There's a Battinson official novel and it's the worst thing I've ever read
I'm at chapter 2, page 10, there was a prologue before the first chapter.
I've read fanfictions written by teenagers better than this. I will read it completely because it's official Battinson lore and I will provide transcripts for the tumblr Battinson community but damn is it bad
for my own amusement i'm picturing bruce pulling a lingerie under a coat move on clark.
clark just got home from work and is in the shower when he hears bruce get into his apartment. when he gets out, towel wrapped around his hips and steam coming out of the bathroom, he sees bruce sitting cross-legged on his living room couch wearing a long black coat. bruce doesn't say anything, doesn't need to, he just moves one side of the coat out of the way to show his naked leg with only socks and sock garters, before he gets up and lets the coat fully drop to the floor revealing his lingerie-clad body.
(someone please draw this pretty please i need this it's for my emotional and psychological well-being please please)
Five times Bruce Wayne didn't die, and one time he did
Trigger warning for detailed description of death; suicide and homocide both
The first time he heard her, he was only eight years old.
Gone already was his childhood, as he watched the blood of both his parents spread on the ground. The pure white pearls of his mother's necklace rolled in it; there was a metaphor there he couldn't be bothered to think of.
He stopped breathing, his vision blurred and for a moment he wished the man would just shoot him too. But he didn't.
Why? Why him?
His body needed air, but he didn't let it in. He wouldn't. "Take me with them" he pleaded to no one.
Darkness creeped in his peripheral vision, and he felt it enveloped his shoulders with a reassuring shiver.
"No."
Air was forcefully pushed into his lungs, almost pushing him backwards.
No one was there anymore, yet he distinctly heard a voice. Was it a woman? Unsure... The more he thought about it, the less he remembered, like a dream in the morning.
His ears finally heard the police sirens, and seconds later a warm coat was put on his shoulders, and he was carried away from his parents.
...
He was almost 20. But he wasn't going to make it.
He knew that for a long time. But this year, he just couldn't get through June.
He had finished his studies in law and criminology. Or rather, he gave up. It was clear justice couldn't be achieved this way. The system he trusted ended up being corrupt. Who could have guessed?
He stared at the water hundreds of meters below him. The night wind gave him familiar shivers, but he didn't bother truly feeling them. A car or two passed, but the bridge to Metropolis was mostly empty.
The water was dark, like looking at the sky. If there weren't so much air pollution, anyway... This city was truly wretched.
Keeping his eyes downward, he let himself fall. It was slow at first; he could probably catch himself.
In a second, he was free falling. In the few seconds in which he accelerated, he felt his pulse quicken. Will it happen? Is it happening? Will it hurt? Then, the brutal clash between his body and the waves.
It was like thunder through his limbs. He felt it in his veins. Vaguely, he registered gulping down bitter water.
In an instant, he was way below the surface. He reached a hand up but even if he tried, he couldn't swim upwards. The jump had been too strong. He kept going deeper and darker.
The chill froze his movements. He tried to move, to fight for air, but it was too late.
In a last panic ridden second, his body acted on instinct and breathed in the water. He only had time to feel the slicing water in his lungs before everything stopped.
Peace. That's what he wanted.
The darkness was infinite. Deafening. Oppressive.
He wasn't Bruce Wayne anymore. He just wasn't. The concept of grief didn't exist anymore. Nothing was.
"You are still needed."
The trash scattered on the rocks dug into his freezing skin. The water still caressed his legs. His coat was impossibly heavy. But... How was he feeling all of it?
As soon as consciousness took him, water rushed out of his mouth. And for good measure, he also vomited. His muscles kept clenching in an effort to purge whatever was left. Bile. Water. Trash. Blood.
When his body finally stopped and he could breathe, he looked up. He was on the Gotham shore. A beach of rocks and... Well, trash. In the distance, he could see a wooden boat. He got up on his shaky legs, and when he looked up at the sky he could see the rays of the rising sun on the other side of the city.
If he could, he would cry. But instead, he started walking. If anyone saw him, they wouldn't believe he was Bruce Wayne.
Maybe he wasn't anymore. He roamed through the streets until his clothes were all dried up. By noon, he was at the manor's doors.
Alfred never questioned him.
...
This was so pathetic.
It hasn't even been a month since he came back and started his Mission. Since Batman appeared. He was not yet something to be feared, still mortal.
There were a lot of quirks he still needed to figure out. Every night he came back more battered. Needed more armour. More weapons. He needed better reflexes.
Tonight, he might just not come back.
As he lay on his back bleeding out, he recalls the night as he would in his cave. Go over everything that went wrong.
