#now they have guilt; a hurt Bruce; and pain

[catmaraudersfan]

*Danny, just waking up:*

*Groggily asks what happened*

*John, feeling nice given that the Ghost King doesn't seem to want to be here anymore than they WANT him here:*

A cult was attempting to summon the Ghost King.

*Danny:*

😨🥱

Good thing I put him back in the sarcophagus of sleep, then.

😮‍💨

*John, having intelligence and putting SEVERAL things together:*

😨😱

You FOUGHT the Ghost King?!

*Danny:*

Yep.

*John:*

*Looking at the Crown on his head and ring on his finger*

By yourself? Like in singe combat?

*Danny:*

Uh-huh. Though I did have help shoving him back in by my Rouges.

*John:*

😰

*Now pondering on JUST HOW BADLY they messed up*

What about other heroes?

*Danny:*

😳

There are other heroes?

*With the other listening heroes*

*Tony Stark:* (I'm making this a triple crossover)

*WAY ahead of everyone and having Jarvis hunt down Amity Park to see if it's back*

*Back with John and Danny*

*Danny:*

I've been doing this by myself since I half-died via electrocution. *Thor flinches in the other room. Loki pats his back, assuring him that he's sure the kid knows he wouldn't hurt him*

The only help I've gotten are my friends and sister. *Tony brings up a picture of a group of kids, making everyone's guilt and horror worse*

*John, sensing the horror of the other heroes:*

Well, kid, you and Amity Park are about to get more help than you know what to do with.

*Danny, still out of it from the fight:*

K.

💖

Just don't tell my parents.

*EVERYONE tenses at that, PRAYING it's a "I don't wanna get in trouble" type of situation*

*John:*

... Why?

😟🥶

*Danny:*

They don't know I'm half ghost and keep threatening to rip my ghost-half apart "molecule by molecule" and I'm afraid they still will even if they knew it was me. You see, they HATE ghosts. They and the Guys in White *Tony quickly finds them and everyone is outraged at the hidden "law"* don't believe ghosts feel pain or have emotions. *Frantic* BUT WE DO! They want to tear ghosts apart and experiment on them in horrible ways. *Bruce Banner taking deep calming breathes*

*John, equally as pissed:*

I have a feeling that won't be an issue much longer. *Firm agreement from the heroes* 'You and your sister MAY wind up moving, though,' John thinks to himself. *Martian Manhunter, and everyone else once he shares John's thoughts, agrees firmly with John's thoughts.*

*Loki and Thor vow to help the new Prince on how to run a kingdom. Other heroes with similar kingdoms agree.*

Danny Phantom just defeated Pariah Dark. Like he is still in that suit his father made in Pariahs keep. He doesn't know the ghost rules. It hasn't even been a year since he died and became a halfa, so no one has explained to him that if you defeat the king you become the king. In another dimension John Constantine is panicking because because the JL failed to stop a cult from completing the summoning ceremony that will summon the ghost king. They are all expecting Pariah Dark, but what they get instead is a ghost child. The summoning pulled him out of the suit that Jack made.

Danny looks around, confused with his vision blurring exhausted from fighting Pariah Dark. "Where am I?" Danny asks. Danny has no idea that he now has a floating crown above his head. He finally passes out right in front of the JL, and he transforms back into Danny Fenton.

The JL decides to take Danny to the watchtower in space and put him in a cell until he wakes up. None of them trust Danny, especially not John Constantine. When Danny wakes up, he is very confused, and sitting right outside his cell is John Constantine.

[luxroyalty]

I really like the aus where Bruce is isolated from the rest of the batfamily for some reason. Maybe some of them are busy, and some of them are angry at him - or some are angry and the rest are striking out of love for the angry members - it’s so fun??

And then, of course, Bruce is badly hurt because he’s so isolated. Acts recklessly because he’s alone, or maybe things just go badly - or maybe he calls for help and for whatever reason no one answers him.

Bruce is along, and hurt and then after when his family find out they are hit with guilt and pain.

(And after everything they actually talk to each other and deal with the situation in a slightly more healthy way.)

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.

“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”

God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.

Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.

“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”

“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”

“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”

Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.

“What happened?!”

“My word, master Danny!”

“What is it?!”

“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”

Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.

“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”

“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.

“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.

“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”

The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.

“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”

“Danny.”

“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.

“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.

Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”

Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…

“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”

“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.

“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”

The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.

“Done.”

“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”

“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”

“Very well.”

“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.

——

“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”

“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.

“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”

“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”

Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.

“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”

“Tt.”

“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”

[n0cturn4]

Was it worth it?

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader Summary: In his arms, with the last breath of life Word Count: 948 Music: Hurt Like Hell - Madison Beer

The abandoned building loomed in dark ruins, like a monument to oblivion, its peeling walls and partially open ceiling letting in only scattered drops of the rain outside. The dense shadows of dusk seemed to hold a vigil around us, and the heavy air carried the smell of rust and dampness, so thick it felt as if time itself was trapped there, holding everything stagnant except for the pain.

And then, in the middle of that desolate scene, my eyes found her. She was leaning against the wall, pale, her trembling lips shaped into an expression of exhaustion that no battle could explain, one hand pressed against the open wound on her torso. Blood slipped between her fingers, slow and dark, as if each drop was being pulled from the very essence of her. My heart clenched at the sight, realizing this was no longer one of the many wounds we healed in silence. This was something far deeper, a kind of sacrifice that should never have been hers to make.

She lifted her eyes to mine as she sensed my presence, her face marked by an exhaustion that went beyond the physical, an exhaustion that burned into the soul. Yet still, she managed a tremulous smile—a smile that, somehow, seemed more of a farewell than a greeting. Leaning against the wall, her frail and fading body seemed to struggle against an invisible weight pulling her down, as if the simple act of continuing to breathe demanded every fragment of strength she still possessed.

“Why…?” The question escaped my lips in a whisper barely audible, tearing through the oppressive silence surrounding us. I moved toward her, each step heavy, each movement carrying the weight of what I knew I couldn’t fix. I knelt by her side, my knees pressing into the dirty, damp ground, but none of that mattered. I was so close that I could see the contours of the bloodstains on her clothes, the dark color I knew so well but had never wanted to see there, on her.

She tried to speak, but the sound came out weak, sliced through by the pain. Her lips trembled slightly, and I saw hesitation in her gaze, as if she was afraid to let me know everything that was inside her. I touched her hand, feeling the warmth of life slipping between our fingers as she struggled to find the words. There was something solemn and irreversible in her eyes, as if she had already accepted a fate I still refused to see.

“I… I wanted to protect you, Dad.” Her voice was faint, a breath barely reaching my ears, but every word carried the determination of someone who knew that sacrifice was inevitable. “I knew the risks… knew it would be a one-way road… but I didn’t care. It was my choice.”

I felt my throat tighten, swallowing hard, trying to contain the unbearable weight now crushing my chest. There, in the middle of the shadows, with my daughter fighting for each second of life, the mantle of Batman felt useless. I was nothing but a father, and watching my daughter fade in my arms was a suffering no battle could prepare me for. I held her hand tighter, as if I could anchor her to life, as if I could convince her to stay.

“You didn’t have to do this.” My words came out shaky, almost like a murmur of despair. “I should… I should have protected you… should have stopped you… never should have let you walk down this path.”

She gave a faint smile, that sad and tired smile that bore a courage I had never seen before. Her eyes, even weakened, met mine with a depth that destroyed me inside. She knew, knew everything, and still, she looked at me with an acceptance that felt greater than any understanding I could have.

“Was it worth it?” The question escaped my mouth almost without thinking, a mixture of pain, guilt, and the desperate hope that, somehow, her words could relieve me of this weight that seemed to crush my soul. I needed to believe that all of this wasn’t in vain, that everything she had endured had a greater purpose.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. Her trembling hand touched my face, a final gesture of affection, and when she spoke, each word came out in a whisper laden with unshakable strength:

“It was worth it, Dad… it was worth it, because I would do it all over again, just to know you’re still here. I was never just your daughter… I am your shadow, and that is my part in your legacy. You gave me purpose. Now, you have to go on, even if I’m not here. You have to keep Gotham safe… that’s the path I chose, for you.”

She closed her eyes, and her hand slipped softly from mine, leaving her last breath to escape her lips. I remained there, holding her in my arms, feeling the weight of loss rooting itself within me, a profound emptiness taking over what had once been a simple desire to fight. The rain outside seemed to intensify, as if the city mourned the loss of a silent heroine, a warrior who had sacrificed herself for something greater than herself.

For a long time, the only sound that filled the space was that of the rain, like a sad melody merging with the emptiness left behind. And I knew, there and forever, that this sacrifice was the greatest Gotham had ever demanded of me—a sacrifice I would carry with me for the rest of my life, a sacrifice that, as she had said, was now an inseparable part of who I was.

