Tumgik
#battinson and robin
petermaxximof · 2 years
Text
seeing people argue about wether it should be dick, jason, tim, or damian that get to play robin if he’s featured in the next battinson movie is so annoying to me becuase I literally could not care less. I just want to see battison adopt an orphan, run around fighting crime with him, and then come home to the batcave and be like “so did you do your homework?” “no” “why?” “didn’t want to” “cool want to help me solve this homicide case?” “hell yeah”. like that could work with any of them. stop fighting each other and start fighting matt reeves so battinson can get an orphan.
328 notes · View notes
skyfallslayer · 2 years
Text
Black Dahlias For The Waynes - Ch. 3
Chapter 3: The Bat Is In The Details (iii)
Tumblr media
Series Masterlist
Story Pairings: Bruce Wayne & Alfred Pennyworth; Bruce & Female!Dick Grayson; Alfred & Female!Grayson; Jim Gordon & Bruce
Chap Summary: Bruce might not be actually using his head when he says those words to Alfred, and well... Looks like his Butler wasn't having it.
Story Rating: Mature
Warning: Possible OOC? (I'm still learning how to right Battinson Bruce/Batman; And Serkis Alfred as well); Mature Language; Mention of Corpses; Blood; References to Past Trauma; References to (past/present) Anxiety & Depression; Slight References to racism towards foreigners; Acrophobia (The fear of heights). Read at your OWN risk!
A/N: Also, sorry for the long wait. I usually post my work first on Ao3 and then I completely forgot to post it on here! So sorry!
Tumblr media
The·Devil·Is·In·The·Details
Idiom
Something that may seem simple
from a distance, but when you look
closer there are problems coming.
________________________________________________________
It was like looking into a fucking mirror.
Oh fuck—
Is that what he looked like? 
Was he pale and shell-shocked? Was he frozen too just before screaming? Did the light in his eyes expire as well? Nobody witnessed it except for him, so he couldn’t truly see what it did to him, but now…
He can see it. His reflection. The same scream he gave when his parents could no longer blink. 
It was gut wrenching. But it didn’t end there, even with the tent almost empty from the audience, the nightmare didn’t end for the circus performers. After what felt like you could hear a pin being dropped because it was so quiet, the work wasn’t done when everyone could hear the sobs and choking from above. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he saw so many attempts by the performers to get the girl to come down from the tower.
One by one they would go up carefully, treating her like glass, trying not to be too pushy, but their attempts kept failing. Was it because she was too out of it? Or was it because they were also emotionally destroyed by what they just witnessed?
‘When are the police showing up? Maybe they can get her down.’
‘Could we cover their bodies? Would that be better for her?’
‘Do we have to be more firm?’
Bruce's jaw clenched from the same spot he once was seated at. Their words struck all kinds of emotions, and made him debate what would be best to get a traumatized kid down from the platform. This situation was… well… sort of new to him, it’s-
“Bruce?” Alfred said quietly, pulling him from his overworking brain. “I know what you’re thinking, I would usually lecture you not to interfere but…” The twitch in his jaw told someone how uneasy he was feeling right now. “It’s a child.”
Bruce swallows. 
I know. 
He couldn’t speak, which I guess was understandable. He just nodded and was about to take a step towards uncertainty when his bicep was pulled to a stop.
“But… be Bruce Wayne, not the other guy.” Alfred warns softly. “Don’t scare her. Do…” He pauses at a memory of his own “D-Do what I did when it happened to you. Okay?”
When the hand left the billionaire’s arm, he cautiously made his way over to the group of people, Alfred a few steps behind him. Eyes were immediately on him, bloodshot and protective, but he didn’t let that stop him from trying.
“Easy…” He begins, hands slightly raised for effect (he didn’t want to seem off by standing still like usual). “I’m just here with an offer.” How should he put this without sounding creepy? “Let me talk to her.”
A man, the juggler, scoffed. “W-What?” 
“You know me. You obviously know me from the announcement earlier, so you know what happened to me.” He watched their faces fall with sympathy, his words finally having meaning. “Let me try. Because I speak for this city, not all the cops are going to be nice trying to get her down.”
Now their looks were cast to the ground, everything coming apart.
It was heartbreaking to look at. This family was-
“Give it a go.” The ringleader said, his voice barely heard. The older man seemed too messed up to even argue a reason not to, which unfortunately favored in Bruce’s way.
Bruce doesn’t say anything, just a little movement in his head as walks forward. He starts to feel small though. History repeating itself. He found himself a young boy again. The heavy stares he was getting was like the crowd full of media, dying to have a word with him moments after his parents’ deaths; He could almost still feel his new appointed guardian’s hand on his lower back, guiding him to the car. His heart skipped a beat, his fingertips brushing against the latter as he looked up. The platform seems so far away now. He could feel the cold, wet air again as he stared at the tower, his home, that’ll be missing two people. The sign of his last name made him sad, made him guilty, angry and wished he could tear it down. 
But that was years ago, he’s not that little boy anymore, that moment has passed. Now… 
He’s gotta be a safe haven.
So he climbs. Anxious as he gets to the top, feet planted as steady as he could. 
Breathe. Keep your composure.
But it’s so hard when the child locked eyes with him. Glitter and mascara streaks just below orbs of (dull) sapphires. Bruce takes her form in, studying, picking up signals. It was subtle but he catches the way her arms tighten around her upright knees, a protective barrier from a stranger like him.
He’s been there before too.
Yet after all these similar experiences, he didn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to start this type of conversation in this type of situation? He racked his brain for somethings, anything, all while the girl shrunk in on herself some more.
“W-Who are you…?” She croaks, voice dry and trembling.
Great. Great first impression. Scare the kid, Bruce. He scolded himself, but never let his “failure” show up on his face.
