#batsy writing
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Iâm just gonna write a little thing! A little thought for Bloom, nothing too intense, just so I donât forget it!
1000 words later? Whoops
Writing below the cut, major spoilers for the end of Heart of Thorns and implied End of Dragons spoilers but nothing explicit from EoD :]
Bloom
âKill me, Commander.â Trahearne could hear his own voice tremble, as horror overtook his dear friendâs face. Around them all, their friendsâ Rytlock, Caithe, Canach, Marjory, Brahamâ were exhausted. Worn thin by the fight against the jungle dragon, both physical and within the Dream.
âWhat? No! Mordremoth is dead. We destroyed its mind from the inside.â The commander protested, their fingers curled around the hilt of Caladbolg.
âBut I still hear its voice.â Trahearne looked down at his hands, twisted and blighted as they were. His body was not hisâ he was corrupted. It was only cruel fate that he had kept his mind this long. Or perhaps something more sinister.
âMordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige⌠a terrible seed, planted deep in my mind.â
Trahearneâs hands curled into fist, as he took a deep steadying breath.
âYou must kill me, Commander, before that seed grows. Before⌠before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.â
He reached out now, hands on his friendâs shoulders. The tears streaming down their face broke his heart. He did not want this. He didnât want to hurt them, to see them suffer so.
Trahearne wished there was another way.
âWhat is left of me canât survive on its own, my friend.â He croaked, and felt the Commander tremble beneath his hands. Were they always so small?
âStrike now orââ
Against his will, a rage rose up. A sick bile that boiled in his stomach and burned through his chest as his mind lurched.
Through his mouth, Mordremoth spoke.
âI am the future! I am this world! You cannot destroy me!â The dragon roared, hands tightening around the commander.
âRun while you can!â It took everything he had left to force his fingers to uncurl, to release the commander even as the dragon wanted to tear them to shreds to be remade anew.
Caladbolg flashed in the corner of his eye.
âNo!â The commander yelled. Strike true my friend! Trahearne wanted to yell. But he couldnât, and his mind went dark.
There was no great explosion. There was no dying scream.
If you asked those present what happened, none of them gave any concrete answer.
Canach hesitated to answer, but would confirm that Mordremoth was no longer hounding his mind, or any of the sylvari.
All Rytlock would say was that the confrontation wasnât pretty.
Caithe mourned Trahearne, in her quiet and melancholic manner, and asked not to push the matter further.
Braham would scowl, shake his head, and shove his way past, unwilling or perhaps unable to describe that final blow.
Marjory Delaqua, normally so elegant and clever with her words, who could see the twists of a plot before anyone elseâ when she was asked, she could only shake her head and reply âI donât knowâ.
The Commander didnât answer at all, because no one was able to find them to ask.
Eventually, researchers at the newly established lab of Rata Novus confirmed what the entire world held its breath to hear.
Mordremoth was dead. He had to be, to explain the slow steady trickle of magic escaping the jungle, supposedly as the dragon⌠decayed wasnât the right word, but it conveyed the idea well enough. It was a slow death, they said, not quite the explosive reaction from Zhaitan, who had gorged itself on magic before its death, but a gradual decay. It changed things, about magic, about how the people of Tyria and the soon to be established Dragonâs Watch understood the flow of magic around and through the Elder Dragons. But it was dead.
It had to be.
He woke up. His body ached, as it always did, as he woke. A consequence of being too bigsmall. He stirred slowly, limbs stretching out and tail dragging behind. He had buried himself beneath massive vines this time, the weight of them both familiar and restricting. These conflicting sensations, the constant disagreement with himself⌠it was the only thing he could rely on. Even his name escaped his memory, although he could hear whispers of it on the edges of his mind.
Traherdremaneth.
It didnât matter, really.
He moved slowly, not truly wanting to rise, but knowing he must.
He was something in between, and there was no stillness for him. No place of his own.
His one companion, if you could call it that, would be upon him soon. A dogged purserer, both a thorn in his side and a trusted ally, trailed behind him. For a time he thought they left himâ and the feelings that had wrought left him stationary in a deep cave for nearly a week before they had reappeared.
He didnât want them close, he knew that much, but they were one of the few things he had, a consistency. He couldnât see them well, not with the distance between them, but he could always make out the broken blade at their hip. The one that made the scar across his chest ache.
He wondered what would happen if he let them get closer. Would they strike? Would they know him?
They were his enemyfriend. What would they make of him? Caution kept him at a distance from them.
The longer he was awake, the more memories he could half-remember.
The Orrian landscape stretches out before him and it reeks of his sibling, twisting beneath the dirt. The undead donât notice him, not yet, and he can take a moment to look closer at the coral. It was neither alive nor dead. Not unlike himself and yet so different to him or anything he had ever encountered before.
He missed his siblings, their quiet talks among the then empty roots, among safe coils with their constant presence around him. They were too distant to feel or simply gone now and it unnerved him. This was wrong. Perhaps they could help him make it right.
There was one other thing, other than his sort-of companion and his unsteady roiling mind, that remained constant. And this was the true constant. A steady beacon, that he could not see or hear, but simply felt in a way that he could not describe. A magnetic sort of pull that had him orbiting closer and closer.
It drew him in, out of the depths and dark underbelly of the jungle and the cave systems, towards the strange golden stones, the elegant walls meant to keep out creatures that wished to destroy the beacon. He was not welcome there, not yet, even though he meant no harm. He just needed to be closer.
He didnât know how he knew that. He just knew it.
#gw2#guild wars 2#batsy writing#bloom my beloved#i should sort out a proper tag for him#the bloom dragon feels too generic but I hesitate to tag it trahearne#even tho technically it is#in a sense#gw2 spoilers#should include that one#im on mobile and i wrote this on google docs in uhhh#two hours? two and half? give or take#tumblr doesnt like my formatting at ALL lmao#i will tag this but with#trahearne#gw2 trahearne#tho bc he does technically appear as himself. briefly#during the painful bit#that dialogue i did go to the wiki for to make sure i remembered it right#so thats. anet dialogue w some batsy flavor for the actions#i tried to keep the commander vague bc i still have no idea who bloom has as a commander#and if ppl wanna imagine their commander w bloom in the meantime then go for it#i used dyraoi for that one drawing but she doesnt fit bloom as well as i hoped#so he continues to just have vague commander shape#which#is a fun challenge#to write without giving too much detail about them#this could be so much longer but i both reached the end of my train of thought and havent decided how i want to handle some stuff#me? rambling in my own tags? more likely than you think#if youve made it this far in the tags hi
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( crow choir. entry one ) ââ dust of snow ( m.s | prev/next )
author's note at the end
you have three brothers- no, two brothers. youâve 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. heâd given you a warm grin the day you arrived, that somewhat wavered at the blank look you hoped you gave him. you donât 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, donât form here, and you canât 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 bruceâs business than you ever will be (ever hope to be). thereâs 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.Â
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?Â
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 donât 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. sheâd colour herself with red blushes and redder lip stains, wear family jewels she refused to sell to her âbusinessâ meetings. thin-framed glasses with the eyes of a vixenâs.Â
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.Â
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 oneâs head. âi knew my absent father. no one knows yours.â but your depraved heart and dull mind took it so deeply. so, so deeply.Â
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 canât 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 donât 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 canât put your finger to it. itâs not jealousy, itâs not resentment, itâs not hatred for his absence so far⌠is it guilt?
you don't know what to do with this abundance of luxury. youâve 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 didnât 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 gothamâs 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!!
#saria's đ¤ writing#saria đ¤ says#'25 run: crow choir#batfam x reader#angst#batfamily#batsis reader#batman fanfiction#batboys x batsis#batsis!reader#damian wayne x batsis#batfam x batsis#bruce wayne x batsis#jason todd x batsis#batfam#dick grayson x batsis#tim drake x batsis#cassandra cain x sister reader#stephanie brown#dc x reader#barbara gordon#barbara gordon x batsis#stephanie brown x batsis#neglected reader#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere batboys#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd
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jason âtakes games too seriouslyâ todd
I personally believe that letâs say you are dating jason todd or your batsis (anything tbh even a unicorn) or wtv and one day both of you get bored on patrol and you suggest to play tag but little do you know this mf takes the game to a OTHER LEVEL it will literally trigger your flight and fight mode and the game goes from fun to just straight up nerve wrecking because this 6â0/6â2 BULIT MUSCLE mf is chasing you almost at full speed but purposely slows down but just behind you to keep your heart racing knowing he can just catch up anything minute and when you turn around to see him you swear this is a brand new person chasing you, I believe itâs just the pit that sometimes gives him some kind of scary ass presences same goes for hide and seek imagine hearing heavy footsteps and all you hear is a deep voice and a sudden pulling at your ankle âI see you dumbassâ BAHAHHAA đđ I personally believe nightwing used to be like this towards jason when he was robin and thatâs one of the many reasons bruce banned tag during patrol or anywhere but who even listens to Bruce anyways, YOLO
#fanfiction recommendation#jason todd#batfam#batfamily#dc universe#incorrect quotes#jason todd x reader#hcs#batsis!reader#batsis oc#tag game#hide and seek#nightwing#dc robin#writing#fluff#jason todd x gn!reader#jason todd takes games too seriously
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DAD IâM FROM THE FUTURE
pairing. bruce wayne x daughter!reader
warnings. time travel shenanigans, canon typical violence
summary. reader is Bruceâs daughter from the future.
a/n. i was watching the batman trilogy last night and this came to me. doesnât follow the dark knight timeline, gonna do a battinson one later.
Youâd gotten yourself in quite the situation, messing around in Central City helping out the speedsters with their problems and then accidentally getting yourself thrown back in time. You landed somewhere familiar at least, Gotham City just.. older, less advanced.
From when you were younger, lucky for you the people of Gotham tried to mind their business, nobody spared a glance at the girl in a batsuit, dark purple and a gold orange. Despite the streets looking different the path wasnât.
You worked your way across the rooftops, swiftly and agile. You made it to Wayne manor in a matter of minutes, going through an open window on the highest floor and creeping through the halls quietly and down to entrance of the cave.
Pressing the three notes on the piano in the centre of the room the hidden door behind the glass shelves swinging open, you step through into the old elevator, going down.
What you donât know is that Bruce is already waiting for you down there, watching on the cameras. âWho is that?â He asks Alfred, who merely shrugs in response. âNot a clue, Master Bruce.â
The elevator hits the underground floor, before you twist to the side out of the way of a batarang coming your way. âWhat the hell?â You scowl, dodging when youâre lunged at, you move to hit back but are stopped by Bruceâs hand catching your wrist.
âLet go,â you mutter, he doesnât budge. âBruce!â You shout, the name foreign on your tongue.
You see his eyes widen behind the mask and he steps back, âhow do you know my name?â
âLet go and Iâll explain.â You retort, his eyes scan your suit, hardened Kevlar plates on titanium-dipped tri-weave fibres, just like his suit.
âFine,â he releases your wrist, crossing his arms and watching as you pull your mask off. âIâm from the future,â you say, âa future where youâre my dad.â
Alfred chokes on the tea he was drinking and Bruce shoots him a look. âYou donât believe me, i get it. No proof, but dadâ Bruce you gotta believe me. Everything i know is because of you.â
Bruce stares, âwhyâd i take you in?â
He almost smiles at the look that flashes through your eyes, hope, care, pride. âYou saved me, you saved all of us. We were like you, orphaned, well me and Dick at least. You didnât want us to go down the same path as you did, so you taught us.â
Something about you reminded Bruce of himself, a version of him that was happy, younger. âWhyâre you here?â He asks, hesitantly taking his mask off, you know better itâs a show of trust, heâs giving you a chance.
âYou know Flash? I got mixed up helping out speedsters, got into a fight and thrown back in time. Not sure how long Iâll be here until they figure where in time Iâm stuck.â You say, âbut shouldnât be too long.â
âHm,â he hums gruffly, you donât take offence to his lack of response, itâd be more concerning if he gave you actual words. Your eyes flicker to the array of screens behind you, case files on the desk, pictures of bodies. âThe Riddler case?â You ask, Bruce raises a brow at you.
âYou know about it?â
âIâm a little rusty on the details but i can help?â He doesnât say no as he turns away, despite this not being your Bruce, you could still read him.
MEANWHILE
Barry grunts as heâs slammed into the wall, Bruce scowling down at him. âWhat do you mean you lost her?â Bruce hisses.
âI mean sheâs gone, Bruce. Thrown through time,â Barry groans, breathily due to the way Bruceâs forearm is pressed to his neck.
âBruce, cmon. We need him to get her back,â Dick, ever the voice of reason.
âWe have other speedsters,â Bruce scoffs, his signature glare present. Despite wanting to break every bone is Barryâs body, Bruce lets him go. âHow do we find her?â
âThats easier, magic.â He hears from behind, Zatara.
âThis isnât a league mission,â Bruce mutters.
âBut you need us,â Dick adds, Bruce doesnât deny it, heâs not a speedster or a sorcerer. Dick takes his silence as a âgood to goâ, motioning for the rest of them to begin. âThis is hers,â Dick says, handing Zatara a fluffy blanket with the Flash logo on the back.
Barry canât help the little smile that crosses his lips, youâve always been one of his biggest fans. he remembers the first time he met you, you were at least seven years old, and you just stared at him silently. eyes wide with adoration, and later you mentioned the Flash being your hero.
His smile drops when he sees the glare Bruce throws his way.
â
âSo dadâ Bruce, sorry man. Keep forgetting,â you grin sheepishly at the Batman, he doesnât reply per usual.
âWhatâs the story here?â
âNothing,â he replies dryly as you spin in his chair, he seems unamused but sighs and keeps his mouth shut, letting you enjoy the little things. Alfred steps in, setting a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk down on an empty spot on the table trashed with stacked up files and strewn papers.
âWeâre not childrenââ Bruce complains before cutting himself off when you eagerly reach for a glass and a cookie, Bruce cracks an amused smile, before nodding a silent thanks to Alfred. The butler chuckles before making his leave.
âHow long until Iâ your dad comes for you?â Bruce questions, with a raised brow, taking a glass for himself.
âShould be soon, youâve probably got everyone busting their asses to get me home.â
Home. Itâs a strange concept to him, that anyone else, let alone a dozen children think of his manor as a home, let alone him as one too.
âYouâre a good dad, B.â
You pause for a moment before continuing, âi mean you have your moments of⌠less good dad moments but overall. You do great with us, youâre gonna doubt it a lot a times. But you gotta remember in the future youâre not alone anymore.â
He stays silent, âIâve enjoyed this,â he admits.
âThe idea of having a daughter, let alone more kids. I like it, I can see why i adopt all of you in the future, especially you. I know Iâm doing right if youâve turned out like this, youâre a good kid, and a great hero.â
You want to cry, you always do when you hear him praise you. But the moment is cut short when Barry is suddenly in the middle of the cave.
You shoot up, âBarry?â
âKid!â The speedster grins, heâs at your side in less than a second. âYou had me worried, i thought Bruce was gonna kill meâ oh hi Bruce.â
Your father â past father? future father? â seems unimpressed, glaring at the man in red. A hole rips through the air, and through it you can see your father, current dad, you can see the worry in his eyes, the sight of his greying hair all too familiar, comforted by the sight of him.
Beside him you see Zatara in some soft of trance, you donât question it as you rush forwards towards the portal to get to your dad. Before you can pass through you turn back around rushing back to past Bruceâs side.
Bruceâs arms wind around you when you topple in his arms, hugging him tightly, âthank you.â You whisper, your dad watches from the other side of the portal, his heart twisting, he knows how much this would mean to past Bruce.
âHow do i find you?â Bruce asks softly, he holds you tightly, not wanting to let you go.
âDonât worry, Iâll find you.â You reply, pulling away. âI promise.â
He lets you go, with the promise that youâll find each other. Youâll find your way home, you know that much. Youâll find your dad, whether he exists in whatever universe youâre in or not. Youâll always find Bruce Wayne, whether its his memory or a picture of him, whether heâs real or fake.
You and Barry make your way through the portal as it closes, past Bruce can see the relief in his future selfs eyes once youâre back with him.
Nobody sees how later that night your dad doesnât leave your side, the fear of ever losing you settling in.
Heâll savour whatever moments he can get with you now.
Š e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and Iâll bite your toes off
#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#batsis x batfam#batfam x batsis#batsis!reader#enzo writes [đ]#christan bale#platonic!bruce wayne x reader
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I've been thinking and I've come to the conclusion that it wouldn't make much sense for Bruce to neglect one of his children.