[tortillamastersblog]

➶A big misunderstanding | Kate Bishop➴

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Since she joined the team, you can’t help but notice how weird Kate acts whenever you’re around…

Part 2

________________________________________________

Walking into the kitchen, I smile at the smell of pancakes that greets me.

“Good morning,” I say cheerfully as I round the corner.

I’m greeted by Sam, Bucky, Natasha and Kate. They’re all standing around the stove where Kate is flipping pancakes.

“Morning,” Bucky greets softly before turning back to the pancakes.

Sam and Nat send me smiles before also turning back to the stove. It’s like they’re dogs, drooling over a bone.

I chuckle softly and approach them, looking over Kate’s shoulder to appreciate the pancakes that are currently cooking in the pan.

“Smells great,” I compliment with an exaggerated inhale which is apparently the wrong thing to do because Kate shrieks in surprise and throws her arms up.

It results in her smacking the spatula into my face and I stumble back with a groan, covering my eye with one hand.

“Jesus!” I exclaim. I slap Sam’s shoulder to get him to stop laughing and send Nat and Bucky a glare to get them to stop smirking.

Kate spins around with wide eyes and lifts her arms as if to touch me before dropping them again. “Oh my God, Y/N! I’m s-so sorry… I didn’t mean to— I swear, I didn’t even realize you came in, I just—“

I raise a hand, effectively cutting her off mid-ramble. “It’s okay, Kate.”

I wince and lower my hand slowly, blinking to test if my eye still hurts. It does but it’s now no more than a dull ache rather than the stabbing pain it was when she actually hit me.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Kate reiterates, her face scrunched up in guilt. She eyes me a moment longer before snapping out of whatever trance she was in and pulls and bag of frozen peas out of the freezer. “Here, take this.”

I laugh softly and take it from her, pressing it against my eye. “Thank you. It wasn’t entirely necessary, but thank you.”

Kate smiles nervously and goes to say something else when Bucky suddenly yelps behind her. “The pancakes!”

I look past Kate to see smoke rising from the pan. Sam and Nat watch in amusement as Kate scrambles to salvage the goods, but in the end she hast to throw out the batch and pour new dough into the pan– Much to Bucky’s dismay.

It’s not long after that the rest of the team comes sauntering into the kitchen. The small table gets set, rather than the big one in the dining room, and everyone starts loading their plates with pancakes and fresh fruit.

“These are great, Kate,” Steve compliments after swallowing his first bite.

The rest of the team murmurs their agreement around mouthfuls of food. Kate smiles bashfully and takes a sip of orange juice.

Cute…

“Yeah, they’re great,” I add with an approving nod which makes Kate’s eyes widen. She almost chokes on her orange juice and I frown, not having anticipated such a reaction.

“You good, kid?” Tony asks, his eyes twinkling mirthfully.

Kate’s eyes dart around the table, widening when they land on me before quickly snapping back to her plate. “Fine… Totally fine,” she chokes out.

I go to say something else, apologize maybe (for what I’m not exactly sure) but then she abruptly stands up and excuses herself from the table.

When she’s gone everyone looks puzzled. Well, almost everyone. Everyone except Nat who smirks at me with a knowing glint in her eyes.

I raise my brows in question, but her smile just widens and she turns back to Bruce to continue their conversation.

The rest of the table also resumes their usual morning chatter which leaves me in stunned silence.

What was all that about?

A week after the spatula incident in the kitchen, Steve stops me in the hallway. I just got back from the gym and am all sweaty and gross, so I only reluctantly agree when he passes me a comms device and asks me to bring it to Kate.

“Hers broke on the last mission,” he explains, “and Tony wants her to have it before we move out later.”

I sigh and make my way to the archery range where I know she is with Clint this time of day. We haven’t seen much of each as of recently and I’m starting to get the feeling it’s because she’s been avoiding me.

I enter quietly and wait for Clint to finish explaining something before approaching. “Hey guys.”

Clint nods and raises a hand in greeting. Kate’s eyes find mine for a second before they drop to roam over my exposed arms and shoulders. Her jaw slackens and I scratch my neck uncomfortably, not being used to this type of scrutiny.

I should have shower and changed before coming here, I think.

Clint watches the two of us with growing amusement before clearing his throat pointedly. “Y/N, what brings you by?”

Kate snaps out of her stare and looks around for a distraction. Her eyes land on the bow rack next to the arrow stand and she moves to put her bow away.

“Steve sent me,” I explain, raising the comms device. “Bruce managed to fix it.”

Clint clicks his tongue. “Right, yes. Tony mentioned it would be ready before we move out.”

I hand him the device before lifting the bottom of my shirt to wipe some sweat off my forehead.

Christ, I’m sweating like a pig…

In that moment there’s a loud crash and my head whips around to find Kate scrambling near the wall, trying to pick up all the bows she must have just knocked over.

I rush over to help her, but she winces when I crouch down next to her. “I’ve got it,” she snaps, her eyes trained on her shaking hands.

I gulp and freeze for a second. “Kate, let me help—“

“No,” she cuts in, snatching a bow from my hands and whispering another, “No.”

I’m just trying to help. Why is she being like this? The rejection that spreads through me is like a punch to the stomach. So she has been avoiding me. Why else would she be acting like this?

Did I do something wrong? I think about all our interactions since she joined the team, but I can’t come up with even a single instance where I might have done her wrong, or pissed her off.

I watch Kate for a second longer, hastily picking up the bows, before getting up. “Fine,” I mumble dejectedly. “Good luck tonight,” I add, referring to her upcoming mission with Clint.

She doesn’t look up or reply, so I back away with a frown.

Clint’s expression mirrors my own when I turn his way and he shrugs when I send him a questioning look.

I sigh and leave with a timid wave, not sparing another glance at Kate.

“Wanda?” I knock on the redhead’s door, waiting for a response. “Can I come in?”

Red wisps appear around the doorknob and the door opens.

I step inside to find Wanda at her desk with her back turned toward me. “Just a second, Y/N,” she says softly, typing away at her computer for a moment longer before turning around with a small smile.

“What can I help you with?” she asks as I close the door behind me.

I sit at the edge of her bed and fidget with my fingers. “You’re a pretty good judge of character, right?”

“I guess so… Why?” she says slowly.

I let out a shaky breath and look up to find her watching me curiously. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” I inquire.

There’s a beat of silence before Wanda gets up and sits next to me on the bed. She’s always been like a sister to me, so I trust her when she rushes to say, “What? No, of course not!”

I chuckle sadly and bite the inside of my cheek.

“Why would you think that?” Wanda pushes, her hand landing on my shoulder.

“I—“ I pause and think of how to phrase what I’m about to say next before delving into everything that has transpired between Kate and I.

It’s a lot and by the end of it I realized how much all of it has been getting to me. I’ve always thought of myself as a forthcoming, friendly person, but Kate’s blatant rejection of my company or care has me doubting all of it.

What’s surprising is that once I’m done talking, there’s a moment of silence before Wanda starts laughing next to me.

I scoff and eye her incredulously. “Hey! What’s so funny? I pour my heart out to you and you laugh?!”

Wanda tries to stifle her laughter by pressing her hand to her lips, but it does nothing to hide the mirth in her eyes.

“Hey!” I exclaim again, getting up, but Wanda grabs my arm and pulls me back down next to her.

“Wait,” she says around a huff of amusement. “I’m not laughing about your pouring your heart out. I’m laughing because you’ve got it all wrong.”

My annoyance quickly turns into curiosity. “Huh?”

Wanda shuffles closer and fixes the rumpled collar of my shirt. She’s such a mom…

“You’re not a bad person, by any stretch, Y/N/N,” she explains, her voice soothing. “And Kate’s not avoiding you because she hates you.” She emphasizes the hate part because those are the exact words I used to describe my relationship with Kate. I open my mouth to object, but Wanda is quicker, adding, “Quite the opposite actually.”

I stare at her, not knowing what to say until a disbelieving laugh bubbles out of me. “What are you talking about, Wanda? Kate doesn’t like me!”

Wanda raises an eyebrow and watches me expectantly as I continue to laugh.

“No! She can’t— She doesn’t—!” I stop myself abruptly when it dawns on me. Maybe what Wanda is insinuating isn’t that far fetched… It would certainly explain why Kate, a usually composed and precise person, turns into a fumbling, stuttering mess every time I’m around.

It would also explain her abrupt departures every time she knocks into me, or drops something around me. She’s not avoiding me because she doesn’t like me, she’s avoiding me because she’s embarrassed.

“Oh my God, Kate likes me,” I whisper and it’s as if Wanda’s words have lifted the fog in my mind that appears every time I think of the young archer.

I can see clearly now how she wasn’t judging me for being sweaty and gross at the range earlier. She was checking me out.

And when she knocked all the bows off the bow rack… It’s because I pulled my shirt up.

