#Jason Todd x batsis

[formerplumi]

( crow choir. entry two) ── ravens hiding in a shoe ( m.s | prev/next )

IMPORTANT author’s note at the end.

note: this entry is entirely re-written. you can read the first, now “non-canon” version here. events there do not apply to the current story.

crashed out on the couch with some abysmally boring show on the tv and the filthy humidity of your apartment is exactly how you expected to spend the week. your phone’s acting all funky while you scroll through a net-tabloid about oliver green with a plastic pen in your mouth, the cracked blue paint on it crumbling onto your lips.

you’ve long since tuned out the annoying buzz from the faulty lights in the corridor, the sound of them breaking through your door like the thieves that take cover at your place often, and you have to set your overheating phone down for a moment before you get up and wipe a hand against your face.

shortly after turning nineteen, you’d moved out with less than a word to anyone, figuring they’d piece together your whereabouts if they really needed to. and you doubt they do, since you’ve been living in genuine, peaceful, boring simplicity for a few months now. as peaceful and boring as it gets in gotham anyway.

you don’t have many friends, have a side job at a corner-store that gets robbed habitually on tuesdays and fridays, and have to shoo away loud kids playing at the front like an old man. it’s absurdly mundane, and you can’t help but calm down from your raucous everyday doings.

you’re finding peace in the silent shadows that you used to fear as a little kid, basking in them to make up for the lack of sun in the city. the more you grow older, the more you change. it’s expected of course, but it must be odd to not have anything really stopping you from ever-continuous change. some kids had parents doting over them turning into teenagers, teasing mood swings and scolding more often. some parents teared up when their kid turned old enough to be called an adult, feeling eighteen years slip through their fingers like sand. you don’t have a mother to wipe your tears or a father who wants to pat you on the back for a job well done.

growing up in the wayne manor is an experience envisioned as boundless privilege, written about in absurd fictions by wealth-worshipping teenagers from other cities, and scorned by the angrier lot of the unfortunate here in gotham. and you suppose it is. it is a privilege, and much different from the life you’d been living before. you guess you’ve payed your due for living so selfishly in that luxury by being ignored all your time there. you know your siblings also pay for that privilege, in more difficult, harsher ways, with fists and feet and rods and ropes.

changing, changing, changing. you think that for now, you’ve stopped changing, thinking back to the numerous times your mentality morphed to your surroundings like an asocial chameleon. when you were very young, freshly twelve and thrown into a house with your real father and a permanent family, you hated them. detested them even. you’d scowl and hiss at any glance from a brother, any dignitary waving at you at a gala and even the greenhouse plants that withered upon your arrival in dismay. you hated your fathers ploys at power and sauntering smiles, the skin with which he shook official hands and the pearly teeth with which he grinned. you hated richard’s comforting nod, and the way tim talked to guests, the way alfred always knew and the way bruce never did.

but you softened. you matured, is that the word? you saw them in a warmer light after hearing a girl squabble and wail at her patient father at the park and thought with a surging need, you wanted that too. so you smoothened out your frayed ends, stitched together competency. it would be hard to raise yourself to your brothers’ level, but you could try. among the chaos of being bruce wayne, being batman, being father and being vigilante, you’d resolved to be a beacon of peace for them.

but what beacon could you have hoped to be, if your light was so dull?

they didn’t ignore you, no. your father’s eyes glazed over you, like the block of your body was an insignificant dot among many others. like you were a clear champagne glass, like the ones served at his galas, to be nursed all throughout the event, but never indulged. you’re lucky others loosen themselves at drinks though, because you’d manage to craft quite a respectable social image among his associates and guests. grayson junior, an old lady draped in large, large pearls, had laughed, a charming little thing with only half his enthusiasm. a washed out, non-temperamental, unfeelingly warm version of your eldest brother. a stain of what he was, and a poor attempt at following his example.

but you twitched smiles through backhanded compliments about your inheritance in the family, the ushering prods at you to speak to your father about a deal (you’d never even dream to) and various vain offences made a speciality by gotham’s elite class. you’d endured all of that with half the mind to sock those prudish grins right off, so that your father would recognise your discipline and nod at you. he never even looked.

and after attempts after attempts after attempts at harbouring their favour, to grasp onto this life and make the best of it, never let go, you destroyed the little smudge of any real anger you ever had. you were reduced to a plain slate, an unused blackboard, a project in the making. you had no end goal, however, no final version. ever-changing.

you began to resent them, once more. miserably sulking over “how could they?”s and then, “how dare they!”s. you took to meaner methods of nagging for their attention. always being at the scene of some altercation at school, having prodded or initiated a fight between people was just a perfect look. you could justify any slight guilt at seeing bleeding lips curved into bruised scowls directed to you by thinking, your friends were much worse! so there’s really nothing wrong. those guys are odd anyway, they had it coming. but even that changes, and you once again erode to nonchalance.

your friends, however, do not change, redirecting their focus from messing around at school to sneaking into bars and clubs with comically fake ids, slipping into petty crime and street-fighting, racking up tickets on their profiles like medals. but you didn’t leave them, no, you were attached. forget rose-tinted glasses, yours were bright, hot, pink, finding a way to justify just about every brawl they stuck up, every man they mugged and every shot they downed while being well under the right age to. but gotham’s an odd place, it’s not too absurd to see a bunch of scrappy fifteen year olds running about with forks and foxes in their hair.

and you stayed this way, morbidly going through long, lonely days of watching your siblings live a life entirely parallel to yours. an ache that carved down from your chest and across the first bones of your ribs became a permanent one, and your throat would sting far too often to be considered normal. you’d kick and scream and fight with anyone you could, breaking into gushing tears the second they looked away. always conflicted and always changing, it messed with you, especially with no one to tell.

your family would be out at night, fighting the very same thugs that your friends are turning to become, all while you languished through the day counting bills and reading licenses off the wallets they pocket. after particularly violent exchanges, you couldn’t even look at the warmth that radiated off of bruce’s hand on damian’s shoulder, dick’s grin at tim or cassandra’s strange card game with duke. you couldn’t want to be a part of them, because you knew that maybe, you never would be.

yes, they have bigger problems. and yes, you blend perfectly into the blur of all the hooded and masked faces of gotham, and yes, you never do any real harm. but you can’t imagine being caught, returning to such unpleasant ways of life despite being given a hand at the one offered to you on a gold-plated platter. guilt and pride fought with their fists in your head, the second beaming at the idea of their surprise and notice if you ever made a mark, and the first ashamed at the thought of it at all. but you couldn’t live this life.

so when it got too heavy, you made the quick decision to leave. you’ve been changing so much, doing so much. moving out of the manor with all the necessary legal requirements was the tamest of them. you made all the proper requirements, choosing to call alfred after you moved out with just the slightest hesitance, worrying that he’d snitch you out in a way that doesn’t seem right. doesn’t justify your decisions.

and it’s after your budding malevolence for the lame-vigilantism stream of gotham’s legality is relocated from the estate’s concrete, and into the plywood of your apartment, can you really feel satisfied with yourself. when you hide a scrambling girl with a gun in her sleeve from the officer that knock on your door a minute later, can you feel satisfied.

admittedly, it is petty to be harbouring the same small-time criminals your family tries to turn over, but who cares? your friends are among the lot, those who couldn’t escape gotham’s gravity and leave, coming through your door with botched noses and empty barrels, and you wouldn’t turn them over. especially not to people who turned you away. there’s an ebb of sadness, a doubt that asks if you could have turned out different, and you squash it with the joy you get at seeing the vexed silhouettes of the caped crusaders perched on terraces from your window.

and with a tremendous stretch and a yawn, you pull yourself and your stiff joints out of thought, going to open the main door after a squealing notification from a regular visitor asking you to open the door. the people behind the door change, but at least they always come back.

-

it was troubling to say the least, when alfred informed bruce of (name)’s relocation. of course, he’d expected at least a little knowledge of it from the kid themselves, but didn’t dwell much on that. according to his accounts and alfred’s motionings, (name) was well and enough the age to own an apartment, own it legally and without trouble, and sludge through the days just fine, since they’d speak regularly with alfred.

he does bristle at your unsaved contact number, noting it from alfred and resolving to call you later. he does however send it to the kids as well, asking them to check in on you incase they haven’t recently. he doesn’t know if they met up with you after you left.

right now, he’s more focused on a little branched out gang that the commissioner, gordon, was troubled with. the week had been relatively quiet, spending patrol through stopping little crimes and such. offering a little assistance wouldn't take up any time, and was a productive way to spend little time too, according to him.

he went through witness files, the crimes all regular, as regular as they get. robberies, violent fights, keying cars (bruce purses his lips at the immaturity) and more. one case however, sticks out. the members of the gang, group even, considering their lower than low presence in the crime world all seemed to disappear right after making turns outside an apartment owned by an elderly estate manager. bruce deduced that it must be their hideout, but couldn’t really risk chasing them in, since the building was well occupied by civilians too and it’d be difficult to figure out their exact residence without prior investigation. not to mention, a little background check assured him that the man running the place was not affiliated with the people gordon was motioning at, other than the fact he presumably (and unknowingly) was housing them.

but what caught his eye was the disappearance of a girl near the same place. a profile by another victim of the gang’s mugging described her as somewhere around twenty years old, or just an exceptionally old looking teenager. according to the poorly kept case files one of GCPD interns, she was not identified among the regulars, and did not leave the building like the rest of them.

the whole thing was very mundane, low-profile, and her disappearance could also be swept away as just a reconsideration of career choices on her behalf. a new member, who decided quickly she didn’t want to be a part of it all. of course, that’s rarely ever the case in gotham, and could very well set a stage for a suspected murder, kidnapping.

first things first, simply a checkout of the place should be enough to confirm any further decisions that he’d tell gordon to carry through. in the meantime, he ought to check in with the league, the asylum, crime alley and nightwing. bruce can be described as paranoid, even if very few people can say it to his face.

he prefers being prepared. if not the strongest or the fastest, he can be the most prepared. maybe, he was prepared for this too.

“(name),” tim sighed, “won’t answer my message.”

bruce had put him to reaching out to his older sibling, over a number he’d spent a few minutes memorising before texting. dick, present at the time, insisted he called, but quit after getting a look.

he leaned over the back of the couch to see, staring into the chat. “let me see,” he prodded, “maybe you’re being too blunt,” tim raised an eyebrow at him, “not everyone can be as persuasive as me, you know”.

tim drake - 21:32

hi

where are you

(name) - 21:43

?

tim

you moved out right

where’s your address?

(name)

why are you asking?

tim

can’t i?

dick cringed at the screen, exasperated as he asked “really? right in the face like that?”. tim just rolled his eyes, frustrated, a little embarrassed. “just scroll.”

tim - 21:45

sorry

where are you

(name) - 21:56

dude

why do you want 2 know.

tim

bruce wants to know

read

(name)??

read

“very suspicious,” dick proclaimed, poking his shoulder, “i can’t imagine why they wouldn’t tell you. so surprising.” tim frowned, taking his phone back and frowning “look, i tried didn’t i? but if they’re not responding, i’ll have to tell bruce,” he ran a hand through his hair, “i don’t think he’d be much less conspicuous about (name) not telling us their address.”

dick nodded. when he first moved to bludhaven, he’d wanted a start as his own man, without the help of the batman or bruce. maybe (name) wanted the same? tim shouldn’t have said bruce wanted to know, he thinks, could’ve played it off as a “i want to visit". he suggests the thought, only be faced with an awkward smile on tim’s face.