“I’m Bruce.” He states softly. “I’m here to get you down. Your-” How should he put this? Acquaintances? Family? Or was that too soon? “Your… friends are worried about you.”
A twinge of guilt flashed across her features, before she sinks further into herself, looking away from his gaze. Shit— He knew he wasn’t good at this. What was he supposed to say next? Was there something Alfred said that he could borrow? He could…Well… 
Maybe not.
It wouldn’t be the same. Alfred knew him already, knew what made him tick, but Bruce was completely lost. Even after studying her for a few brief moments it wasn’t enough to tell him everything. 
He tries not to deflate, nor cross into damaged territories. “Look, Kid, we-”
“I should have done something.” She said it so quietly, but the tremble in her voice was so loud.
Her knuckles turn white. The lost light in her eyes.
Oh no.
He knows what this is. He knows where this is going. 
“I should have said something.” She continues, Bruce’s stomach twisting. “I heard a noise, I-I… I almost s-saved… I sh-should’ve been quicker-”
“Don’t do that.” Those words were pried out of him, covered in the thick emotions that he didn’t volunteer. “Don’t say that. Don’t…” He trails off and thinks -no- wishes—
Don’t end up like me. 
She blinks, and stares. He could feel her studying him in return.
“But it’s true.” She adds, and her next sentence was like a stab to the heart. “I failed them.”
So this was like a fucking mirror. This was so horrifyingly familiar.
.
The ever so tired looking cop shook his head as he spoke those words. The cop mutters something along the lines of, ‘Your parents could never think of you as a failure’, while slinging the coat around his shoulders comfortably.
.
Bruce tried not to swallow noticeably. “Do you think they would want you to think that?” He pulled it from Gordon’s script of that night. “Do you think that they would want you to feel that way?” Alfred’s script. The only two people who could knock some sense into him.
“You don’t know what they would have wanted.” She snapped after shaking her head. “You didn’t-” She shutters. “You don’t know them.” 
A few tears fall.
Fuck. He was really bad at this.
“Okay.” He ponders. “I get it.” Something else comes to mind. “I don’t know them, however, wouldn’t you think they would want you to be happy?”
And that broke the dam. Those salty tears running down her cheeks as her sobs made an appearance again. 
“I-I g-guess your ri-right…” She chokes, shaking.
Great. Great comforting skills. He tells himself, but he couldn’t stop there, even if he couldn’t dig himself out of this hole he’s made.
“Hey,” He softens again, just in time to be a hypocrite. “It’s okay to be sad that they’re gone, cause I’ve been in your shoes before, I know how this feels. But… your mother and father wouldn’t want you to carry all that guilt. Not if they really loved you.”
That seemed to do the trick, her whole body relaxing now, but still was on edge just in case.
“So, will you come down now?” He asked, swearing he could hear sirens in the distance; Hoping they give him just a little more time.
She nods steadily, and exposes herself a little more–
His heart stopped when he saw the color red.
Blood. Blood all over her left shoulder.
When did she-? He thinks, his mind racing again.
It hits him like a ton of bricks.
The snap. The shirek.
The shriek of pain just before-
She ashened under his staring, and almost completely closed up again when he cautiously put his hands up.
“Easy.” Sorry. “Didn’t mean to stare.” He says, truthfully, sounding apologetic. “I just notice you’re injured and-”
“It’s not deep.” She cuts him off, trying to subconsciously hide it with her knees again.
“Okay. That’s good.” It was like a sigh of relief. He starts tugging off his suit jacket, which makes her squirm a little.
“I said it’s not-”
“I know.” He holds it out, feeling like he’s walking on eggshells at the moment. He just wanted that look of uneasiness on her face to go away. “But I think everyone down there might.” He lightly gestures to down below. “So unless you don’t want to worry anyone, then you might want to put this on.”
She scoots back a millimeter.
“I won’t touch you.” He assures.
He did at a snail-like pace, but he managed to circle the jacket around her whole form, holding it open wide enough for her to get the silent message to slide her arms through. He lets go, watching her uncurl and pulls the fabric around her, engulfing her small body. Bruce then lets himself stand up, giving her enough space.
It was like watching a newborn calf trying to get up, she was slowly trying to ascend on her wobbly feet, but kept sinking up against the post. Her eyes went straight to the floor, looking nauseous at the thought they were so high up.
A newfound fear. 
Fuck.
Afraid of a thing you love.
Bruce watched her swallow, before looking at him with pleading eyes.
Fuck. Those were one hell of a gut wrench to look at.
To his surprise, she reached out for him, palm with micro spots of red and crescent moon indents (Yeah, those were familiar too). He took her hand heedfully, pulling her slowly up, guiding her to the edge where the ladder was. The people down below who’s faces flushed with relief didn't seem so far to Bruce, but the trembling expression she now wore told him that she felt a million miles up in the sky.
Her hand squeezed his roughly, cracking his own knuckles. Despite the sting, he still looks at her calmly. “We’re not going to let you fall.” He assures her.
I won’t let you fall. He assures himself.
Her eyes flooded with trust, as she carefully turned and stepped down the ladder, letting her hand slip away slowly. 
It didn’t seem that far down to him before, but now, it was starting too as he descended, the feeling of what was going to come next was the worst. He knows what’s next: the police, the questions, the media, etc. He knows what’s coming and-
Damn, those sirens were getting louder. Couldn't they give him more time?
“Rachel!” The ringleader boomed, his arms snaking around the girl as she collapsed into him. Every other member around him sighed, and silently thanked the universe that she was safe.
Bruce stepped to the ground, feeling Alfred's worried presence coming up to him. The lion tamer briefly turned and smiled.
“Thank you.” She mouths, before turning her attention on her family.
“Master Bruce?” Alfred whispers, as footsteps belonging to the law made their mark. 