I turn to see Wanda beaming at me and as if the realization of Kate’s feelings toward me wasn’t enough already, I suddenly know why it’s hurt me so much that she’s been avoiding me.

She’s funny, and kind, and can be such a dork sometimes, it’s adorable…

Oh shit!

My ears heat up and I quickly look away when Wanda raises an eyebrow. “It is adorable,” she affirms with a smirk and I nod until it registers what she just said.

I freeze, horrified, and stare at her wide-eyed. “Did y-you just read my mind?”

Wanda laughs and raises her hands defensively. “I can’t help it if your thoughts are so loud!”

I groan and jump to my feet. “Wandaaaa!”

Wanda gets up too and grimaces apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. I swear.”

I take a deep breath and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Just— You can’t tell anyone about this. Not a single soul, you hear me?”

Wanda grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off my face. “I wouldn’t dare,” she says sincerely before adding, “You’d make a cute couple though.”

“Aargh!” I shove her aside and make my way to the door. I’m pretty sure by now my whole face and neck is as flushed as my ears.

Wanda cackles unapologetically and I roll my eyes, leaving her room without looking back.

Well shit, what do I do now?

________________________________________________

[tobicup]

Idea.

Jason actually kills tim in titans tower. It's not on purpose. He was so angry and his vision swirled green. He couldn't see or think straight. Everything was just hate and anger and bright green haze.

He cuts too deep. Deeper then he meant, it was just supposed to be a warning but his mind is gone in a whirlwind of negative emotions.

He comes to with red on his hands, to tims shallow burbling breaths. Wet and gasping and agonized. And no. No. He didn't mean to. He tries to stem the bleeding but it's too late. Tims teary eyes looking up at him, and theyre not filled with anger (like his were) or hate (how could he hate a child so much) or even fear. He just looks sad as they meet his. He tries to speak but he cant, he should already be dead, instead he mouths slowly, carefully *go home*.

Lips bloody, unable to speak or breathe and probably hurting so badly... hes telling his murderer to go back to his family. And regret fills him so deeply because this could have been his brother. This loving, self-sacrificial idiot child couldve been someone he loved. Maybe already loves a little. He never wanted to end him, just robin. He didnt want Tim to die. He didnt.

Now he has to go home. He'll honor the kids last wishes even if it means getting thrown right into arkham next to the clown. He deserves as much. Hes just as bad. Killed a little bird too young. Before he could even truly fly. Relished in his pain.

A hand tugging his pants weakly, snapping him out of his dark thoughts. tims eyes pleading and exhausted. Holding onto life by a thread, "... okay kid. You win. Ill go home... im so- " voice breaking as grief wells up "-im so goddamn sorry. You didnt deserve this"

Tim just smiles, hand gripping his pants letting go to oat his knee as if to say he forgives jason he can never be forgiven for this and then his hand goes limp. His goal of saving the bat family finally fulfilled. The accomplishment bittersweet.

.

Jason picking up tim body, blood on his hands, on his knees where he had kneeled next to tim. On his chest where tim is pressed against it. And he carries him to the nearest zeta. Carries him home. Hes scared. He wants his dad but he doesnt think he'll have one ever again after this.

.

Bruce silent when he sees them. Grim and broken and grief stricken. Trying to push all the emotions down. Another dead robin..another child son. In the arms of the one he lost before..he cant feel anything right now. It all hurts so much. Jasons apologizing even as hes saying he knows he cant be forgiven. He sounds so young and scared. Hes sorry. He didnt mean to.

Bruce doesnt know what to say. He wants more then anything to be happy his son is home but- but his son has killed a child. Killed tim. The only light left in bruces life since jays death.

Dick screaming when he enters the cave. Ignoring Jason entirely. Sobbing over tims tiny broken body. Hed been to late. Again. Hadnt even known his baby brother was in trouble. Hadnt known he was needed.

He hadnt known for jason either. Hadnt even been able to see his body. Just gone.

He doesnt know which is worse.

.

.

.

Tim.

Tim is... was robin and robin was...? Is? Magic. He knows this. Somehow he thinks hes heard it before. A bright laugh, cheeky grin. The words distorted like a broken record but still there. Imprinting into his fading mind. Imprinting on his soul.

Robin is magic.

Hes somewhere cold but familiar. Comforting. But also not here at all. Theres crying. Voices wet. He should find them. Those voices should never be so sad. Thay was his job. To make sure those people were not sad, or angry, or suicidal.

His purpose.

He is Robin.

(Ghost tim following the batfam as they grieve him. And jason trying to reintegrate. He follows jason the most. His shame and guilt. The others treat him coldly. His self hatred tearing him down which is not allowed. Jason should be happy. He is family)

.

Tim one of very few ghosts in gotham. The only *positive* ghost in gotham. Following the bats and trying to bring joy to them any ways he can he cant do much

[elletheactualmenace]

Was it Worth it?

Pairing: Bruce Wayne(battinson) x fem!reader

Summary: Bruce did something and he is afraid you won’t ever look at him the same.

Warnings: Unfaithfulness, betrayal, harsh words, angst

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: probably definitely my favorite of the ones I’ve been working on. I kinda wish I made the ending a little different, but I still like it. Should I make another part? Idk, anyways enjoy.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

There is a gentle humming vibration radiating from the floor of Bruce's bat cave. His music is the only thing keeping the room from being dead silent. He's hunched over the table not even sitting in the chair. He looks exhausted, because he is. The tension in the air almost hurts as much as the situation itself. Your chest squeezes in pain and your stomach is dropped farther than you think possible. Bruce, doesn't move. He won't move. He can't look at the mess he made. The mess he got both of you in.

You stand in the middle of the icy cold room. A shiver runs down your spine. Your eyes are wet and puffy. No tears have fallen, and you are going to make sure you keep it that way. At least until you are alone. You won't give him that. Your tears. They're yours, and he no longer has the right to see you in that kind of vulnerability.

Your gaze wanders over the room. It's big. And has a lot of technology. It's dark and it's lonely in a way that reminds you of Bruce. You've been in here before, many times before, but the aura is different, and it's chilling. You can't tell if you're glad or angry. And if you are being honest, if the opportunity to go back and change everything appears, you aren't sure if you would take it or leave it.

"Well," You exhale a regrettable shaky breath. You straighten out your stance. You clear your throat and sniffle in your sadness and disappointment. "I'm going to bed." You turn on your heel towards the elevator.

Your steps are loud involuntarily, and they make Bruce's chest tighten with guilt and an overwhelming sense of self-hatred. His eyes sting from fatigue and emotional pain. His tongue glides over his lip, thinking of how he should approach this, or if he should at all. But he hears your scolding voice in his head. ’Bruce, you need to do something. You have to.’

The echo of your shoes against the concrete ground ends abruptly. You tilt your head up, looking at the ceiling trying to stop the sobs and shaking from taking over. You squeeze your eyes shut, taking in a long breath.

"Bruce," You start while pressing the elevator button. You hear it descending from the floors above. The sound is audibly shaky because of the quiet unspoken tension in the air. Bruce's head turns slightly at the soft sound of your voice.

"Was it worth it?" You're curious, but there is an undertone giving away the true intent of your question. You want him to feel the guilt and feel the same amount of pain and hurt you do.

"No." He whispers the ache in his heart evident in his voice.

“Was she worth it?” Your words are like venom. The elevator door slides open with a ding.

“No. Never. Why would you think that?” Bruce grumbles out, almost insulted. Your jaw tightens at his tone. Why the hell was he insulted? You should be screaming and crying, but you keep your cool for the sake of everyone. For the sake of your marriage. The clashing of your teeth is loud in your head. 

“I'm sorry, what?” Your fist tightens at your side. Now you're not just sad, you're pissed. How the fuck is he fixing this but trying to play the victim? He is not allowed to feel insulted, he doesn’t have that privilege.

Bruce doesn’t say anything, realizing the sound of his voice makes you mad. He stinks in on himself, feeling the guilt and the wrongfulness crawling from the pit of his stomach into every fiber of his being. He wants to undo everything, he wants to fall on his knees and beg for your forgiveness. But you need space. And begging will do as much as fucking Selina again. He needs to do something that proves to you he’s sorry and that it won’t happen again. But he’s not even sure he can prove it to you or that it won't happen again. He prays to everything that it won’t.

“Why would I think that?” You mumble to yourself in disbelief. You questionably hum, loudly, comically, mocking him. You laugh bitterly.

Suddenly it hits you. Why were you giving him so much as a thought right now? He doesn’t deserve your patience. He doesn’t deserve every night you waited for him to come home. He doesn’t deserve your constant ‘it’s fine’ even when it wasn’t. He doesn’t deserve the fact that you hadn’t done something drastic yet. But at the same time you knew his heart was good, and he deserves the world. You don’t know anymore. Fuck your indecisiveness. 