“i don’t know if that’d work,” a short reply, “me and (name) never really talked much. it’d be strange to just butt in like that.”

dick hummed, resting his chin on the couch’s head in thought while he spoke “me and (name) have… talked a bit. send me their number, i could ask,” he elbowed tim’s head gently, joking, “one-up you.”

“you don’t have (name)’s number?”

…

“never had the chance to get it.”

your thumb grows numb from pausing at an awkward position on your phone. stuck on the same chat for about six minutes. two new numbers messaging you on the same day, both from your brothers. you’d assumed it was a new phone from one of the girls, but the first was from tim’s saved contact, his personal one. of course, since you’d read the message, you had to respond, sending in an aloof question mark to dismiss him.

when the second one, an unsaved contact, messaged you with a whole lot of exclamation points after a waving emoji, you’d assumed it was a rebooted number of one of your guys. but no, of all people, it was richard grayson, your older brother. you weren’t daft when he sent in a message asking the exact same thing, your address, saying he “wanted to visit”.

did he take you for an idiot? you know it’s bruce who wanted to know, as stated so bluntly by your little brother. even if he did want to visit, you’d go five floors down hell before letting him come over. a thumbs-down reaction and shutting your phone off did what you wanted it to, slamming a figurative door in his face.

but what makes your whole body go numb and buzzing is when your bell rings. it’s out of habit of course, not a lot of people ring the door unless it’s the landlord or a visitor’s family member, with prior notification first. it could be just one of them, if it wasn’t nine in the evening. the only people who clocked in at this time were your friends, and they never rang the bell.

you peek through the keyhole, and your breath stills. it’s then when you back up from the door, cursing as an unnamed objecy clatters to the floor and miraculously, doesn’t break. you can hear the wooden plank of the floor outside tense, and you just know the person outside heard it. you can’t play off a “no one’s home” game this time, and considering who’s behind the door, you don’t assume she’ll leave peacefully.

you have to gather yourself, level your breathing, skim through quick backups depending on whether she’s looking for (name), her sibling, or (name) a crime affiliate. it’s been a minute, and you quell your nervousness, wiping your lips after biting them so hard, to open the door.

cassandra cain looks surprised, and her narrowing eyes make you nervous, even as you lean against the doorway. you pray she doesn’t read through that, giving her the blankest look you can, the same one you give to the neighbours when they come to complain about the noise.

silence. you speak up first.

“cass… andra,” you add, a slight hesitancy when you remember yourself, “hi?”

she tilts her head at you staring up with a look that could be described as innocent, if her lip didn’t unconsciously twitch when you glanced away for a second. gosh, even after having knowledge of her intellect, you’re still messing up. get a hold of yourself.

she drops her arms from where they were crossed, giving you a knowing look. yes, cassandra, i’m here, you want to say after deciphering that glare with a little trouble, holding it back. what’s she here for? you didn’t give anyone even an inkling of your whereabouts. did alfred snitch? but you never told him either. did bruce figure it out? no, you think morosely, you don’t think he’d do all that.

you try to play it off, a hand to your head, staring down with just the slightest feigned frustration, hoping she takes the hint. “look kid,” you say, voice carefully dry, “i’ve got shit to do, you need something?”, with a seconds’ hesitation, a little demeaning comment slipping out of your mouth before you can stop it, habit, “or are you girl scouting for bruce?”

nice. great way to go. not only does she know that you’re purposefully avoiding him but also that you don’t want him to know. your sister is incredibly adamant to being loyal to him, worryingly so, and you know she won’t let it go. you’re no trained mind-reader like her, if you can call it that, but even your heart rate spikes at the subtle tensing in her jaw.

she points at your apartment, careful, slow. and you frown, obviously. no, she can't come in. she drops it, looking away.

silence stretches on before she exhales sharply through her nose, taking a step back. she’s leaving, you understand anxiously. you know she won’t listen to you if you ask, know she won’t answer any of your questions either, but you try anyway.

“going off to tell bruce are you?” she pauses, turning around to face you again. you’re put off, straining the rest of the sentence so it doesn’t sound odd. you want to say, beg, don’t tell him, you want to say, snarl, get out. instead you just draw your shoulders in and return inside, shutting the door. man, you messed up.

bruce is only momentarily distracted by tim and dick’s hushed talking, weary of what they’re up to, before quickly focusing back to the apartment layout he’s handed by the owner of the building, a mister ford, after requesting for it through a burner account. cassandra’s there too, dressed in gear to leave for patrol in a bit, getting a head start before bruce does the same. he’d sent her out to check the place out, maybe set sights on figures she could suspect to be a part of the trouble he was reviewing earlier, time-pass assignments to sludge through the dullness of the evening.

and she comes back with results, circling an east facing room on the third floor on the flat plans. he can’t help but notice a slight moment of hesitance before she does though, turning to bruce with her grimacing full-face cowl, a silent statement. he thinks about asking her, but decides against it. if she’s worried for their safety, thinks them to be innocent, or doesn’t want them caught, she must want it for some reason. he’ll make sure the GCPD knows after sending gordon's intern the file later, in hardcopy via an open window or softcopy through yet another burner account.

but it’s then when he catches a stray hiss from tim, a “just tell him later,” and pulls away from the screen for just a second. “tell me what?” a brief sombre octave to his voice, he knows it’s not wise to leave tim, of all people, hiding something. especially not moments before patrol.

the boy just shrugs, shaking his head, “nothing important,” he lies, “err… bludhaven stuff.” dick blanches, gesturing in a “what the hell?” manner and cassandra inclines her head. bruce sends in the file, before turning around with the slightest frown to his face. if you have something unimportant to say, the unsaid message floats through the room, say it now, before patrol.

before tim can though, dick gets to it first, a hand to his head in perplexed motion; “you know how you told us to check in on (name)?”.

bruce responds plainly, “i asked tim.” dick’s lip turns downwards just a hint as he lets his arm down, “i’m getting to that.”

“(name) didn’t respond to his,” dick jabbed a thumb in tim’s direction, “message, so i tried. won’t answer mine either.”

“so, you don’t know where they are?” bruce finishes for him, a hand yo his chin in thought, “it’s fine, tim, dick, i’ll see to it later. carry on with patrol, and if you have the chance to, look for robin and tell him to return to the cave.”

it’s funny to dick how easily he slips between proper names and aliases, even if the surroundings are occupied only by associates. paranoid, he thinks, uselessly so. cassandra clears her throat, causing everyone to turn to her, glance in her general direction since she's so well hidden.

she points at the screen, the file sent to a contact with the police department’s logo as its profile picture. her voice is soft, but holds a small, uneasy reluctance to it.

“(name) was here.”

oh.

oh?

INTERACTIONS, REBLOGS AND ASKS VV APPRECIATED!!

- woah. re-written entry?? whatever for?? i overestimated myself.. got carried away and derived way off my ideas.

my exams are coming up and get dragged all the way into JUNE can u effing believe it. so obviously i wont be gone completely but will be kinda compromised.

i do still encourage sending in asks or ideas bc honestly without interactions idk what ppl think and i think thats important for any media u release into the wild,, to some degree!! also keeps the motivation to write up and stuff.

i have plenty things to add and a hollow head full of things to talk about which ill eventually get onto depending on everything. don’t take my characteristics VERY seriously and dont shy away from feedback.

thank you for reading!

# taglist: @cxcilla @strwberryglass @c4xcocoa @yaoizee @secretsandwriting @sirenetheblogger @charlenexoxo1 @mirabilis-polaris @jsprien213 @tfimherewhy @yuyuzi-ling @crazycaoticsimp @m0na-lis4 @trashlanternfish360 @thehammerx4 @ninihrtss @kaitense1

[itheunknown]

odi et amo - (01) all i had

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

the wind was howling.

your bag felt heavy on your shoulders as you brisked through the night, flickering street lights as your only source of light. your phone died a while back, but it's fine since you knew every nook and cranny of the route from your workplace back to your aunt's apartment. 

you've had a pretty shitty day so far: customers yelling in your face about things out of your control, your bicycle getting stolen (again) rendering you having to travel back on foot, and on top of that, you have exams coming up this week.

all you could let out was a tired sigh while trying to revise the material under your breath.

just as you're about to turn the knob of the apartment door, looking forward to finally getting some sleep before having to drag yourself to school that starts in a few hours, the door swings open violently and you stumble back, startled. the sight of your aunt gripping the door while holding a broken bottle greets you as she stands there with an unsettling and wild look in her eyes, her tone final.

“get in the car, now.”

sitting in gotham’s police department with the background noise feels distant, everything is incoherent, too much noise, too much light, just too much.

you feel hollow.

can’t wrap your head around the series of events that had just occurred, alternating between gnawing your lips and picking your fingers, the chatter zoned in and out as you just sat there, not knowing what was to come.

you don’t know how long you've sat there while the police were making phone calls and running through their data records of you after taking multiple different samples 2 days ago in order to decide where they should toss you to next. you’ve been placed under watch just so they could make sure there were no complications from the injuries you sustained, practically living in the station. it wasn’t that bad, the GCPD was well-insulated, safe, and you’re given food to eat for free (not that you can taste anything). it’s much better than being left to fend for yourself in the streets.

you know you should be planning on what to do next, but your brain feels like tv static, nothing making sense. you had worked so hard despite the circumstances you were in, tried to make the best out of the shitty cards dealt. you weren’t happy, but you were in control, you had a plan. work hard, save up, get a degree and move the fuck out of this godforsaken city. start over.

staring at the ground, a pair of shoes enters your vision.

“your labs came back, we got your DNA results.”

this was not what you had in mind.

you’ve never been in a car this luxurious before. the man who introduced himself as alfred, the wayne’s family butler, your father's butler, was seated in the front driving to your supposed new home. you stare outside, gaze unfocused, arms cradling your backpack close to your chest - your entire life in it: your school supplies and a few other personal items, while the rest remains at your aunt’s apartment - that is currently taped off by police and under investigation. eyes trained on the passing view outside, you feel bad for alfred who’s tried to strike up conversation to get to know you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to elaborate on your short responses. you hope he doesn’t take it too personally.

before you knew it, the car rolled to a stop outside the wayne manor. grabbing your bag, you trail behind the butler, the feeling of dread suddenly consumes your entire being.