Think about it, in canon, most of the mistakes he made that ended up harming his family were either because he was completely buried in work, or because he was slightly manipulated, both by the narrative and by third parties.
In addition, he also cannot fully communicate with others, both because of his early trauma, the loss of his parents, and all the loneliness caused by the grief he went through growing up. Not to mention the years of self-discipline and training he went through to become Batman. From everything he's seen and experienced, and all the scars he has, I can't imagine how much that grief and and especially a sense of justice, survived.
so I don't think he would simply neglect one of his children
What I propose is; accidental negligence. Think about it, if he is busy all the time with both Batman and his other persona, Brucie Wayne, and then the justice league, investigations, meetings of Wayne Enterprise, galas, charities, other rich people, the usual rogues gallery of Gotham, etc, etc, I don't think he has much time to spend with anyone.
He is able to spend more time with his other children because they are all vigilantes, like him, and are usually just as busy as he is. Having a civilian child in the middle of this mess wouldn't do much good, especially if that child doesn't know what they do most of the time, like, y'know, vigilantlism.
Imagine everyone's absolute horror when they realize, after the p&f reader is unfortunately busted, that they paid so little attention to that child that she managed to do all these crazy things right under their noses for the whole summer. And who's to say she hadn't been doing this before this summer? How many things have they inevitably missed in her life?
What I mean is that to counter the p&f reader's luck, everyone in the batfam is unlucky enough not to be able to spend time with her. And they are aware of it.
Their guilt would be immense and the angst would be delicious.
(And it would explain how Damian hĂĄs time to spend with p&f reader, since he's a kid and his only obligations are school, socialization and being Robin, so he would technically have more time??? If that even makes sense???)
context &. context.
YOU!! YOU GET IT!!
i wholeheartedly agree!
not that "accidental" neglect is any better, it's neglect all the same and has negative consequences in so many levels. but when we're talking about Bruce Emotionally Constipated And Terrible At Communication and Could Sometimes Make Better Choices Regarding His Kids Wayne, it could absolutely happen.
i'm not one to make character analysis because i have very shallow knowledge of Batman lore, but...
like you said, all of Bruce's children participate in vigilantism. they're all extraordinary, most have horrible trauma, and have relied on him for guidance. they are all Robin, and more relatable to him, in a way. that means he's consequently more involved in their lives, more physically there engaging with them, forming an emotional bond, acting as a mentor and father figure. on top of that, like you said, he has a whole life as Bruce Wayne and Batman going on.
which brings us to neglected! Reader, more specifically mine: P&F! Reader and Vampire! Reader.
on a... financial, material level, I believe they wouldn't want for anything. Alfred is the one managing their bank account and making sure they're well-provided for and though it's fun for angst purposes, i don't think they would have a tiny little bedroom isolated from everyone in the manor, mostly because it's our favorite butler who would select which bedroom Bruce's child would be staying at in this gigantic mansion with plenty unocuppied rooms. Alfred would NOT put you in the broom closet. it would be a bedroom that's at least as big as Damian's in Son of Batman, for example.
(i more than understand suspension of disbelief and playing around with all sorts of interesting concepts and characters, so I'm not criticizing anyone!)
in fact, i think it's kinda worse that, say, you have a bedroom that's a wall across from Tim's and he still kinda forgets you exist.
also, i believe Bruce's kid would absolutely have access to a more than generous amount of money. not broke at all.
so the only type of neglect going on here is of the emotional kind. your father and your siblings have created tight-knit bonds amongst themselves based on their shared experiences and the proximity brought by them all working as vigilantes, and you're just not a part of the club.
timing is also relevant.
P&F! Reader arrives at the manor some time after Damian, which means that not only have all relationships been formed over the years, Bruce has also experienced having kids, as well as having a biological child suddenly enter his life. they're a fish out of the water, and their dad is kinda awkward about this (apparently) normal child that showed up at his doorstep. while Damian is still kind of adapting, running around at night trying to bypass Bruce's security system and solve dangerous cases by himself, P&F! Reader is in their bedroom having a virtual sleepover with their Metropolis friends, streaming movies and eating caramelized popcorn.
fun fact: Damian and P&F! Reader are neighbors. he was not happy about Alfred placing his half-sibling on the room right beside his for the longest time. P&F! Reader has definetly caught him sneaking out, but they're no snitch. and you're right, he does have more free time, and he's also on summer break so no school and no homework to worry about. He's got free time to be his sibling's keeper.
and as we all know, the impression that P&F! Reader is just a normal regular kid that totally doesn't build ridiculous thingamabobs in their spare time, it's kinda easy to forget they're there amidst the Wayne family mayhem(s). Bruce is also kinda doesn't really know what to do with this kid or how to connect with them, but they don't really demand immediate attention and seem to be doing fine â so he probably shouldn't worry too much, right?
you could also argue that he's kinda awkward (emotionally constipated) with this kid and is very bad at consoling and accomodating them after the trauma that made them have to move in with him. he doesn't straight up forget they exist, although he starts paying more attention to them after Damian gets more involved in ther bio sibling's antics. and when it comes to siblings, it's just easier for their relationship to never evolve past more superficial interactions (with the exception of Damian who decides to mind P&F! Reader's business earlier on, more or less). P&F! Reader doesn't know about the vigilantism for a long time, so it's natural that they're excluded from any and all matters regarding that. and because everyone else is so busy with their own lives and P&F! Reader seems to be doing fine, so easy to overlook, has plenty of friends in and out of their new school and the Batfam is already a formed unit... Well, you get the picture.
there's also the matter of Damian. he is the kid that "needs more attention" because of his background. he's been through a lot. nevermind the possibility that you might also have gone throguh your own fair share of trauma, at the end of the day you're the easier kid. the "okay" kid with regular problems. which is sad and unfair, but that's what we're here for, isn't it? and Dick is the biggest offender when it comes to that.
not that P&F! Reader is bothered by any of that! They have an amazing summer ahead of them. đ It's definetly Batfam being unlucky that prevents them from spending time with P&F! Reader, but that allowed them to mostly enjoy summer without being smothered by their family. the guilt would be unmatched, that is for sure.
"And who's to say she hadn't been doing this before this summer?"
hehe :)
vampire! Reader (she was not mentioned but I'm talking about her anyway, spoilers for the fic because i want to rant) is a different story. again, timing. she arrived at the manor sometime between Dick leaving for Bludhaven and Jason being brought in, so she didn't really get a chance to develop a deeper emotional connection with Dick. that also means Bruce was a lot younger when he is faced with a biological child being thrown at his door, not to mention the less-than-ideal-circumstances in which she came to be in his custody.
and after trying to make her his newest sidekick didn't work, in the coming years he would dedicate most of his time to fighting crime as Batman and taking care of/mentoring Jason who had a rough past and is now his new sidekick. connecting and relating to Jason was easier than connecting with Vampire! Reader, but he always made sure to check on her and make sure she was okay (and the answer was always yes, because of course it was).
during this time Jason and Vampire! Reader were actually pretty close, but then he, uh. kinda died horrifically. so not only was Vampire! Reader dealing with the loss of her brother, her father was now full-on neglecting her, self-absorbed in his grief, so she felt the proper thing to do would be repress her emotions to accomodate her father and try to be his emotional support. not that it worked, but she was there! so we have the emotional neglect and we have Vampire! Reader starting to take a parental role for her own father because he's not being a parent for her. she was also completely alone in that huge manor with the exception of Alfred because none of the other kids were in the picture yet, and Dick had long since moved out. as you can see, not very nice :)
from then on she just kinda blends into the background. financially she's provided for. she is her father's daughter, so communication and expressing emotion are not her fortĂŠ, but she tries her best to connect with the incoming batkids. it does not work. i have said this before, but she is the mature child, the (again) normal one who puts other people's needs before her, so she doesn't complain when Bruce makes time for literally every other kid who becomes Robin except her. but don't be mistaken: Bruce is definetly more controlling and aware of Vampire! Reader in comparison to P&F! Reader due to reasons (guess you can say early yandere signs?). Jason too is... Sort of complicated. the situation here is definetly darker and resonates with tone of the story better. and when Bruce realizes how terrible he was? oh, boy.
so I guess you can play around a lot with the neglectful! Reader trope, and that's what makes it so entertaining. yeah. that's all I have to say for today, I guess??
#I LOVED WRITING THIS POST.#this took me out of suffering from the heat while working on the fics lmao#asks.#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily#p&f! batsibling.#vampire! batsis.#long post.#yandere batman#yandere batfamily x reader#yandere batfam x reader
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You're my dad! Boogie woogie woogie
Species swap au, anyone?
Sangheili Tucker and human Junior
#rvb#red vs blue#rvb tucker#rvb junior#rvb species swap au#lavernius tucker#junior blarrgity blarg-tucker#my art#batsy art#i could NOT get this out of my head so im making it happen#i started fuckin writing for it too#and PLOT?????#im not sure why this has grabbed me as hard as it did but hoo boy#give me strength to make it functional#i also pondered an active swap concept but this is more just 'youve always been switched' instead of 'aw fuck alien temple made me an alien#which is ALSO fun#i want both#but i have solid ideas for the first one so thats the one im going with
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Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 17]
Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Heavily Implied Animal Cruelty (Lab Rats), Mild Body Horror, Implied Anxiety, Implied Depression, CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 9.0K
(17/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]
Notes: I told y'all it wasn't going to take long this time LOLOLOL although no promises for the next one, classes are ramping up a bit so I cranked this one out before I got on that grind lolol but, as always, I hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: This series is originally by@fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)
2022
The silence was tense. No one dared to say a single word and, while you usually enjoyed moments like these, the sound of the papers in your hand being the only noise in a room filled with six people was unnerving at best. A few hours ago you had finished the physical examination with Dr. Bronte and at your request the tests were expedited, with the recent attacks, you couldnât afford to sit still. You tapped the corner of the map with your pen, watching the inkblot the paper under it. In your hands was a rough drawing of the kingdom and all of its military bases, you had circled the ones that were decimated by the attacks and youâd annotated the remaining ones with how many Knights were assigned there. The map was filled with scribbles and flaws, but the information was still readable. The sudden decrease in Knights was a whole other problem youâd been pushing to the side, and the Knighthood was spread thin as a result. All of the key players were moved to the Capital to surround the Royal family while the newer recruits were sent to the further sections.
Despite this, you could just barely make out the hushed conversations.
âIs that reallyâŚ?â Dickâs voice was quiet, trained.
âYeah, it has to be, it is,â Damianâs, natural.
âBut you saw her on the field, it hasnât been that.âŚâ
âYou donâtâŚâ
âBut I do, if no one else, I doâŚâ
âWhereâs Jason? Iâm sureâŚâ
âItâs just⌠something isnât right.â
You took a deep breath and focused. Keeping your hands busy to avoid suspicion, their voices became clearer.
âSome things just arenât adding up,â Dick mutters. âWhy and how are the major things.â
âOf course those wouldnât make sense, Grayson.â
âBruce, what do you think? Youâve been quiet this whole time,â Dick probes.
âThereâs not enough information, weâre missing too much of the big picture,â he answers, his gaze matching yours for a second before breaking. Would it kill them to just ask you? You were right there. But you couldnât blame them, a family of detectives, itâs only natural that they want to save their pride and solve the case that is you before you could even figure it out yourself.
âHey, if youâre done hyper-analyzing me can one of you toss me those painkillers?â You asked loudly.
âYeah, here,â Dick grabs the bottle from the shelf and hands it to you. âWhat dose are you supposed to take?â You ignored him, opened the bottle, and took the whole thing. â(Y/N)!â
âRelax, bird boy,â you waved him off and closed your eyes, the pain finally subsiding. Youâd been ignoring it since you woke up, but it messed with your focus too much. You werenât too much of a fan of them, expectedly once they wore off you felt like you were in more pain than before. But this was a new kind of pain, you think, it felt like everything was threatening to rip open at the seams if they werenât already. âItâll take nine of these to make any effect,â you reassured him. âI wonder if the lingering effects of the serum have anything to do with this,â you thought aloud.
âWeâre not analyzing you, (Y/N), weâre just trying to find out how this is possible.â
âLittle sister almost dies again and still her family ignores her, fun.â
â(Y/N),â Dickâs voice takes a new tone and you turned away from him. You didnât relax again until you noticed him return to the others.
âSome family reunion,â you scoffed quietly, spinning the pen in your hands while you skimmed over the map in your lap and the pages of survey notes in your other. In a world filled with technological marvels, old habits still seemed to die hard, memories of the stacks and piles of papers in your room came back to you, painstakingly recreated and re-detailed notes from your classes and constant observations and findings from your research, some would call have called that the lowest point of your life. Even now, to avoid their whispers and stares, you buried yourself with work.
~
2018
The alarm clock ticked menacingly in your room, a constant reminder of upcoming due dates and the steady yet glaringly short amount of time. You bounced your pen on your thigh while looking at the spread of loose papers pinned to the cork in front of you. Mathematic equations have been written, crossed out, marked over, scribbled through, and rewritten across a canvas of loose pages with haphazard arrows and messily drawn circles around key information, and even then some were violently crossed out with red ink. Sticky notes littered with barely legible writing were sometimes pinned or taped in place. But you couldnât toss anything out, what if a previous calculation was correct and you had tossed it out on accident? No way, and so those papers were gathered in a stack lining the floor underneath the board.
You were so close to cracking the formula, you were certain. With no reasonable way to ask Bane about the concoction himself, you were stuck in a cycle of trial and error, a secretive one, that only your professor knew about and approved. To your lab colleagues you were studying stem cell regeneration and repurposing, but in truth, your search for a new and improved serum was at a standstill. Maybe you should have just bit the bullet and accepted the grotesque body trauma that came with drinking the serum, butâŚÂ
âMaybe if I adjust this amountâŚâ you muttered quietly, running through the quick calculations in your head.
You didnât want to be a monster.
Youâre not one. Youâre different. You had to look the part of the hero. You had to match the legacy somehow if you truly were going to go through this. You could argue day and night about your noble intentions but that wouldn't detract from what everyone would see on the surface. You had to be sure. You had to be perfect. And, most of all, you had to have the insurance.
âBut then Iâd have to account for the-â your head snapped to the window of your room, causing Tim, in his Red Robin uniform, to pause his movements.
âYou look⌠bad,â he says, a look of concern settling on his features.
âEver heard of knocking, Tim?â You know you said he could drop by whenever he wanted, he was more than welcome always, but you werenât expecting him to actually do it. At least, not after that nasty fight with your dad. And definitely through your front door.
âSorry, sis, uh⌠I brought a snack if you want some?â He pulls his mask off and shows you the paper bag. You could only sigh at the telltale grumble of your stomach.
âSure, letâs eat in the kitchen,â you left the room first and he stepped into your room, closing and locking the window behind him. He took a brief pause, a small moment, to look at the state of your mind. On top of your dresser was a line of emptied coffee mugs and energy drinks, some showing signs of having been there for weeks and some brand new. Your bed wasnât made, but that wasnât a new from the manor. Aside from the general stuffiness of the room, there was the modest wall plug to combat it, but it paled to the pile of unfolded clothes piled up on your desk chair.
Your desk. Tim looked at the large corkboard in front of it.
What were all those calculations for? He knew you to be an exceptional student, a brilliant one actually, but he couldnât figure out what was in front of him. Not with your handwriting, and not with how the information was laid out. Only you couldâve understood your own madness.
Worse than the corkboard had to be the stacks of paper. They were all on the floor, but why was it that the shortest stack was as tall as he was? He pulled the first paper from the top and skimmed over it, but his eyebrows scrunched together. It was just⌠scribbles. Whatever was on it before was indiscernible now. But, he swears, he could see the faint outline of a bat in the scribbles.
âTim? Whatâs the holdup?â You called him out and with one last glance, a quick and well-calculated grab of all your mugs, Tim walked out of your room.
âWhatâs with the freak calculations?â You watched Tim place all your mugs in the sink before sitting down.
âCAPSTONE Thesis, why?â You finished cleaning out one of your many mugs and placed it in front of Tim, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into it.
âReal funny, (Y/N),â Tim snorts when he sees the Robin-themed mug.
âItâs a collectible!â You defended. Tim looks into the mug for a moment.
âDid you need any help with your thesis? I have a lot of free time these days,â he says.