“I’m too tired to deal with all of this right now. Goodnight Bruce.” You step into the elevator, back to the cave. You push the button without a sound and are off.

The second the doors open again you’re met face to face with Alfred. When he sees your sad and pained expression he is immediately by your side. 

“Mrs. Wayne? Are you alright ma’am?” His face is full of concern. And you have to remind yourself to keep it together.

“I’m fine Alfred thank you. I think I’m ready for bed.” You curse how shaky your voice is, because Alfred notices too.

“Of course ma’am. Do you need anything before then?” Alfred is and always has been thoughtful and respectful of others, it was his job of course. 

“No. I’m-, I’ll be alright. Thank you, Alfred. You are too good for this world.” He smiles at your compliment and gives a small thank you. Your unsteady breathing makes him worried, but he lets you be. If you needed to talk you would have. So he lets you travel up the stairs and into the master bedroom.

——

Alfred is furious. What has Master Bruce done this time? Alfred practically stomps down to the bat cave. He storms in with fire in his eyes. 

Alfred loves you. As if you are his own. You are kind, witty, and an absolute pleasure to have around. You also care about Bruce, and he knew from the second he met you that you were going to stick around even if Master Bruce would be stubborn about it for a while.

When Bruce hears the loud steps, he perks up, hoping it’s you and that he can at least try to apologize. When he hears Alfred’s angry voice roaring throughout the cave his shoulders slump.

“Mater Bruce.” The volume of Alfred’s voice surprises him.

Bruce stays quiet. What did you say? No, he thought, she didn’t say anything. That’s not like her.

“Why have you sent your wife away in such a state? What did you say? What did you do?” Alfred never raises his voice much, but now is one of those rare occasions.

“I didn’t send her off. She left voluntarily,” Bruce responds in a gruff voice.

There is a beat of silence as Alfred gathers his thoughts and anger. Obviously you had left voluntarily. Bruce would never throw you out. Never. So, what had he done to hurt you?

“What did you do?” Alfred repeated in a firm voice. Bruce’s shoulders tighten even more than they already are. Bruce breathes out slowly, trying not to show his emotions, like always.

“I-“ Bruce starts, but his breathing gets shaky, and he stops. It feels like it hurts him just as much, if not more than you. But he would never dare say that out loud, he won’t ever try to make you think your feelings are inferior to his.

“I did something,” Bruce pauses, “And I-,” he pauses again. Alfred is so use to Bruce not sharing that the waiting doesn’t bother him anymore. Alfred lets him think about how to word it.

“I don’t think she will ever look at me the same. I don’t think she will ever forgive me.” Alfred can hear the pain in his words. He feels horrible. He wants to know what he did that was so bad.

“What did you do-“ Alfred cuts himself off when he sees Bruce switch on a screen. It’s one of the recordings he takes when goes out through his contacts. Alfred lets out an audible gasp when he sees her. Selina Kyle.

“You didn’t-“ 

“I did.” Bruce says bluntly, angry at himself. His eyes wander in a misty haze. Glazed over with regret.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred starts, but he stops mouth agape. As if he can’t put together what he wants to say. Like he doesn’t know himself. 

He loves you and he loves Bruce. And Bruce messed up big time. It’s going to be way more, incredibly difficult than usual for Bruce to fix this.

Alfred let Bruce be alone in his thoughts, but when he realizes it will take hours for him to truly have his thoughts straight, he marches down to the cave and demands he go and fix this.

“Go.” Alfred has a serious look on his face. “You can’t just leave her there to cry, Master Bruce.”

“I- I need to think,” Bruce argues but Alfred isn’t having it.

“I will let you know you’ve been ‘thinking’ for almost two hours. You’re done thinking. You need to go and confront the situation head on.” Alfred says sternly.

“No, I can’t,” Bruce says arrogantly.

“I don’t see why you are having such trouble. Facing things head on is the bat's job after all.” Alfred retorts and Bruce stays quiet.

“Now,” Alfred starts, “Go, before I burn your suit and have all the entrance to here,” He gestures to the batcave. “Sealed.”

Bruce narrows his eyes. He knows not to mess with Alfred when he threatens, even if it seems so casually, he is dead serious. Bruce has experienced it firsthand before.

“Get moving Master Bruce, before I drag you up there myself. Don’t forget you taught you everything you know.” Alfred says with a pointed look, before turning on his heel to exit. 

—-

You don’t remember a time that you have hurt as much as you do now. After brushing off Alfred successfully, at least for a bit, you moped up to the bedroom, your and Bruce’s bedroom.

After getting inside and shutting the absurdly large doors, you turn your back against the doors. Leaning all of your weight on them. Using them as a source of support. Now, finally, you let go. You let everything you have been hiding behind fall. The strong attitude to face your cheating husband. The tears pour in choked sobs. You slide down to the floor, back still against the big doors.

After a long while of sitting there you got up and got changed. If your life is falling apart your figure you might as well be comfortable. 

The tears never really stop, not really. They only slow every once in a while then come back even stronger than before. It’s getting hard to breathe. You can’t even sit on the bed, it smells like him. So you sit on the windowsill, looking out at the streets of Gathom.

You don’t know what to do. It’s not really something they make books, or guides for. Screaming at his face seems like a very appealing opinion right now. Or you could run, just for a bit, take the car you had before you moved in, and he, annoyingly at the time, felt the need to buy you a new car as one of the many welcome gifts. You had told him that you didn’t need anything, but he insisted, he always does. He’s thoughtful in that way. Always giving you things. You love him, and always will love- 

Wait. What the fuck? Why the hell are you doing? That loving husband you ��will always love’ cheated on you. And proceeded to not tell you for almost five months. And you have only been married for a little less than a year. And what happened to taking the car and running? That thought just seemed to slip away.

You want to forgive him but at the same time you want to cry and scream at him for being a dick and hurting you. For all the time you have known Bruce he would never do something like this purposely, at least not from what you’ve seen. If someone asked you yesterday if you trust him and believe him, the answer would be an immediate yes, no questions asked. But now you aren’t sure. He has probably done so many things you don’t know about, and he has just never told you. 

The tears start to lessen, but the pain in your chest is still present. You had asked Bruce to put in a cushion on the window seat, and of course, he did. It was soft, sure, but it was always cold and isolated. You sat here when you waited for Bruce to come home from his nightly work. So the seat always reminds you of that lonely feeling. And right now the feeling is amplified.

You just want him to know what you did wrong. What is so bad about you that he has to go find someone else to be intimate with. All you can think about are the thousands of things you could have done wrong.

A soft knock sounds from the door. You can’t tell if you with its Bruce or Alfred. But either way you get up and walk over to the doors of the master bedroom.

You pull the doors open, head hung low towards the ground. You spot black dirty boots standing in front of you. It's Bruce. And somehow the sadness in the pit of your stomach enhances at the sight of the boots.

You squeeze your eyes shut, then push the door close. But something stops the satisfying sound of the door clicking closed. A boot specifically.

A growl grows from deep in your throat. 

“Go away,” The boot remains wedged in between the door frame and the door.

“Please?” It's more of a rude demand than a question. But instead of following your request a hand on the other side of the door pushes it open.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk but-“ You cut him off.

“No, I definitely don’t want to talk. That's why I came up here.” You finally look up into his hooded eyes. They’re bloodshot red, but you can’t tell if it's because he was crying or because he is sleep deprived. It's most likely the latter.

Bruce sighs sadly, he hates that he hurt you. He hates how your red puffy eyes and stuffy nose are because of him, because of what he did. He hates himself for letting Selina get to him. He knows it is and always will be his fault, but putting some blame on Selina, which she deserves, takes off some of the weight.

“Can I come in?” He asks, and you reluctantly let him in. Your body is heavy with dread. You don’t know how this will end, and thinking about leaving this room a single woman is horrifying.

Bruce walks to the windowsill you follow close behind, but keeping your distance. “What do you want to talk about?” You ask genuinely. “Are you here to tell me you had an affair with someone else? Someone other than Selina?” It comes out before you can stop it. And your breath hitches. You almost cover your mouth with your hand but stop yourself. After thinking about it alone, you realized that with Bruce, you need to let him speak before you start yelling. It never ends well when you just yell and don’t listen too.

Bruce looks hurt as he looks down at you with a frown. You sigh feeling ashamed for accusing him before he even got to speak.

“Sorry,” You mumble. “You can talk now.”

“Well, I-“ He pauses and sighs, finding it hard to put his thoughts and feelings into words. “Im sorry, and I- I know that most likely means nothing at all, and does nothing. But I just- I need you to know. Im so sorry.” His shoulders fall along with the walls that were previously up when you were down in the cave. 

You don’t say anything, you can’t. You can’t say it's okay, because it's not. So you let him continue.