But he said nothing, his focus still on the girl engulfed in warm arms. No, not on the bodies behind him; Not on the parental figure next to him; Not on the GCPD men and women he’s memorized.
No.
He kept his focus on her. Because Dory hugged him like that when he got home.
Fuck.
This was like a mirror.
Tumblr media
Bruce lingered, staying close enough to the kid, but also out of arm's reach to not feel invasive. It was a hard scene to swallow, hard to keep the girl’s eyes away from the yellow tape and black body bags, still shaking and whimpering at the sight of forensic experts. To get a medic near her was hard too, that’s when he had to get a little closer, his presence calming her enough to get the woman to clean and bandage.
He ignores the stares too. I mean…
He feels out of place. He feels like he’s crossing into a territory that he shouldn’t. He feels like this should be a private affair, between the girl and her circus family. He shouldn’t be here. Yet he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the tent so soon.
“Miss Grayson, I presume?” The tired Jim Gordon said, with his tiny yellow notebook in hand. 
The girl nods slowly, shifting in her seat on the bleacher. “Y-Yes.” She replies, nervously. The medic disappeared shortly afterwards, muttering something to the cop before he could start asking questions.
His face was gentle, a bit business like, but still gentle. The same expression he made to another child on a certain night. Bruce knows where this is heading. He remembers this conversation so clearly.
“I’m detective James Gordon, and I just want to ask you some questions if that’s okay?” He asks, cautiously (he must see how fragile she looks too).
The girl looked unsure at first, subconsciously pulling the jacket closer on her body, looking so small again, uncomfortable. 
“It’s okay. I can come back if you like?” He continues.
Bruce starts to wonder if he should leave too. He knows Alfred’s waiting for at the exit, so maybe this is the sign he needs (but in reality could he truly leave a scene like this behind without knowing the conclusion?).
“I…” He begins, getting their attention. “I can leave if you’d like? I’m probably making you uncomfortable.”
Mixed emotions bloomed across her face, while Gordon shifted his stance, still a little surprised to run into the man that's seldomly seen.
“Well, I need an adult to accompany her since she’s a minor-” Gordon begins, thinking. “So, if you want Miss Grayson, I can wait until Mr. Haly is done speaking with-”
“Bruce can stay.” She says, quickly. She looks between the two older men, almost surprised by her own reaction. “If…” Her eyes land on Bruce, looking like a kicked puppy. “If that’s okay with you… Sir?”
Bruce saw those eyes again, which was another wrench to the gut.
Damn.
This kid was hitting places he didn’t know he had (Or were years being a vigilante numbing those places?).
“Okay.” Gordon replies, taking what he could get. “Is that okay with you, Mr. Wayne?”
“Yes.” Bruce replies, calmly, also ready to take what he could get out of this. Unnoticed, of course.
“Okay.” He raises his pen to the paper, ready for any clues that would be useful. “So, Miss Grayson-”
“Rachel.” She corrected.
“Alright, Rachel.” He straightens up again. “May I ask from your point of view what happened?”
She paled, but she straightened up herself to ‘tougher’ (For herself or towards the detective, it was still hard to tell). “I… I don’t really know, Mr. Gordon.” She replies, truthfully. “Everything seemed fine. M-My parents started their part of the act, and then I was about to join in wh-when i-it…” Rachel bite her lip to keep the tears at bay. “Y-You know… sn-snapped…”
“Snapped?” Gordon said, earning a nod. “Did anything seem out of place during the performance? Or before? After?”
Rachel half shrugs. “I-I heard… something, I think. Right b-before…” She looks at her feet. “Right before they started their act, I heard a faint sound coming from the rope. I… I-I ignored it though, I didn’t think much of it.”
“So you heard a sound? Can you describe it?”
“It… It sounded like… I don’t know, creaking. I’m not sure. It was so quiet. Thought I almost imagined it.”
“Okay.” He jotts some notes down quickly. “So you heard a noise before your parents’ act. Anything els-”
“It shouldn’t have broken like that.” Rachel says, abruptly. There was slight anger on her face that Bruce wasn’t expecting to see (or at least see it so soon).
“I’m sorry?” Gordon said, confused.
“It shouldn’t have broken.” She repeats, tears in her sapphires, but irritation in her pupils. “That trapeze is brand new. It shouldn’t break.”
Both men look stunned at her words. Was she implying-?
Gordon clears his throat. “Well, Rachel, I have been in cases where brand new things resulted in injury or even death. Especially with something of this size it’s-”
“I get that, Detective. I get what you’re saying.” She says, a bit harsher than she wanted. “But it’s protocol for us to change it when we travel a great distance. Gotham is the first city on our America tour, so this is brand new. If you don’t believe me we still have the crate it came in-” 
She gestures to the outside of the tent, and finishes with “-And we always, always, triple check the trapeze before every show. So it was fine before the show started. So how come it decided to break like that?”
Bruce could feel himself holding his breath, because he knows her underlying meaning towards those words. 
No. She can’t be thinking what I’m thinking this is. He tells himself, just as Gordon spoke.
“Rachel, are you… implying that the equipment was sabotaged?” He asks, slowly picking up any signs that would prove he was in the wrong. “Are you implying that your parents were…?”
Murder. Bruce’s eyes snapped to hers subtly. God he hopes he was wrong. He hoped that maybe he was looking into this too much, but if the kid thinks it-
They’re fucked.
Rachel swallowed, but stayed strong despite her orbs glassing over. “I’m not saying it was, but this is Gotham isn’t it? And tonight's performance was all about showing the people that the city was finally reopening. So don’t you think it’s odd that a death happened?” She explains, brows pushed together. “But who knows though, maybe it was an equipment failure, but I’m telling you detective that it shouldn’t have broken the way it did. Trust me.” 