âNo, all good, I want the satisfaction of saying it was all my work,â you told him. âYouâre all amazing, donât get me wrong, and I appreciate all of your help, but I want this to be my thing, you know?â You explained and Tim could only nod. âI justâŚâ you look at your mug now, Tim notices the dried coffee drips along the sides of it and the chip on itâs rim. Tim looked at his mug and noted that it was pristine. âI want to have something like all of you. Dickâs the acrobat, Jasonâs the man of the people, youâre probably the smartest kid in the world, and Damian⌠well, heâs still trying to figure his thing out other than âthe product of his upbringing,â I just want to have something other than âthe normal one.ââ You explained. He didnât realize it until now, but the dark circles under your eyes almost made you look dead.
âI mean⌠you are the named heir to Wayne Enterprise,â Tim says.
âWere,â you corrected.
âAre,â he corrects you again. âBruce canât be mad at you forever, (Y/N).â
âI know, Tim, butâŚâ You hesitated. âIt was bad,â you didnât say anything more.
No one was there. No one saw or heard the argument. It was just you and him. He didnât talk about it, and you didnât talk about it either. Youâd never argued like that before, it was so intense it almost didnât seem like it was him and when he wore that fucking cowl heâd might as well be a stranger to you, hell, that night he basically was. Never had you argued like that, and never had he spoken to you in that way. But you knew that recently it was just argument after argument between the two of you, and usually one or the other would give up and settle. But this time?
Nothing. Radio silence on both ends. You shouldnât have instigated the way you did. Now so much more was on the line than just your name.
âItâs been a month.â
âHas it?â You looked at your phone. It has. Barbaraâs swearing-in ceremony was coming up soon. It was on the same day as your thesis presentation and youâd long told Barbara that you wouldnât be able to make it. You had plans the next day for a girlsâ trip with her, Steph, and Cass after though.
âYou know⌠Alfred still sets a plate for you.â
âThatâs nice of him.â
âYouâre welcome to come back,â Tim says carefully. You donât answer, instead, you begin tapping the bottom of your phone against the counter, which is enough of a sign that you werenât going to answer.
âIs that a new phone?â Tim asks.
âOh, yeah,â you nodded. âI left the old one at home and figured Iâd get myself a new one before I got cut off,â you half-joked with him.
âCan I see it?â You handed it to him, unlocked, and he seemed to tinker with it for a short while before handing it back to you. âI added the distress call app on it,â he says.
âOh, you didnât have to,â you looked at the app on your screen, the icon sporting Barbaraâs famous insignia on it.
âWhat do you mean? Of course, I had to,â he says. âDid you want me to bring your phone here?â
âNo, itâs fine, that dataâs not important anyway. Iâll just drop by in a couple days to get the last of my things. I didnât want to go earlier while I was still royally pissed off,â you mumbled. Tim hummed quietly. He looked at your hands, it was evident that youâd been chewing on your fingernails.Â
âThatâs new,â he thought.
âStop it.â Your voice cut through the silence like a knife. Tim blinked out of his thoughts and shook his head.
âIâm sorry?â He looked at you now and felt his heart stop. Had he ever seen your expression like that before? What was it? Fear? Concern? Shock?
⌠Anger?
You shook your head, running your hand down the side of your face.
âSorry, Iâm just tired,â you muttered. You grabbed the bag he brought and pulled out its contents. âAnd⌠hungry.â
âYeah,â Tim looked down. âAre you sure youâre okay, sis?â
âIâll be fine.â You took the empty mugs and stacked them in the sink. âI think you should go now, Tim. These deadlines⌠theyâre catching up, you know? I love you, I do, butâŚâ
âNo, I get it, Iâll get out of your hair,â Tim stumbles off the stool. âJust⌠let me know if you need anything too.â
âSure.â
âYou know you can tell me anything, right?â
âI should be saying that to you.â
âThen itâs likewise.â You stood up and opened the door for him and he stood at the doorway for a while.
âIâm fine, Tim, really I am, you donât have to worry about me,â you repeated. âSo stop studying me. I hate it when you guys do that.â You finally said it. You knew heâd been doing it since he got here, thatâs why he spent so long in your room, why he was so quiet while you were preparing coffee, and even why heâd asked for your phone. You grew up with this kid, you knew exactly how his mind worked, and yet you could easily tell that he couldnât read you at all.
Good, to some extent, at least one of your motherâs teachings has stuck with you past these years.
âI didnât mean for it to come off like that,â he was quick to defend.
âI know. Just be aware of it now,â you held your hand out to stop him. âBye, Tim.â You closed the door and he heard the locks fasten. He stood a while longer, wondering if he should knock or come back around the window.
He had to, just a quick glance. The way you paced your room, the way you stacked papers and tore them off the wall, it was like you were in a manic state. What were you trying so hard to find out? All this over a thesis? Just what did you and Bruce argue about so much that it left you like this? Again, he is pulled from his thoughts by a sudden sound. He looked up into the window and saw your disappointed face.
âGo home.â He couldnât hear your voice through the window, but it was clear enough what you said. You pulled the blinds down and he jumped down the fire escape. He looked at his phone, a text chime coming in at almost too perfect a time.
âHow is she?â A text from Bruce Wayne.
âFine, working on her thesis.â
âDid you tell her to come home?â Tim stared at the message. Why couldnât he do it himself? Why go through the trouble of having a middleman?
âSheâll drop by to grab her things later.â And the conversation ended there. There was this strange feeling in his chest. Dick couldnât convince you to come home, Jason didnât agree with forcing you to come back when you clearly didnât want to, and Barbara was too busy focusing on everything else and could only offer her support in other ways. Maybe it was too prideful of him to think that it wouldâve been his words that convinced you to come back.
Or, maybe the falling out was just that bad.
~
2022
âCould I help you out?â Tim chimed next to you, pulling up a chair and waiting expectantly. You shifted so he could see the map.
âItâs already done, but I can walk you through it. Knight allocation. Right now we have to keep the castle fortified, so that means all of us in the Brigade and our usual squadrons. As a result, we have this number left to move around,â you pointed at the numbers as you explained. âI was planning on dispersing them evenly, but with new intel for predicted daemon attacks, I want to fortify those military bases more.â
âMakes sense,â Tim nods. âIn that case, these inner forts can be kept at a minimum,â he points at them.Â
âThatâs the plan,â you scribbled in numbers. âItâs not ideal though. With everyone dying no one wants to enlist anymore,â You sighed.
âA couple people went home already,â Damian adds. You leaned back on your hospital bed, staring at the muted news feed above you.
Captain Wayne Hospitalized. Brigade on Standby.
Standby? Whoever said that? You were working them half to death trying to find anything on these monsters.
âHow do you feel, (Y/N)?â It was still such a foreign feeling to hear Bruce talk to you.
âFine,â you answered him while placing the clipboard on the side table. âI know you have questions, I see the cogs turning, so just ask me already.â
âItâs⌠itâs not that weâre trying to theorize, sis, weâre trying to find out what to ask first.â Tim to the rescue. âWe have no idea where to start.â
âLet me say the basics then,â you crossed your arms. âI died in 2019. Official cause of death was severe blood loss. I woke up here, somewhat together and sitting in the middle of a field. Shortly after I was found by a couple, around the same age as you, Bruce. The woman was a baker and the man was the then Captain of the Knights. After a few months of them helping me get back on my feet, I wanted to repay their gratitude. I either worked for their bakery, or I put my near decade of observing all of you to good use. I went with the latter, joined that yearâs class of cadets, took three advancement exams, and now Iâm here as one of the leading captains of the knights.â You gave the facts only, thatâs all they needed. âAfter my third advancement, the royal family handed out âblessingsâ to those who survived the advancement, enhanced powers that were supposed to help us out in the field. Itâs why youâve seen Carter make fire from nothing, Alex pull people from themselves, it takes a great deal of energy since theyâre synthesized, but in last-ditch efforts, theyâre quite helpful. But to avoid droning on about the theory of it, Iâll stop there.â You leaned back now, waiting for them to ask anything.
âSo that skill of yours.â
âNot reattachment,â you shook your head. âThat was because of some weird black magic shit that Alex cast so I wouldnât die during my last advancement mission. Apparently, it was royal decree so he couldnât say no,â you looked at the scars on your wrist. Maybe you were just imagining it, but they seemed to be stretching, as if you were falling apart at the seams.
âSo thenâŚâ Damian now. âWhat is your ability?â
âControl overââ
âCaptain?â There is a soft knock at the door before it slides in. Marion and Dr. Bronte enter swiftly, the former holding a grim expression, ending the conversation prematurely. âWe have your results,â she says while handing the chart to Dr. Bronte. His head shifts slightly, acknowledging everyone in the room.
âThey can stay,â you assured him. He responds with a nod. âEveryone, who hasnât met him, this is Dr. Bronte. Heâs been my primary care since landing here.â Bruce extends a hand out to him.
âIâm her father,â he introduces. Marion clears her throat awkwardly when Dr. Bronte makes no moves.
âYouâll have to excuse him, Mr. Wayne. Because of the accident, he prefers not to come into contact with strangers,â she explains.
âUnderstandable,â he steps back just as Marion moves to be next to you.
âHow are the wounds?â You looked under your hospital gown.
âHealed, but with no sign of reattachment.âÂ
âCould I see your hand?â She asks. You stretch your arm out and she gently grasps your arm just above the scars. She brushes over them carefully and observes their connecting points. Dr. Bronte and Marion share a look, and she places a semi-spherical device on your lap. In seconds, it buzzes to life showing an array of images.
âWe took a few samples from the open wounds earlier, Cap,â she starts. âThese are the videos of your reattachment abilities from your previous physical after we added a shallow cut to your palm. Notice how the red blood cells and your skin cells stretch to cover and compensate for the lost ones while some reach out toward stray drops like magnets, and at the same time notice how fast the platelets react to the injury and cauterize the cut. This next video shows how fast the surrounding skin cells interweave together to close the wound.â This was all information you already knew, but your siblings seemed to listen carefully in their own ways. âNow, these are your current labs. There are no sudden increases in RBC count and the cauterization process is now at an average speed. But, there is a sudden decrease in overall cell activity. A majority of your cells have gone into a stage known as autolysis, theyâre breaking down at a rapid rate which is causing the delays in your reattachment.â The video plays as she explains it.
âSo, Iâm a normal person now,â you tried to put it in laymanâs terms.
âNot necessarily, autolysis at this rate doesnât occur untilâŚâ she trails off and Dr. Bronte clears his throat.
âThe open wounds, theyâre specifically centered around those existing scars you had before entering the Knighthood,â Dr. Bronte steps in and you nod to confirm the information. âTo put things bluntly, youâve entered a state of decomposition, Captain Wayne.âÂ
Now this caught your attention.
Decomposition?
âSo sheâs a zombie?!â Dick was the one to break the silence.
âYou could say that, yes,â the masked doctor nods. âIronically, it was that chemical that almost ripped your body apart thatâs saving you right now, Captain,â Dr. Bronte hands you a small box and, upon opening it, you found several small vials of the βι-V serums youâd so painstakingly researched and, later, painstakingly ingested.Â
âJust like you had intended, βι-V compound is inherently an enhancer. While you had ingested it, the rate of cell division increased ten-fold and the rush of it all is what sustained your adrenaline levels for so long. If you hadnât taken it, then itâs no exaggeration to say that youâd be counted among the casualties of that attack,â Marion explains. âSo, Dr. Bronte and I ran the calculations and separated what we had left into these dosages. Twice a day, consistent, and twelve hours in between. Iâm not completely sure yet, but my fear is that those old scars will start opening again without it, Iâd rather err on the safe side,â Marion advises. âYouâre going to need this,â she hands you a syringe and you let out a small laugh. âInjection straight into the bloodstream is advised over ingestion.â
âGot it,â you took one of the vials and loaded it into the syringe. You lined the needle against one of your veins and pressed it into your skin. âShould I do it quickly or gradually?â
âWhichever youâre comfortable with,â Dr. Bronte answers. You ripped off the bandaid and pushed the entirety of its contents into you, pulling the empty syringe out and wrapping it in a tissue. You watched the green appear for moments before dissolving into your bloodstream.
âIâll have the remaining syringes sent to your office, Captain.â She takes the syringe and disposes it into the proper bin. âWeâll run a few more labs now that youâve started the treatment and weâll continue to monitor your cell count. Youâre welcome to continue doing your duties as Captain, but you need to dial it back. The βι-V serum isnât as effective when your body is in shambles.â
âRight, right,â you sighed and looked at the vials in your lap and handed it to Marion. âLeave this there too then, please,â you told her.
âDo you have any theories why youâve stopped reattaching, Captain?â Marion asks. âAnything at all. Any changes to your daily life? Exposure to dangerous chemicals?â
âNothing has changed except for the fact that there are now destructive monsters destroying the continent,â you answered. That and⌠You looked around the room.
Them. But they couldnât have caused this, right? You were certain that there werenât any meta-viral strands you had to be wary of from your original earth, but in terms of changes theyâd have to be the only ones.
âIf you can come up with anything at all, Captain, let me know immediately,â Marion says.
âOf course,â you nodded and Dr. Bronte stood up.
âWeâll take our leave,â he says with a stiff salute. Marion responds in kind and you dismiss them.
Again the room falls into silence, and luckily it didnât last long.
âCaptain, brought you a pick me up,â Alex enters the room with Constantine, handing you your drink and placing the rest on the table. âThereâs some for everyone, feel free to help yourselves,â he says.Â
âReeks of magic all over the place,â Constantine exasperates. âFor somewhere that relies so much on tech, seems like magicâs just as important.â
âThey are warring factions,â you hummed, thinking back to the war that had embroiled the continent just a few years ago. âWell, howâs the search?â You asked Constantine.
âYour daemons might be magic,â Constantine answers. You drank your coffee.
âBetter than nothing,â you sighed and handed another paper to Alex. âThatâs next monthâs assignments, since youâre acting Captain Iâll trust you to disperse everyone,â you said.
âCertainly,â Alex nods. âSorry to contribute to the crowd, Iâll leave after discussing one more thing with you,â he says.
âItâs fine, just ask away,â your hand gestured toward him.
âAre you alright?â He asks. You paused your movements and looked at him.
The whole time theyâve been here, they havenât spoken to you once aside to ask why, and there they were in their little corner filled with questions that you probably had the answers to, and yet they still didnât ask you. That wall that separated you from them, after all these years, it was still there. Higher than ever. Even if Tim was sitting right next to you, even if Damian was sleeping next to you just minutes earlier.
Youâre still a stranger to them, and they to you.
âIâm fine,â you muttered. âI should be asking you, you look horrible, should I ask Henry to fill in more?â
âPlease, Henry canât do half of what we do. Iâll take a day off tomorrow though if allâs in order.â Despite his reassurance, your worries only grew. The dark circles under his eyes, the hallowed cheeks, and the overall sallowness worried you. You donât think youâve ever seen him so drained, actually, he almost looked dead. And here you were, properly rested and looking more alive than ever disregarding the worrisome scars. And it wasnât just you either, you could see the way Constantine noticed your worry, and you could tell he felt the same.
âGranted,â you finally answered. âAnyway, isnât there a rule about how many people can come in during visitation?â You asked aloud.
âDoesnât apply to family,â Alex answers. The door slid open again with a slam and this time your poor assistant came in.
âCap, itâs an emergency,â he looks around with frenzied eyes, âthe Colonel's back and heâsââ
âWhere is she?!â A voice boomed down the hospital corridors and, somehow, it seemed to shake the very walls. âI swear to fucking god if sheâs missing any body part Iâll destroy the lot of you! The fuck kind of report is this anyway?! Captain Wayne in critical condition, donât make me fucking laugh, she reattaches faster than I can even say the goddamn word, how badly must you all have fucked up for her not to?!â
âOh god, here comes the cavalry, open the window for me, Aldryn,â you shook your head just as a new person entered the room. An overbearing aura fills the small space in an instant, it's the same feeling one would feel when they realized theyâre outclassed, outnumbered, or outplanned. And the only thing that changed was the addition of this one individual. Then again, it was understandable. Anyone who marched into a hospital room covered in blood, riddled with scars, and with a just lit cigarette would be shocked.
âBeat it, Aldryn,â the man juts his thumb over his shoulder and the other rushes out. âJesus Christ,â the Colonel grimaces while putting the cigarette out in a nearby potted plant, âarenât you a sight for sore eyes,â he shifts his weight onto one leg and looks at the state of you. âBeen a while since you had to stay in a hospital room.â
âColonel MacLennan,â the nurse finally catches up with him, âvisitation⌠is full,â she huffs. He holds his hand up and gently urges her out of the room.