“The night it happened, I wasn't in my right mind.” You scoff, and he understands that it sounds like absolute bull shit. So he re-words it. “I mean, I wasn’t focused, I was stuck somewhere else.” Your sniffle rips at his heart. That sounds stupid too.

“Fuck, I was missing you. And I needed you, but you weren’t there. She was. I regret it and always will.” It still sounds stupid and like bullshit, but he doesn’t care, it’s the truth.

“I wanted to come home early, and I was going to. I was. I was going to come home to you, but Selina- she,” He pauses, his breathing goes ragged. “She stopped me and I didn’t make it home.”

The room is quiet. You're thinking and Bruce is waiting for you to say something, anything. You breathe in slowly.

“So,” You start, “I didn’t do anything wrong?” Your voice cracks as your shoulders fall and you crumble into a million broken pieces.

“What?” He’s genuinely confused, in a soft voice. Why would you think you did something wrong? Bruce can’t figure it out. “Why would you think that?” Tears well up in his eyes as he watches your brave face fall right in front of him.

You laugh as tears roll down your checks. “I- I mean you’ve been distant lately, more than normal. And I guess the only explanation is that- I did something, or I didn’t do something,”

Bruce breathes out a shaky breath, trying to stop his own tears from spilling. “Y/n, you could never do anything wrong. I did the wrong thing. I’ve been distant because of this.” His words come out slowly, more than normal, like he is really trying to make a point. “And I can never make up for what I’ve done, but I need you to know that you’ve never done anything wrong.”

You look down with furrowed brows and tears running down your pink checks. It isn’t your fault. He was just being an insensitive prick, but he said he was thinking about you before it happened. You're stuck. You want to slap him and hug him at the same time. You don’t know what to say or do with what you were just given. Bruce is your husband and the love of your life, but he cheated on you, that’s something intolerable and horrible. You don’t want to walk out of his life, or make him leave yours.

You stand with him like this for what seems like an eternity. Both of you are thinking about what will happen next. Bruce thinks you will up and leave him, he knows you have the right to, but that doesn’t mean it's what he wants, he has to remind himself that this isn’t about him, it's about what he did.

You sharply look up at him and Bruce blinks in surprise at your sudden movements. You huff out an angry breath. Bruce waits for the four treacherous words to fall from your lips. He waits holding his breath.

“I want…”

A divorce. Bruce thinks as his shoulders slump and a tear slips down his check.

“I want a bit of space.” Bruce freezes. What does that mean? “I don’t want a divorce. But I need time to heal, and to gain back everything that you’ve-, ruin-” you pause not want to be straight out rude. But inevitably you decided against being nice. “messed up.” You say in a somewhat steady voice, your arms wrapping around your body to try and comfort you. Bruce knows you were going to say ruined, but he's glad you don’t, it shows that you are willing to help him mend your marriage, it gives him hope.

“Thank you,” he says with a sob almost falling over. “I- Im so sorry, I don’t deserve you. I never have.” He sobs out, finally letting the weight of his screw up show.

“You're right, you don’t.” Bruce's eyes fall to the ground in shame. He tries to compose himself. “But in time, hopefully you will again.” You state bluntly as you try to keep your voice steady and strong, while also keeping more tears from falling in a downpour.

“And I- I need you to just hold me.” You say softly grabbing his hand and leading him to your king bed. You’re still angry, but you need him to be here for you right now. 

He follows you to the edge of the bed and pulls off his boots as you slide under the comforter. You still look so hurt, because you are. Bruce knows this isn’t you forgiving him, this is you giving him his first chance to mend what was broken.

Bruce climbs in much less gracefully under the blanket, he waits for you to come to him. And you do. You wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest. His shirt smells like him and it makes you much more tired than you were five minutes ago. 

“I will always be here to hold you.” He whispers into your ear as he kisses the top of your head. He feels a wet spot forming on his shirt and guilt overtakes him for the millionth time in weeks. But Bruce just shuts his eyes tight and pulls you into him even closer. Silently letting you know that you can cry for as long as you need.

Your cries turn to sobs as you grip his black shirt tightly in your fists. After a long time of on and off sobs your tears turn into whimpers and sniffles. Bruce rubs your back in soothing circles, it's what he does when he wants you to sleep. You do just that. You drift off in his arms, and without any more words he knows, as he holds you in his arms that he will have to make it up to you and gain back your trust. And he will. Starting now, he will do anything and everything in his power to repair, patch up, restore, and piece back together what he ruptured.

[sanguineterrain]

dc masterlist

ONE-SHOTS.

✩ window pains. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

he's got a habit of coming in through the window. you want him to start staying... and using the door. (angst, fluff, pining, injured jason, tending to wounds, feelings).

✩ sunset anew. ─ dick grayson x fem!reader

you're a little nervous to become the mrs. grayson. luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries. (wedding, fluff, anxious reader, insecure dick, so much soft intimacy)

✩ the teeth you know. ─ vampire king!dick grayson x fem!reader

the war between the humans and the vampires has lasted for a year now. when you fled gotham, you thought that would be the last time you'd see the vampire king and the love of your life, dick grayson. you were wrong. (SMUT 18+ only, manipulative dick, dreams, oral f receiving)

✩ savior. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

red hood is the stuff of nightmares. red hood is no hero. red hood is your best friend. (angst, reader is afraid of red hood and they discover that he's jason, injured and kidnapped reader, emotional hurt no comfort.)

✩ in your hands. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

jason thinks he's too big to be loved. you show him that that's impossible. (bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.)

✩ restroom attendant. ─ jason todd x fem!reader

tonight is the worst night ever—you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. that is, until, the red hood bursts in. this city just won't cut you a break. (humor, flirting, meet ugly, awkward cute jason, canon typical violence)

☆ angel of small death. — jason todd x gn!shadow monster!reader

you can't remember what it was like to be human. until jason returns. now, he's the only thing tethering you to this world. and you won't let anything happen to him. (monster!reader, canon-typical violence, codependency, stalking, suicidal thoughts, somewhat happy ending.)

☆ crushin'. — jason todd x gn!reader

barbara invites you to dinner with the bats. she's done so before, and you've always declined, but this time, you agree because the bat you've had a crush on for ages will be there. little do you know, the only reason he's staying for dinner is because of you. (mutual pining, crushes, jason is a sweetie, matchmaking, dick is a meddling brother with good intentions)

☆ most normal thing in the world. — jason todd x gn!reader

you get hit with a love spell. naturally, the first person you seek out is jason todd. (love spell, mutual pining, love confessions, jason todd's endless self deprecation)

☆ in the buff. — jason todd x gn!reader

the one where you learn firsthand that jason todd sleeps in the nude. (fluff, humor, love confessions, friends to lovers, nudity)

☆ knight in shining helmet. — jason todd x fem!princess!reader

you're a princess who's visiting gotham. you weren't loving it to begin with—then you of course had to get kidnapped. you're hoping that you'll be rescued by the famous batman. instead, it's the infamous red hood that finds you. (kidnapping, meet ugly, strangers to something more, soft jason, roman holiday vibes).

◇ knight!jason universe - in which you're given to knight!jason as a present (light dubcon elements)

intro post | you make dinner for jason

-> temptation (smut 18+, dubcon voyeurism, religious guilt read the tags!!)

-> a bloody vow (violence, eroticism, part 2 of temptation)

BLURBS.

ALL READERS ARE GN UNLESS NOTED OTHERWISE

-> DICK GRAYSON.

"this is real. i'm real. look at me."

"can you walk? i need you to walk."

dick catches you when you trip and fall

"you matter so much to me."

you meet the yj team for the first time and have a panic attack

dick cuddles you after he returns late from patrol

you try to break up with dick when your insecurities overwhelm you

dick and assistant!reader who has a secret nightlife

-> JASON TODD.

"i thought you were scared of heights."

reader calls jason in panic when they are chased by a goon

"you're just going to leave me here?!"

awkward jason with a big crush on baker!reader

you break up with jason after he almost dies | part 2 (completed)

playfighting with jason turns into something else (NSFW, fem!reader)

jason rescues you after you have a fight (fem!reader)

jason asks his family to help after you, his fiance, are kidnapped

you forget to text jason you're home safe and he panics

you comfort werewolf!jason during a shift

you are jason's ex and have to work with him on a mission

headless horseman!jason gives you a ride home

"why not them, why me?"

you find a werewolf in your shed who has a dead boy's face

you and jason fight and he thinks you broke up

devoted jason who just wants to be yours

jason tells you that he's asexual

you give bodyguard!jason a gift | you defend him at a gala

you're a vigilante who's after the red hood | pt 2 | pt 3

fussing over jason after he's shot in his bulletproof vest

boxer!jason protects you from a creep

you're a reporter who's under red hood's protection | part 2 | part 3

a stranger thinks you're in danger with your boyfriend, jason

introducing naps to jason (hc)

you bring home a baby and insist on keeping her

jason loves his childhood crush's new curves, make no mistake

jason takes care of you when you're high on pain meds

you meet jason as a civilian when you're both held hostage

virgin!jason comes fast (hc)

jason will keep you safe by any means necessary (dark content)

mauling jason (in a sexy way)

-> TIM DRAKE.

your bff is back and insists she's not the girl you knew (female!jason)

jason gets glasses and you go feral

you have insomnia and run into tim in the yj tower

-> CLARK KENT.

holding hands while walking with clark

giving clark a massage when he's stressed

clark is scared when he finds out he's going to be a dad

you politely reject superman (you're dating clark kent!)