Murder. She thinks it’s murder too. Fuck. He scolded, and waited to see what the cop’s reaction to her allegations were. But the look on his face told him that Gordon thought it all made sense too.
“That’s a bold statement Rachel, and I’ll have to take it with a grain of salt for right now.” Gordon said, keeping his stature. “However, may I ask who put up the trapeze today? Just so I can ask them some questions too.”
“Yeah.” She frowns sadly. “It was my father, Conner, and… I think it was Kenji? Or Daniel? One of those two. But that’s all I know.”
“And that’s fine. I appreciate your cooperation.” He faces Bruce, who tries his best not to look on edge. “Now, Mr. Wayne, has anyone interviewed you for your statement yet?”
“No, sir.” Bruce said, setting his own thoughts aside.
“Well, do you mind if I ask you some questions?” Gordon asked, flipping to a new page.
“I don’t.”
“Good. So, Mr. Wayne-”
“Excuse me, Detective.” The voice of Officer Martinez said, an unsettling expression bestowed on his face. “Sorry to interrupt, but the kid’s gotta go. Commissioner Loeb’s orders.”
“Go? To the station? Already?” Gordon asked, surprised. 
He kept his voice low, not wanting the girl to hear. “Not to the station. To Juvie.”
“What?”
“Why Juvie?” Bruce couldn’t help but ask, because… what and why?          
Martinez looked torn between sharing it with a civilian, but it looks like he didn’t have much choice, the look on the billionaire’s face was enough to tell the officer he wasn't going to be backing down any time soon.
His focus remained on his superior, but still paid heed to the other adult. “Since the kid isn’t technically a U.S. citizen, and since she's blood to the victims, she’s a suspect.” He explained, painfully.
“A suspect?” Gordon asked, irritated by this call. “So we need to take her to the station. Or keep her somewhere in arms reach in case she actually is responsible.” 
“I get it, Gordon, but this isn’t our call. She’s gotta go there.” He frowns. “Trust me, a couple other detectives tried to push their luck with Loeb, and he ain’t going to budge.”
“Martinez-”
“It’s alright, Detective.” Rachel’s voice slithers through the harsh whispers. All eyes were on her as she stood up, fixing the jacket as she became small again. “I understand. I’ll go.”
Gordon’s face dropped, almost looking pitiful now. “Are you sure? I can try pulling a few strings.”
“It’s fine.” She flashes a small genuine smile. “Thank you, Detective. I hope you can figure out what happened.” She turns towards the other man who she can’t thank enough. “And thank you, Bruce. For helping me tonight.”
Before either of them could get a sentence out, she bows her head as she follows the apologetic Martinez, leaving behind a feeling of hollowness, sitting on something empty that Bruce knew wasn’t right. Between leaving a child without parents, and the way she explained everything about the trapeze, he knows there’s something far more bigger than he expects this should be. Because Rachel was right about one thing.
This was Gotham after all.
“What will happen to her?” He asked, curious and concerned. He could only imagine what the next step they’ll take with this kid.
Gordon sighs. “Well, I’m not really sure. The original plan was just to keep the circus performers near the station so we can ask them questions, but it looks like since a lot of them are foreigners, including her, the people we suspect the most are going to have to be stationed somewhere… harsher.”
He notices Bruce’s slight disgust and continues, “I know. I don’t like that either, and frankly, between you and me Mr. Wayne, I don’t like the way Commissioner Loeb thinks. I’m going to try to see if I can get the Mayor to help with this case, maybe she can veto his ‘great’ ideas.”
Bruce watches the last bit of her disappear from the tent, his emotions weighing in again. “And if this does get vetoed, and she’s not a suspect, where will she go?”
Gordon blinks at that question, but still answers it. “Well, some of the circus members can take her in, but that’s only temporarily. Unfortunately, her parents left no will.” He raises an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
Silence, because it hurts. He’s been in the girl’s shoes before. He knows what it’s like to lose everything in one day.
.
“And it only takes ONE bad day to go insane, Batsy. I sure did.” The clown smile sent shivers down his spine.
.
That phrase sticks to him like glue, because Bruce knows if it wasn’t for Alfred pulling him back up from the other side, he’s not sure what he would have become. And that girl has nobody. 
He didn’t say anything about that, and just quickly, but politely, gave the older man his statement.
Tumblr media
Bruce tugs on his collar and loosens his tie even more as he makes his way towards Alfred who was at the edge of the tent. The man had his arms crossed, the slit of moonlight hitting his skeptical features. He didn’t look quite happy either.
“Did you give them your statement?” Bruce asked, right as he brushed past him, hurrying them both outside.
“I did. I suppose you did as well, Sir?” Alfred said, following closely. The parking lot was pretty much empty except for a few seemingly unoccupied cars that weren’t police related. A perfect isolated spot for his questioning. “And what was all that about?”
“All about what?” He kept his focus ahead, beelining for the passenger side of the car. 
But Alfred wasn't having it. He slammed his palm on the door, his arm stretched out between the vehicle and his master. He gave him a stern look. 
“Look, sometimes it’s hard for me to read what is going on in that head of yours, but I do know when you turn on that detective brain.” Alfred points out. “So what were you asking Mr. Gordon?”
Bruce’s focus ended up anywhere but the man in front of him, knowing well enough he’s cornered. “I was asking what was going to happen to Rachel.”
“Rachel?”
“The girl.”
“I figured that’s what you were asking. But what for?” He tilted his head, looking for an answer. He was met with a long silence, which was enough for him to know what his intentions were. “You want to take her in?”
Alfred was met with an even stare of his Master; his arms stiff and lips pursed together. Not the first time he’s seen this look either, but there was something else in those eyes that he hasn’t seen before. 