âIâll be in and out.â He takes the liberty of closing the door. The Colonel was originally away on another continent for a foreign aid mission and recently returned back after its conclusion, however, despite his distance he had also been keeping an eye on the monster problem. âSo, what the hell happened? Tell me the good part so I know what to tell Claire, then tell me the bad part so I can find out how to kill the bastards.â
âOh, yeah, your rifle was so helpful,â you scoffed. And just like that the tension broke.
âThe hell do you mean?!â
âGo figure bullets donât work on mutated monsters.â You pick up the clipboard back up and feign boredom.
âThat rifle saved thousands of lives in the war!â
âAnd yet it hasnât taken a single one since its reinstatement.â
âYou little,â Allistor takes a deep breath before continuing. âAnd you, you see your old mate after years and you donât say anything?â He turns to Constantine.
âYou looked like you were busy,â he raises his hands in turn and you push yourself off of bed.
âWhoa, whoa, whoa,â different voices chimed and you found yourself being pushed back down by Tim.
âWe still donât know how your body is reacting to the chemicals, take it easy,â Tim advises you.
âActually, I think I might be the only one who knows how it reacts,â you corrected. âRelax, I just wanted to sit up is all,â you brushed him off and adjusted the pillow behind you. âAs you can see, Iâm perfectly fine, it wasnât an injury to warrant a return to the Capital.â
âOf course I had to come back, did a daemon hit you over the head so hard you forgot how to take care of yourself?!â
âYou couldnât have at least, I donât know, showered before coming in? Youâre going to attract minor monsters here, you know.â
âLike you couldnât just step on them and have it over with,â he argues. âHave you even seen the mission report?â Allistor grimaces. âIt was gruesome, thatâs what it was, you know Iâm still your guardian, right? What would I be if I didnât check on you after reading that,â he shakes his head. âAnyway, why the hellâs this room so stuffy, itâs crowded in here,â he complains.
âYou could say that again,â you groaned. âAllistor, this is my family. My older brother Dick, my younger brothers Tim and Damian, and the man who raised me, Bruce,â you pointed at each of them as you introduced them. âFamily, this is my boss, Allistor MacLennan,â you introduced him last. âApparently you know Constantine already so thereâs no need to introduce him.â
âWe shared a drink a few years ago,â Constantine corrects.
âAn oversimplification of what happened, but whatever. Whatâs your prognosis?â Allistor presses. âYour boss who took you into his family is worried,â he snarks back.
âWhat do you think? Bedrest until my body reattaches properly again,â you grumbled, looking down at the stitched wounds along your scars. âYou can tell Claire that Iâm fine, she doesnât have to come over too.â
âChrist, kid,â Allistor drags a tired hand down his face. âYou really know how to make someone worry. I only approved that weird chemical you and Mary were working on because I thought it gave you something to do outside of training, I didnât expect it to put you in a hospital bed,â he says.
âSo youâre pulling funding from it?â You asked.
âNo, itâs too far in development anyway,â he shakes his head. âPlus, looks like youâll be needing more of it now.â The conversation dies out, and you finish your cup of coffee in the meantime.
âAny other questions?â You ask him.
âNo, Iâll leave now that Iâve seen you in one piece,â he says. âAlex, take a few days, you look like youâre about to keel over there. I can pick up any of (Y/N)âs tasks.â
âThank you, sir.â
âDonât mention it,â Allistor looks around the room one last time. âAbout that thing you asked, Alex.â
âHm?â
âYou were right. Cosmo never returned his watch.â You looked up from the clipboard now. Then you turned to Alex. It wasnât Constantine he called that day. âMakes sense, he went straight to the first subjugation from his mission in E-34. And since there was no body to recover the watch never made it back either.â
âI see, thank you,â he nodded.
âYeah, but⌠Figured Iâd mention it now since I wouldâve told (Y/N) anyway,â Allistor rubbed the back of his head harshly. âBut donât take it as an invitation. (Y/N), donât poke your nose into anything too dangerous.âÂ
âI know,â you answer him in a way to cut the topic and Allistor catches on easily. âJust quit nagging and go already, Aldryn will give you the rundown.â
âWould you rather me nag or Claire?â
âThis whole thing is going to drive me insane,â you slammed the clipboard on the table and Alex sighed.
âWant me to keep looking into any dimension fluxes?â
âIf you could, that would be helpful, do it after your break,â you told him. âWhen did you ask the Colonel to look into Cosmoâs gear?â
âAfter Damian landed here. Thereâs no other way to get into this dimension without it so I figured that one of them had to be missing, but it still doesnât add up,â he answers. You took the tablet now and opened a file. A debrief projects and you turn it so your siblings could see it.Â
âAllow me to explain. If you havenât noticed, the knights primarily work in trios. There were six of us in the Brigade until the daemon attacks started. The first time we ran into a mutated daemon was on the outskirts of the town Helio, where frequent wildfires had been reported. All six of us went, but we got too cocky, didnât have a good plan against a daemon we had no info on, and so one of us stayed behind to fight. Fire took everything, all that was left behind was a necklace and a sword,â you explained. âWe assumed the watch melted in the fire, theyâre not very heat resistant, you see, even Carter has to be mindful of his temperature with the newer models. So your theory is that someone got their hands on Cosâ watch and now theyâre wreaking havoc,â you finish with a question and Alex answers with a nod.Â
âItâs all I have to work with,â he says. Tim looks over the details carefully.
âSounds right to me, but you know more than us in this situation, (Y/N),â Dick says. âAll I can tell you is how we found it in the first place.â
âIâll take anything.â
âI assumed it was yours only because it was on your seat after you left,â Tim says. âBut now that I think about it, thereâs no way I can know if someone dropped it off while I was knocked out, and your friends made sure to cut all the cameras during your escape too so we canât even fall back on that.â
âI see.â
âFor what itâs worth, itâs the same watch that sent us here too,â Tim adds on.
âDo you still have it?â
âNo, Zee zapped it to the manor while she was trying to bring Jason and Tim back,â Constantine answers. âDid you need it?â
âItâd definitely help track who used it last.â
âHypothetically,â Tim clears his throat.
âHm?â
âCould it also do that if it was broken?â Tim asks quietly. You blink.
âWhich one of you broke it.â
âFor the record, I was trying to get it back so we could study it more. I have no clue what Jason wanted it for.â
âWell, there goes the main lead,â you shrugged. âGotta look around for a different avenue then,â you turned to Alex, who leaned against the table next to you.
Then, for the final time, the door opens.
âYour Highness,â you fixed your expression quickly just as Allistor and Alex stood at attention.
âAt ease,â he says, seemingly reading the room quite quickly. âI have a message for you from the Queen,â he looks around. âIâm afraid it canât wait.â
âJust say it, your highness.â
âYouâre ending your bedrest early, your services are required.â
âDoes the Queen know her perfect soldierâs not reattaching anymore?â
âYouâre not reattaching?â The Prince is shocked.
âNope, Dr. Bronte wanted me to wait until the wounds are healed over before doing anything intensive,â you explained. ââFraid I canât do work right now.â
âThatâsâŚâ the Prince swallows harshly. âIt canât wait,â he says with a more serious tone.
âLook, Your Highness, I know your word is law but what good will (Y/N) be if she worsens her condition,â Alex cuts in. The Prince glares at him and he matches his look. âWhatever it isââ
âThe Queen is demanding for the Dark Knight,â Calvin blurts out. Your jaw clenches just as you feel the attention turn to you.
âThatâs out of the question. Even for our normal operations we need to be in top condition, going on a special ops mission could put so much strain that I might actually lose a limb.â You chanced a glance at your hand, the scars more prominent than ever.
âPlease, you know as well as I do that this is just a formality,â Calvin argues. He looks you over. âYouâre fine.â Youâve never heard him take that tone before.
âTake it up with Bronte then,â Allistor argues.
âItâs a royal order.â
âDoctorâs orders can overwrite those if they believe the patientâs health is not in the best interest,â Allistor cited. âHow long are you going to argue, Your Highness?â
âGive me a few days then, Iâll report in as soon as I can, and Iâm not stupid enough to disregard Dr. Bronteâs diagnosis,â you finally answered. If you said no the Queen wouldâve come here herself to tell you to do it anyway, and you didnât want her crossing paths with your family unless absolutely necessary. As long as you donât strain yourself too much it should be fine anyway, you think. Calvin seemed to relax at this.
âWeâve sent the details over.â
âFigured. Is there anything else you need, Your Highness?â You open the file on the holoscreen and start to read the details.
âNo, thatâs all.â
âActually, perfect timing, Your Highness, Iâll give you the debrief on my mission,â Allistor kicks off the wall and approaches the prince, urging him out of the room. âTop secret stuff, we should leave.â
âAh, yesââ Allistor shuts the door behind them.
âIs it⌠is it really just a formality?â Tim asks after a short pause. âYouâre really fine?â
âYou saw the labs, and you see me now. If anything I should just be more mindful of just tanking my way through enemies,â you say.
âI was just thinking⌠they havenât even set up a heart monitor for you, how would they be able to tell if youâre stable?â Tim looks at the unplugged device with its wires wrapped around the base. âI havenât seen another doctor or nurse walk by aside from the ones whoâve been helping youâŚâ
âDrake, I could use your insight, actually,â Alex interrupts him. âAll of you could help, really. It might speed up this whole daemon process faster,â he clears his throat. âYouâre outside sources, and Constantine and I are gathering as much information as we can from the daemons, if youâre okay with answering a few questions. Might get you home earlier if we can crack it,â he says.
âYes, we should focus on the pressing task,â you push yourself up and feel the scars stretching. âUnnff,â you winced and held your hand up, already feeling Timâs hand hovering behind you. âJust need air, this roomâs stuffy,â you moved toward the window and looked outside before settling on its sill. âAnything else you need from me?â You looked around the room.
âNothing too pressing, Captain,â Alex answers.
âGood, Iâll take my leave too then,â you cleared your throat. It was silent for a moment and you looked down the window before glancing at the clock. You leaned backward and the first person you saw halfway out the window was Dick.
âAre you crazy?!â He shouts.
âRelax! I got her!â Jason shouts under you, catching you easily and setting you down. âIâm not gonna die for helping you break out of hospital jail, right?â
âNope, letâs go,â you ran off as soon as the door slammed open. You both took off, seeing your motorcycle parked and at the ready.
âHere, you be backpack,â Jason shoved the helmet in your hand and you pushed it back.
âWhat? No! You be backpack!â Jason pushed the helmet back into your hands.
âHell no, Iâm bigger therefore I need more space.â You groaned and pushed it back to him.
âAnd Iâm shorter therefore it makes more sense for me to be in the front! And youâd have less space in the front!â Jason tries to pull the helmet from your hands and you pull back.
âWomp womp, youâre backpack.â
âItâs my bike!â
âIâm older!â
âFine! Just give me the helmet!â He tries to tug it harder and you pull back, seeing him lose his footing for a second.
âNo! Youâre just going to shove it on my head and make me backpack!âÂ
âWhenâd you get so strong anyway?!â
âShut up and let me drive!â
âBusted,â Dick pulled the helmet from between your hands. You and Jason paused.
âBruce says weâre both hardheaded anyway,â you climbed on the motorcycle and Jason was quick to follow. You revved the engine and left dust in your trail.
âYou two, I swear!â Dick shouts from far behind.
âSo where are we going anyway?!â Jason shouts over the air.
âKeep your mouth shut, youâll catch a bug,â you grinned, revving forward and completing your escape.
You read the mission details. You really did have to deal with this now. The daemon problem was bad enough, and you knew that you couldnât deal with another war on top of that.
~
Earth - 617
âThank you so much, Cass,â Zatanna smiles as the former hands her a warm mug.
âSure,â she crosses her arms and continues to watch Zatanna work away.
âI still canât believe it, was (Y/N) really here?â Barbara asks. âWe didnât even get to see her, I bet those boys said something stupid and chased her out,â she shakes her head. âShe⌠she was really going through it those last few days, I can only imagine how her mind spun when she returned,â she frowns.
âCass, what do you think?â Stephanie asks. âYou were closest to her.â
âI donât understand why it affected her so much,â Cass mumbles. âAlmost all of us arenât blood-related,â she says, âI donât understand why sheâŚâ she stumbles over her words and falls silent.
âItâs okay Cass, you donât have to force it,â Steph says.
âOh! I think I got it!â Zatanna finishes tinkering with the watch and holds it up, the piece now put back together. âThe only thing is, Iâm not sure if the enchantment on it would still work,â she says, placing it on the console of the bat computer. âIâll look into it more tomorrow, I donât want to accidentally trigger it without fully understanding how it works like those other two did.â
âFair enough,â Barbara nods. She had been trying to send a message to any of the boysâ comms all day but hadnât had any success. Luckily, her distress signal to the League was answered and soon enough theyâd have a few extra support from other heroes in Batmanâs absence but she was worried that it wouldnât be enough. The region was down five vigilantes, and soon enough the villains will take notice.
But the conversation fell on deaf ears. Cass hadnât stopped thinking about that night since it happened, and it bothered her that nothing made sense about it. She knew that Tim wasnât the type to let anything suspicious slide, so why did he let you stay for so long without confronting you? Why did you act the way you did?Â
âSo frustratingâŚâ she muttered, now alone in the bat cave and staring at the mocking watch. True to Zatannaâs words, it had been hastily put back together and looked to be in shape. Whether it worked or not was yet to be seen, however. She picked it up, the chain threading around her hands, and with extreme caution, she opened it up. Just the same as before she saw the layers of clock hands atop a starry watchface. âHmâŚâ she closed it and turned it around again before focusing on the watch cover. She squints carefully and sees another opening on it and, out of curiosity, she pried it open. This time it sported a normal watch face, well, semi-normal. She pulled up on the attachment and hummed again. Not often you see sundials as big as your hand. But, perhaps even more curious, was the picture on the backside of the cover. A blonde woman who sheâd never seen before with a smile as warm as the sun. Handwritten in small print were the words âCome home safe, Cosmo.â
âCosmo, huh?â Cass closes the watch and stares up at the bat computer, watching the figure talking to Damian over and over again. But distractions were just that. Distractions. And soon she once again felt that foreign emotion climb up inside of her. She truly should have tried harder that night three years ago. All of this, all of this had to be some kind of sick karma.
~
2019 - Gotham University
â(Y/N)? What is all this?â Cassandra asked quietly. You stumbled to your feet, dropping the syringe in your hands, then knocking over the other syringes on the lab table to the ground and the shattering glass caused you to jump. Cass looked around the lab, splotches of red on the tables and floors, unknown serums were mixed into beakers, and syringesâ so many syringesâ in the glass waste cans everywhere.
âCassie, I didnât hear you come in,â you picked up the glass from the ground and disposed of it, then you wiped off the blood on your hands while ignoring the fresh drops that came from the small cuts that littered your palms. âJust my thesis, no worries. Iâd never seen it get this crazy though,â you laughed quietly. âThen again, rats arenât exactly supposed to blow up so thereâs that too,â you sighed. âWhatâs wrong?â
Cass freezes in her spot, her mind overwhelmed by all the signals you were throwing at her, signals that just werenât supposed to come from you. They were so powerful that she could almost feel them herself.
Dilated pupils, shaking hands â> Anxiety
Tense shoulders, clenched jaw â> Stress
Even breathing, controlled movements â> Understanding?
Why were all of your movements conflicting?
Bloodied hands, chipped nails, whitened knuckles â> Stress
Hunched posture, shifting eyes â> Stress
âCassie?â
Quiet voice.
âSorry, must look like a crime scene in here.â She watched you pick up the carcasses from the tables and drop them into biohazard. âI must have gotten too excited, I thought I finally cracked the code.â You washed your hands off after scrubbing the blood from the tables. And all the while, Cass watched you.
You scrubbed the blood off the tables so harshly that the pads of your hands lightened from the pressure. You scrubbed them over and over again as if you didnât know the blood had been cleaned off already. Then you repeated it with your hands.
Conclusion â> Something is very wrong.
âWhatâŚâ she muttered.
âHm?â You rubbed the towel over your hands repeatedly.
âWhat were you about to inject there?â She asks. You shake your head.
âAh, donât even worry about it,â you shook your head and tossed the towel before shoving your hands in your labcoatâs pockets. You were lying. You always hid your hands when you lied. âJust a little project, is all. I felt like the syringe wasnât working so I was testing the tip on myself.â
âRight over your vein?â You fell silent.