“i do apologize for the absence of master bruce, young miss. i’m certain if he weren’t caught up with this current case, you would've received a personal welcome from your father himself", he gave you an apologetic smile.

you nodded in response, not really processing his words despite the tiny feeling of disappointment felt as you step foot into the grand yet empty manor. your presence a stark contrast to the fancy room you've entered.

however, you do look forward to seeing your new family: your father and siblings that alfred mentioned in brief, insisting for you to get to know them yourself while singing them high praises.

maybe this was the start over you needed. maybe you'll finally know what it's like to be loved.

you should've known then.

expectations only lead to disappointment.

you're tired, so very tired.

you're done.

nothing feels worth it anymore.

you don't have it in you to continue.

feet dangling off the crumbling abandoned building, you feel oddly at peace. everything is quiet. everything feels right, no responsibilities, no burdens, no more. you've decided.

for once in your life, you feel assured, this is the most optimal solution.

for once in your life, you're looking forward to something.

death must be so peaceful, lay buried within the earth, surrounded by silence. no yesterday, no today, no tomorrow. forget time, forgive life.

you'd be no more.

the wind is howling.

you stand up, staring down the steep drop. standing tall, unafraid, certain.

everything was quiet.

you're ready.

you shuffle closer to the edge, one foot hovering off as you will your other foot to do the same, fighting against your body's survival instinct. you're finally doing something for yourself.

"that's a big drop."

you stumble forward in surprise, nearly falling off until a hand grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you back further from the edge. you're stunned speechless, turning to see the source of the whistling voice.

"that's pretty ballsy of you, kid, i gotta admit."

this is embarrassing.

still unable to form any response, you let out a strangled noise in return as he let go of your shirt.

why the hell is one of gotham’s vigilante here.

an uncomfortable silence ensues, you don't know what to say, occasionally glancing up at the masked vigilante while you shifted your weight from one foot to another, feeling awkward.

just as you're about to try and weasel your way out of the situation, he beats you to it.

"nice spot! how'd you even get in?"

he asks casually while stretching and looking around. you don't know what to say.

"it's a still a weekday tomorrow , don't you have school? your parents must be worried you're out here."

your aunt is still waiting for you to return with your half of the pay for the rent. you have an assignment due tomorrow that's worth 10% of your final grade. there's nothing to look forward to.

"...i guess?"

now, you're uncertain, not knowing whether he genuinely didn't understand the implications of your actions or trying to lighten the severity of the situation.

he's uncertain.

he doesn't know how to approach this. he's never had to deal with this before.

you can tell by the strained smile and tensed posture that he also doesn't know what to do. somehow, you appreciate it. the situation is somewhat amusing now that you think about it. one of gotham's most dedicated vigilante standing in an abandoned building trying his best to stop a nobody from ending their insignificant life.

you almost let out a chuckle.

the vigilante bends down to pick up your discarded bag that was tossed to the side, handing it to you. you mumble your thanks, grabbing it and swinging it over your shoulders.

hesitantly, he places his hand on your much smaller frame. his voice warm and soft.

"go home. i'm sure someone is waiting for you."

you've waited for a year.

surrounded by the four walls of your assigned bedroom in the more cold, desolated part in the manor. you didn’t really mind, this arrangement was a blessing in disguise as it turned out, or maybe this arrangement was what turned you into the person you’ve become.

you don’t think you’re a great person, but you weren’t bad either, so you don’t understand why no one in the wayne manor would give you their time of day. sure, you were never reduced to begging for life necessities and having to bust your ass off at some sketchy restaurant working under legal age, while also balancing school work - this was objectively a far better environment for a person to live in compared to when you lived with your aunt. 

but was it wrong to want to be noticed by your own family? against your better judgement, you dared to hope.

you hoped to feel the warmth and care of what being tied by blood could grant. you hoped for an embrace, you hoped for company, you hoped for compassion, you hoped for connection. you hope and hope and hope, all you did was hope, until your memory was mostly filled with what you hoped, until you finally understood you were with them yet you were alone.

you had no place in their life.

just like the day you first arrived, bruce wayne, your father, was always busy. a persona to upkeep in the public eye, an enterprise to maintain, and his children to look after, to be a worthy role model.

but not you, never you.

despite alfred’s effort in trying to arrange for you two to get to know each other in the first week, there was never time. you were trying to wrap your head around the drastic changes that happened, from the procedures of transferring  schools, collecting what little belongings you had from the police station after the investigation, and quitting your job. meanwhile, bruce was still busy chasing leads to his case, determined that he was close to solving whatever it was. it took another week for you to stand in front of bruce’s door, wanting to formally introduce yourself and express your gratitude for taking you in, even if he was legally obligated to. when you finally saw him, you dared to hope. standing in front of you was your father, someone who shared your features. you see him, you see yourself. 

you could never forget the look in his eyes.

it was clear he had no idea who your mother was, but it was fine, you didn’t know her either. your desire to get to know him was not returned. was this what having a father is meant to be like? he couldn’t care less about you. all he did was run you through the ground rules of the house, who to go to if you were to request something, to inform him if you needed anything.

you needed him to look at you.

tim drake was the next person you encountered, your slightly older brother. you hoped that with the proximity in age, it would be easier to connect to him. however, it always seemed like he was preoccupied with something more important, he could not even be bothered to pretend to show interest when you had introduced yourself. you felt small, both in the figurative and literal sense. he was undoubtedly intelligent and talented. you’ve seen the way bruce look at him, actually hold a conversation with him. he was deserving, nothing you could measure to. bruce actually looked at him.

why does nobody look at you?

then you ran into jason todd. to your knowledge, he does not primarily reside within the manor anymore, which would explain why you haven’t really seen him around at all. it doesn’t explain why your first encounter with him was assuming a burglar had snuck in through the window at 3 in the morning. you had nearly dropped your cup of coffee, hearing a brief commentary on how there was another caffeine addict in the house before leaving the kitchen with you still holding your breath in shock. you can’t form a solid opinion on him since you barely see him.

in stark contrast, you had met richard grayson, or dick. the ever sweetest and most amazing older brother that any younger sibling would dream to have. you do too, seeing how much of a brother he was to the other members of the house, but not to you.

never to you.

you’d like to blame him for blindly hoping for things to be different, with his empty promises when he accidentally runs into you while on his search for someone else, and small talk when he’s waiting for something. you catch your father’s appreciative glances towards him sometimes, when dick helps out with managing your siblings.

especially damian al ghul, your half-brother. you were excited to have a younger blood sibling, not that the others were any less important to you, but merely for the delusion that blood could bring you together.

blood meant nothing.

damian was introduced after you were brought in, and his last name was promptly changed into wayne. your encounter was different from the others, him being the only one that sought you out first. again, you had hoped. trying to hide your excitement, you had mistakenly thought he was different from the others, your flesh and blood. 

it’s all the same.

damian had berated your existence, bringing up how you were so unworthy of being a wayne you had yet to receive your father’s last name. you stood there listening to everything he had to say. your flesh and blood.

you admired his strong personality and ability to assert what he wanted. you were complete opposites. it’s no surprise that that’s why he was worthy of the last name.he ended up being the one who had interacted with you the most, even if it was mostly him bullying you. secretly, you held him dear, seeing resemblance between damian and your aunt. he was your flesh and blood.

cassandra cain was yet another sibling you falsely assumed having something in common would bring you two closer. but at this point, you no longer had it in you to put effort in forming a connection with anyone else, worn down by the countless times you’ve been casted aside. 

you remain in the shadows, watching them carry on their daily lives, watched the life you had desperately wanted to be part of but found it impossible. you don’t belong with them, you don’t belong anywhere.

their silence made you feel forgettable.

do you even exist if no one remembers you?

the wind is howling.

and so are the voices.

i don't think im a good story teller since i mostly wrote analytical essays ^^' hopefully it makes sense like who let them (me) cook?? likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

(TAGLIST) lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :heh:

@confused-they @hoeinthehouse @heartjwonie @strwberryglass

[toecrust69]

Can I request a gn!reader x batfam? The reader is in the batfamily business and is the 2nd youngest. They’re on a mission with the others, when they get hit by a alien tech which turns the reader into a toddler (2-3 years old?)😱 so the batfamily had to take care of the reader till they find an antidote. You can end it with the reader being turned back to their original age?

Young Again

Warnings: cursing, Bad writing, mild mention of violence

A/n: sorry if this took a while to get out, I was at a concert when I got this lol

Enjoy!!

'Bruce is not going to like this...' You thought to yourself as you looked up at everyone towering over you.

"Aw, look at them! Even their suit shrinked" Dick squeeled as he bent down to better look at you.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance and just ignored him.

Damian stared down at you with a smirk, clearly amused.

Tim was busy creating an antidote on the side but he'd glanced at you every once in a while.

Jason was dying of laughter, clutching his stomach in pain only a couple feet away.

And, as expected, Dick was treating you like a baby.

Which you technically were, but-

Damian hummed, "How will we tell father?" He asked.

Jason finally finished his laughing fit and walked over to all of you.

"Simple," he glanced down at you, "we don't. Problem solved".

"What? But that doesn't solve to pro-"

"Hush," Jason put a finger over damians mouth and he immediately smacked it away in disgust. "How do you think Bruce is gonna react to this news? Do you think he's gonna be happy?" Jason reasoned.

Damian thought about it for a second. "Hm, I suppose so"

Standing up, Dick looked over his shoulder at Tim, "How's the antidote going?"

Tim clicked away at the batcomputer rapidly before turning to look at everybody. "It's almost done, it should be out in about an hour" he stated calmly.

"An hour!?" Dick and Damian said in unison.

You huffed out in annoyance and Jason looked back down at you with a smirk.

He crouched down to your level just like Dick had a few moments ago, but instead of baby talking you, he flicked your forehead.

You stumbled back rather ungraciously with a loud and painfull 'thump' and Jason began laughing again.

Even Damian chuckled.

"Hey!" You whined just as Dick and Tim turned to look at you.

Dick was about to help you up when you felt two hands grab you from behind and pick you up.

You all turned and saw who it was; Alfred.

Alfred put you against his hip and looked down at you.

Smiling warmly, he gently poked your nose before looking down at Jason who had since stopped laughing but was still crouching down.

"What did you do to them?" He demanded.

Everybody stammered in an attempt to find an explanation when you finally spoke. "Alien tech. Patrol" you said simply and he looked down at you again.

"Ah, I see" he said, looking up at the rest. "And how exactly do you plan on telling Master Bruce about this?" He asked.

Everybody froze and Alfred almost immediately understood.

They weren't planning on telling him

He huffed and everybody instantly felt a bit bad.

"Sorry, Alf" Jason said sheepishly.

"Yes, we didn't know what else to do" Damian explained and everybody followed suit.

"Well, I don't know what he'll do but I sure do know for a fact that he won't like this"

"Who won't like what?"

Everybody froze and looked behind Alfred to see who it was.

Bruce.

He set down his mask and ran a hand through his messy, sweaty hair.

"And why are you back early from patrol?"

Alfred kept his back to Bruce while everybody else scrambled to find an explanation once again.

They were all trained to be great at lying but it all went out the window the moment they had to do it to Bruce.

They were talking over one another and Bruce couldn't understand a thing either of them was saying.

"Okay, okay, calm down and speak one at a time" everybody settled down and looked at him.

"Father, we-"

"No," he put his hand up, signaling at him to stop talking, "let Dick speak first. He's the oldest," he looked at all the other brothers, "and the most mature. At least for the most part"

Dick gulped and everybody turned to look at him.

Some sent him empathetic looks while the rest simply smirked, knowing he'd mess up.

"Well, w-we were out on patrol when..." He glanced at you in Alfred's arms for a split second and that was all the Bruce needed.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Alfred.

He gasped and everybody, including you, braced themselves for an earfull.