First, he was still injured. He didn't think it mattered, but the split second it took him to launch a kick was enough to let the other man grab his ankle and throw him to the side. Second, he hadn't eaten a proper meal. It was made critical when he received a punch to the abdomen and despite the armour and muscles, he vomited bile.
He needed stricter protocols. He can't fight with a failing body. Well, not that it matters.
After a punch to the nose -a reinforced cowl would've been nice- the man drew out a gun and shot him three times.
He trained hard to endure pain and discomfort, but nothing compared to the first bullet entering his body, hitting vital organs. It cut through his very soul, severing it in two.
The other two were shockwaves, draining his blood faster.
The liquid was a warm blanket on his cooling body, but with it left his strength. His limbs spasmed a couple of times, before everything started to fade.
It was humiliating. He was not ready yet. He had too much to do, to correct.
But the darkness was all encompassing.
"Not yet."
He opened his eyes, a woman had been standing over him, unsure. He must've looked crazed, because she yelped and ran away.
No sound could come out of his dry mouth. The sky was still dark, but slightly paler. Morning already.
He tried to move, but pain immediately radiated through his whole body, before focusing on his abdomen. Three holes. At least the bleeding stopped.
Grinding his teeth, he ignored the pain and lifted his upper body. His armour was sticking to the pool of blood under him. He should not be alive. He lost too much. His vision whited out before coming back into focus. Getting up was a struggle on his own, but it got easier as soon as he was able to call the batmobile and get inside.
The autopilot got him to the cave while the world turned around his head. When he opened the door to get out, despite his best effort, he crumpled to the floor with less grace he'd like to. The sound of his fall echoed in the cave, making bats fly away. He didn't have to struggle alone for much longer; Alfred came to help him to the medbay and patch his wounds. Though he didn't say it, Bruce could read the question on his face. He didn't know the answer to it.
That day, he wrote the first health protocols
...
This should not have happened.
Not like this.
It had been a year since he adopted Dick as his ward. The kid was a ball of energy; he could rarely keep him out of his patrols. It ended up being nice having a partner. The bright vigilante helped give hope to victims of crime, where Batman brought only fear.
And Bruce found himself actually needing him. Taking care of, protecting someone was easier than protecting himself.
He could withstand gun wounds, but Robin couldn't. And if Batman was down, Robin was all alone. So, he couldn't go down.
"Robin! Fall back!"
The situation was rapidly getting worse. The weapons too dangerous. Alien, it seemed. But Robin refused to hear his orders, as he had been for a while.
He was testing the limits, a totally normal thing for kids to do. But with terrible consequences in their current situation.
Batman tried to stick closer to him, rather than hunting down the escaping goons. They had valuable information and worse, they had the cargo. But he couldn't leave Robin in a fight he knew was too big for him.
He had told him not to follow him. He unceremoniously took the -big! man's attention from Robin, engaging him in a fight with Batman instead.
He was welding a hammer almost as tall as him, with weird patterns on the head. He could see energy coursing through the metal in an unnatural colour.
He dodged a first hit. Good, he's slow with it. He fought him as best he could, but this bastard was sturdy. It was like he didn't feel anything. Could be related to the glow in his eyes, the same as the hammer. Possession?
The fight was going nowhere, and the man clearly wanted to kill someone tonight. Robin chose the worse time to come in and try to grab the hammer, trying to disarm him.
"Robin! I told you to-" It was too late; Robin was thrown on a crumbling wall.
He coughed once and looked up to see the hammer high in the air, ready to hit. He tried to stand up, but with the rumbles around him, he wouldn't make it.
Batman wouldn't have the time to divert his attention, not when he had such a clear hit. He wouldn't have time to push Robin away on time either.
He threw himself on his ward at the last second, shielding him the best he could. The hammer hit his back with a tremendous force. He heard several of his bones crack and shatter, but somehow, it wasn't the worst.
A burning wave of energy came after, shocking every muscle in his body and reaching his brain. He felt like his blood became lava, his muscles pure fire. It burned. It burned but his flesh remained intact.
He heard a voice, distantly. "We killed him." It didn't sound human, but he couldn't really understand why at that moment.
He looked down and saw Dick looking at him terrified. It didn't look like the weird energy got to him. Good.
When the hammer lifted off their bodies, his muscles all relaxed suddenly and he fell on Dick, shielding him from further attacks. His whole body felt scorched. His organs burned and... Not working anymore. He could not breathe; his heart was not beating. It was a miracle that he still had enough brain power to look at his ward and recognize him.