âWhat are you doing here, Cass?â You asked monotonously. âDick and Tim have already asked me to come home. I wonât. I canât. Not until I finish this. He wonât let me come back there until Iâve proven myself.â
âProven what? Come home, (Y/N). What are you doing to yourself?â Cass couldnât stop it. The signals kept coming. âYouâre going to work yourself to death, (Y/N), and for what? You and Bruce fight all the time, just come home and apologize!â
âIâm not in the wrong, Cass! It wasnât my fault but he kept saying it was!â Your hand smacked your chest now while the other held onto the table for support. âHow was I supposed to know that I wasnât his daughter?!â Your shoulders slumped and Cassâs expression dropped.
âWhat are you talking about? Youâre (Y/N) Wayne.â
âI thought I was too,â your whole body seemed to sink. âHow was I supposed to know I was the cuckoo birdâŚâ you mumbled.
âYou canât be talking about that article that came out, (Y/N). Thatâs just gossip and you know it,â she says.
âI know, I know but I looked into it anyway. You know I always did wonder why I was so ordinary compared to my parents,â you looked at your hands, convinced there was still blood on them. âI know Selina and I arenât related. She was just the unfortunate soul who my mother found first. But I was so convinced that Bruce was my father that I didnât even consider the possibility that he wasnât.â
âWhy does that matter, (Y/N)? None of us are his biological children except for Damian.â
âBecauseâŚâ you mumbled the rest, clutching your head and digging that hand into the roots of your hair to stop the incoming headache.
âBecause what?â Cass took careful steps toward you.
âHe told me that I couldnât come home until I proved that I had some value to this family,â your voice was hopeless. âIf Iâm not a blood Wayne then I have nothing else.â
âIâm sure thatâs notâŚâ
âThen why did he say that to me then, Cass?â You squeezed your eyes shut. âItâs too late for me to become a vigilante, I donât have the time or the luxury for that.â
âWhat were you planning to do?â Cass looks around the lab again. â(Y/N)?â She knew that the syringe looked oddly green.
âNothing, I wasnât going to do anything,â you straightened your posture as if nothing had happened. Carefully, she took another step toward you, and now you stood at armâs length.
Dark circles, sunken cheeks â> Sleep deprived
Chapped lips, dry eyes â> Dehydrated
Thinned hair, pale skin â> Deficient
âCass?â Had your voice been so hoarse? She took a step forward and pulled you into her arms. Slowly, you relaxed into them, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth as you carefully wrapped your own around her. Your hug that was so famously warm was now the opposite, the tightness of it that your family sought after was missing, but the love behind it was still there. âI love my family, Cass. I donât want to leave you all,â you said into her shoulder.
âThen come home,â she says against your head.
âI canât.â Cass could feel your tears drop onto her shoulder. âCass, he wonât let me,â you insisted.
âThat doesnât sound like Bruce,â she says, pulling away just enough to look at you. But soon, and once again, her expression falls when she sees your face.
âI know.â
Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435
@f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack
@akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz
@lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou @y3oudscÂ
@rainnyydaysworld @underworlder @franini
@mayo-0-o @mileskisser @nightw-izhu
@alishii @bluebear142077 @miso-sopas
@enjisthingsÂ
#dc#batman#batfamily#batfam#batsis#batsis fics#batfamily x batsis!reader#batfam x reader#batfamily scenarios#batfamily x reader#batsis!reader#batfam fics#batfamily fics#batfamily x batsis#batfam x batsis!reader#batfam x batsis#my writings#nycv
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silly little prompt
so like basically a neglected batreader who is kinda a ghost in the manor
but like then they become a spider-person reader
get taken in by the society or wtv
they start calling miguel dad and and shi and then like one day during a mission in gothem the batfam sees them nd theyre all like "erm ehat the freak" and go all yandere and shi
idk its js an idea
(extra points if reader acts like an older sibling to peni and plus also if someone else treats reader as their younger sibling (like hobie or sum idk))
and plus also i dunno how to write so this prolly does NAWT make sense
#neglected reader#yandere bruce wayne#yandere batfam#across the spiderverse#writing promt#batman and robin#batfamily#bruce wayne#alfred pennyworth#batman#batman comics#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#writing ideas#writing prompt#story ideas#writing tropes#creative writing#yeah#peni parker#hobie brown#dc x marvel#batfamily x batsis!reader#platonic yandere#spiderbat reader#spider bat!reader#-đ°
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Moonlight by the Docks (And They Say Romance is Dead) - Slade Wilson
Hi. It's been a while. But guess fucking what babes, I'm pulling all the stops to be forgiven. It's been more than a YEAR in the making, and mark my word it probably won't happen again so take it all in, but here is the Deathstroke smut a LOT of you have been wanting. Y'all, this is the long awaited sequel to Tango Ă Deux. Please forgive me?
(it's technically a sequel but can be read as a standalone if you accept that batsis and Slade already know each other)
Also, enjoy!
Pairing: Slade Wilson x Nightshade!Batsis
Word count: 4721
Warnings: violence, death/killing unnamed NPC, porn with plot, dirty talk (lots of it), unprotected sex, p in v, batsis and deathstroke fighting for dominance (NO classic dom/sub dynamics bc that's a pass for me), more dirty talk, body fluid, kinky shit, creampie, biting, rubbing, rough sex, reference to voyeurism, major praise kink, everything is extremely consenting and willing by both ADULT parties, might have missed something but I think if you made it this far you're into it.
Have fun ;)
âNightshade, statusâ
You barely heard Batman's hushed check in as you barrelled into a boarded up window, breaking the moulding wood with your shoulders and rolling out of the building as bullets rained over you. You wasted no time getting back on your feet, starting to sprint away from the semi automatic rifles rapid firing in your direction.
âNightshade, status?â
âJUST A MINUTEâ You yelled as you dived behind a large container, flinching at the sound of the bullets hitting the metal and ringing loud into your head. âFucking fuck shitâ
âWhat's going on?â Batman's voice grew agitated despite remaining a low hiss. âTalk to me Nightshadeâ
âWrong fucking intel!â You replied as you jumped on your feet again, taking advantage of the opportunity window their reloading gave you to run across the dockyard to find better cover. âIt's happening now! There's at least twenty guys here, all trained and armed to the teeth. And they're all on my ass right nowâ
What was supposed to be a simple recon mission with a possibility of stealth takedown op turned into a giant mess at the first opportunity. The second you slipped into the warehouse, you quickly realized that the three guards on shift that you had been briefed about was, in fact, a small militia that was ready to be deployed on some combat mission, or that's what you believed was being said before you got made.Â
You would have also liked to know in advance that the building was littered with state of the art tripwires, movement detectors and heat sensors. Alas, you had gone in believing it was just a normal warehouse, and you had realized a moment too late you had triggered pretty much every alarm on the upper floor and very much alerted the militia of your presence.Â
 âTell me your position, I'm comingâ
Your eyes went to the containers around you, taking as much information as you could without slowing down. Going into the maze of old containers was a great idea until you had to describe your surroundings. âI'm westbound, but those crates all look the same, Bâ
âOn my wayâ
You ducked as much as you could to make yourself smaller as the symphony of bullets bouncing on the metal caught up to you. You took a hard left, trying to remember which way was more likely to not end up with a dead end, then went to your right. You could hear them shout, not giving up the chase, but you still tempted a look over your shoulder. They weren't on you yet. You faced forward and picked up some speed, rounding the corner towards the darkest and narrowest path to the left.
Before your eyes could even adjust to the shadows cast by the containers, your feet lifted off the ground and a large gloved hand was slapped tight on your mouth. On instinct, you began trashing to get away before your back was pulled flush against a hard armoured chest with a strong arm locking your waist against it.Â
âQuiet, little birdâ
The militia paused at the crossroad, then after a string of barked orders, turned right. At the same time, your brain took in the orange and dark grey of the armour around you and pieced it with that voice you couldnât mistake for anyone else's. You stopped struggling, yet, he didnât release you. His hand was still firmly cupping your jaw while you could feel his other arm flex around your waist.Â
He tsked as the echoes of the yells grew more distant. âOnce again getting in my way. What will I do with you now?â
You replied something, but it was muffled by his glove. You reached up and pulled his hand down, but he still let it linger on your neck once your mouth was free. You felt a bit weak in the knees and cursed yourself for getting turned on so easily, and even more for your next words. âHopefully finish what you started last time if youâre not a cowardâ
Oh, that was so not the thing to say right now. You felt his hand around your neck tighten enough to be noticeable, but still loose enough for you to weigh your next words carefully. The yells once again grew closer, telling you the militia found a dead end and were backtracking towards your position.Â
âDo you really want to do this right now?â His voice was so close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. As much as pouncing on him right there and then was generating divine images in your brain, you were still being hunted down by an enemy whoâd be on you much sooner than later. And well, if you died riding Deathstroke, Bruce would bring you back to life just to kill you himself, his own code be damned.Â
âAs much as I wanna say yes,â You breathed back. âThis bunch of angry men want me dead, so I believe the smart thing would be to deal with them firstâ
He released you. âAlright then. Iâll be hereâ
Your feet were fully back on the ground and you turned around to face him. Wow. You had been so right in your assumption that his other suitânamely, the one he was currently wearingâwould be hotter on him. Even in the dark, he looked positively glorious and mighty delicious in all that armour, and with a small armoury worth of weapons strapped all over his, big, strong, menacing bodyâÂ
You forced yourself to calm your thoughts down. âA little help would be appreciatedâ
âWhy?â You couldnât see his face, but you just knew it was full of smug arrogance. âIâve got my own mission here. Who says they're part of it?â
You glanced in the direction of the ever growing noise, then back to him. âC'mon, I'm literally about to have sex with you, the least you could do is make sure I'm alive for itâ
He sighed loudly. âI suppose you make a compelling pointâ
The militia rounded the corner and spotted you as Slade stepped between their fire and you. In one swift movement, he pulled out his sword and twirled it in his hand, as if provoking the armed men in front of him. For a moment, he just stood there, shielding you from the onslaught of bullets suddenly incoming your way. They all bounced on the front of Sladeâs armour, painting him off as some kind of god of war, and you couldnât help but gawk at the sight. You were so caught onto just how hot he looked that you almost didnât register him springing into action and starting to cut through the group.Â
You reached for your karambit blades in your thigh straps and followed him in, making sure not to stray too far from his shadow to keep your cover from the fire.Â
You waited for the reload to duck under his arm, sliding on your knees in a spin and slicing the tendons of two men. That sent them straight into the path of Slade's swords, adding to the bloodshed. You swiftly returned behind him as another round of bullet was fired, but by the sound alone, the number of gunmen was plummeting.Â
The next reload came and you once again stepped away from him as he brought his two swords down onto some poor son of a bitch. You noticed a knife coming down and aiming for the small opening between his suit and his mask, so you sprung into action.Â
Literally.
You used his propped up knee to propel yourself up and jump onto the guys' shoulders, gripping onto him by squeezing your thighs around his skull. He tried to get you off of him by spinning and thrashing like a mechanical bull, but you held on tight. He was getting desperate to throw you off as pressure grew around his head, lifting his knife in the air to stab your leg. You were faster however, reacting on instinct and plunging your karambits into his neck.Â
He began sputtering as he tried to claw at his throat, blood squirting out of his artery and onto your suit. He dropped down to his knees and you got off, only then noticing he had been the last one standing. Key word, had been. He fell down on the floor in a puddle of his own blood as you observed him. Then, you felt like you were being watched intensely.Â
You trailed your gaze up to see Slade on his feet and unmoving among the carnage he had mostly caused. You couldn't help the thoughts that flashed into your mind, or the way your body reacted to it. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, wondering what the hell was wrong with you.
Because somehow, you found it fucking hot.
And the fact that he did all of that just to get a taste of you? Yeah that did it. You completely switched your brain off as your feet took determined steps to him, quickly closing the distance to him and paying no mind to the bodies littering the floor. The second you were in front of him, you ripped his mask off and kissed him hard.Â
And he was ready for you. Without a single after thought of hesitation, his gloved hand yanked your hood back and cupped your neck, dragging you back in the shadows with him.Â
Just like the first time you sneaked out in a quiet place to make out, his lips were rough and insistent on yours. His hands were busy mapping your body, gripping your hips tight as he pushed you back onto the metal of the container. Like a reflex, his fingers seeked your back for a zipper, but found none. He kept searching for the proper way to undo your suit, until he pulled back with a glare of frustration.
You rolled your eyes. âI'll take care of mine, take care of yoursâ
Of course it was hard to figure out, it was made as such. But telling him that would only push him to try and get it and you weren't nearly patient enough right now to nurse his ego.Â
In practiced motions, you undid your belt and unclasped several buckles that held the top part of your suit to the bottom. You barely had the time to pop off the button of the waistband that you were pushed once again on the cold metal, a much larger hand quickly replacing yours.Â
Your pants were quickly undone and his hand slid down your stomach, reaching their destination with haste. You gasped as his calloused fingers began working on your clit, rubbing it in circles at a pace that was both tortuously slow and absolutely fantastic. His free hand slapped on your mouth just as you let out a moan that would have definitely bounced around the whole shipyard.Â
He tsked. âAs much as I would like to hear you, I'd rather not get interrupted by another armed militia. You'd agree, wouldn't you?â
Your breath shuddered and you nodded. Still, his hand didn't go away.Â
He gave you a smug smirk. âI'll keep it there just in caseâ
You didn't even think about arguing, instead, you squeezed his forearm to encourage him to keep going. His fingers expertly worked you, alternating between pressure and friction and making your eyes roll back into your skull. Your hips followed his movements, chasing more friction from the fabric of his glove. You were greedy for him, for his hands, for his body. All you wanted to do is take, take and take, and luckily for you, he seemed more than happy to give it all to you and more.Â
âThat's it little bird, fly for meâ
His hand moved just right with his words, and you couldn't do anything else to obey his command. You let go and came harder than you had in years, your vision going completely white for a second. Good thing his hand was muffling your voice, otherwise you were sure the whole city would have heard your scream bouncing from the dock.Â
When he was certain your whimpers had quieted to an acceptable level, he took off his hand from your mouth and caressed the side of your head. âI think I like you like thisâ He hummed. âBeing a good girl for meâ
You were already half coherent from your orgasm, but him calling you a good girl like this, even if it was most likely condescending, was definitely getting you worked up for round two. âFuck, if this is what you give me every time, I'll be whatever you wantâ
Oh yeah, you were NOT thinking with your brain at the moment.Â
And the groan coming from him did not help calm down your heartbeat. And judging by how his entire body flexed along, you could only figure out those words of your equally turned him on, creating a feedback loop that threatened to keep you here with him until well past sunrise.Â
Like a man starved, he shoved you back into the wall with his whole body, pinning your naked hips with his. You took in a sharp breath when his hard cock rubbed against your sensitive clit, spreading your orgasm all over his pants. Before you can make any more noises, his lips were on yours, reclaiming back with interest his dues from the previous ride. The grinding of his hips against yours drove you delirious and made you forget everything that wasn't about him right now.Â
He reached between his body and yours and pulled out his cock, letting it bounce on his chest piece and stand proud, already glistening with precum. Just like the rest of him, he was huge. Good thing you had a whole waterpark going down there, otherwise he would never have fitted. He snaked his arms around your thighs and put his hands on your ass, then hoisted you up like you weighed nothing more than a feather. Â
âNot one drop on this suitâ You warned breathlessly as he lined himself with you.
âWhat, no more ruining your clothes?â He raised a teasing eyebrow.Â
âThat dress was worth pocket change compared to thisâ You replied, eyelids half open as you forced the moment of clarity. âBuying me a new one would have you file for bankruptcyâ
âFine, no stain whatsoeverâ He drawled out, leaning into your space once again and ghosting his lips on your ear. âWill you be my good girl and take it all inside then?â
The spell you had broken returned tenfold over you as your knees buckled. It took you several seconds to find your voice and prepare an answer that wouldn't be an embarrassingly loud moan. âIf I say yes, will you get going?â
The pressure from his tip at your entrance alone made you whimper in absolute delight. This is what had been peeking more and more often in your naughty dreams ever since you met, and more often than not they ended with your hand doing what you now knew was a mediocre impression of his.
