too busy not dying), but afterwards everyone had acted strange around the apparently new finding, as if they hadn’t already known that
He was confused on why everyone was being so weird about it, wasn’t it, like, obvious? That confusion lasted right up until Superman, sounding deeply concerned, asked Batman his age (he, naturally, only got a glare in return).
Then it downed on him: it had never really occurred to him prior to that moment to make the mental math… Batman looked, at most, mid to late thirties, while Nightwing was clearly in his mid twenties.
Oh.
Oh.
Well, yeah. Hal definitely isn’t touching that shit with a ten-meter pole.