-> BRUCE WAYNE.

the JL discovers that batman is married... to you

[necrotic-nephilim]

"I don't care how much you hate me - you need to eat!"

DickTim during Bruce's Lost In Time phase but with Dick stopping Tim from leaving💕

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

fucked up DickTim during Bruce's lost in time era my beloved. this is 2k of *very* dead dove DickTim, with one-sided feelings from Dick and unreliable narrator vibes. it is a smidge OOC, just bc of how dark Dick gets, but i think i kept it best i could. enjoy <3

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

Dick thought he was doing this to honor Bruce. The last thing Bruce would’ve wanted was to see Tim drive himself over the edge and go too far, all for a fruitless chase to bring Bruce back from the dead. And sure, maybe deep down Dick knew he reflected some of Bruce’s worst traits. The obsessive control. The worrying to the point of being overbearing.

It came with the capes and spandex territory. Especially now that Dick had decided to man up and put on that damned cowl.

But even at Bruce’s worst, Dick was pretty sure he wouldn’t dare go this far.

Dick knew it was wrong. What he didn’t know was why he couldn’t stop himself. Why the gnawing guilt was so easy to compartmentalize and why every good point Tim had got ignored by Dick’s logical side, brushed off by one simple mantra.

He was doing this for Tim’s own good.

All of this was to protect Tim from doing something he would regret.

Dick had done brain scans, had Tim magically checked up, and even managed to get him to properly talk to a psychiatrist. Everything came back normal. Tim was perfectly healthy.

So maybe this was something that had always been a part of Tim. Maybe it was a bad idea for any of them to have let Tim into the vigilante world so young.

Some people could handle it. Some people couldn’t. Dick had seen firsthand how it broke minds and ruined lives. He’d seen people turn to drugs, cults, murder, and god knew what else just to try to cope with it.

That didn’t make Tim weak. Tim Drake was the furthest thing from weak, and Dick would fight anyone on that.

This was just a hard life to cope with. Sometimes, people needed support through the worst of it.

That’s what Dick was doing.

Giving support.

“I don’t care how much you hate me- you need to eat!” Dick stepped back, dodging Tim’s attempt to kick his feet out. The bowl of salad Dick had set next to Tim was completely ignored.

Dick had learned not to give Tim hot food after Tim flung potato soup at his head the first time, chunks of potato stuck to his hair.

Tim’s scowl was lethal. Technically, he wasn’t restrained. He could move freely around the manor and do whatever he wanted.

It was the shock collar that kept him from leaving the grounds or breaking into the Batcave.

Dick had decided that would be the most humane way. The shock was only momentarily painful, it was designed to knock Tim unconscious if he tried to get somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. The collar had taken three tries before Dick found a lock Tim couldn’t pick, and a few more unfortunate incidents of Tim finding weak spots in the barrier.

But Dick always found Tim and brought him back home.

That was what was important.

The fact Tim kept trying to break out and go to god knew where on some fruitless quest to find a dead man made Dick more secure about this decision.

He was doing this to protect Tim. Once Tim worked through the worst of his grief, all this would be in the past. Something they would laugh at.

Hopefully.

It was like one of Tim’s contingency plans. Really, he of all people should understand.

But he didn’t. Which was what hurt Dick the most, the angry look in Tim’s eyes and the way his fists clenched when Dick came into Tim’s room. Tim had access to the whole manor, but he stuck mostly to his room, refusing to talk to anyone.

Especially Dick.

And now, it seemed, his latest tactic was a hunger strike.

“I’ll let you look over the burglary case we’re working on,” Dick offered. “I’ll bring you all the files and your computer if you just…” he gestured to the salad, “eat something.”

That had worked, in the beginning. Dick could coax good behavior out of Tim by offering to let Tim help with whatever case Dick was facing. It took a load off of Dick’s back and gave Tim something to focus on.

Of course, Dick couldn’t leave Tim’s computer with him. The first time Dick did that, Tim managed to break all of the firewalls and safeties put on it to start a case file about Bruce. Dick had to delete everything and only allow Tim monitored access from that point on.

After that, Tim really didn’t like Dick.

“Can’t you just go back to ignoring me?” Tim snapped. He sounded… resigned. Emotionless in a way he hadn’t been, like all the fight he’d been putting up for weeks was finally going out.

“Ignoring you?” Dick frowned. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut at the words. He kept a wide berth from Tim, wary of more punches being thrown, and decided to sit at Tim’s desk chair, a good few feet from where Tim was on his bed. “What makes you think I’m ignoring you?”

Tim scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You only talk to me to ask if I’ve dropped the Bruce thing yet, or to try to force self-care on me. The rest of the time you ignore me so you don’t have to face your own guilt.”

Dick violently shook his head. “That’s not-” he sighed, running a hand over his face- “I’m just busy, I promise. Between being Batman, managing Bruce’s estate, and trying to handle Damian, I just…” his voice trailed off. So many things to balance. He still didn’t know how Bruce managed it all. “I haven’t made enough time for you. I’m sorry.”

He decided to take on the burden of helping Tim. It was his responsibility and Tim was right, Dick was doing a piss poor job of taking care of him.

No wonder he pushed away Dick’s attempts to reconcile. It must’ve come across as half-assed, in Tim’s eyes.

Dick wished Bruce was here. He would’ve known the right way to handle this.

“Don’t start now,” Tim said icily. He picked up a book from his nightstand and opened it, pointedly not looking at Dick anymore. “Just leave me alone.”

“Will you eat first?” Dick asked. “If you just eat, I’ll go. I promise.”

With a loud sigh, Tim snapped his book shut. He picked up the salad Dick brought and shoveled down mouthfuls, all while glaring at Dick. Once the bowl was empty he set it back down and spread his hands, waiting.

Dick didn’t leave.

He wasn’t going to abandon Tim.

Dick stood up and Tim relaxed for just a moment before he realized Dick was walking toward Tim’s bed instead of the door. Slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, Dick crept forward. He chose to sit on the foot of the bed, still far enough away from Tim to give him personal space.

“Tim-”

“Out. Now. You promised.”

Dick ran his fingers through his hair. “I know, but-”

“What do you want from me?” Tim almost yelled the words. “Do you want me to just say I don’t believe Bruce is alive? Will you finally leave me alone, then?”

“Can you say it under a truth serum?”

Tim went quiet, grinding his jaw.

“I want you to get better,” Dick sighed.

“What happens when I get better, then?” Tim challenged. He moved to sit cross-legged on the bed. So close to Dick that Dick could reach out and touch him, but emotionally, they were miles apart and it hurt Dick’s chest. “You ‘fix me’-” he put finger quotes around the words- “to your liking, then set me free?”

“Don’t talk about yourself like you’re an animal.” Dick frowned, fist clenching at the idea Tim thought of himself that way.

Tim just stared at him. “Then don’t treat me like one.” He raised a hand and tapped the collar.

It looked like it had new scratch marks on it.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dick said. He tried to find the words. It was so hard to explain it when Tim wasn’t listening to him. He wasn’t even given a chance. Dick tried to reach out. For once, Tim didn’t pull away. He was completely rigid under Dick’s touch, though. His hand rested on Tim’s arm, thumb stroking back and forth. “You know I’m doing this because… because I’m worried about you. And I care, Tim.”

“No you don’t,” Tim leaned away from Dick, but didn’t pull his arm free. “Whatever version of me exists in your head-”

“Tim-”

“-isn’t real,” Tim ignored him and kept going. “You won’t even listen to my theory-”

“Tim!” Dick tightened his grip, ignoring the small wince of pain that came out of Tim. “I’m not entertaining that kind of talk.” He tried to be firm but loving with his tone. But even Dick could hear the anger and frustration that was bleeding off of him. “This is practically self harm.”

“I know I’m right,” Tim mumbled. He wouldn’t look at Dick. “Will you just leave, now?”

Against his better judgment, Dick stood up. He had to patrol soon. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk after-”

“I’m going to sleep,” Tim snapped. “No, we won’t.”

Dick tried to throw his hands up in frustration, but he was still holding onto Tim’s arm.

He didn’t want to let go.