But when nothing happened, they looked at him.

Instead of a fuming Bruce, they saw a sad Bruce.

You froze as he brought his hands and picked you up off of Alfred grip.

He pulled you close to his chest and silent tears began soaking into your hair.

Bruce was crying.

Bruce Wayne, Batman, was fucking crying.

"B-Bruce are you crying!?" Jason gasped.

"No, its just the rain"

"Father, it's not even-"

"Shh, let him have his moment" Dick slapped a hand over Damian's mouth just like Jason had.

Everybody stood awkwardly— some staring in awe— behind Bruce meanwhile you slowly melted into his touch.

When you arrived at the manor, you were just 3 years old— still a toddler.

Originally, he would've never adopted you but you were technically his child and he knew your mother would start a huge scandal if he didn't accept you.

But as time passed, he grew to fall in love with your bright and once innocent personality.

Sometimes he stays up in the middle of the night, remembering the times you were young and innocent and he just wishes he could go back in time and stop you from joining the vigilante life.

Sometimes he'd cry. Just like now.

He knew they'd probably make fun of him for it later but he didn't care— all he could think about was how his beautiful, innocent baby was back.

Even if it wasn't true, even if it was just for a split second, he loved it.

Suddenly, a loud ding rang from behind you and you turned to see what it was.

"Oh, the antidotes ready" Tim walked over to the bright green liquid in a bottle and gently picked it up.

"I thought you said it'd take an hour?"

"And I thought you said you wanted an antidote" he said sassily like the gay dude be was.

He turned on his heel and locked eyes with Bruce.

"Can I...?"

Bruce nodded his head and reluctantly pulled away from you before wiping his tears.

Tim thanked him briefly and scooped you up.

He propped you onto his lap and slowly fed the nasty green liquid into your mouth.

You held back a gag and nearly spat it out but you fought through it and drank it all.

Tim immediately pushed you off of him and set you down on the floor.

You were about to complain when you suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through your body as it grew to its original size.

You tried your best to bite back a groan and hunched over in pain.

It felt like you were burning from the inside out, like a million scorpions were biting every part of your body.

But thankfully it was only for a few seconds.

Alfred and a Tim rushed over to your weak form and helped you up.

"We'll take them to their room so they can rest, the antidote was painful" Tim explained.

They eventually disappeared up the stairs with you, leaving everybody else alone.

They all thought they were clear when Bruce suddenly spoke. "Well, who wants to tell me what happened?"

.

I'm not really proud of this fic but I hope yall were!

-toes

[redbird-tf]

Never leaving

Jason todd x (platonic) reader

Summary: Jason finds out you've gone missing following the escape of Joker. He won't allow the Joker to inflict on you what he suffered. Jason won't stop at anything to bring you home.

Word count: 950

Warning: angst

Jason was furious. he had just found out the Joker escaped Arkham again, but surprisingly that wasn't the main reason for his rage. You had gone missing three days ago. the whole bat family had been looking for you but not a single one had bothered to bring it up to Jason, typical. He had quite the altercation with Batman due to the fact.

“Why didn't you tell me!” He yelled throwing his fist in the bat’s direction. “It’s not like youre around much Jason” Bruce stated grabbing his wrist, Jason pulled back “This is different. You know me and y/n are closer,” he said through gritted teeth. “And jokers back, with her missing, and it's been a week. A goddamn week!” Jason screamed “We are doing our best Jason, i know what you-“Bruce was cut off “And you know if anyone can find him, it's me!” He pounded on his chest “And you'd be out of control!” Bruce shouted “And the last time you decided to do things your way with the Joker, i died. I won't let you do that to y/n. She doesn't deserve that”Jason put on his helmet and sped out of the batcave on his motorcycle

Jason wasn't very close with any of the bat's adopted family but you were different. You met Jason on a mission months after being taken in by Bruce. After that day you asked who he was and his story, and instead of being disappointed you understood. Apart of you agreed with the way he did things but the other half didn't want to disappoint Batman, he understood. You started spending your patrol nights with him and despite his hard-ass personality, you grew closer. You were the only one who treated him like true family. You were his little sister and he'd die all over again for you.

He didn't know what scared him more, you being dead or being alive with the Joker. Jason searched endlessly and picked up a pattern the Joker had left behind. He was holding you at a warehouse, originally clearly. Jason pinned the location and drove as fast as he could. When he arrived he kicked down the door storming into the dark room “You're going to ruin all the fun!” That to happy voice called. “Step out joker!” He yelled pulling out his gun. “Boo hoo, I've nearly gotten to teach her any manners” The joker stepped in front of Jason. Jason wasted no time knocking him on his ass. “Where is she?!” Jason demanded. “Now why would i tell you that? Don't worry I'll return her like new… like you” The Joker started to laugh. A loud bang was heard with silence following. Jason had killed the bastard with no regret.

Jason searched the warehouse calling your name, worry grew with every passing second until he reached the back where he found a locket door. He docked the door off its hinges and entered the room. “Y/n!” He screamed seeing your body weakly curled in the corner covered in blue and red. “Jason..” your voice rasp “Don't speak,” he said placing his jacket over your body as most of your suit had been ripped off. “It's my fault, i went after him alone” you began to cry “None of this is your fault! Now please be quiet and let me help you,” he said grabbing your shoulders. He bandaged what he could and hoisted you on his back, piggyback as he began to walk out.

“Shit” he mumbled seeing the batmobile in the distance. It stopped in front of him and Batman wasted no time making his way in front of Jason “You're late” Jason stated in a monotone voice. “What happened?” Batman asked “Same thing that happened last time, but i stopped it” Jason replied. “You killed him?” He asked “Don't worry, killing him the last 2 times didn't last long” Jason said with annoyance. “Y/ns coming home with me,” Bruce said holding out his arms. “I don't think so,” Jason said making his way to his bike “She needs medical Jason!” Batman yelled “I've learned,” Jason said throwing a mean glare. Jason sat the both of you on his bike wrapping your arms around his waist. “Y/n?” Batman questioned in a stern tone. “Jason..” you said weakly turning away from Bruce. Jason saw the hurt on his face “Call if you need anything” he said to Jason before turning back “Sure”

You groaned regaining consciousness, when you tried sitting up two hands softly pushed you back down onto the pillow “Stay down” a voice called. You slowly open your eyes seeing Jason stitch up your leg. He finished and softly placed down your leg “you might feel a little groggy from the anesthesia” he explained “Where are we?” You asked “My safe house, your safe here.” He said pulling the blanket over you. “Jason, he told me what he did to you…” Jason sighed tucking in the covers “Don't worry about me” he replied standing up. “I'll leave you to get some rest” he turned around but was quickly stopped by your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“I don’t wanna be alone” you whined “I'll just be across the hall” he explained removing your hand “Please Jason, don't leave me now” Your voice cracked and your eyes displayed a fear he knew all too well. He sat at the side of the bed. “I'll be here when you wake up,” he said whipping away your tears, you gave a weak smile before allowing yourself to drift to sleep. Jason gently took your hand into his, caressing his thumb over your knuckles, “i won't ever leave you”

[shortnsweetsposts]

Child!Damian: *Trying to hug Bat!reader*

Bat!reader: Leave alone, baby.

Child!Damian: *Looked up at Bat!reader with them big ol'eyes*

Bat!reader: ...

Bat!reader, starts ugly sobbing and hugged child!Damian back: YOU'RE MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Batfam: Oh wow

[nosyrobin]

Batsib!reader: Good responses for being stabbed with a knife?

Dick: Rude.

Damian: That’s fair.

Jason: Not again.

Tim : Are you going to want this back?

[rizzanon]

Undoing Fate

neglected to regressor batsis! reader x platonic batfam

what if after 20 years of neglect from your family full of vigilantes, you face an unfortunate death, only to find yourself regressed back to when you were 16?

⤷ lots of emotional neglect, reader was batgirl, reader was a tryhard and an overachiever, reader had no social life in her first life, mentions of drugs, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of death, regression themes, toxic and unhealthy relationships, dysfunctional family, toxic mentalities, reader and everyone else needs therapy…, canon divergence, major character death(s) | tba | based on this

⤷ info! (background) 1 | 2 | read this first to understand the plot and each batfam better :)

⤷ art!!! 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

⤷ if you’re bored m.list

00 | And she cried over nothing

01 | Sixteen again

02 | A quitter? | ?

03 | Everything is awesome…

04 | Until it’s not | .

05 | Untouched memories

06 | Another suffocating day

07 | — (8/2)

08 |

taglist is closed‼️

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(idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓) (or let me know if i accidentally spelt ur user wrongly 😭💀)

[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

So, pack up your car, put a hand in your heart, sing what ever you feel, be wherever you are

We ain't angry at you love. ⋆·˚ ༘ *

The pain of the neglected soul. Under the heavy mood lingering in the manor. An architectural design that screams wealth but is never wealthy with love and laughter. well, at least not to the second youngest child of Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy, the most powerful man in Gotham City.

Being a product of a mistake between an infamous prostitute and a well-known, almost "celebrity"-like man was not really an ideal life. Being shunned away by the woman who you call Mom, who's supposed to whisper sweet words to you and rock your fragile body back and forth to ease you of whatever you feel bad about, instead shoves you into the arms of an unknown man who's your supposed father. Yeah, that sucks.You've always adored your mom. Despite the horrible words she casually whispers to you - "you ruined me, kid"—you turn a blind eye to her actions and act deaf to her cruel words and instead pretend that she's the mom who loves you and adores you just as much as you do for her. Because it was better. It just was. Your brain can't really process the fact that your abusive mother can be abusive. No, not when she was the one who carried you for 273 days, birthed you, and gave you your name. A 5-year-old's brain can't possibly carry the thought of having that same woman hate you. So even when it was your birthday, you waited for her all day to come home and give you kisses and maybe a birthday cupcake or present. just for once, she comes home drunk, messy, and dizzy with a man on her arms while laughing feverishly. It crazy to think that was the most happiest you've seen her; she was always scowling when she was with you. Strange. Even so you greet her with a hug. "Momma, I've been waiting for you all day—" she cuts you off and tells you to get away from her and calls you this strange name "annoying" huh. Wonder what that means. And for the next hours you spend your birthday alone, in your bedroom. Awake and hungry. But it doesn't matter at least mom came home! Sometimes she doesn't even come home for a few days, but she came home today! That means she must love you. Only for a few days she stays at home with the strange man she brought home on the day of your birthday. It doesn't bother you, it was normal after all. She always do this and then after a few days the man's gone. Yeah, this is just temporary. You say as you clean the house full of dirty clothes and empty alcohol bottles. And then one night the strange man is yelling at your mom; screams filled the tiny apartment with smashing sounds of bottles echoing around the room. You're furious, and you want to defend the woman who you oh so lovingly call "mother" You push the man away, and it angers him. With his bloodshot eyes, he grabbed the bottle and smashed it at the side of your tiny head. You soon wake up in a large room with bright lights and thick white walls. Soon you find out that you're in a hospital; its so cool, it's the size of your living room! Maybe even bigger… Moments later you found out that your mother gave you up to some unknown man who is to be called your "father.". You thrash and scream against the nurse's hold and scream for your mommy, yet she never came.A strange man came and introduced himself. He said he was "Alfred" and said from now on he will take care of you. That's silly because no one in your entire life has had someone take care of you. Soon he drives you to a gloomy big house with lots of statues as Alfred proceeds to tell you that this will be your new home now. Different portraits adorn the walls, and shiny pottery and impressive works of art fill the house. Alfred soon introduced you to your father, Bruce Wayne. Now this is where it all starts. With your new home, hope sparked through your heart, and you believed that somehow, someway, maybe you'll be able to get the love that you have always longed for, yearned for, waited for.