“Bruce… are you sure?” He asked, still stern, but more in a softer tone. This man had just witnessed history’s repeat, and knew that it was hitting all the right nerves. “Are these the emotions talking? Or is this actually your head? Because-”
He lightly touches Bruce’s shoulder. “I don’t doubt you and that heart of yours, and forget the financial cost of this idea, but this is a huge responsibility. If you do this, this is a non-stop, 24/7 job. Probably more pressure and more responsibility than your night job.”
Bruce tightens his jaw, his gaze becoming more dead serious now. “I know. But what happened to Edward Nashton and to any other orphans shouldn't have happened to her. At least when it happened to me I had you to back me up when I lost everyone. She doesn’t.”
Alfred raised an unconvincing eyebrow. “And… that's the only reason behind all this?”
“You know the answer to that.” Came the quiet tone, along with the distant glint again. Bruce could see something haunting that the other man couldn’t. “I listened to her statement, there’s something more going on, and she deserves closure. She— They all do.”
Alfred lets out a puff of air, a small shake in his head before looking stern again. “And you’ll be there for her?” He begins, searching deep inside his ward. “And will you accept all the emotional baggage and possible burdens and/or… demons she may carry?”
A quicken heartbeat.
“Yes.” Came the short response.
“And you promise to change for her if necessary?”
There was a delay in Bruce’s eyes, but when he saw Alfred’s dour expression, he immediately changed. 
“Yes.” He replies, which was enough for the older man.
Bruce instantly opened the door when the Butler unlocked the car, and before he even thought about sliding in, his decision was put to the test yet again. 
“Let me say one more thing, Master Bruce.” Alfred begins, still holding up that somber exterior. He made sure his boy was giving him his whole undivided attention before continuing his last few thoughts. “I’ll do anything to make sure this whole thing will happen, but let’s make one thing clear, this is not my responsibility.”
He touches his chest to make a point, and resumes with, “Now I will feed her, talk to her, take her places if necessary, but that’s all limited. Because once you sign those papers she becomes your child. Which means, whatever problems she may face, whether that means she’s sustains an injury, or if she decides to start rebelling like a teenager, that’s not on me.”
He points to his ward. “That’s on you. That child is your daughter until the day you no longer walk this Earth. I know your mind’s already made up, but I want you to think about the weight that your name holds, along with that other guy may hold. So unless you think you’re ready to balance your multiple lives with parenthood, and promise to come home alive every night to that child, then go for it.”
Alfred’s shoulder sagged, his expression softened to concern. “But if you can’t commit to those things, then I’m sorry to say I will not stand by for you to hurt that child even more than she already is.”
He grows quiet and turns on his heels, walking away to the other side of the vehicle, where that would be the last thing other than ‘goodnight’ he would say. The car ride back to the tour was enough for everything to simmer in the young man’s mind.
You may call this tough love but it’s what Bruce needed to hear, but still— His mind was already made up, he wanted to take the girl in, but can he truly keep that promise? Can he really balance three lives at once? 
A big face for the city.
A creature of the night.
A parental figure for a hurt child.
Could he juggle all three? Or would he have to bury one for the kid’s sake?
_____________________________________________________________
A/N: So I felt like a lot of fics I read with Bruce adopting doesn't really show any "tough love" between him and Alfred, and since this is a still a younger Bruce Wayne I felt like he needed to get some sense knocked into him first before "officially" decides to adopt a kid. But that's just me wanting an excuse to write more interactions between the two men.
As always, Thanks for reading. Have a good rest of you day/night :D
Fics that have inspired my story/Fics that I love:
The Batman & Robin -DemonDean10
take these broken wings and learn to fly - fishingclock
The Batman: Into The Light - Bayfire
20 notes · View notes
homarcide-aest · 7 months
Text
pov you adopted a kid but you forgot hes not usamerican
Tumblr media
18K notes · View notes
allineedisonedream · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Had this wierd dream, with Bruce and Selina and suddenly it turned into a weird commercial for merch makeup. I just had to draw it…
11K notes · View notes
kartsie · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
It’s bring your kid to work day and Dick wanted to match
9K notes · View notes
bbbbbbbbatman · 3 months
Text
Here’s how I want robin in the next battinson movie:
The very first scene is Bruce and tiny Dick Grayson sitting across from each other at the dining table, staring each other down in silence, both clearly grumpy about it. Alfred is in the background watching them with concern. The silence lasts about 20 seconds before Dick speaks.
“Let me fight crime.” (said with all the petulance of a pouty 10 year old)
Bruce replies immediately. “No.” (this is clearly an ongoing argument)
Immediately cut to the next scene where Dick, wearing the iconic Robin suit, is having the time of his life swinging across the city while Bruce frantically tries to keep up with him while yelling at him to be careful like an anxious mother
7K notes · View notes
sreppub · 3 months
Text
batdad speedrun: everything is a riddle now
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
AU where battinson gets a bunch of robins at once is back :)
4K notes · View notes
live-from-gotham · 1 month
Text
bruce wayne as batman??
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
masterlist
2K notes · View notes
vanillabean-97 · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Trick or treat with Battinson and Dick
22K notes · View notes
t00thpasteface · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
grown-ass orphan retraumatizes tiny child orphan via constantly looking like he's about to kill someone and/or himself regardless of his actual mood or intent
3K notes · View notes
reebmiester · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
#Give Battinson a Robin
6K notes · View notes
starry-storms · 3 months
Text
The next Battinson movie has so much potential, but some of that being him coming to Alfred and saying "I made a friend" only for Alfred to turn around and see Bruce holding up a nine year old.