"You're right, and the kid's probably dead too. Let's go. ‘’
Probably talking to that... Being. They listened as the man walked away, satisfied. Bruce didn't have long before his brain gave up too.
With trembling lips, he spelled "sorry."
No actual sound came out, as he had no air. Dick seemed to finally realize what was happening. Tears fell down from under his mask, he tried desperately to move Batman from over him.
"No!"
"Don't die! You can't!"
"Please!"
He distantly felt Dick moving his body, but he was already gone.
"Don't leave me!"
He met with the familiar, cold darkness once again. He didn't have a body anymore, but if he did, he'd cry.
"Please ... Don't take me..." He felt his memories fade away as he clung to them.
"You can't do this! He needs me! I can't leave him alone, again..." He wasn't sure who he was... Who needed him. What ... Was he?
"I have a purpose." He knew that. He clung to that.
It was long, the darkness, this time. He was waiting to be let free. He knew he'd be let back out.
That's all he knew.
He woke up to the worse pain he ever felt. His charred organs forced to work again, against all sciences. His heartbeat was slow, his breathes shallow.
He opened his eyes slowly, only to find nothing. Deep darkness. His eyes were dry. His mouth, too. As he took notice of his body, everything was too dry.
After a couple of minutes of letting his body adjust to being alive, he slowly lifted his arms. Multiple broken ribs. Maybe even the sternum... But he couldn't lift them far. He hit a cold metal all around him. Very cold actually...
"Don't tell me..." He thought, as he pushed on the metal and felt the apparent table he was on slide backward.
Light finally came to his eyes, blinding, and he took around his surroundings.
"They put me in the fucking morgue."
...
After seeing the impacts of his non-death of little Dick's psyche, he promised himself to never die on a Robin again.
He managed to keep that promise for a very long time. Until one of his little birds decided to break it himself.
After weeks of fighting the Red Hood, his fears were confirmed. While fighting, Red Hood managed to snatch his cowl.
''Well, no hiding now.''
The voice was deeper than he last heard, but as he removed his mask, Bruce recognized his face. The soft freckles were almost gone, the fat on his cheeks melted away to reveal a handsome young man.
''Jason...''
He began, feeling his throat constrict.
''It's not too late, you can still stop...''
'' ''Choose the right path. I can help you''. Is that right? '' Jason completed for him.
''I know you're in pain but-''
''No, you don't. You don't know shit! Even tonight, it's not about me, about us. It's about saving the goddamn Joker!''
He was right, in a way. Right about now, Bruce was thinking about the lives Jason was endangering, rather than... His son.
''I don't want to fight you.'' He simply said, but Jason laughed. Just minutes before, they wrecked crime alley with their fight. They've been going at it for weeks now. Even when Bruce knew who was under the hood...
Bruce saw his own hypocrisy reflected in Jason's eyes, as he lifted a loaded gun pointed right at him.
''I do.''
Bruce could duck, he could disarm him, there's so much he could do. But in the end, he didn't want to. He deserved this, he failed Jason more that he could ever be forgiven for.
Seeing this, Jason grimaced.
''So it's true... What Dick said. I always thought it was a child's imagination.''
Bruce wanted to lower his gaze, wanted to convey his shame, but he didn't. He needed to look into Jason's eyes.
One shot. Right in his forehead.
It was peaceful. In the last untime in which Bruce was almost aware of himself, he wondered if he'd come back. In a way, he knew he would, because Jason believed it.
He woke up in the medbay of the cave, alone.
...
Intergalactic threats were not necessarily a common thing, but ever since they met Darkseid, they seem to multiple.
And it's not like every time became easier, in the contrary. Every battle was more brutal, every army more deadly, and Bruce only became older.
By hour 2 of fighting, he was already exhausted. A nine foot tall monster hit him and he was launched half a mile away, crashing into a pile of rubble. It took him five seconds before he could muster up the strenght to get up.
He was currently in the North district of Gotham, trying to contain the alien invasion coming from Metropolis while the citizens evacuated to the south. The Justice League was busy at the root of the invasion, Batman should be with them, but Gotham was always priority.
His plane had crashed in the harbor half an hour ago, the Batmobile had been completely destroyed almost as soon as he arrived. Oracle gave him heads up and sent drones, but he was slowly running out of weapons to use, not that they were very effective...
Those were the times he missed Alfred, he was a crucial part of his operations, always level headed.
Not the time.
He ignored his body's signals of pain and started preparing some bombs to throw, when out of nowhere he was hit and thrown even harder into the spot he'd just crawl out of.
When he looked up, he saw the ugly, distorded face of an alien, and he had nothing to defend himself. The creature jumped at him, its enormous jaw wide open and showing its countless rows of teeth. It bit down on the arm Bruce had used to protect himself, and with a tug, ripped it off.
His scream barely registered to his own ears. He felt the searing pain, then the warmth of the blood freely flowing out.
Before he could register still being alive, the alien dove in for another attack, this time tearing through his abdomen.
Between bouts of consciousness, he heard a familiar voice.
''Look out!'' Nightwing warned in his ears as a jet passed over him, sending bullets to the aliens. Another jet flew by with the distinct ''woo! Get it!'' of Tim.
He was not alone anymore. His eyes closed and opened, and everytime a new familiar vigilante was in the frame, fighting with strengh and precision.
It was hard to tell if he was still breathing, he felt cold and so weak.
Cass made her way into his field of vision, worried but with a slight smile, like she knew not to worry.
''Gotham is safe'' she told him, and with that, Bruce closed his eyes and let go.
...
Can you tell I'm very much not into writing actions scenes?
I don't think any one of us would actually link Bruce Wayne and Batman together.
This is brought on by a post I saw about how funny it is that in the last couple of Batman movies the setting is very dark and serious but the actor's jaws are super recognizable. Very funny post and I somehwhat agree, but I need to talk about Batman or I will go insane.
Bruce Wayne
In the comics and in most movies, Bruce Wayne is a carefully crafted persona. He's eccentric, a play-boy and an airhead. It's often explained that this is specifically so no one suspect he could be intelligent or able to defend himself. Even though his face is everywhere, it's well shaved, with makeup, and in the context of gossiping about rich people's lives.
In the case of Battinson, I still think it works. Yeah he's a hermit, but when he goes out as Bruce Wayne he's well dressed and he's way less often photographed. He has the vibe of a fragile victorian child, I don't think most gothamites would dare to imagine him as Batman. Besides, there's a ton of reclusive billionnaires and we usually assume they're self-centered and evil.
Batman
On the contrary, Batman is supposed to be more than human. Most people maybe assume he has powers. While half of his face is uncovered, he sticks to the shadows and is never photographed. Even if someone who sees Bruce Wayne's face everyday in magazine gets saved by Batman, I don't think they'd recognize him. The brain constantly tricks what we see based on the context we are in. Most people wouldn't see playboy Bruce Wayne when faced with broody Batman. And let's not forget Batman is often shown in the comics with a 3 days beard.
Batfamily
Another point I often see is that even if Batman wasn't recognized, eventually a link would be drawn between Wayne's family and the bats.
Now, hear me out.
I'm not sure most gothamites would know how many children Bruce has. Sure, Dick would make the headlines, but after that I think Bruce would want to keep it more private. I've read a lot of comics and the Wayne's public lives are not very expanded upon, it's often just Bruce. Can you imagine if it was widely know that Tim Drake was adopted by Bruce? The drama...
And I don't think they would assume all the bats are related at all. Sure maybe Robin, but the rest could simply be people that were inspired by Batman (which is the case with a lot). I bet it took a while for people to realize there was a Robin, then that this Robin didn't age. That Batgirl changed hair color, etc.
My theory is that most people assume there's a Robin nightcamp for young vigilentes. Citizens probably get their names wrong all the time.
With that being said, if someone who was well aware of who Bruce Wayne was and was able to see Batman clearly and for a long enough time, I think it's very possible they might make a link. (Catwoman, Harvey Dent, Oliver Queen...)
If someone was obsessed with Batman and did a bunch of research on the logistics and coincidences, sure.
But that would require the person to look at the jaw and facts without considering the social context and personalities or Batman and Bruce Wayne.
I personally didn't take into account the Batfamily webcomic, where they're all together and happy. Mainly because I didn't read it all, but also because in comics and movies they're rarely all together like this. It's more of a bat association.
Feel free to agree or disagree, add something I might've failed to consider. As you can see I'm very open to think about Batman.
(Detective Comics #596) (Batman(1940) Vol 1 #68)
(Batman(2018) #56) (Batman Heftserie #32)
(Batman #12, 2017 Tim Sale Variant Cover)(The Call pt1 Batman Adventures, Bruce Timm)
(Justice League vs. The Legion of Superheroes #6)(Batman(2016-) #70)
You don't understand this man makes me literally insane because WHY DID I GIGGLE when she gently leaned over and broke one of his ribs, then complimented him on HIS MOAN?!
He's literally the worst I love him with all my autistic brain I want him to suffer to much I want him to be tortured to the brink of death then brought back YOU DONT UNDERSTAND