Wrong.

Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, the most powerful man of Gotham, the heartthrob, the Batman, but never the father of y/n l/n. He doesn't even know you. Doesn't even try to acknowledge you and your hard work, desperate to try anything to make him pay attention to you. To give you the attention you crave and yearn for ever since you arrived at the comfort of his home. You weren't stupid. You knew who he was and his nightly activities. You understood. But what hurts was that despite this, he managed to give every. Single. One. Of his children, attention except you. Was it because you weren't like them? Was it because you didn't fight bad guys for a hobby? Or was it because he never deemed you worthy of his time? Why? Were all the things the kids and big adults whispered behind your back true? That you were a child of a whore and you were bound to become one too over a matter of time? Was it true you'll never compare to your siblings? Being compared to your siblings, who had so much talent and had their own special abilities that yours can't compare to, was draining—and partially true. Your little ballet classes can never impress bruce over his other children's combat skills, multilingual abilities, and genius calculations. And you learned to accept that over the years as you grew up.

Richard grayson, dick, the loving big brother, the family guy. Maybe he was a good guy. After all, he managed to acknowledge you for about 6 seconds one time! He even asked you about your ballet classes! Though that was only to distract his self before Damian came. Always the big brother and Lil brother duo! .. Despite being busy with being a full-time cop and a vigilante, he still makes time for family, the ones he considers as family. Not you, never you. Who were you kidding? Dick is the star of the show, and you're just another side character in his main character life! Just a plain, old, boring bystander. That's all you will ever be to little Richard Grayson's glam life story.

Jason todd was different. He was known as someone who was brutal and full of anger. So it was no problem for him to shove you and tell you off. He had no conscience in telling you to go away, and you liked that. You like the fact that at least he had the decency to not give you false hope. Jason todd hates you, and you know it. Jason todd is jealous of your normalcy and how oblivious you are to the danger of the world. In his eyes, you were his replacement; looking at you makes the green monster of envy crawl out of him and take his anger out on you. The way you are so vulnerable stirs something up inside of him, and he realizes that your eyes look just like his when he was full of wonder and innocence. It made him restless and irritated. It reminded him of his mistakes, foolishness, and those memories he buried deep inside his mind to save him from countless nightmares he desperately ran away from.

Timothy Drake, the genius Robin, the hero by choice, the prodigy son. You would be lying if you said that you weren't jealous of Tim at all. I mean, look at him! He's a genius, a hero, a heartthrob, and a role model to several youths of Gotham. He was exactly like Bruce, and I mean exactly like Bruce. His life revolved around solving crimes, fighting bad guys, acing all of his tests, and coffee. Anything was more important other than you. Sure! He has time to cuddle with his family for movie night (without you, of course) but never has the time to play video games with you. Everything seemed to send thrills to his veins and spark an interest in him except your very existence. If you were just a mere bystander in Dick's story, you weren't even in Tim's!

Cassandra. The girl of the family. You have always envied her. Not only was she the only girl of the family and doted on by every single one of your brothers, but you and she also shared the same interest. What's even more infuriating was that she didn't even have to try. She didn't have to beg countless times to have anyone attend her performances because they were all there. Even Jason, who hid in the shadows. They were all there to support her and show her the love you have always asked for, begged for. She swooned all of them with her dancing, and you can't help that maybe her hands are more gentle, maybe her feet are more pointed, maybe her posture is more straight than yours, maybe she's prettier than you, maybe she's more worth than you.

And finally. Damian al Ghul Wayne. The youngest son, the baby brother, the scarred child loved by his family. When Damian came into the manor, you were thrilled. You thought that maybe you and he could bond over the same trauma. Maybe finally someone can understand you.You thought wrong again. Damian thought you were weak and a disgrace to the bloodline of the Wayne family clan. He called you thousands of cruel names and insulted you whenever he had the chance to. He always belittled you and showed you no mercy, going as far as to drag the blade of his sword across your neck, drawing blood, just for him to cruelly laugh in your face and tell you that you are being dramatic. You forgave him. You were a good kid. Right? So why is it that a kid who made thousands of innocent lives bleed through his sword is sitting with his father—your father—on the couch, sleeping soundly on his chest? It's not fair.

They were never fair.

As Dick was checking the CCTV footage of the manor out of boredom, he managed to catch a glimpse of footage—about 2 weeks ago—of a person packing their bags and putting things from the manor into a box and leaving. It must be a thief! But that's impossible. The manor has many securities that even a skilled assassin could not pass through the gates; it's impossible. Unless…Dick took another glance at the footage and zoomed in on the screen and squinted his eyes. And for a second, his breath hitched and his heart pumped fast, his hand trembled, and his eyes dilated.

It can't be.

[rainnyydaysworld]

Reader: How do you know how to kiss? Like who teaches you?

Jason: Well it’s actually a class, but unfortunately it’s full right now.

Jason: Would you like me to tutor you?

Dick: That was smooth.

—

Tim: How did none of you hear what I just said?!

Steph: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Reader: I got distracted halfway through.

Damian: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

—

Jason: BE A BETTER PERSON!

Reader: WHY?!

Jason: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

—

Dick: I feel like the world would be better if I'd never been born.

Jason: Aw... that's not true.

Jason: It'd be exactly the same.

Jason: You're not important.

—

Reader: You’re drunk.

Tim: Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Reader.

[luvly-writer]

You should be (afraid)

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: This IS the last chapter, damn....Thank God, the next one shot is one I am excited for but babes that gonna have to wat till tomorrow. Imagine Y/n's clothes like this and this but instead of red, it is green. ( yes im an ATLA fan and yes it its inspired by Azula)

Warnings: Language?

Part 1 // Part 2

---

You double-checked your hair as you looked in the mirror. The day had come when you would only be known as Y/n Al Ghul, heir to the Demon Head and future Leader of the League of Assassins. It was difficult to grasp if you were quite honest. Per your request, the League had changed headquarters. Nanda Parbat was no longer safe so you had advised of getting one of the old abandoned cities of the League and turning the temple into headquarters with the rest of the city becoming a safe place for all of the servants and assassins. It was surrounded by water and walls with constant surveillance, meaning that no one could get in or out without people knowing. You were never going to forget the day that you came back, the surprise on your grandfather's face as you got to your knees and pledged allegiance to the League. He wasn't convinced at first but came around as you solidified your loyalty. You were no longer a Wayne like Damian. You were an Al Ghul

// "Leave us." Ras's voice carried out across the room. Your mother looked at you and gave you a reassuring nod before she left. As the room emptied, you were starting to feel nervous. Was this the right decision or were you too impulsive? "Explain to me, once again, child. Why are you here?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. You summon all of the courage you had in your body and stand up. "I came to reclaim my birthright as the rightful heir to the Demon Head," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady. "Is that so? Why the change of heart?" I hesitated to answer and he saw right through me. His knowing smirk gave it away. "Tired of being part of the birds and the Bats it seems. It is very curious how only one came back. You and your brother were inseparable. Should I expect a visit from him as well? To rescue his sis-" "No." I interrupted him and he seemed taken back "No?" "I was never part of their…team. My brother formed great loyalty and attachment to them, but I did not. They…" "Go on" "They rejected me the day I arrived, yet accepted my brother. I have been forgotten, ignored, and cast aside from the moment that I became present in that household. I only hold care for one of them and even he wasn't enough to make me stay." Ras stayed quiet for a moment. "So what my daughter has been telling me is correct after all. It wasn't just that she missed you. Well, then. Let me make you a proposition. You have three months to make me believe you are capable of being my heir. If you succeed, you will begin training solely for the purpose of being my successor. Were you to not prove yourself, you would leave at once. Have I made myself clear, child?" Ras never was one for empty threats and promises, so all she could do was nod. "You are dismissed. Tell your mother to meet me here. We have a few things to discuss" he dismissed you, "Oh and child?" You looked towards him hopefully. "It is good one of you came back to your senses. Don't disappoint me" And thus began the most excruciating three months of your life. //

You were surprised at how well you had adjusted to the League after coming back. Sure, those three months were harsh, but they weren't bad. You were thankful that you picked up a demanding sport such as ice skating. You weren't sure how you'd survive otherwise. Your mother would spar with you any time she visited so your skills weren't too rusty. After sharpening what had been there once again, which had taken you a month and a half, you were able to take assassins from the highest of ranks. Once your grandfather was satisfied, thus began your preparation for a leader. You were a natural. Your role was to follow your grandfather, grant him counsel, and even take part in some of the decision-making processes. Once, your grandfather had even gotten close to saying he was proud. Even went to say (in between the lines of course) that you had been able to surpass your brother in preparation. Since then, you understood that you no longer lived in Damian's shadow. A year had passed soon and your grandfather had announced that we would have a special coronation where you would be proclaimed as Heir.

That brought us here, to your coronation day. Your armor was specifically made to tailor you and your comfort for battle. Your hair, which had gotten quite long, was pulled into an intricate braid so that your face would be visible. You felt strong and that brought a smile to your face.

"You look radiant, my dear" you hear your mother say from behind you. "Thank you, Mother" You responded as she stood in front of you and caressed your face tenderly.

"Ma'am, you have some visitors" A voice was heard from outside the door. One of your assistants went to open the door and lo and behold…your family was there.

They entered slowly, one by one. Each suited up. "Beloved, those are not ceremonial robes" your mother reprimanded Damian, but he wasn't focused on her. He was focused on you.

"So, it is true then, sister," Damian asked feeling the air leave his chest. You were there, but it wasn't you. It couldn't be you. You were soft, kind, gentle, and tame, and you never raised your voice, you were you and this wasn't you. You looked stronger that's for sure. He wouldn't be surprised if their grandfather was injecting something into you. You looked like a member, no, scratch that, you looked like the heir. From the way you stood, with a sight upward til in your head, to the way you dressed. There was a sharpness in your eyes that told him that Ras had not been soft in your teachings.

"What is, Robin," you asked steadily. Gone was the girl who cried over her lost brother. Damian wouldn't admit it but he was hurt. Hearing you call him by his alias so coldly stung in ways he couldn't imagine.

"You truly are becoming the next Head of the Demon, Y/n?" This time the question came from Dick. The last months have been hell for all of them after the shock of your departure. It was as if someone had splashed all of them with a bucket of cold water and brought them back to reality. They had all visited your room at least once, would continually watch your ice skating videos, and would look at footage of you in the manor from the last years. They had desperately searched for a semblance of you in the entirety of the manor.

"Yes. What's it to you, Nightwing?" She responded once again coldly.

"Alfred misses you," It was Jason who spoke up this time. It was jarring to see the girl he once treated as his precious princess following the footsteps of someone so wretched.