2K notes · View notes
skyfallslayer · 2 years
Text
Black Dahlias For The Waynes - Ch.2
Chapter 2: The Perfect Storm (ii)
Tumblr media
Series Masterlist
Story Pairings: Bruce Wayne & Alfred Pennyworth; Bruce & Female!Dick Grayson; Alfred & Female!Grayson; Jim Gordon & Bruce
Chap Summary: Bruce couldn't explain it. The nagging feeling that something was going to happen. But what? What could it be? Surely it couldn't be that alley way all over again.... Right?
Story Rating: Mature
Warning: Possible OOC? (I'm still learning how to right Battinson Bruce/Batman); Mention of blood & Corpses; References to Past Trauma; References to Anxiety & Depression; Mature Language. Read at your OWN risk!
A/N: I know the Graysons died on April 1st but for the sake of this story and where I want it to end it has to be later in the year.
Also, sorry for the long wait. I usually post my work first on Ao3 and then I completely forgot to post it on here! So sorry!
Tumblr media
A·Perfect·Storm
Idiom
1.The worst possible situation.
2.A combination of events that result
in an unfortunate situation.
___________________________________________________________
‘Gotham Year 4, Date: August xx,
The city is almost done rebuilding-’
It took months to get all the water out, and after that it was all hands on deck to get everything cleaned up and back to normal (or at least Gotham’s definition of normal). But the city never sleeps because even when the city was trying to drain all the water, crime was still evident. Batman and the GCPD hardly got a wink of sleep, the Mayor did her best to keep everything going. And luckily it’s been working, and luckily things haven’t been too crazy. 
But what can you consider not crazy here? Yes, in the two years since Riddler’s “Cleansing” plan there still has been murders, robberies, and arson, and other unspeakable crime; And yes, there was that one lady Batman put behind bars that could… What did she claim again? That she could control plants and threaten the Mayor that if she tore down another park she would level the city? Yeah, she’s in Arkham now. She’s-
“-orry for the hold up.” Gordon says as the elevator closes with a chime. “It took me forever to get these out unnoticed.”
He held out a coffee stained folder, which was about a quarter inch thick, for the vigilante to grab.
Batman opened the folder, his fingertips ghost over the words and pictures throughout the first few pages. He keeps himself from making his jaw tighten the more he looks over the photographs, people he wishes that never existed in the first place. 
Gordon took this man’s long silence a cue to break it. He clears his throat, straightening up. “Well, if you’re wondering, nothing unusual is going on with the inmates.” He explains, also trying not to shiver at some of the bad apples’ gazes. “So far… they’re just normal.”
“What about Pamela Isley?” Batman asked upon finding her barely touched file. Even though a year has passed, there was hardly anything written about the woman, even her behavior in the asylum is pretty bland.
“Nothing really. She’s just a crazy woman who is constantly talking about her plants.”
Batman hums, sounding more like a grunt, but Gordon knew him long enough to know the difference.
It didn’t make sense though, the feeling he’s been having for a while. He’s been getting a nagging feeling something was going to happen, and he didn’t know what or when. And for some reason though, his mind always wondered back to the fucking asylum-
“Don’t worry about it.” Gordon erupts his thoughts. His voice was soft and sincere, just enough to cover the tiredness he was feeling. “If something really is going on with the inmates, the GCPD will be the first to know, and I’ll certainly tell you too.”
Batman was surely on the line of agreement and disagreement, both having pros and cons, but in the end it all came down to trusting the detective. He hums again, closing the file and attempting to hand it back over. 
“Keep it.” Gordon said, holding his hand up to a stop. “That’s why it took me so long, it’s a copy.”
“I’ll keep it close then.” The vigilante replies, which could translate to ‘thank you’. 
“Get some rest, so in case you’re gut feelings right, this city’s going to need you.”
Another grunt as he watches the detective sluggishly carry himself towards the lift, saying something that was like a ‘goodbye’, before slipping back to either the precinct or home. 
Home actually sounded good. Sleep did too. But could he think when something was eating at his stomach lining?
Something’s going to happen.
He can feel it. But oh hell… If this was like anything like the Riddler or any other foes he’s fought then this was going to be trouble…
He just prays that he’s wrong for once.
Tumblr media
So… was it healthy to stay in his cave for so long? Probably not, but that’s what he did anyway. He just can’t get this dreadful feeling to go away. He was practically gnawing at his fingernails with anxiousness. 
Maybe it’s something with me? He thought, his mind practically did a three sixty when something crossed his mind. That near death experience with Alfred a few years back still haunts him. That fucking trap wasn’t even meant for him in the first place.
Maybe it’s… 
His jaw tightens as he stands up, sending the desk chair back, heading for the elevator, already out of the kevlar suit hours ago. He fights himself from tapping his foot repeatedly, watching the numbers go up and up till it flashes his expected floor-
Damn Dory nearly gave him a hard attack.
She pursed her lips, shaking her head a little. “You know Mr. Wayne, if you’re going to stroll in here then at least wipe that makeup off first.” She tsks, and hands him a clean handkerchief.
He stares subtly at her, not really sure how to respond as she brushes past him for the elevator.
“I made scones if you want some. There in the kitchen.” She continues. “Good day, Mr. Wayne.”
The door rings and closes, the faint sounds of the gears turning was all he noticed before Alfred walked by. The older man sighs, sharing a similar expression that the older woman had just shown.
“Master Bruce, what if we had guests? How would you explain this… phase?” He says, digging into his own pockets for-
“Dory already gave me one, Alfred.” Bruce points out the white cloth.
“Then what are you waiting for? The bloody Queen of England to give you permission? Wipe it off, Lad, I have to talk to you about something.” 
Bruce felt his heartbeat return normal, the goosebumps on his arms slowly fading away as he followed the main in the dining area; Almost immediately he still winces at the sunlight hitting his eyes (Yes, he was getting better with the sun since he was being Bruce Wayne more, but still, who do you think still has a higher priority?). He fights back the urge to grab his sunglasses as he slides next to Alfred and begins working on the cake on makeup under his admiral eyes.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” He asks.