Slowly, he lowered you into him until you couldn't go further down. You were so full of him it was literally impossible to think about anything other than the pressure between your legs and the massive cock impaling you. That too, had been greatly underestimated by your imagination. Nothing would have done the real thing justice. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him just a little bit deeper, and it took all of his restraint not to start fucking you like an animal after that.Â
âFuck little bird,â He said, his voice low and rough. You hadn't started moving yet, but a quick squeeze around him made him let out a low grunt that you would definitely replay in your head later on. âYou always take âem that easy?â
âI think that's only you,â Feeling bold at how much he tried to act tough about it, you decided to return the favour. You snaked your arms around his neck and pulled yourself closer, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses up until you reached his ear. âMaybe your little bird has just been dreaming about getting railed by the big bad wolf one night too many to give him any resistanceâ
He switched his hands from your ass to your waist and pushed you back roughly on the wall. The angle changed and stars flashed in your vision for a moment.Â
âWhy don't you tell me about those dreams?â His words were demands and he started moving inside of you, hips thrusting forward in a tortuously slow movement. Yet, it made your body sing along, meeting him halfway.Â
âIt always starts with you dragging me off to a dark secluded place after I said some shit to get you hardâ You smiled as he kept hitting the right spot. Your focus on his questing was a lifeline you gripped with all you had not to just become some fucked out doll for him. You intended to make him work a little more before getting to this point.Â
He gave you a particular hard thrust that made you gasp for air. âKeep going on, little birdâ He grunted in your ear.
âAnd thenâ Fuckâ You threw your head back on the wall. He wasted no time claiming your open neck, grazing his teeth on the skin. âNo marks eitherâ
You could practically feel him rolling his eyes, but he backed off with the teeth and kept going on with his lips. âAnd then what?â
âAnd then we rile each other up properlyâ You smirked as you threaded your hand in his hair and gripped hard. The low reverberating moan that came out of him combined with the very obvious twitching of his dick inside of you nearly made you finish right here and there. âYour head between my legs, taking good care of meâŚâ
His thrusts definitely picked up speed as your words hit their mark. He did nip your neck at the moment, but it was light enough that you let it fly.Â
âThen when you show that you know how to warm me up, I'd get down on my kneesââ That made his hips jut forward and hit a deep spot in you that made you moan like a whore. âMaybeâ Maybe even let you fuck my face if your tongue made me cum hard enoughââ
âFuck, who knew Gotham's little princess had such a dirty mouth on her, huh?â He straightened up and returned his glove to your oversensitive clit, brushing it hard enough to catch your voice in your throat. âWhat would everybody think if they saw you so eager to be my good little fuck toy?â
That would be a proper scandal indeed.Â
âI don't care what they'd thinkâ You managed to mumble. It was getting harder to keep your mind sharp now that he had begun rubbing you again. âThey can even watch, as long as they don't interruptâ
You should have kept your damn mouth shut, you realized seconds later. You had obviously called irony upon yourself just by speaking the words.
âNightshade?â
It was like you were suddenly doused with a bucket of ice water. You grew rigid as your earpiece came to life with probably the last voice you wanted to hear right now. Your eyes slowly widened as you remembered that your father was on his way to be your backup. And him walking in on you and Slade wouldn't be as low key as it had been with your brothers. There would be bloodshed.Â
Slade obviously noticed your change of attitude and paused his thrusts. You dreadfully raised your hand to your comm and double tapped it to turn on the mic.Â
âB?â
It took a few seconds for Slade to understand what was going on, and the shit eating grin he gave you told you he definitely wouldn't make the next step easy. With his good eye never leaving your face, he began thrusting again, challenging your murderous glare.
âI got delayed by another armed group in the shipyard,â He explained. âIâm on my way now. Where are you?â
You thanked whatever divine intervention that put obstacles on his way, because you had totally forgotten about him once you had caught sight of Slade. You were in an uncomfortable situation, but not as much as if he had walked on you. You took a moment to come up with a good enough excuse to keep him away just a little bit longer for you to get out of this mess. In the meanwhile, Slade still kept at it, obviously trying to make you slip. âUm, Iââ You coughed to hide a gasp as he hit you deep.
âFuck youâ you mouthed to Slade, which he replied in the same fashion, âAlready amâ. That fucker.
âNightshade, whatâs going on?â
You could have killed him right there if he hadnât been doing it so right.Â
âNightshade?â
âYep, uh,â You took a deep breath and got a hold of yourself. Batman was getting impatient and you had to start being credible. You made a show of coughing exaggeratedly before speaking your next words, your eyes never leaving Slade's. âJust got sucker punched. It's fine though, it just took me by surprise. T'was nothing but a weak shotâ
Sladeâs smug expression faltered just a little, and you gave him your own version of the shit eating grin he was no longer giving you.
âOk, where are you now?â
âI've backtracked and now Northbound, but Iâve got it under controlâ You took the opportunity of your previous lie to breathe deeply and counter some of the absolutely not family-friendly noises that were threatening to come out of your mouth instead of words. âBut Iâm not the only one hereââ Deep breath. âI was being chased, and then I wasnât. Only a couple of guys kept my trail⌠Somebody is picking out targets here. I think it would be smarter to fall back on the meetup point and reconâ
â... Are you sure?â
âPositiveâ The word came out short and dry. âI think they might have done the sameâ
âAlright, Iâll rerouteâ
âIâll catch up to youâ You managed to say without tripping. âNightshade outâ
You made sure your comm was definitely off before hitting Slade on the chest. He only let out a quiet chuckle at what most likely felt like a breeze to him. âAssholeâ
He leaned forward and rested his whole forearm on the container behind you, then thrust up. The new angle had you rolling your eyes in your skull, seeing black and orange stars in the blur of your vision. âGotta make you pay somehow for all that work you made me doâ
âAs if you havenât enjoyed itâ ohâ
He resumed his pace from before the untimely interruption, effectively cutting off your train of thoughts. âNow little bird, I believe you have somewhere else to be. Such a shame I don't have time to make you beg for itâ
âMhhfp, fineâ You muttered as your arms went back around his neck. âJust because you have been quite compliant with my demandsââ
He seemed confused for a second, until you pulled yourself up and nuzzled against his neck, letting out your prettiest little moans every time his hips hit yours. With your voice low enough just for him to hear, you gave him what he wanted.Â
âPlease Slade, I need itâ The out of rhythm thrusts and the low grunt that you felt through his chest told you everything you needed to know. âI need your cum inside of me, fuck your cum into your good girlâ
He slapped a hand on the wall behind you and wrapped his other arm around your waist, moving you faster up and down with his own thrusts forward. He grunted louder and louder in your ear, getting closer to his release. You had no idea if it was the begging or his reaction to it that turned you on, but you were getting pretty close as well.Â
âFuck, little birdâ His voice was rough and low, and you couldn't help the nip to his throat instead of something louder. âI'll ruin youâ I'll fucking ruin youâ
âPlease ruin meâ You whined, feeling the familiar crescendo of your orgasm build. âOh fuck, oh fuck, please, I'm so close, please don't stopâ
âC'mon, be a good girl and cum for meâÂ
He drove you into the wall with his hips and the friction of his belt on your clit drove you to the edge. You had expected it, but holy shit, your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your walls clenched around him hard and you pulled him deeper into you with your legs, holding onto him with everything you got. Your vision fully went white and your teeth bit into his neck like they had a mind of their own.Â
After a string of swears, he completely lost his rhythm and stilled, his hips sputtering forward and spilling inside of you with a low moan that almost got you ready for another round.Â
You didn't move for a moment, focusing on catching your breath. Your eyes were half closed, glazed over, watching sweat pearl over Slade's exposed skin and your bite mark slowly disappearing on his neck.Â
âSomething interesting about my neck, miss Nightshade?â
A genuine smile curved up your lips at his comment; the same he had made all those weeks ago when you were waltzing around the dance floor. âJust admiring the view, that's allâ You signed, content. âWhy, are you afraid I will bite it off?â
He shook his head, looking up at the sky in a failed attempt to appear annoyed that you also remembered exactly what you replied.
âHuh, I guess you were into it after allâ You mumbled as you slowly let yourself slide off of him and fell back on your feet.Â
He took a good look at the mess he had made, seeming satisfied at how your knees slightly buckled as you hit the ground. Without a word, he pulled himself back in his trousers and readjusted his belt.
You then started to pull back on your suit, the rough material now sitting uncomfortably on your sweaty skin. âThat's gonna be a bitch to cleanâŚâ You thought aloud, realizing tonight's run was far from over and the many body fluids would have time to nicely settle in the fabric.
âYou said not a drop on the outsideâ Slade commented, then pointed at the clearly not soiled outside layer of the suit. âAnd none there isâ
You couldn't help but laugh as your eyes subconsciously went to his own suit, where the glistening on his thigh guards extended to darker spots on his trousers. Anybody catching a glimpse of it would know exactly what caused the wet spot, and nobody would mistake it for him soiling himself. âCan't say the same for youâ
He looked down, then frowned in what you could only describe as a cartoonish way. âHm. This is upsetting. Whatever will I doâ
Both of your eyebrows shot up as you let out a short laugh of disbelief. âWhat that⌠a joke?â
He only gave you a stern look that didnât quite reach his good eye as he put back his mask on.Â
âOh, he has a sense of humour now? Who would have knownâ Despite your half dizzy state, your brain still found enough drive to tease him about it. Considering he was rearranging your guts minutes ago, you believed it was now fair game.Â
He pointed a warning finger at you after he finished making sure everything was strapped correctly on his armour. âYouâre lucky Iâm in a good moodâ
You rolled your eyes as you flipped back your hood on. âYeah I fucking bet. âCan say thank you Nightshade about itâ
As expected, he elected not to comment on that. He only turned around and looked over his shoulder. âUntil next time, little birdâ
You did gratuitously check out his ass as he walked away, then prepared a damn good reason to give Batman to explain your dishevelled state.
#slade wilson x f!reader#slade wilson x batsis!reader#slade wilson x reader#deathstroke x reader#deathstroke x f!reader#deathstroke x batsis!reader#dc fic#dc writing#dcu#DCU fic
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I might write about this one day. Maybe. Probably.
Random things about y/n with the batfam
Based on First Post
Bruce Wayne
Bruce never knew how to deal with y/nâs emotional outbursts even before they drifted apart. Out of everyone y/n was hands down the most emotional out of all the kids. Like what he is supposed to do when sheâs crying about stray cats that donât have a home. Or those times when sheâd tear up over failing a test.
Just gives her a pat on the back and tries saying that it's not the end of the world. Not really helping as it invalidates her emotions. She makes a mental note to not go to Bruce after getting the same âreassuring wordsâ from him every time.
Nearly spat out his coffee when she called him Pa for the first time. It was only after a couple of months of living there. Seeing the shocked reaction, she quickly tried to take it back until he reassured her with a small smile.
âYou wonât be my dad, but you can be my pa. So when I have kids you can be called peepaw.â
Bruce isnât sure when y/n stopped calling him Pa, but he remembers how he felt hearing her call him Sir or Bruce. How unnatural it sounded. It was too formal, but what hurt the most was how she said it without a second thought. Acting like it was the norm.
What happened to him being Pa?
What does he have to do to get his Pa status back?
Hopefully he doesnât learn that y/n gave that title to someone else.
Dick Grayson
Kinda regrets not getting to know y/n before he and the whole family start going off into the deep end. It's not like they never interact or anything. Dick had trained her when she was working toward becoming Batgirl, but it was Bruce who mainly trained her.
Dick wasnât nearly as close to her as Tim or even Jason. He didnât have the time when juggling the Teen Titans, establishing himself as Nightwing, and being a Wayne. It was a stressful time of his life.
But he has much more free time now. Meaning he has much more time to make up for not being a big brother for y/n.
Slightly jealous that everyone except for him and Damian know or at least knew y/n. Some more than others.
So to gain an edge he read her diary. Only once he swears and it wasnât like he went searching for it or anything. Didnât know she had one. It was just sitting there in a box under her bed. Anyone could have found it really.
Reading the neat handwriting and discovering the personality of y/n was interesting. Kinda expected something along the lines of teen angst constering how aloof she comes off when around the family. Instead he found words of an insecure yet optimistic girl.
Dick uses his newly acquired intel to make it easier for y/n to talk to him. Brings up media that she likes to bond over the âsameâ interests they have. Uses her insecurities against her.
If she gets mad at him for trying to plant the idea that her best friend was a bad person, heâll act like sheâs overrating. Say that she was yelling even if she wasnât. When asking if there was any validity to his bullshit, heâll bring up one of her insecurity.
âYouâve always been slow when it comes to everything, but good thing your favorite brother is always there for you.â
âYeah, good thing Iâll always have Tim.â
âYeah, wait-â
Jason Todd
They were somewhat close before he died as they trained and sparred with each other. He wished he was able to see her put on her suit for the first time as he knows how hard she worked for it. Could practically hear her squealing when she looked in the mirror.
Unlike the others, Jason avoided y/n on purpose. He felt ashamed for beating and having snapped her arm when he was trying to kill everyone. She wasnât even fighting back. If it wasnât for Bruce and Tim, y/n would have ended up in a casket.
When hearing that she quit being Batgirl, he was kind of surprised. He remembers the younger y/n trying so hard to meet Bruceâs expectations. Despite failing more than he could count, she always got back to work. Always trying to improve. Never being satisfied with herself.
Wanted to know what made her quit, but decided against it. It wasnât his place to ask and he doubted that sheâd tell him. It wasnât like she told anyone though.
Was kinda glad that y/n quit. Jason always felt queasy when seeing or even thinking of her getting hurt since it reminds him of when he was so close to taking her life. And he always felt that she wasnât made for this kind of work.
She was too soft to fight the Killer Croc or face Scarecrow. Even though Jason always felt that way, heâd never say it aloud. He couldnât bring himself to dampen that twinkle in her eyes.
âI saw how hard you hit the punching bag, why are you holding back now?â
âI donât knowâŚI donât want to hurt you or anything.â
ây/n, you're supposed to come at me with everything you got.â
âBut I donât like hurting you or anyone.â
Tim Drake
Tim and y/n were close even though it was a bit awkward at first. They geeked out about the latest games and shows. Staying up late enjoying whatever type entertainment with junk food much to the dismay of Bruce and Alfred.
y/n admired his intelligence and how patient he was when explaining something to her. Whether it was homework or something else entirely, he was the one she felt most comfortable asking for help from.
She was low-key jealous of how quickly Tim was able to gain the title of Robin while it took her years of training to become Batgirl. But the jealousy would later be admiration for a time.
Tim always felt privileged when y/n showed her artwork to him. She never likes showing it to anyone and hates when someone tries to look at what she was drawing. So when she asks for his attention and flips her notebook/tablet around he can't help smiling.
Even when they were on good terms, he wasn't sure how to approach her when going through a low. She either needed to be alone, talk, or push. The thing is Tim doesn't know how to appropriately react. He just doesn't want to make anything worse, so he ends up having her sit outside to absorb the sun rays. Since he noticed how that had brightened her low mood.
When y/n quit being Batgirl he gave her some space before asking about it. Surprisingly he didn't get much of an answer. She was usually so open about everything, especially with him.
Realizing that they were getting nowhere with this he backed off. Assuming that she'd tell him when she was ready.
Overtime they began hanging out less and less. He hadn't realized how far they drifted apart until one night. Just making a quick run to the kitchen for some coffee. It was pretty late and he didn't think any else was or would be awake.
Yet there was y/n sitting at the kitchen island writing on a paper with notes scattered around her. Homework. When Tim made his presence known with a simple hi, he noticed howâŚtense she got. Like she got caught stealing from the forbidden cookie jar.
When asking what she was working on, she gave short answers. He'd expected a monologue of how frustrating learning this new material is. Then asking if she needed help, he saw her jaw slightly clench. It looked like she was going to say more, but only declined with a no.
It was odd, but he didn't think too much of it at the time. He hadâŚHe didn't want to admit it, but he had more important things to deal with. If he knew of things that were going to happen, he would've done so much differently.
"â Really? I think this is my worst one yet."
"I don't know what you're talking about, it looks great. I couldn't ever draw something that good."
"Just because you can't draw doesn't make my drawing better. Wait, you were just shitting on me for comparing myself to others."
"Yeah, but that's different."
Damian Wayne/Al Ghul
Never liked y/n from the start. Before she even opened her mouth, just that smile looked so wrong. Damian couldn't put his finger on it, but didn't like it. It seemed so fake because it was.
There wasn't anything that made him feel like he needed to respect her like the others. Sure, she was Batgirl but only for a few years.
She never helped them with anything. She's never there to help in the first place. In his opinion she wasn't anything more than dead weight.
When insulted there was never an insult thrown back. He can tell when he struck a nerve when her lips move to the right and her eyes slightly harden. Maybe her nose will flare up if he hit hard enough.
Then she just responds with a hum before ignoring him or leaving the room. If she didn't respect herself enough to defend herself then why should he even bother with her.
When the family slowly/is yandere he'll reevaluate his view of y/n. Still thinks she's weak and cannot do anything, but less hateful. Which is a good thing until he's trying to have her attention whenever they're in the same room.
Or when he's digging through all her artwork while Dick is giggling to himself when reading her diary. Finding out their interest in the arts, he's forcing her to paint. Doesn't care if she doesn't like it, they're painting together.
"Why can't you carry your weight around the house? All you do is sit in your room."
"Hm."
"I don't even know why you're still here, Father should have kicked you out after you stopped being useful."
"Mhhm."
"I know you can hear me. You just don't know how to respond because it's true."
"Hmm."
|*|*|*|*|
Dear Diary,
Today my family tried to talk to me.
It was weird.
#batfamily#batfamily x batsis#batfamily x reader#yandere batfam#yandere x reader#I'll write it I swear#x reader#reader insert
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Chapter Six: The Summer of a Lifetime
Heiress of Gotham
Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Summary: With things out of the way and perhaps a little more trust, maybe the reader will finally start to make some progress, and a few friends along the way.
Warnings: Spying, Being Spied On, Insects, Wet T-Shirts, Flirting,
Words: 3.6k
A/N: While this chapter may seem like it takes a lot of twists in turns in the vignettes, it's sort of meant to reflect the ups and downs and small moments we have during summer. Honestly, though, this is perfect for the introduction of certain characters and plotlines I wanted!
It'd been an interesting end to the school year, really, and that's aside from the fact that you'd had to deal with and go through the grief of your Mother passing. Within the few months you'd been at Wayne Manor, the family had quickly learned many things about you. Bruce had found out how frugal and tenacious you are, insistent on selling some of your old articles of clothing for money on some app he could never remember the name of, meanwhile refuting the many attempts he'd offered to take you out shopping. Who wants to go shopping with their Dad anyway? He'd been consumed with work, and therefore more time had been turned over to your brothers.
While school was out for both you and Damian, Tim had decided to take summer classes at the nearby community college since it'd make his college applications only look better. Dick, of course, was still working, and Jason, really, you had no idea what was going on with him since it seemed he had most days free and nights taken. While you'd considered the possibility that someone associated with the Wayne family had a night-time job, you also didn't want to think of someone who very quickly became a big brother to you in that manner. That was just... ew. With the three eldest gone or rarely home, you'd been left with Damian and Alfred mostly.
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âSo⌠youâre spying on your own child becauseâŚ?â Tim draws out, leaning against the motherboard as he crosses his arms over his chest.
âBecause itâs Bruce? Youâre not the first. Thought you wouldâve been the wiser, Green Bean,â Dick chides as he manually stitches another loop into his uniform. Seated on the edge of the metal table propped against the railing on the opposite side of the platform.
âSheâs been watching television for over two hours straight. Is this unhealthy?â The man of the hour speaks, eyes unmoving from the image of you through the lens of one of his pesky drones.
âHey, youâre the one whoâs supposed to be parenting, yeah? You chose to bring her in, you choose whatâs healthy and unhealthy,â the elder boy retorts, a clear sass in his tone that reminds Bruce where Damianâs gotten it from.
âHn,â the old man groans, âThat doesnât mean I know whatâs currently the standard in teenagedom,â he grumbles more to himself than anyone.
âHave you tried, I donât know, just talking to her?â Tim asks, an eyebrow quirking as he doesnât try and hide the amused smile breaking across his lips.
âYouâre one to talk,â Bruce teases the boy. Heâs still somewhat resentful of the way heâd handled things with Stephanie a few years ago now. Leaving her in the lurch only for her to seek answers by prying into their life.
A huff of annoyance leaves Tim and he rolls his eyes. Pushing off the computer, he turns to head for the stairs when he spots movement on the monitor. Dick doesnât seem to care, rather, heâs focused on fixing and upgrading his equipment. However, Tim had come to a halt, now watching from just a few feet behind the old manâs chair. His drone follows you as you get up, bringing an empty dish and glass to the kitchen. You donât notice, of course, as Tim knows this has to be one of the nano drones, most likely disguised as a fly following your movements through the Manor just a few hundred feet above them.
Itâs uninteresting, really, the way he watches you put your empty dish in the sink along with your glass. Your visage shifts, heading back to the living room, but doesnât fail to notice the nano drone. âSpotted,â Tim announces, curious to see where this goes.
âThat doesnât mean anything. Most people arenât fazed by an insect,â Bruce defends, finally taking his gaze off the screen for a mere moment as he turns to Tim. The boy watches as you step closer to the drone; the still fly on the fridgeâs handle was easy to spot, and while your eyes quickly move on in an attempt to seem as if you hadnât noticed the bug, not wanting to disrupt it or scare it away, you step closer to the fridge.
On top of the box lies an item youâve been grateful for ever since youâd gotten your Mom to buy it for you offline. Easily stepping on your tiptoes you grab the objectâs handle and have your finger ready atop the trigger. Now all thatâs left is to catch it off-guard.
The amused look on Timâs face makes Bruce paranoid; blue eyes racing back to the monitor, he watches as a tennis-racket swatter comes his way. Lifting the nanodrone up and off the surface he barely escapes the touch of the electric swatter. Bzzt! Heâs hit. Flying across the kitchen and landing on the counter, he turns the drone around to get you in frame again. âAnd you thought she wouldnât do anything,â Tim laughs. An error message pops up, screen turning red along with the artificial voice alert. Clearly youâve damaged the drone.
âIt only took twenty-five percent capacity,â Bruce announces, clicking different keys to get everything back to neutral.
This elicits Dickâs eyes as his focus shifts up to the situation before him. An amused smile graces his lips and he canât help but sometimes pity the man. Bruce⌠tries. He means well, but he doesnât always have the best approach. âGotta say, this is better than reality tv.â His Father shakes his head and, attention finally returning to the monitor once again after being distracted by Tim.
âYou risked a drone for this? Come on, man. This is your own daughter weâre talking about,â Tim chastises. Even if heâs still laughing and more than amused by this. If he wants to waste his tech, by all means, let them watch. Itâs not like he canât get more.
The men watch as you look around the kitchen, eyes taking everything in. With an occasional turn, and a flip of your hair, heâs spotted again! This time Bruce sees you coming before he can be squashed. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks. âHonestly, Iâm just lucky she didnât spot me earlier. Ace and Titus werenât the most helpful considering they kept tracking my movements, clueing her in. But she didnât get me until now.â
âIâm impressed she even got you at all, honestly,â Dick comments, drawing their attention again.
âNot a fan?â Tim asks, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, he hasnât been around as much considering things have been busy with school, and hectic with Stephanie. Therefore, he doesnât know as much about you. He hasnât spent as much time around you as the others.
Met with a noncommittal noise, Tim watches Dick shrug. âIâve got nothing against her aside from what she said at dinner and obviously her hate for the BPD,â he trails off, a shudder running through him, âthen again, she was kind of insane when we were moving her stuff. Threatened to kill us and all. Not really the type of vibe you wanna have running around the house, you know? At least, not mine, Iâll tell you that.â With a chuckle, Dick lifts the needle to his mouth, teeth going for the fabric since he hadnât bothered to grab scissors.
Tim almost laughs along with his brother, that is until he processes what heâd said. âWait, what-?!â Eyes quickly darting between him and Bruce, heâs suddenly alert. âWhat do you mean she tried to kill you?! Whatâre you talking about? Hey- why didnât you tell me this?â He zeroes in on Bruce, determined to get an answer. âDoes Damian know? Why am I the last one to find out about anything around here?â He complains.
âI mean she tried to-â Dick begins.
âShe did not! Dick, stop exag-âBruce interrupts, turning to face them and argrue.
âBruce-â Tim interjects, eyes suddenly on your approaching visage in the droneâs visual. âBruce!â Youâve got the fly cornered. With one swift sweeping wack, and a press of the button, itâll die.
âWhat?!â He yells. As soon as he turns back from Tim to the monitor heâs too late. Zzztt!!! They all grimace and wince. An alert pops up on screen:
âV I S U A L L O S Tâ
The options to âconnect to different deviceâ or ârelay inputâ lie underneath the big text, but ultimately youâd destroyed the thing. With the click of a button Bruce closes the tab and the background feed of the Manorâs security cameras linger. Alfred dances in the office as he dusts along, presumably, to musicâBruce knows his routine. On another, youâre carrying the nanodrone on the electric swatter to the trash, disposing of the âflyâ youâd killed. Lastly, Damian is reading, doing his homework as he sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the Library, Titus curled up by his feet.
âDammit! This is why you canât just be in here. Youâre either here for a purpose or youâre out,â Bruce dictates. âDick is actually doing something, Tim. Youâre just gossiping.â With a defeated drop of his hands to the desk, he raises himself from his computer chair and rounds Tim.
âYou still didnât tell me what happened,â Tim argues, the anger in his voice no longer hiding. âIâm tired of being out of the loop! What happened?â He demands. A sigh weighs Bruceâs shoulders down, and as Dick finally lifts his gaze to take in the men before him, he doesnât dare to add any more fuel to the already burning fire.
âShe was involved with Marin. Alright? She thought he was coming for her, momentarily figured we were in on it. Satisfied?â Bruce responds, turning to face the boy.
They all know heâs been hurt. That he has trauma⌠itâs no secret. Yet, itâs only in few and far between moments that the boys are able to see things for what they are in a crystal-clear view. This is one of those times. Their warped views on good and evil, right and wrong, revenge and punishment⌠they blur the lines of reality in ways heâs sure that you, a civilian, would never understand, and yet⌠Tim realizes the weight of this.
âWho-?â
âAngel Marin. Bludhavenâs biggest mob boss,â Dick informs. A âHnâ leaves Bruceâs lips as he makes his way toward the stairs, and a sigh leaves Tim. With a grateful nod in Graysonâs direction, Tim follows after Bruce.
------
âYou know, someone mentioned your birthday is coming up,â Bruce teases, a hint of a smile hiding behind his wine glass.
The quick flash of a smile overtakes your face before you try to hide it. None of them miss it. âUm⌠yeah. W-who said?â
Itâs invisible, perhaps, to all besides those who know him best, however, Bruce pales at the question, faltering. While youâre good at reading people, you donât notice. Whether itâs the subject matter or the way everyoneâs staring, you simply wait for a response.
âUh, the-â he clears his throat, eyes suddenly downcast as he reaches for his knife and fork to cut his steak, âthe social worker! Yes, she mentioned it while you were in your meeting.â Obviously a lie. If anyone truly knows Bruce the way most at the table do, they'd know he found it in your public files and digital footprint.
âOh,â you respond, putting on a fake smile as you too attempt to hide behind the meal. Birthdays can be a big deal for some, and others, not. It all depends, and you aren't sure where things lie in this family. You still feel like an outsider, despite their attempts, and you don't want to burden them further.
âWe could have a party!â Damian suggests, to everyoneâs surprise.
âYou just want a party,â Jason comments with a chortle.
âIs there anything you want?â Dick asks thoughtfully, looking down at you from your side, putting you on the spot. His kind blue eyes stir something within you, and you turn your gaze back to your plate. Busying yourself by cracking your knuckles, your lips purse into a line. With a shake of your head, itâs clear no one is sated.
âThereâs nothing you want? At all?â Bruce prods, eliciting your eye contact again. Lips pursing even more you shake your head again.
âUm,â eyes falling to your lap you collect yourself, not allowing your imagination to run wild. âYou taking me in was enough. Thank you.â Voice quiet, everyone has their own reaction to your words, albeit unbeknownst to you.
âOh, shut up! You know thereâs at least one thing you want,â Jason teases from across the table.
âOh? And whatâs that since you know her so well?â Tim pries, knowing heâs setting his brother up. Jason hesitates, almost choking on his drink which elicits laughs from the boys, and an amused smile from Bruce. As bickering starts to ensue, you decide.
âI-â all eyes turn to you, âI want a party!â You announce. With a confident smile, you figure, how bad could it be? After all, parties don't need to be big! Something sweet, the family there, and a boardgame is all you'd need for it to be considered a party to you.
âSee? At least I know what she wants,â Damian chides proudly.
âOh? Well what kind of party would you like?â Bruce asks.
âWho do you want to invite?â Dick inquires.
âWhatâs the theme?â Jason adds.
âActually, isnât your birthday coming up now that I think of it?â Tim voices his concern over to Jason.
âUhâŚâ Jason shakes his head a little, taken aback, âI mean, I donât really celebrate anymore since-â
â-the same day as Alfredâs, thatâs right,â Bruce saves them, an unfazed smile on his lips, âthough I believe we can celebrate both, canât we?â While youâre not exactly paying attention, to the rest of them thereâs a silent, yet menacing request behind his eyes. Itâs clear theyâre not allowed to speak freely anymore, no matter your new seat at the table of their family.
âOkay, but mine comes first- or did you forget again?â Damian asks with a bite. Upon the silence, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his meal with the exasperated sound of his breath hitting his tongue against his teeth. An audible âTtâ sound.
âI didnât forget, Damian,â Bruce clenches his jaw and grips his glass a little tighter. Does every family dinner have to turn into a fight? âYou know I was with the Just-â he catches himself, âHn- that I had to-â
â-just business calls⌠weâre well aware, Father. Perhaps youâll do yourself a favor and wonât miss your other childâs birthday,â Damian finishes the conversation. âNot that I count on it.â
--------
Walking through the pool room, youâre focused on texting Daisha, intent on telling her the good news!
âOmg youâll never guess what just happened! Iâll hav-â
Splash!
A dissatisfied shriek escapes your lips as you stare at the wet stain on your shirt. âReally?! Dami-" looking up from your drenched navy tank top, your eyes widen and lips part.
âOh my god, Iâm so sorry! I thought you were Damian.â
You quickly take in the super-soaker and the boyâs apologetic expression, and itâs easy enough to put two and two together. As footsteps quietly click against the tiled floors of the locker rooms leading toward the pool deck, you grab the boyâs hand and drag him back the way heâd come around the corner. There lies a linen closet between the pool, laundry room, and stairwell. With a swift hand, you open the door and shove him in, following after as you quietly shut the door.
A bemused smile appears on his lips as his eyebrows furrow. âYouâre his sister,â he whispers with certainty, âIâm Billy.â
Whispering back your name, he repeats it. Visibly eager on saying something else, you place your fingers on his lips to shut him up. He follows your eyesight, both of you staring through the slats in the closet door. With a keen ear, he gets the gist and remains quiet. As moments pass, you can feel the boy, Billy, staring; curious, you meet his gaze only to find him searching your eyes. You canât help but notice how pretty his are. Though you almost get swept up in admiring his features, you hear a faint creak only meters away outside the door; with a motion of your other hand, you beckon him to hand you the gun.
Transferred into your open hand, you slowly remove your fingers from his lips, cupping the barrel of the super-soaker while the other wraps around the handle, fingers ready at the trigger. With a head nod toward the door, you mouth the words: âOn three! Ready?â
Billy seems to understand, as he holds his hands up in a ready stance to push open the doors. Together, you both mouth the countdown (which is really a count up, but anyway): âOne⌠TwoâŚâ
âTHREE!â Busting out of the closet, Damian is just a few feet from your right. Itâs easy to spin and shoot as youâd been prepared, having watched him walk past the door together. Your brother had jumped, yet shot a few instinctive rounds of water, splashing both you, Billy, and the wall.
âShit! What the hell! What are you doing here? Who let you play?â Damian curses, saying something in a language you donât recognize, holding his gun in a stationary position once youâve all recovered from the attack. His suspicious green eyes narrow as they dart between the two of you.
âI figured it was only fair since you didnât let me know about your little game and I got caught in the crossfire,â you reason, pointing to your shirt with the gun.
âI accidentally shot her thinking I had you cornered, soâŚâ Billyâs words die on his tongue. Without sparing the kid a glance, you shove the super-soaker back in his hands before offering him a grateful smile. At least youâd hit Damian once, you figure. With that, youâre more than happy to abandon the boys to their games as you walk toward the laundry room to see if your clothes are finished drying. That was the whole reason you were down here in the first place, after all.
âYou didnât tell me she was my age!â You hear Billy yell before a series of exclamations and curses follow with the sound of splashing water and rapidly receding footsteps.