"At least someone does. I couldn't visit because of my training. Once the ceremony is finalized, I will have more time and I will visit him" "So you will visit us at the manor-" "I will visit Alfred only. I have no other reason to do so," She interrupted Tim, with a heated gaze.

"What about your dreams of becoming a professional, (nickname)? It was all you ever wanted, you worked so hard for that. We all know, we all saw. This is not wh-"

"What do you know of me, Damian? What do any of you know about me?! We both arrived at the same. Time. And it appeared as if only you were there! Everyone favored you over me and why? Because you were fucking Robin and I wasn't? I tried to reach out. I invited you everywhere, I searched for you all everywhere, I asked and asked and the only thing that I ever received in return was disdain and silence. I only wanted to be loved, LOVED DAMIAN! What you got and I didn't! And if I tried to speak out, I was hushed because I had to be understanding of your processes. I WAS A CHILD HONED AS A WEAPON TOO. I went through everything you did too! And did any of you ever recognize that? NO! You stopped knowing me the moment you forgot you had a twin. You stopped knowing me when I came back and all of you were celebrating OUR birthday as if it was only you. You lost me the moment that you preferred seeing Jon over watching me compete at Nationals. You lost me when you left to see the Titans and I had to find out weeks later. You lost me when you decided that the love they gave you was yours alone and that I didn't deserve a fraction of it." She ranted and with her every word, Damian took a step back.

"You were always out training or with your friends-"

"Don't try to pin this on me, Damian Wayne. You all pushed me away." Y/n scoffed. "I invited you here because you are my mother's son. Not because I wanted you here. They were invited cordially because they are your family. Don't mistake my act of respect as an act of love."

"There are other ways, Y/n" Batman tried to intervene. Even if it didn't show, Bruce was hurting. He was deeply ashamed and disappointed at how things had turned out.

A bell sounded, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. Y/n straightened her back and turned towards her mother, a small smile present in her face. That smile, as much as it softened everyone's hearts, hardened the moment she turned to them,

"Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin, I will only say this once. I lack the care and mercy my grandfather and mother seem to have for you, with the small exception of Alfred and my brother. I will take this mantle. I will become the Heir to the Demon Head and I will be the next Leader of the League of Assassins. Those are facts that you will have to deal with. If you are here to cause a commotion, then I suggest you leave. I will not tell my assassins to hold back on their ways. If you'd like to stay, so be it. Enjoy the festivity. Have it very clear. I want all of you out. Of. My. Way. once I am the head. This is my birthright and I want it to have nothing with all of you." She started looking at Batman dead in the eye. "Nothing."

"My lady, everyone is expecting you" Came a voice from outside.

"Well, then. Let's go dear. You wouldn't want to have your grandfather waiting would you? Destiny awaits" said Talia as she ushered Y/n out of the room. She never spared a glance at the five men standing in front of her.

That day, they all watched from the sidelines as their sister was proclaimed Heir. Damian had failed and he was going to make sure he NEVER failed again. He was going to do everything in his power to fix the bridges that had been burnt with his sister. As much as Bruce wanted to reassure Damian that everything would be okay, he couldn't. It became clear to him that from now on when interacting with the League, they had to be extremely careful because his daughter could easily become as much an ally as she could be a formidable opponent. He never thought he'd say it but he was afraid of what his little girl could become.

---

Author's note: YES!!! I FINISHED IN ONE NIGHT!!! YESSSSS LAWRD!!!! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK!! I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU ALL SAY!! LIKE AND REPOST! BESITOSSS!!

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x Gn! Reader

Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 (You're here)

Chapter 5

"Hey Dick" Bruce called to his oldest son when he saw him in the kitchen while he was preparing a bowl of cereal

"Yeah Bruce?" Dick answered but his attention was still on his cereal

"Have you heard from (Name)?" the eldest asked

"Uh..." he kept thinking, remembering who you were until something finally clicked in his mind "Oh yeah! No, I haven't heard from them, maybe in their room?" he suggested, not giving it any importance

"Yeah, that would be the most logical answer if they hadn't moved" Bruce sighed

"What?" for the first time Dick turned to look at him surprised

"Yeah... They've been gone for a while now" Bruce explained

"But why?" Dick asked

"Well... I have to admit that I haven't been the best father to them..." he said a little embarrassed

"Oh Bruce..." Dick was about to start scolding him

"I really don't need you to scold me right now" Bruce growled

"Fine..." Dick sighed and stood up "And why are you looking for them?"

"I need to talk to them about everything" he explained "And... and apologize to them for all these years"

Dick didn't like to see any of his family sad or stressed like Bruce.

And yet he never noticed you

So he put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed him a little to try and comfort him.

"I'll help you look for them. Have you checked their room yet?"

"Yeah I already checked it and there's nothing, literally speaking" Bruce sighed

"Well maybe you missed something. You're not the only one in the family who's a detective" he smiled and the older man smiled back

"Thanks, chum" he patted him on the back affectionately

"You're welcome, old man" Then both men separated to look for the missing family member

Dick pulled out his phone and sent a message to the chat group he had with his brothers.

In which you were not included of course

Asking for a quick little meeting, that way, if everyone helped look for you all this would end quickly and they could make it up to you. Even though Dick didn't say it, knowing that you had left and hadn't told anyone and adding the fact that he now felt guilty because he paid you a lot (nothing) of attention.

"Let me understand Dickhead so..." Jason spoke "You called us, saying that this was urgent just to tell us to help you and Bruce look for (Name)?"

To tell the truth, everyone thought it was silly that Dick called them, you were a teenager, most likely you were doing something outside the mansion, you would return home soon.

"I'm sorry to tell you this Dick but, I think you're exaggerating" said Tim

"For the first time I can agree with Drake" said Damian "I have more important things to do than looking for them"

"I know, I know, but this is urgent not only for Bruce but for me too" said Dick "And why are you looking for them?" asked Stephanie

"Look..." Dick sighed "They... they... they left the mansion and Bruce Is nervous"

"They left? Why?" asked Tim

"Did you call them?" asked Cassandra

"Bruce tried but it seems they changed their number" Dick sighed

"You didn't answer Tim's question" said Jason "Why did they leave?"

"Perhaps because they never felt part of this family, Master Jason" said a voice behind them, it was Alfred who had been listening to the little meeting

"Huh? Why do you say that Pennyworth?" asked Damian

"Oh it is probably because you just decided to ignore them since they came to the mansion" said Alfred as if it was obvious

"Hey! That's not true, I used to spend time with them" Jason defended himself

"And then what happened, Master Jason?" asked Alfred and looked at him a little irritated

"Uhh... I died and then came back from the dead...?" laughed Jason nervously

"Nonsense" said Alfred and then left Jason sighed and stood up.

"How do we help, Dick?"

Jason felt like a complete jerk. How could he have pushed you aside? You were still a child for God's sake! And yet he didn't care and pushed you aside when he came back from the dead, being more focused on his revenge against Bruce and Tim. He also felt a little proud, proud that he was always the closest to you, even if it has been a while SInce then. He remembers how you looked at him in admiration in his days as Robin, how your eyes lit up when he did a stunt and how you followed him around the mansion like you were a duckling. Alfred had even taken a picture of you following him around. The simple memory made him smile. He should ask Alfred if he still has the photo. He was in your room, inspecting it like it was a crime scene but he had to admit, you were Bruce's child. This room was completely clean and it looked like no one had lived in it for years if it weren't for the fact that the walls were painted (f/c). It was like If you didn't want to be found. That made Jason let out a small chuckle, you would have been a great vigilante, if only they had given you the chance. He shook his head, trying to get those negative thoughts out of his mind and focus on his search instead. He checked every corner of your room and nothing. It seemed like you just vanished.

"Shit!" He slammed his fist on the floor as he crouched down, checking under your bed. "Where the fuck are you?”

"Keep checking their room, Master Jason?" said a voice behind him, it was Alfred who was looking at him with the same neutral face.

"Yeah," Jason sighed and stood up.

After a few seconds of silence, Jason turned to look at Alfred and asked:

"Alfred... Do you happen to have the photo you took of (Name) and me when we were kids? The one where they followed me like a duckling?”

"Yes, I have the photo, Master Jason, but I can show you more. Please follow me," said the butler as he turned around and left the room.

Jason looked at him in surprise, but without saying anything he followed him. They reached the attic of the great mansion. There were millions of boxes in that place in which they had different things that belonged to the inhabitants of Wayne Manor. Alfred began to move some boxes until he took out a specific one that had your name on it.

"What is this?" Jason asked.

"This is a box, Master Jason" Alfred said as he handed him the box.

"And it contains some things that used to belong to (Name)”

Jason looked at the box in amazement, it didn't weigh much but it didn't weigh little either but it seemed well preserved despite the time.

"Thank you Alfred" he said and then came down from the attic with the box in his arms.

Jason walked into the living room so he could see the contents of the box without any problem. He didn't know where to start but decided to grab a long but thin book. When he saw the cover his eyes widened in surprise, because that book was a photo album.

On the first pages of the album there were ultrasound images that started from the third month. There was even a 3D ultrasound in which you could see the baby's face. Jason smiled at the image and ran his fingers over the photo. He remembered your smile, it was tender and warm and always relaxed him after a hard mission or a fight with Bruce.

On the next page there was information about your birth, your weight and height and other information. There was also a compartment in which there was a small sock that would only fit a newborn baby. The young man smiled more when he saw that small garment that used to be yours, he put it back in the small compartment of the book and continued exploring. From that page, there were photos, the first ones were of your mother and another man, your mother was sitting on the hospital bed with the man next to her while he held you. Both adults looked completely happy while you slept. In another picture you were in the arms of your mother who looked tired but no less happy, the background of the picture seemed to be a baby's room. And in a third one you were in the arms of that man again, he was lifting you up in the air while you laughed, the man laughing in the same way. Jason could imagine the sound of your laughter at that age and it just made his heart beat a little faster.

He kept looking at more pictures of you, your first steps, playing with some pet you had back then, eating (although it was actually a mess but he found it cute) and then there was the picture of your first birthday, you were still so small, but you could see the excitement on your face when you saw the candle on your birthday cake, next to you your mother and that man again. He should have Tim investigate who that man was.

Jason kept looking at pictures of your first years of life, your first Christmas, your first Halloween, your first day at daycare, your first friends. Throughout the album you could see how you were growing up full of happiness, well that was until you got to the photo of your fourth birthday. From that photo on, your mother and that man didn't appear anymore, but instead there were photos of your arrival at Wayne Manor.

At first there were only photos of the great mansion and its hallways, the beautiful handwriting that was written in the previous titles was replaced by that of a small child. Throughout the following pages there were only photos of the property and the animals and there was only one photo where you appeared but now with Alfred, both smiling. You got to the photo of your fifth birthday, thinking that it was Bruce or Dick in that photo but it seems that wasn't the case. You were five, six, seven, eight years old and in your birthday photos there were only you and Alfred, that didn't seem to change despite time. On the next page, Jason was surprised to find pictures of him and you, it was when he had just become Robin and spent a lot of time with you, from photos where Jason was training, cooking with Alfred, reading, and even him teaching you how to fight. Even though those photos were extremely beautiful in his eyes, his favorite had to be the photo in which he appeared with Alfred and (Name) at his 9th birthday party. He smiled at the photograph and took it in his hands, being honest, he didn't remember that until he saw the photo again and your smile made Jason's heart flutter again. With more energy he began to look at the album and each time he appeared less in the photos until he reached your 10th birthday, but he was no longer there, again it was just Alfred and you.