“Well, It’s a quarter to 2 if you’re wondering, which is a perfect amount of time for me to tell you this.” Alfred begins, studying his young master to see if he was listening. “Ms. Harriet called me a while ago.”
Bruce still, worriedness fluttering in his chest for a second. “Does the orphanage need more funding? Or did their generator break again?”
“Oh, no, she was fulsome as ever, which leads to our conversation. She called and wanted to personally thank you for the funding which so happened to be enough for something else in their budget.”
“Something else?”
“Entertainment.”
Bruce hums, his attention lessening as he starts working under his eyes again. “Is it one of the children’s birthdays?”
“Well, no, actually, but she’s taking the children to the C.C. Haly and Norton Bros. circus tonight.” Alfred replies in his usual flat tone. “And you’re invited.”
His movements falter a little. “The answer’s no.”
“Well funny thing you say that, but I already told her you’re going.”
“What?” Bruce stops completely, his attention on his parental figure turning way up again. “You-” Was he allowed to scowl? “W… Why?”
“Well, let me spell this out for you Master Bruce-” Alfred places his palms flat on the table. “Your public appearance is starting to slack again-” He watches the man pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “And you’ve haven’t been to the office in a while either, so you’re really slacking there-”
“Alfred, I can’t. I have-”
“The Batman can wait. He’s allowed to take the night off. Plus-” He gives off something resembling a small grin. “She told me that the children have been dying to see you again.”
He grumbles under his breath. Memories of little children clinging to his limbs and giggling that bounced off the walls came full force. Ms. Harries felt sympathy towards him, all while the paparazzi ate it up like crazy (The last time he visited, the pictures were all over the news for a whole month). 
Should he “accidentally” dislocate his shoulder again?
“Fine.”
“Wonderful.” Alfred said, smiling.
“Only if I can skip that charity event for that Maxwell Lord, Guy.”
“We’ll talk about that later.” He pushes his chair back as he stands up, hands starting to tuck behind his back-
“And if you go with me.” Now it was his turn for the smug look and slight quirk of an eyebrow. It made his Butler look like a deer in a headlight.
Alfred gave in and sighed. “Fine.” He almost rolled his eyes as he started walking away from the table. “I guess it would be nice to get out of my house. Get dressed by 6, Master Bruce.”
Footsteps faded. The billionaire fought the urge to drop his tired head against the mahogany table. Why did being a member of society have to be so hard?
Tumblr media
“Still afraid of the clowns, Master Bruce?” Alfred whispered, smugly as a child (yet again) tugged on his Master’s tie.
Bruce casted a silent look that said, ‘Never again’. He tried his best to politely smile at Ms Harris as he gently pries the little boy’s hand away for… jeez… he lost count, and the show hasn’t even started yet. 
“Ms Harris said there aren’t going to be clowns.” The boy said as loudly as he could, pretty much getting attention from all sides.
Bruce’s jaw noticeably, besides Alfred seeing, twitched at the comment.
“And what makes you say that, lad?” The Butler asked, softly.
Oh god, Alfred was so much better at this than he is.
“Because these lovely circus folks have read this city's history.” Another familiar voice came through, and Bruce almost jerked visibly again.
Why did he agree to this again?
“I won’t be long, I just wanted to say hello.” Reál said, happy go lucky as usual, despite almost being crowded by people and her bodyguards. 
“Mayor, thank you so much for having this group come to Gotham.” Ms Harris said, stepping over her bleacher seat to shake her hand. “The children are so excited for this.”
“Oh it was my pleasure. I think the city folks deserve a little fun now since it’s almost done rebuilding.” She faces the other people present. “Mr. Wayne, long time no see.”
“Likewise, Ms. Reál.” Bruce said, shaking her hand also. Got to keep his image up.
If it was possible her smile got bigger, and so did her eyes when they set on a new face. “And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met, Mr…?”
“Pennyworth. Alfred Pennyworth, Madame Mayor.” 
“Nice to meet you. Well, it’s good to see you all, enjoy the show.”
She gives small waves to the children who returned the gesture before they continued their antics. Now they were talking about monkeys now? And wonder if they could feed their candy to them? Could Bruce handle any more of this? What was even worse was that when he thought the show was about to begin, the ringleader must have caught wind of who was going to be here, and guess who was caught in the spotlight besides the Mayor? 
He tuned most of it out after people started clapping and cheering for him even being here, and occasionally when someone started talking to him he would exchange actual words for just nods and hums. He fought the urge not to check his watch for the time, because he knew Alfred was watching his every move to make sure his presence was acceptable (Seriously, he’s not five anymore). Maybe those days being stuck in the office might not seem so bad right now.
The night dragged on and on, and soon, after nearly being elbowed in the face by a kid, and doused in buttery popcorn, and stepping in a puddle of sticky soda, his wishes might soon be answered as the final act was being announced. 
“Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Children of all ages!” The ring leader’s voice boomed across the tent, twirling his cane in the swirling spotlights.
The bright red suit hurt his eyes as the light reflected right off it. The candy apple red reminded him what the city’s streets were usually painted in. He held back a shutter and visions.
“I unfortunately will have to say that this is a goodbye! But don’t worry folks, we have our main event, the grand finale!”
The crowd cheered again, the joy radiating off of them, boxing the billionaire in. The deafening cheers reminded him of that night in the alley, right in the theater where the movie played and the other families laughed, moments away from the pain he’ll experience. Can he just ho-
“Give it up for the Flying Graysons!”