--------
As stupid as it was to find your thoughts continuing to drift back toward a certain brown hair, green-eyed boy, you couldnât help it. Though youâve grown more tolerable of one another over the past few months, you still canât believe that one of Damianâs friends is whoâs on your mind. Nevertheless, fate would seem to have an amusing time linking the two of you together, constantly running into the other.
You suppose it isnât strange after all, especially when considering he is one of Damianâs friends⌠however, you find him over the at Manor more and more often after the initial time heâd quite literally bumped into you.
--------
âGrab me a juice box? I forgot one too-âDamianâs voice echoes throughout the theatre as Billy yells back an affirmative answer and heads back toward the kitchen.
âOh, hey-" You greet, backing up as a familiar figure exits the home theatre.
âHey- whatâs up?â Billy asks, a friendly smile gracing his lips.
"Was just gonna get a snack before we start," you tell him, "Guess we're headed the same way then," you tease. Walking down the hallway and up the stairs to the kitchen, you're aware of your brother's friend just a few steps behind.
âAre you gonna watch with us?â Billy asks hopefully.
âI mean, if thatâs okay, yeah, I was planning on it." You respond jokingly, not thinking about it too much. It is family movie night. After all, youâre focused, wanting this popcorn to be good, not a burnt pile of charcoal.
âOh, I didnât mea-âBilly goes to correct himself.
âItâs fine. Iâll be down in a minute, Iâm just making my own popcorn because the boys would eat it all otherwise,â you joke. Surely since he's friends with Damian he knows what the guys are like.
âThatâs smart- that way you donât have to share and keep passing it back and forth the whole time.â Billy adds on.
âYeah. Do you want some? I can make another little packet,â You offer.
âSure! I can do it though, you donât have t-â He argues.
â-I donât mind! I've gotta wait for it anyway and grab some bowls. So I'll see you down there!" With that reassurance, Billy offers you one last smile before taking the juice boxes downstairs.
The older boys and your Father had insisted you pick the movie considering it's your first movie night with the family, and while most of them had been dreading what genre you'd pick, everyone ended up excited to watch a classic comedy most of them hadn't seen in years. Snuggled up under the fluffy blankets with your popcorn and the laughs of your brothers all around, you couldn't help but enjoy the fun.
--------
Most of the summer felt like it was spent in your room. Whether it was trying to explore the things that truly make you happy, or being lonely in a place that still feels entirely all too unfamiliar despite the fact that it's been a couple months.
The material things did help at first, the new environment, the little gifts your Father and brothers would treat you to, like those little Squishmallows you'd always seen and wanted at the store, but never bought yourself. They were more expensive than you'd ever thought to casually pay. Nevertheless, you've started to make your room truly your own. With decorating, personalizing, and getting into your own sort of routine, it seems that everyone has been slowly becoming used to this new lifestyle.
Alfred insisted that as summer begins to come to a close, you all decide on either making time for a vacation, or perhaps you and Damian get involved in extra curriculars. In the sake of preparation for school, you'd taken up driving lessons as you'll soon be old enough to begin the process of obtaining your permit. Then there was also the announcements from the school you'll be attending in the fall; with sports and clubs gearing up for homecoming, tryouts were coming up. Your Father had insisted that Damian consider a sport this year, and Alfred equally has been trying to push you in any sort of direction that'll lead to getting you out of the house and your room.
Needless to say, he wouldn't let go of the idea that your mental health could use less isolation and more friends, hobbies, and pursuance of your 'passions' even if you're not entirely sure what those are yet. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your butler (essentially) grandpa's badgering. Though you have a plan in mind for what sport you'll be trying out for, you haven't revealed them to the family. The way they seem to share everything is... still new, and somewhat unsettling to you.
~~~~~~~~
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Hi
I'm Survivor of the 2023 Genocide and
I'm asking you personally, can you please take a look at my campaign.. at my lost present.. my lost future.đ
I'm human, and I'm asking you to act from your humanity.
Thank you â¤ď¸
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I can not donate money, but I hope answering helps bring views to you
#twisted wonderland#twst oneshot#batman#twst writing#twst wonderland#art#batfam angst#batfam needing therapy#batfamily x batsis!reader#batsis!reader
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( crow choir. prologue ) ââ fame is a fickle food. (m.s/next)
author's note at the end, pls read! (l/n) is not the direct insert.
even when she knows sheâs got money stashed away, notes sheâll never use to replace the stale, gray oats sheâs ploughing through with a flimsy plastic spoon, money sheâll use instead for a bottle of cheap ecstasy later instead, (l/n) doesnât think sheâs a bad sister.Â
even as she forces the spoon through the little mouth of her dear little (name), holding their head to keep them from babbling and gagging at the meal, (l/n) is not a bad sister.
scummy business doesnât pay much in gotham. where pretty powder packets and cloudy liquid injections make thousands on the streets of a better city, itâs too average a dealing here. âhome-madeâ a customer joked once, âgothamâs specialty.â (l/n) gave him a wry smile, in acknowledgment, not humor.Â
irritated, is an easy way to put it. (l/n) is frustrated. she used to dream of being a singer, a big, famous singer, with the voice of a nightingale piercing through the monotonous black and whites of the city with the deep blue of her solemn voice.
she had her story all planned out. young (l/n) knew only her mother and her rented apartment, forced to share commodities with a bastard child from her motherâs many affairs. but ah, she was so welcoming and kind-hearted! a true teresa, treating the kid like an angel sent just to her, performing her little do-re-mis to a giggling toddler, who pulled at her hair and pawed at her face in affection.
the vocals classes her mother weaseled her into, would have the teachers notice her wonderful voice, urging her and encouraging her to perform professionally. sheâd make her way into a big gala, people would applaud, and she'd be as wealthy as the other filthy rich socialites in gotham. eventually, sheâd help her mom, and her baby sibling leave the mean tenantâs apartment, and theyâd eat soft bread and smooth butter, nothing like the grainy spreads on hard loafs they ate now.
but a city covered in gargoyle statuettes has no place for the dreams of a little grosbeak.
their mother didnât come home one day. and she didnât come home the next day either. when (l/n) opened the door on the third day in tears, hoping hysterically it was mummy dearest, she had to break down again at the sight of a stone-faced policeman.
sheâs allowed to feel resentful, isnât she? dreams punctured before they even had the chance to take flight, burdened with the duty of caring for a ditzy little kid at just eighteen.Â
none of her old teachers, none of the old shrinking men who regularly asked her to sing at their clubs, parties, helped. not even the slightest comfort came to the miserable, mourning girl. nobody wanted to have the stain of commissioning a helpless girl, what were they, taking advantage of a poor childâs misfortune?
in desperation, in poverty, she quit her part job as a cashier, having no time for it and turned to a less pleasant way of work. scouring through the dirty, shit-smelling allies of gotham to sell lame drugs and smoke to worse-off people.
and this⌠ungrateful brat wonât even eat the little food she works so hard to provide? sheâs lived off her own products, hoping to dull the ache of hunger with weak alcohol, and this bitch refuses to eat?
she hates them enough to want to fling them out the window.
but⌠she loves them too dearly to ever try. and so, another one of gothamâs teenage misfortunes goes to bed with a heavy heart, after coaxing her little baby (name)âs big doe eyes to sleep.
the police station smells like disinfectant and sounds like tv static, but maybe itâs just your dazed head making up the buzzing.
the officers tried, as gently as they could, to get you to talk, explain what happened. but they mistook your silence as numb-tongue from the shock of her death, leaving you to be with yourself for a while, calm down.
your eyes are eerily fixated on the colourful cartoon playing on a small tv they're propped you up in front of, the characters' bright voices dissolving into the ringing in your ears. you watch them harp about kindness and togetherness distastefully, lamenting their shrill songs and wishing your big sister would sing to you instead.
you feel guilty. you took her voice away. your existence ruined the hopes she had for her future, her golden days were rusted by you. it shouldâve been you instead. you, instead of her.
itâs unbecoming of a child your age to chew on their nails, your sister had scolded once, scowling. but sheâs not here anymore, so you occupy yourself with peeling skin off your fingers, no thought to how much it'll ache later.Â
your clothes feel thin, and your bodyâs so hot with sickness you shiver. a lady officer had wrapped a big brown coat around you, but it lays discarded at your side. you deserve no comfort.
and you repeat this day. over and over and over in your head for the next four years, and more to come. you repeat the memory of the day your little apartment world became far too big for you to handle, the memory of your faults, the memory of your sister.
you are a sickly child. you are a sick child. you deserve no comfort.
suffocation is too harsh a word to use for the luxury you're so suddenly plunged into, but it is claustrophobic and horrifyingly unfamiliar. there are far too many people in the house, stalking the too-wide corridors, under too-tall ceilings, your nerves shake whenever you walk past them.
your head spins from all the lights and paintings, carved furniture and embroidered carpets. they've dropped a little mole into a vast jungle of glass chandeliers and decorative flowers, with no hand to hold their pathetic paws and guide them around and out.
your body stays tense, strung like a bow, even as the butler weaves you with the utmost care through what seems like infinite corridors, to a pretty little door with a shining handle. you furrow your brows, to rest the contempt you hold at the polished wood, resenting the gleam of it, that which resembled his set hair and his loathsome suit.
the loathsome suit you saw four... no, twelve years too late, and vow to see as sparingly as possible.
you'd take back the vile gray oats and 'tough love' of your sister over these new inexplicable pastries and cold businessmen any day.
you miss her. you deserve no comfort.
INTERACTIONS AND REBLOGS VV APPRECIATED !! i hope this is an adequate introduction the the series, and i will expand on this significantly. future updates are fueled by reader interactions, so if you do end up liking this, please do let me know your thoughts by commenting or re-blogging.
regarding the genre, style and tropes: reader insert is gender neutral. while noir is more of a style, more present in movies than prose, i do want to attempt at at least a similar sense in the form of a writing genre. as for the "yandere" tags, i'm unsure how else to put it. i'm aware there are more niche terms that would better describe the characterisations that'll be present, but they're neither popular nor easy (for me) to describe. that aside, the traits that'll (eventually) be displayed will showcase yan-tendencies, so i hope you don't feel like i'm trying to bait anyone with tags.
thank you for reading!!
#saria's đ¤ writing#saria đ¤ says#'25 run: crow choir#batfam x reader#angst#batfamily#batsis reader#batman fanfiction#batboys x batsis#batsis!reader#damian wayne x batsis#batfam x batsis#bruce wayne x batsis#jason todd x batsis#batfam#dick grayson x batsis#tim drake x batsis#cassandra cain x sister reader#stephanie brown#dc x reader#barbara gordon#barbara gordon x batsis#stephanie brown x batsis#neglected reader#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere batboys#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd
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23 is my *favorite* number
house of wolves - mcr (just realised I forgot to say that before posting this please send help lol)
im thinking Jason todd but related to THAT scene in under the red hood
#shut it salem#ask#wrapped writing#salem writes#for context#THAT scene in the under the red hood comic is specifically when batsy throws a baterang at jason and slits his throat#because jason tried to kill the joker#...thislll be interesting#mutual key my beloved
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GHOST OR BAT?
pairing. batfam + ghostmaker x ghostbat!reader
summary. reader is a dna mix of ghostmaker and batman.
warnings. ghostbat drama, Minhkhoa Khan, Iâm confused, cursing, canon typical violence.
a/n. I am bored out of my mind, might become a mini series. That I just randomly add stuff to. The mask referred to is kinda like Jasonâs from red hood and the outlaw just minus the eye cover.
wc. 0.8k (not proofread)
You kept to your spot beside Talia, staying alert to the people in front of you. Batman and his children, plus Ghostmaker. You remembered reading up on each of them, studying all of them.
You eyes were focused on the oldest of the Batkids, Dick Grayson. Heâd be your biggest problem, the man was severely underestimated but in Taliaâs eyes heâd be the most capable assassin if he wanted to.
Cassandra Cain, you knew her. You fought her, you looked different then though, and by her stance you assumed she hadnât connected the dots but she remained watching you.
Jason Todd, you helped train him. Never with your mask off, and you never spoke. Only ever instructed to fight him till he learnt.
Tim Drake. Held in high regard among the league, with smarts to match that of Batmanâs. But not much of a problem, youâd have no problem with him.
Your eyes glided over to the youngest of the bunch, Damian. Youâd die before letting your blade touch him, and heâd hesitate before raising his against you. He didnât know you truely, you didnât even know yourself truely. But he knew youâve protected him.
Behind your mask you glared at the tallest two in the room. But your hands kept the same elegant hold on your swords, like Talia taught you.
Batman, Bruce Wayne. The worldâs greatest detective. Truthfully youâve always wanted to fight him, see how long youâd last, see if you could take him down. But that wasnât going to happen unless he attacked, and he wouldnât. He was smarter than that.
You glanced at the man in white, face masked so his expression remained covered. Minhkhoa Khan, the Ghostmaker. Not much was known about him, but the League of Assassins or anyone for that matter. Heâd be the most unpredictable, you think.
âMother,â Damian addressed the woman beside you. You remained stationary as she walked towards her son, brow raised in slight alarm as you stepped closer hesitantly, watching the others.
Damian moved through the crowd of his siblings to step before his mother, they greeted before he nodded to you, acknowledging your presence.
âDear,â Talia called to you, sheâd never used your name, saying that it was your secret to reveal so she only ever called you âdearâ.
âYou may speak,â she sighed softly, a strange softness in her voice. But you ignored it and nodded in response, she turned to the crowd of vigilantes.
âI suggest your other children leave,â Talia says. âThe matter Iâve come to discuss is⌠personal. In a sense.â
Bruce narrowed his eyes at the assassin woman before nodding, earning a groan from each of his children, who begrudgingly walked away towards the stairs that lead back to the manor.
âDamian stay,â Talia ordered, the boy halted his movements and stepped to his fatherâs side.
Now the room remained with five people in it. Ghostmaker, Batman, Damian, Talia and you.
âI have some ratherââ
âDisturbing,â you offered, voice distorted due to your mask. Khoa raised a brow at the robotic voice, good way to keep yourself hidden.
âYes,â she nodded. âThis child,â she motioned to you. âHappens to be a mix of the two of you.â She then motioned to Bruce and Khoa. Both of whom stared at you in response.
âDisturbing, all right.â Khoa murmured to himself, watching you, analysing you. Though he couldnât be too surprised, considering Damian Wayne.
Bruce glared at you, âyouâre lying.â
âI wish,â you scoffed, glaring back at him. Your eyes shadowed by your hood, and voice distorted by the mask that only covered the lower half of your face.
â
The three of you stood in silence after Damian and Talia left the room, neither of you looking at each other.
âYouâre sick,â Bruce mutters, glaring at Talia before pointing at you.
âThe child is a wonder of science, if anything i did you both a favour.â Talia shrugs, Bruce raising a brow in response.
âEnlighten me.â
âThink, a child with both your skills. The perfect weapon,â Talia replies. Khoa nods slightly, thinking it through, the perfect weapon.
âSo, how many kills, kid?â Khoa speaks up, causing you to shift your gaze to Talia who nods.
âI donât count them, theyâre insignificant to me.â You mutter, detached, Bruce thinks, just like Khoa.
The Ghostmaker nods in understanding, as if he were impressed with the answer. âSmart girl.â
âWhy did you come here? I doubt you were doing anyone a favour by exposing your secret.â Bruce asks Talia.
âI need you to look after her, i will be gone for a while. And i donât trust my father with her, and i donât trust her not to try and kill him again. Sheâll be here also to watch over Damian.â
âWhy?â Bruce presses, and Talia doesnât bother answering as sheâs already gone
All eyes turn to you, watching you as intently as you watched each of them. Now what?
Š e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and Iâll bite your toes off
#batsis#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#enzo writes [đ]#ghostbat#minhkhoa khan#minhkhoa khan x daughter!reader#ghostbat!reader#ghostmaker x reader
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ranking of batman actors who i think act the most like bruce wayne/batman (i dont take into consideration the plot, just potential)
ben affleck
michael keaton
christian bale
robert pattinson
george clooney
adam west
val kilmer
#batman#bruce wayne#this is a ranking based on SOLELY LOOKS AND MANNERISM plus acting#i did NOT rank character development or writing or personality just vibes#also I AM NOT a fan of snyder version#i think it can be pretty boring and too dark#it literally ignored how funny batman is and thats my fav trait of his#i mean there were some scenes alrightish (like the im rich thing) which yeah it was a nice try and it did help me remember its batsie#while i do enjoy robert pattinson's version... i dont think its truly bruce wayne rn#also i didnt rank the kid bruce wayne actors sorry love gotham tho
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