"What...? No no no no no..." Jason muttered agitatedly as he looked through the album

He wasn't in any pictures anymore, nor was his family, it was just you and Alfred again and on more occasions it seemed like more people he didn't know, probably your friends.

"Fuck!" he yelled in frustration and put his face in his hands

Did he really just push you aside so foolishly? No... He had to fix it.

After all HE was your favorite brother

And HE was going to make it up to you

He was going to make it up to you for all those years he left you alone

And he was going to find you, after all, he was trained by the world's greatest detective.

How hard can It be finding you?

Hello! First of all... HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you all have a wonderful 2025! And of course I wanted to thanks to all of those people that have supported this story even If it has been just a couple of months.

Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Personally I think it was kinda short but to be honest I didn't had a bunch time to write but oh well.

If you have questions about the story, a comment (respectfully) or even ideas I would be more than happy to know or answer them in any case.

I send all of you a big hug!

-Izadi <3

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[formerplumi]

( crow choir. entry one ) ── dust of snow ( m.s | prev/next )

author's note at the end

you have three brothers- no, two brothers. you’ve only heard of the third. you can hardly think of them as such, feeling traitorous to your old family… families. but you are also a lonely child, so you give them permission to be props of your plain life.

the eldest, with stark blue eyes and dimples at his near-permanent smiles is named richard grayson. he’d given you a warm grin the day you arrived, that somewhat wavered at the blank look you hoped you gave him. you don’t talk to him, but sometimes you wish you did.

you know nothing of the second, apart from his first name; jason. the usual answers to unasked questions, that piece together via general conversations, don’t form here, and you can’t be bothered to ask. you wonder where he is, does he not come to visit?

the youngest of the three is younger than you too, tim drake the butler says, by maybe one or two years, you never tried to figure it out. he came to the house about a few months after you arrived, but seems far more involved with bruce’s business than you ever will be (ever hope to be). there’s a familiar twitch to his brows, and you relate it to old inquisitive roommates, the ones that tried to figure you out without asking questions and always gave up eventually. 

it's a relief he doesn't even try at all.

it does feel a little odd, to not have to talk to anyone just to shoo them away. you strangely miss it, the feeling of being irritated at bothersome small talk. in the silence of the manor, which had not much for a child to do, you start to feel lonely

you've never felt lonely before. alone, yes, isolated, absolutely, but lonely? you've never wanted company. not from anyone who wasn't... forget it.

and thus, you're in an odd situation. you want to be a part of the family, but you have no interest in talking to them. why, the mere idea makes you sweat all over, and you prefer your few meals in your room.

you don't like it. wanting so badly to converse with your brothers, get to know them the way you knew your old previous foster-care siblings, but not being able to.

in your old houses, the children would be somewhat put into forced proximity, there was no choice other than to call out for company. you'd gotten absurdly used to being reached out to without having to do it yourself. your brothers must be busy, or you must be too quiet for them to notice you around.

so with all the courage you could muster, you crept up to an idle older brother, visiting after so long from bludhaven. you might implode from the short moment where he looked at you with confusion, not knowing who you are, before giving you a awkward smile of acknowledgement. no matter, it's not his fault.

he nods off your subtle attempt at asking for his time, maybe you're not being clear enough? it's enough to put you off, so you leave quickly after he gives you a small promise to talk later, maybe get out of the house for a while.

it's such a small thing, but it makes you embarrassed. you try to build up a little stubbornness, and look to find tim. but when you find him immersed deeply in a book, a journal of some sort, you decide otherwise and leave.

it's okay. you'll try again! when you're feeling better. better and livelier.

livelier.

your patterned quilt does little to keep away the monstrous cold of gotham's winter nights, and does it wreck though your nerves and leave you shivering.

the butler; alfred, had given you a good understanding of the room's systems, yet another thing that'd take time to get used to, and you knew the switches that would connect your vents to the central heating system.

but it feels so surreal, and the familiarity of huddling into your own ice cold limbs for warmth is a comfort you can't let go off just yet. you mustn't allow these new privileges to make you forget who you are. what you are, and what you deserve.

you recall a young boy in one of your old homes, discussing earnestly with your 'sisters' about what he'd do if he had all of gotham's money. the prospect of being filthy rich had always irked you to a small degree, to be well-off when others struggle. was it guilt? 

he'd gone on and on about the different things he'd get. a curly-haired poodle, a shining red bicycle, clothes that made him look like a proper gentleman, from a gentler city. you wonder solemnly where he is now, wishing you could share the fortunes you've been shoved into with him. someone who wanted it, deserved it.

deserving... deserving something is odd. whatever makes an individual deserving of something? the hardships they recieve, and the hardships they pass out?

you don’t remember your mother, having gained metaphorical consciousness at the age of six, when your sister started taking care of you instead. you made out from her teary, drunk mumblings that she was an awfully sophisticated woman. she’d colour herself with red blushes and redder lip stains, wear family jewels she refused to sell to her ‘business’ meetings. thin-framed glasses with the eyes of a vixen’s. 

what your sister muttered most about was her many nights away from home. one-sided conversations that plunged a small anchor to your heart, because you knew you were a product of one of them. 

when she was in a bitter mood, your sister never shied away from berating you for your existence. she, unlike you, was born in wedlock. yes, to an unhappy couple, who threw picture frames and cheap souvenirs at each other before splitting up, but she knew her father.

a ridiculously strange thing to hold above one’s head. “i knew my absent father. no one knows yours.” but your depraved heart and dull mind took it so deeply. so, so deeply. 

were those hardships? did you deserve them? others have it worse, right? so do you deserve this? this wealth?

now that you do know your father, you can’t help but resent the idea of knowing. did he know? that he left his child to an unbecoming family and an irresponsible sister? did he know that the guilt of starving your sister to eat yourself made you so incredibly weak-minded at the idea of being full? did he know that you refuse to switch the heater on in the cold, because you don’t know if your old foster siblings got the same luxury? all while the elites of gotham stay in their glasshouses with their rose gardens and wine cupboards.

you can’t put your finger to it. it’s not jealousy, it’s not resentment, it’s not hatred for his absence so far… is it guilt?

you don't know what to do with this abundance of luxury. you’ve lived a lifetime of pet mice from old caretakers, mice that died from the dust that creeped out of cracked floor boards and owls that haunted your window sills. a lifetime of reminiscing about a sobbing woman in your apartment, thinking about all your promises of providing a better life for her, only for her to die in front your eyes. a lifetime of wondering why mommy didn’t come back. why daddy's never there. who daddy even is.

someone else should have it. someone else should have the option to ask the butler for a piece of chocolate pastry at an odd time. to know about their father after countless days of not knowing him. to feel pretty in new dress suits after years of wearing the same two sets of clothes every week.

someone who deserves it more.

your sister.

you miss her.

small events make you change too fast for even your own liking. small things made you so desperately attached to your big sister, small things made you so frightened, so ill, to try to talk to brothers who barely knew you only by your shadow. small things made you tolerate your father more, and mourn the fact you couldn't ever connect to him the way the others did.

small, small things. that troubeled you too much, made you decide it was time to leave. running away from reality in the comfort of your mind when you zone out, is not much different from physically running away, right? troublesome things are not worth the trouble. so you'll run away, and you'll be free. of duties you were never given.

yet another one of gotham’s teenage misfortunes. who leaves a home of riches with a light mind, with the desires of soaring through lost years in gotham like the daftest of pigeons, with no worries or vows. they leave a home of blood and bonds with a heavy heart, lamenting that this time, the choice to leave a permanent, forever family lay on them. they left unspoken conversations unsaid, and imaginary memories within their imagination.

...but, these conversations, these fake memories, become the objects of obsession, for those left behind.

where's the little crow who stalked the corridors, whose naive, cloudy eyes watched from behind walls?

alfred, where's (name)?

INTERACTIONS AND REBLOGS VV APPRECIATED !! incase it was unclear, the sections jump around in the timeline. i did want to leave it to reader interpretation, but since this is the footer, there's no harm in explaining. "you have three brothers..." and "your patterned quilt does little..." are interchangeable within the plot. both are placed after tim's given the mantle of robin, but before jason's re-entry as the red hood. the last part however, is well after both, and damian's entry. anyway you can consider this entry as like, a vague plot summary? there's a lot that happens in between and after, most of the story is about after, but i like setting the ground for this stuff.

once again, if you are interested in the series, do interact! comments, reblogs, etc are so appriciated, to anyone who posts on tumblr! i'll try to get the next entry in soon, but i can't confirm anything!

thank you for reading!!

[itheunknown]

odi et amo - (00) prologue

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam masterlist / next

maybe you deserve this.

maybe you deserve every bad thing that's happened to you.

your aunt was right, bad kids don't get to be happy.

maybe it was your fault.

you never knew your parents. all you were told was that you were a product of a "fling", a mistake, you weren't supposed to be. your mother passed during childbirth, your dad has never been in the picture - so it was up to your aunt to take on that burden.

she believed it should have been you that died in that delivery room, you believe it too.

you grew up without a proper parental figure, without love, never knowing what it's like to be wanted. you were wrong to seek it from your aunt, but you don't really resent her for that - your mother was her only family left, and her dear sister was taken away by your very own existence.

maybe you deserve this.

you would eventually get used to growing up without love, expectations would only lead to disappointment.

you weren't disappointed when your aunt was harsh to you.

you weren't disappointed when she turned to alcoholsim to cope.

you weren't disappointed when you had to practically raise yourself and look after her.

and you certainly weren't disappointed when she full sped into a tree, instantly killing her.

you can't. you deserve this.

now, as you sit in the station, ringing in your ears, your injuries nursed as you unfortunately survived, is when you finally know the identity of your father:

bruce. fucking. wayne.

you should have died with your aunt.

digital footprint about to be crazy... forgive me for any grammatical mistakes or typos!! i am so bad at public speaking letmeknowifthisisadequeteiguess...

[toecrust69]

Can i request a gn!reader who’s been trained to be a weapon most of their life so they’re not really good with feelings? They’ve been adopted by the batfamily and they get hurt on a mission, they hide and stuff but dick or Jason (maybe both?) finds out, and like kinda scold them for not saying anything and ask why they would keep this a secret. The reader replies something ‘I just didn’t think it was a big deal’ IT WAS A BIG DEAL. So it’s just fluff and angst😇. You can end it with them having a movie night after patching reader up to feel better? You can change somethings up if it crosses your boundaries! <3

Hurt

Warnings: mild mentions of violence and wounds, cussing, mentions of past trauma, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of an old abusive home, bad writing, animal abuse. Please let me know if I miss anything

A/n: Hello and tysm for requesting!! I just wanted to let you know that if you are in an abusive relationship or family, you are not alone. If you are sensitive to content like this, please leave (respectfully ofc)

Enjoy!!

You pressed yourself up against the rough alley wall, clutching your side in pure pain as tears threatened to fall down your face.