Bruce forced himself to follow the trail the ringleader led with his sparkling cane, which led all the way up to the platform above, the spotlight shifting on a family of three. Their tri-colored leotards were easy to make out, almost a perfect set of targets, colorful suits like that clown. He mentally slapped that last thought away as the trio flashed their pearly whites and waved bashfully.
What’s with all the feelings so suddenly? He was confused. It was like something was warning him-
“And they’ll be performing their amazing act without the safety of a net!” Their capes came off as the words left the man’s lips. Those shiny gold fabric resembled the flames of Riddler’s bombs and the-
Bruce shook his head meantally again. 
Stop it. Stop it with those thoughts. Just focus on the words. What did the guy just say? He scolded himself sternly and followed his instructions.
Truthfully he did his best to halfheartedly focus on those words. What did the ringleader say? They were performing without a what? Without a net? That was crazy, even for him because…
Was he seeing that right? A child on the stand?
His eyes stopped on the little girl, he assumed barely a teenager, resembling a lot of the two adults next to her (Her parents, he’s assumed also). His instinct told him to watch closely. Even from this distance, he watched her face fall so suddenly as she jerked her head back, looking almost startled. Her reaction only lasted a few seconds before putting up her facade again, an airlock facade Bruce knew too well himself, which gave him enough time for his heart to sink to the floor.
Something’s not right.
That feeling he’s been having for a while has finally returned.
The nagging-ness.
The past trauma.
The feeling of being on edge.
He knows this all too well.
Something’s not right.
He didn’t know what it was as the two adults began their act, his tense body language, which consisted of him stiffening straight as one of his hands was firmly against the bleacher, ready to stand himself up if needed so, he caught someone's attention because of this.
“Bruce?” Alfred whispers, managing to get the message across over the loud noise.
“Something’s not right.” He answered quickly, eyes searching the tent for something, but his navy eyes always landed back onto the platform. What was he missing?
“What?”
“Something’s not right, Alfred. I’m getting that feeling again.” Why? Why was he always landing back on the trapeze? What is he-
They didn’t hear the snap but he did.
Yet everyone heard the shriek of the child above.
Out of instinct (And maybe something else deep inside), both him and Alfred covered the eyes of the many children they could, just as Bruce looked back on the little girl who caught herself from tumbling off the tower.
His heart skipped a beat.
The next thing was so much worse.
The crunching. The cracking. The breaking. And…
Oh god-
The blood.
People panicked around him almost immediately as the bodies dropped into the ring. They fled around him in groups of terror and ear piecing screams, but even as he was getting trampled and pushed to the side, he never moved his eyes away from her. 
He should’ve known that history would repeat itself in the city.
He should’ve known that he would see another child in an alleyway.
He should’ve known that another set of parents would be gone again.
Life is really sick and twisted, ain’t it?
And Bruce didn’t know what hurt worse, the look on the girl’s face, the outreached hand to nothing, or when she gripped the side of her head and let out a blood curdling scream that reminded him of his own?
What was his answer, you may have asked?
Well…
It was this whole fucking night.
_____________________________________________________________
A/N: Again, sorry if this seemed short. Like I said previously, I kind of want to get the ball rolling a bit more (Since I'm more interested in writing about the Parental Relationships of these characters). So sorry again!
Until next time!
14 notes · View notes
homarcide-aest · 7 months
Text
battinson deserves a snarky 10 year old damnit
Tumblr media
10K notes · View notes
violent138 · 5 months
Text
Bruce, slumped in a chair: "Alfred it's so insane, he just doesn't stop. Yesterday he broke his ankle and he's back in those goddamn pixie boots with 'extra supports' like that fucking does anything-"
Alfred, stirring sedatives into the tea he's making Bruce: "Oh my."
Bruce: "-I just don't know what to do. He needs to take a break, holy shit that much anger can't be good for a child, and don't even get me started on the coping mechanisms Alfred, they're unhinged-"
Alfred, looking up with a tight smile: "You don't say. Sugar, Master Bruce?"
Bruce, dragging a hand down his face: "-and let me tell you, I don't know where he gets his energy because he hasn't slept in two days! Two days! I was impressed when he first got here, but now I'm just concerned-"
Alfred, handing the tea to Bruce: "Understandable, sir. Anyone in your position would be."
Bruce, nearly choking on the tea: "Alfred, Alfred, I'm so dumb--the lack of sleep must be getting to me-- just spike his orange juice with sleep meds. Child doses of Nyquil or something. Yeah, that'll do it."
Alfred, watching Bruce drain the cup: "I couldn't agree with you more."
3K notes · View notes
puppetmaster13u · 4 months
Text
Prompt 112
Once again, you know who is underutilized in DCxDP crossovers? Battinson. Skrunkly shivering boi. Who we should definitely give children to care for. 
 Did you know that Jason canonically had a brother named Danny? Well you do now, and it should also be used more. 
 We all want to give Battinson a robin, so why not give him four for the price of two. He of course gets Dick from the circus- he’s never going to go into public again, this was the first time he’d gone to do something out of his comfort zone for a while and look how that turned out. 
 And on one of the nights that Dick has to stay home (Alfred insists he must finish his homework if he wants to go out on patrol) Bruce returns to the batmobile to find not one child, but two. Is Danny reincarnated? Just appeared one day? Who knows, but he’s here now and going to protect his little brother. 
 Bruce might have tears in his eyes when they both hit him in the kneecaps and bolt because even with the armor it still hurts. How he manages to grab both kids he’s not too sure, but he ends up getting them food after they put the tires back. He also doesn’t understand how he’s convinced them into the car but they’ve both conked out and maybe he’s panicking and needs Alfred- 
 D-Dick why is there another child here? He’s the neighbor, cool cool. W-what do you mean he’s home alone, he’s like, 4?? What do you mean he’s been alone for a week now???
Alfreeeeed-
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes