this esteemed sir is a god.

the “wait why are we running??” instinct must be nonexistent in Gotham. you see someone running from some shit and suddenly everyone’s sprinting, no questions asked, no second opinion needed.

people say the Brucie Wayne persona isn’t believable but if I caught Bruce Wayne drunkenly lying under a desk in an office he shouldn’t have access to with a ream of secure documents and he replied to my “Mr. Wayne?” with “Mr. Wayne was my father—oh god, my father” and then started sobbing, I would 100% back away and leave him alone. like that shit would work on me every time.

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

TwoBruce No Cape AU

The one where Bruce Wayne has never known Harvey Dent all his life and there's no Batman in Gotham.

A/N: so so SO ever since Two-Face discovered that Bruce is Batman in Detective Comics, ngl my brain has been on TwoBruce overdrive mode. I also have this fic WIP from ages ago where 2F tried to woo beloved billionaire Bruce Wayne without realizing that he's Batman and Harvey is just "uhh bro... you know what? nvm". So I thought what the heck lets just combine it with my other twobruce brainrots.

This au was supposed to be very self-indulgently nsfw thing--an elaboration of this art--but it has spiraled into a hugeass verse of its own since then so...

“Bruce Wayne is released a half hour later without charges into the custody of his butler. He pouts as he is released, and pauses his march toward the door to accuse the desk officer of stealing his cocaine to resell.

Despite the likely truth of such accusations, the butler shushes his ward, crushing him into a hug that he returns with equal vigor.

“How was it, darling?” Pennyworth asks, pulling back. He bleeds relief into the air around them. The precinct settles.

Wayne considers this. He makes a so-so motion.

“They said they were charging me with third degree assault,” he says, a whine. “But I broke his nose. I deserved second degree, at least.”

“Shh,” Pennyworth says, comfortingly, “There’s always another time.”

The lawyer watches the two of them with half-concealed curiosity. The desk officers are openly staring.

Better Wayne than Pennyworth, at least. A spoiled, if polite, brat was far preferable to the enigma of a warrior-butler.

“Can we get McDonalds?” the mostly-sober Wayne heir asks, his earlier displeasure now forgotten.

Pennyworth goes still. Like prey, the nearby officers freeze as well, watching the butler with wide eyes.

Wayne is immune to such fear responses, and smiles down at his adoptive father.

“Please?” he asks, eyes impossibly wide. He is covered in red lipstick. Cocaine powders the corner of his shirt collar. His hair is mussed from sweat, hanging across bloodshot eyes.

Pennyworth folds.

“Of course, dear boy,” he says, turning on his heel and waving off the lawyer. “To the car, if you would.”

The lawyer marches toward the exit with great enthusiasm. Wayne trails after Pennyworth, blowing a kiss toward the drunk tank.

“I’ll be back,” he says, with great, boyish charm.”

okay, fanfic idea:

I've been reading a lot of de-aged Bruce fanfics recently, and I thought of something. Instead of Bruce being turned into a younger version of himself that the family can interact with, they react to how younger Bruce used to act and who he interacted with.

Maybe Harvey Dent got a video camera for 15th birthday and he started filming interesting/funny moments in his life, usually with Bruce as his unwilling co-star.

Maybe Harvey stopped making videos until he was older and ended up giving the old footage to Bruce for christmas, sometime before he became TwoFace.

Maybe Bruce kept the footage in the attic all these years, locking away those memories for good.

Maybe Dick went looking for an old toy or poster that he wanted to show Tim, and found a box labelled "1987 - 1995" (aka. Bruce when he was 15 to 23).

Maybe he showed his findings to the others and they asked Alfred to play the recordings for them (after Bruce leaves for a mission related to the Justice League).

The videos would always be centred around Bruce and Harvey, but other - both familiar and unfamiliar - faces would occasionally pop up.

What do you think?

[...]

"None of them have a date written on them, just titles." Dick pointed out while sorting through the cassettes.

"Who cares, just pick one and get on with it." Jason replied, still grumpy from being called back to the manor earlier.

He was seated in the armchair where Bruce usually preferred to sit during movie nights, but with their father being away he decided to take it for himself. Tim, Cass and Damien were all on the big leather couch, with Cass squished between her brothers.

Finally, the oldest of the group (not counting Alfred as he was busy cooking dinner) picked a tape labelled "Honey Bees", put it in the player and took a seat on the floor in front of the couch.

The screen lit up.

[ A seventeen year old Bruce was making tea in an unfamiliar kitchen. The person behind the camera was trying to hold their laughter, causing it to shake slightly.]

"What the fuck?-" Jason croaked out, not that the others could blame him. The young man on the screen - their father from 20 something years ago - looked nearly identical to Jason.

Bruce had jet-black hair, but a good chunk of it was dyed white. He wore a black sleeveless turtle neck, along with matching black trousers and combat boots. He was still muscular, but he hadn't yet gained the amount of body mass he currently had.

The teen was glaring at the cameraman, though it lacked any heat. His frown, and his eyes, were the only things that reminded the group that that was in fact, not Jason Todd.

"That's so weird dude."

[...]