You squinted your eyes shut and gritted your teeth to hold back a grutal scream of pain and slid down the wall.

You were just out on patrol, as usual, when you heard various voices, laughter, and whines from the very same alley you layed in now; soaked in your own blood.

Without a second thought, you dove down into the alleyway. You immediately realized what was going on.

There were five men surrounding what seemed to be a puppy with various wounds.

You frowned. Damian would not have been happy if he saw this.

The men turned to look at you and you could tell some of them were panicked while the rest simply smirked and stared you down.

A large fight ensued between you and three of the men while the other two stood by and watched while also making sure the puppy wouldn't escape.

You took note of this and kicked down one of the men I the direction of the other two, causing him to stumble back, bringing the two with him.

The puppy escaped but you couldn't.

Soon they were all fighting you, and it was a bit too much for you to handle.

They kicked you over and over on your sides, punched you, spat at you, and even stabbed you.

You barely won the fight, and now you stared down at their bloody, unconscious bodies in pure hatred.

You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed and upset with yourself.

Since the moment you were born, you were trained to be a weapon similar to Damian.

You absolutely hated it and you were more than happy when Bruce took you in, but you still felt ashamed any time you were beat in a fight.

You remember how your parents used to severely punish you any time you'd fail a mission or training.

They never held back when it came to your punishments. Even when you were a toddler.

They'd punch and kick you just like the men had and you fucking hated it.

You hated how it brought you back to those dark memories and you hated how it reminded you that you'd never fully recover from it.

Your new family always tried to convince you that'd things were different now; that you were safe.

You'd always try to believe them but there was always that lingering feeling that you were never good enough.

There was always a tiny little voice that screamed and yelled at you about how useless, weak, and annoying you were.

There was always that little voice that told you how much of a burden you were to your new and old family.

But that wasn't the problem right now.

The problem right now was how you'd get back to the batcave/manor without getting caught and interrogated by Bruce or any one of your other family members.

You scouted out for an idea in your head when you finally got one.

Damian, Bruce, and Tim were still out on patrol and Jason and Dick weren't even in the city.

So all you had to do was walk in through the front door with your spare key and pray that Alfred wasn't going to see you.

'Perfect ', you thought.

You searched for your keys in your pocket until you finally got them.

Bruce gave it to you the first time you arrived a couple months ago, claiming that it'd help keep you safe.

You never really understood what he meant but you didn't really mind.

You sloppily fit the key into the whole and twisted it until you heard the familiar click of the door unlocking.

You cracked the door open and peeked in to see if anybody was around, and thankfully, there wasn't.

You fully pushed the door in and stepped in.

Closing the door behind you, you propelled yourself towards the grand stairs.

You immediately froze in your tracks when you heard two muffled voices coming closer towards your direction.

Who could that be? Nobody except aflred was home and these were two voices.

'Was it an intruder? ' You thought and immediately got into your fighting stance, fists up, ready to fight.

The voices inched closer and closer when you realized they sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

You held your stance when the owners of the voice stepped into your field of vision.

'Fuck! ' You immediately began panicking when you realized who it was. Dick and Jason.

They were about to ask you a question when you beat them to it. "What the fuck are you doing here!?".

"We should be asking you that" Jason retorted and you rolled your eyes.

You went back to your normal stance, trying to ignore the painful sting in your feet and arms.

Dick ignored Jason and turned you, signaling you to answer first.

You sighed in annoyance and began explaining your lie you made up on the way here. "I forgot my batarangs and came back here to get them".

They both gummed and not-so-subtly glanced at one another, clearly looking through your plain lie.

"Your lying," Jason stated plainly, "Tell us the truth"

But you completely ignored and asked once again; "now what are you two doing here?".

They frowned.

"If we tell you, will you tell us the truth?" Dick asked and you thought for a second.

You were already in too deep— there was no coming back.

So, you reluctantly nodded your head in agreement.

"Bruce called us in for an emergency meeting." Jason said plainly. "There. Now tell us the truth".

You hung your head low and noticed how your hands seemed to have had a seizure from all the shaking it was doing.

You felt as if they'd yell and punish your if you told them the truth. You knew that wasn't the case; you knew they weren't like that, but you couldn't help it.

Tears threatened to come falling down when you thought of another lie. Hopefully theyd believe you this time.

"I felt a bit tired and decided to come back early." You said a bit too quickly. "Goodnight" you murmered before rushing up the stairs and to your room.

They called after you to come back but you only ignored them and sped up.

Excruciating pain shot through your body with every step you took, but you couldn't care less.

Your hand barely touched the door handle when another one put a hand over yours, stopping you from opening the door anymore.

You looked up and saw Jason, jaw clenched as he stared into your soul.

Feeling a small bit of pressure on your shoulder, you looked and saw yet another big, rough hand rested upon your shoulder. Dick.

You shrinked the longer they stared at you until one of them spoke.

"What happened" Jason asked once again, voice as cold as his stare. Actually, he wasn't even asking, he was demanding.

You gulped and your eyes darted around the room but was quickly interrupted by another deep voice.

"Answer the question" Dick said coldly and you knew that there was no going back now.

You let go of the handle with a shaky breath and turned to face the two of them. Their arms were crossed as they stared down at you and you swore you felt tiny little bugs crawling up and down your entire body.

"D-do you promise not to be mad?" You asked in a small, shaky voice.

They were a bit taken back for a second but quickly recovered; hoping you didn't see their faces.

"Of course not" Dick reassured.

You still felt a bit uneasy about telling them what actually happened but you knew they'd never actually judge you.

"I was attacked by 5 men during patrol. I was trying to fight them off but I wad too weak," tears were now falling out your eyes and down your face. "I'm sorry" your voice was small like a mouse at the end.

Their icey gazes immediately warmed up as they began trying to reassure you.

"It's okay, there's no need to apologize" dick said as he brought his hands up to wipe your tears away with the pads of his thumb.

He held your face between both his hands and you couldn't help but lean into the unfamiliar touch.

"Are you hurt?" Jason asked

"Yeah... just a bit".

"Why did you tell us?" Jason asked in what seemed to be a hurt voice.

"I didn't think it was a big deal" you admitted sheepishly and dug your face more into Dicks hands as if trying to hide from your emberasment.

The truth was the complete opposite.

You knew it was a big deal but you didn't want to bother or burden anybody— especially not your brothers— with your wounds.

It was fucking painful but you thought you could patch yourself up.

You didn't need any help, right?

Right.

They were completely and utterly shocked— what do you mean no big deal!? This was a huge deal to them.

"What do you mean 'no big deal'!?" Jason asked, almost mockingly.

Dick scowled and sent him a glare, signaling at him to shut up.

A huge wave of guilt washed over Jason, but he didn't show it. "Sorry" he mumbled sheepishly.

"C'mon, let's take you to the medical room" he whispered into your ear as he lead you down the stairs and towards the batcave.

They placed you onto the small bed and in the bright florescent light, they could tell your injuries were definitely more than a big deal.

Blood covered your mask and suit. They could tell your leg especially hurt considering most of the blood came from there and your abdomen.

They didn't even understand how you even managed to walk— let alone up the stairs.

"Get me the med-kit" Jason demanded, pointing at Dick then the nearby meditation.

He was back in a flash with the med-kit and set it down beside you.

Jason opened it immediately and pulled out all the materials he needed.

Jason was always better when it came to patching up wounds compared to Dick. It was mostly because Jason got more hurt than Dick did during patrol, even though he'd never admit it.

His hands were fast but gentle as he began patching you up.

You had a high pain tolerance, so it only stang when he pressed the alcohol against your wounds.

Once he was finally done, he put away all the materials and turned to face you along with Dick.

You had since stopped crying and began pushing yourself off of the bed, standing up to your full length.

"Thank you" you mumbled, barely loud enough for them to hear.

They nodded and you began making your way towards the door when the stopped you.

"Hey" Dick said and you turned to look at him. You signaled for him to continue and he did, "you're not alone. You can always reach out to me or anybody else for help, okay?"

You nodded your head in agreement and they both smiled.

"Good."

.

I'm not really happy with this one but oh well, I hope at least you enjoyed

-toes<3

[redbird-tf]

Scary movies

Jason todd x platonic/adopted reader

Summary: You convince Jason to watch a horror movie, but you end up scared while he remains unfazed. you later stumble into his room late a night like a little kid.

Word count: 564

Warnings:

Jason wasn't big on movies and could care even less about horror movies. You had been begging him to watch this new horror movie with you and after two weeks of persuading, he agreed. As long as you could watch it at home, Deal. He got off patrol at one am and quickly changed as you grabbed the remote and popcorn. “I heard it's so scary,” you said handing him his bowl and sitting in your corner of the couch. “We’ll see,” he said reclining back.

Less than 30 minutes in you were curled into a ball with a blanket tightly wrapped around you. Jason, on the contrary, had his head resting on his chin “you ok?” He asked glancing as you squirmed “Yeah totally, we just started” you lied. “Good, we still have two hours” Jason stated mockingly, and he could hear you gulp. None of this phased him, broken figures, bashed in brains, gunshots, he sees this stuff every week. By the end, you had covered your eyes more than you had them open and said “i can't watch this” too many times to count. Jason got a small laugh out of it.

“What do you think?” You asked shaking “ok, not that scary though” he shrugged. “Your insane Jason, you know that?” You stated crossing your arms. He laughed “Goodnight y/n” he patted your shoulder walking by. When he reached his room he heard you flick the switch and quickly dash to your room. As your first time watching a horror film together and he found your reactions pretty funny.

He nestled himself in his bed and slowly began drifting asleep, not too long after though he was brought back by the sound of creaking floorboards. His hand reached around the headboard as he tightly grasped the hidden bat, his eyes stared at the door as the noise came closer. The door opened and he quickly released the bat “y/n, what are you doing?” he asked completely confused “i dont feel safe” you mumbled arms around a pillow. “What? y/n you know all the security i have here… motion detectors, alarms-“ you cut him off by calling his name. “I just..” you sighed feeling embarrassed “I'm just scared…can i sleep here for tonight?” You mumbled.

Jason sighed, he didn't want you to sleep next to him, but when he glanced back up and saw your big dough eyes, he folded. “Don't take all the blanket,” he said moving towards the edge. You smiled tucking yourself in. Jason had changed from his normal back sleeping position to a side position, making it a lot harder to fall asleep. He could hear you shuffling around and eventually stopping by your body hitting his back.

He gave you a second to turn away but you didn't. He turned to face you and you fit perfectly under his arm. He had planned to wake you up and tell you to back up, but you looked so peaceful he couldn’t wake you. He thought about nudging you away, but something wouldn't let him. You unconsciously nudged yourself into him more and he let you as he sighed in defeat. He pulled up the sheets and His arm rested around your head as he began falling into one of the most peaceful sleep he ever had, a small smile plastered along his face. The horror movie might not have scared Jason, but having you by his side gave him a sense of comfort.

[shortnsweetsposts]

Tim: Do you believe in ghosts?

Bat!reader: I do.

Tim: I don't.

Bat!reader: Why not?

Tim: *Shrugged*

Bat!reader: You don't feel like anyone could be whiter than you?

Tim, taken aback by the comment: Wow