He knew Tim was waiting for him to let go, but Dick couldn’t force his fingers to release. He just stared for a moment, breathing hard.

Dick was doing this out of love.

And now, he loved Tim too much to want to let go of him.

Did he have to patrol tonight? He was pretty sure the Birds of Prey were in Gotham.

“Dick,” Tim said carefully, starting to scoot away from him. The apprehension in his voice was unsteady, eyes narrowed. He was always too on edge. “I’m tired. Just go on patrol.”

Instead of letting go, Dick lifted his other hand and held Tim’s face. Tim flinched but stopped inching away. He was completely still, barely even breathing.

He looked afraid of Dick.

Dick’s chest clenched. He wished he could get Tim to understand. Dick leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tim’s forehead.

He wanted to kiss somewhere else, somewhere a few inches lower and just as unobtainable. That was a feeling Dick buried deep, deep inside of him.

It wasn’t why he was doing this.

A hand pressed against Dick’s chest. Trying to push Dick away, but for just a moment, the pressure and warmth almost made Dick shudder. Tim hadn’t properly trained in a while.

He wasn’t actually strong enough to push Dick off of him. If Dick wanted to, Tim couldn’t have stopped him.

But their relationship was already fractured. It would take a long time of repairing and letting Tim heal before Dick could even try pursuing those feelings.

Tim had once had a childhood crush on Dick, though. So he was pretty sure they could work their way up to it, be something more.

Dick pulled away. He let go of Tim’s arm and allowed himself one stroke of Tim’s hair. It was getting a little long, brushing against Tim’s shoulders.

The entire time, Tim remained perfectly still. But his eyes got wider and wider, the way they always did when he had just figured out a case.

Dick was getting too close. He needed to pull back.

“You still have the spare comm link?” Dick asked.

Tim didn’t answer. He just kept staring with those wide, searching eyes. He looked a little pale. Dick should get him some iron supplements, Tim becoming anemic is the last thing Dick wanted.

“Use it if you need me for anything,” Dick continued. He gave Tim what he hoped was a calming smile. “Get some sleep, Tim. I love you.”

He turned and walked out of Tim’s room. Slowed to crawl at a snail’s pace, hoping for an answer from Tim. He would take any kind of answer.

But Tim kept silent, even as Dick took his time intentionally, slowly closing the door. Dick just sighed, turning down the hall to head down to the Batcave.

Someday, he’d get through to Tim. Dick would find a way.

Someday soon.

[thatwritterbeach]

One messed up bat pt.2

Dc masterlist all other parts found here

Batfam x reader Jason Todd x reader

Summary: the batfam's approach to Y/n self harming, Bruce is a meanie, and neglectful meanie

warnings: Angst, self harm (active), self hate, depression, anxiety, eating disorder,mentions of alcohol and drugs but not use of either, sexual assault mention, non-con mention, joker has bad touched y/n, puke, purging,

I do not own dc, kinda short sorry. Full bruce hate, I never forgave him for not killing the joker, among other things

Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all sat around her while Alfred poured tea. Her leg was bouncing and her fingers were tapping on her knees.

"Somebody gonna fill me in," Bruce asked into the silence.

"I second that," Jason said.

"Well, we are here to support-" Tim started to say before Damian cut in.

"Y/n was cutting herself and you have to fix it," he said from his spot next to her. He latched himself onto her arm and rolled her sleeve up to show off the bandage.

"Y/n," Bruce said softly, running a hand down his face in exhaustion. He's too tired to put up with you.

"Why," Jason asked moving to sit next to her and grab her other hand. Tim was sitting on the back of the couch behind her, Dick was perched on the arm next to Damian and Bruce was across from her in an arm chair.

"I'm in a family of superheros that spends more time looking after strangers than they do their own people."

"Y/n," Dick said on a sigh.

"It's our job," Bruce said. Like that excused all the neglect.

"If you're just gonna undermine everything I say and bring up 'the mission' as an excuse for everything there's no point in having this conversation cuz it's just gonna make things worse," she seethed glaring at Bruce.

"No more work talk, just tell us about you," Dick said.

"Damian go help Alfred with dinner."

"But-"

"Go." He rolled his eyes but stomped out of the room.

"I've been cutting since Jason died-"

"Shit," Tim interrupted quietly.

"Burning too when I feel like it. Definitely have an eating disorder, depression goes without saying. All forms of anxiety, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, hmmm," she paused in mock thought looking to the ceiling for answers.

"What do you mean burning," Jason asked before she could continue.

"I use a lighter to heat up a blade, or something else metal and hold it to my skin. Just 1st and second degree, enough to blister. I prefer burning because the pain lasts longer," she explained casually. Stop talking you idiot!

"Y/n," Dick muttered, so sadly the guilt crept up her throat.

"How else do you hurt yourself," Bruce asked sliding her tea closer to her, like that helped.

"I think that's it, don't know I've done shit for so long I don't even think anymore. I blink and there's a few new cuts I don't remember making." Stop talking!

"Oh my god," Tim whispered.

"You black out? Do you drink," Jason accused, unwilling to ask about drugs.

"Nope, never touch the stuff." Where her hands shaking or was she imagining that? Didn't matter Jason's warm and rough hand enveloped both of hers to stop them. Are your eyes meant to get fuzzy when your crush touches you?

"What can we do to help, what do you need from us," Bruce asked eyeing their hands with a touch of unease?

"Oh, now you care. What fifteen, twenty kids later you care? I don't need or want anything from you, actually, no, what I want is my damn job back." Is your heart supposed to be at 150 BPM?

"Sweets, I can feel your heart through your finger tips."

"I'm fine, my heart rate's always a bit fast." But she was starting to sweat.

"Are you having any other systems, how often do you have anxiety attacks," Dicks asked sitting beside her to hold two fingers to her pulse and count.

"Once a week, once every two weeks, I don't know, why?"

"Do you feel like you're going into one?"

She took a deep breath and did a mental self-assessment. Fast heart, sweat, shaky hands, but clear thoughts.

"I don't-I don't...it doesn't feel like it? Maybe just heightened anxiety, I don't know, I feel more anger than anxiety," she told him smacking his hand away when he tried to check for a fever.

"Does your heart rate usually get to 160 when you're mad," Dick asked.

"Sounds right, I have anger issues." Jason snorted out a laugh.

"Welcome to the club kid." His hand moved to tug on her hair then dropped to her neck to rub circles with his thumb.

"When you call me kid it makes me feel small and useless," she told him with soft smile.

"Shit, sorry."

"I cal you kid, like ninety percent of the time," Dick panicked.

"Chill big bird, it's not gonna drive me to a cliff."

"You're not going back to work."

"Wayta' read the room, Bruce," Tim chastised dramatically draping himself over the back of the couch.

"Careful, Tim your fruit is showing," Y/n said, laughing at her own joke. ( Tim is bi in this)

"His what," Jason whisper yelled whipping his head around to check his brother fly. Dick who was 'hip' to the kids slang these days just laughed and high fived her.

"What's fruit then?"

"When someone is gay you call them fruity," she explained gesturing to Tim's totally not straight pose.

"Oh, got it. Wait a damn minute, that's what you meant when you called me a mango nerd the other day."

"Dude you said and I quote 'you can't wear that spring outfit with that fall purse you heathen' with a hand on your hip."

"It was for a benefit ball, I was trying to help you, you fashionably challenged fool."

"Get a room," Tim complained throwing a hand over his eyes like even watching them was painful.

"Was it that peach dress with the blue clutch," Dick asked, of course, he hadn't attended but he saw the papers and news.

"Sorry, I thought I was the girl in this family, let me just turn my closet over to you-"

"Can we get back to your issues," Bruce interrupted, freaking buzzkill.

"Sorry, was my bonding time with brothers I haven't seen together in over a month cutting into your plans. Are you trying to wrap this up so you can put on your Halloween costume and go beat up poor people. Sorry my depression is such an inconvenience for you. Don't worry, me slicing into my own flesh can take a backseat to your useless and selfish vendetta.-"

"That's enough, I do care-"

"Really! Did you care when your second robin got murdered and you couldn't be bothered to stop his killer, did you care when you forced me into that suit and took me out with basically no training? Did you care when the man you refused to kill took me hostage, when the devil you clearly love sank his claws into my innocent skin? Did you even ask when I came back to the cave with blood running down my legs-" Her jaw might have popped from the grinding of her teeth if Dick and Jason hadn't cut her off.

"What the actually fuck, Bruce!" Jason.

"What the hell!" Dick.

"I didn't know," Bruce said hanging his head and shoving his fingers into his hair.

"You didn't fucking ask. Why the hell else would I have come back looking the way I did, did you even notice I was gone?"

"I-"

"I don't care," she interrupted with an eye roll, shaking the boys off her to try and leave the room. Tim was faster and blocked her path but she knew he would cave, they would all give her alone time after the bombshell she'd just dropped. She tried not to smirk when Bruce moved to follow her and both Dick and Jason stood in his way.

"So not only did you fail to stop a kid from being murdered, you failed to tell me he was even dead until after his funeral, and you failed to protect her."

"I hate you," Jason said and they all knew he meant it. The guilt was back, clawing at her insides and making bile rise to her throat. They'd been mending their relationship and she just turned Jason on Bruce without thinking.

"I'm sorry," he tried.

"We don't care," Tim spoke for all of them stepping aside to let her through. She hurried to leave before they changed their mind but stopped short with a soft 'shit' when she nearly ran into Damian.

"You heard it all didn't you?"

"Father's an idiot."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Tt, I'm sorry you had to go through that, my beloved." (he calls her that cuz she's his favorite and acts almost as a mother figure)

"You mind telling Alfred not to set my place?"

"Of course."

Thank God, he didn't insist on following her. With a quick hug and hair ruffle she sent him off and nearly sprinted to her room, her trained feet not making a sound on the polished wood. They hadn't taken any of her blades yet so she had her pick for one last hurrah before they found her. With what could only be described as a quiet evil laugh she selected a simple pocket knife and skipped to her en suit locking the door behind her. her shorts were off in a flash and she had four quick and clean cuts in no time, the sting was ok but not enough to ease the guilt from blabbing her big mouth so she did a few more. The feeling didn't ease and her chest only got tighter in panic of being found so she cleaned and bandaged them then sank to her knees in front of the toilet. Pressing on her stomach right where her ribs met she was able to bring up her food without shoving her fingers down her throat. When nothing but foam came up and her eyes stung from tears she rose to clean up.

"Y/n, you have two second before I kick in the door," Jason warned. Well shit.

9-24-24

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

hi! how about 53 (kisses) and 20 (touching) prompts with bruce wayne? love your writing xx

Prompts: reassuring kisses; bandaging/stitching up an injury

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

Bruce sounded so damn apologetic. You didn't have the heart to tell him that you often laid awake at night waiting for him. Sometimes the sun crept into the room before he did. You just gave a nonchalant little hum, focused on stitching the jagged wound that ran from the back of his neck, curving toward his left shoulder.

You hadn't been planning on getting up and letting on that you were awake, but you'd heard Bruce hiss in pain, and curse. The shock of blood under the bathroom's bright light had made your stomach churn with nerves, but you'd waved his hand away and taken hold of the suturing needle. Now the two of you straddled the wide edge of the tub, allowing you to work without Bruce needing to hunch or bend for you to help.

"...Your hands are pretty steady at this," Bruce added, seemingly unable to stand the silence.

"I asked Alfred to teach me."

"When?"

"A while ago." You could see Bruce's head turning just a little toward you, and you tutted softly. "Keep still."

Bruce went still again, sighing softly.

"I'm alright."

Alright. That was rich coming from him—hell, it was hilarious.

"Yes," You drawled. "Because people that are perfectly alright get knife wounds and need stitches."

You were too tired to shield you irritation. Bruce's head lowered a little, and your stomach plummeted with guilt. You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head as the urge to apologize swelled.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Just bruises."

"Okay."

You leaned away, eyeing your handiwork before setting the kit aside. You hesitated before you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. His body relaxed beneath your touch, his shoulders loosing some of their tension. You stood, taking up the little kit and stepping over to the sink to wash your hands. You glanced up as Bruce came into view behind you in the mirror, cuddling up behind you and pressing his face into your neck. You shut the sink off, reaching out and drying your hands before you turned to face Bruce. You cupped his cheek, searching his weary, penitent expression.

"Are you sure you're alright?" You murmured. Bruce nodded, and you nodded in turn, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Let's get you to bed, then. You need sleep to heal up."

"Are you coming with me?"

"Of course."

Bruce smiled, intertwining your fingers and leading the way out of the bathroom. You climbed into bed, feeling a weariness settle over you as you got beneath the covers. Bruce climbed over you, settling between your thighs and sliding his arms curl around you. You closed your eyes, certain that you would drop off quickly–but you felt him rest his chin on your collarbone.

"...Thank you."

"Nothing to thank me for, Bruce."

"Yes there is."

You pried open your sleepy eyes, raising a hand to comb gently through his hair.

"You'd do the same for me."

"I hope I never need to."

"...Yeah, well," You trailed your hand down to stroke his cheek. "If you ever do, just promise me you'll spare me the lecture that I'm sparing you right now."

Bruce smiled, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your palm.

"I promise."

"Good." You shifted beneath him, cradling his hips with your knees and closing your eyes again. "Now go to sleep."

"I love you."

"Love you, too, honey."

[damianbugs]

What you mean by" willis todds love for jason is the reason bruce failed him" ?

Sorry ive seen your post and I agree with everything but this just kinda suprise me, not hating, just curiuos

HELLO! so this is a take that is based on pre-new 52 todds, before they were simplified to the one dimensional (and classist) personalities they're known for now. neither of them were shown to be abusive or willfully negligent, but rather found themselves in bad situations out of their control and died, leaving jason to fend for himself.

in the most simplest way what i mean is willis todds self sacrificing actions of turning to crime in order to provide for jason and catherine is the key defining part of jasons life and why he views bruce's love for him as 'not enough'.

(of course, the actual proof of this is like. one single panel and its not even said by jason. however i think it is something that can be found in jasons character through other, less obvious situations.)

in jasons initial (public) return to gotham and that long and convoluted plan to mess around with batman psychology to get the two of them and the joker in the same place, it all seems like a well planned out revenge story until the final conversation:

Batman: Under the Red Hood

it always stood out to me, not just because of how absolutely heart wrenching the entire moment is (definitely read utrh if you haven't, at least once), but because it really gives you an insight into what love and loving someone means to jason.

to him it's an all encompassing responsibility. this idea that love is something that you need to be able to prove by the quantitive value of what you'll sacrifice for it. in this case, jason is saying i love you" in the way he truly believes gets across how much he means it; i would kill the person who hurt you.

whenever i read this part of utrh, another situation immediately pops into my mind. and that's when jason found out two-face had killed willis todd.

Batman #411

upon finding out two-face had killed willis, jason goes on a brief grief filled rampage, swearing he'll kill him for what he did. it's important to note that up until now, jason had assumed willis was still in prison, only to find out he was actually murdered.

again, it's this idea that love is the extremes you'll go to for family. jason was well aware of willis' less than legal means to make money, and even bruce makes a mention of it in.

Batman: A death in the family

i imagine, like a lot of what fuels jason to fight crime now, guilt is a major deciding factor in a lot of his choices. it's this guilt that he feels upon hearing about willis' death that makes him take it out on two-face. it's even guilt that plays a huge factor even in new 52 stories (such as Cheer).

so when he returns to gotham, or even before that, just hearing about what bruce had done following his death (locking the joker up instead of killing him, taking in tim as his robin) were, to him, clear evidence that he did not love jason in any way that mattered. that bruce did not love jason as much as jason loved him.

because loving him means giving up your morals. loving him means sacrificing your health and your time and your safety.

but bruce didn't do any of that in a way jason could see.

i imagine to someone like jason, who lost every parental figure in some capacity, whether it be to illness or crime or something else entirely, the evident disregard for him was as painful as any rejection could have been.

a lot of how jason feels and acts can be seen in much more interesting ways if we all look at him for he is; an unreliable narrator. he is missing huge chunks of story, especially when it comes to bruce, and has no choice but to act irrationally on the little truth he does know.

of course we the readers, and some other characters, know just how hard jasons death was for bruce. how destructively he mourned for his son.

but again, the surface level proof of it is not enough for jason, who's entire life has been love through sacrifice. but now, it's a sacrifice bruce can not ever give him.

Batman: Under the Red Hood

[morverenmaybewrites]

Hiya! First of all your blog’s interface is so cute i’m rolling on the floorrrrrrr

Second of all your writing is absolutely amazing, i’ve just finished reading “the pizza delivery girl’s survival guide to gotham city” and lemme tell u i can’t wait for the next chapter cause absolute gold-

I wanted to ask what your thoughts are on Jason and day-to-day life outside of costume. Like, dude HAS to go outside as himself at least every once in a while, out of pure necessity. How do you think he goes on about it?

Aw, thank you, I'm glad you like my blog interface and my fic. I think it depends on how much he's progressed in processing his trauma, to be honest!

I imagine when he first moved back in Gotham, he avoided going out as much as possible, for a multitude of reasons. First, because he was still reeling emotionally from Bruce enacting project Knightfall (aka faking his own death), he was recovering from the injuries he sustained during the events of Arkham Knight (and of course, the injuries he got from the Joker). Most importantly, he is adjusting to living in a city he once hated enough to want to destroy.

I feel like those first few weeks were painful for him. Every place is filled memories, and while not all of them are bad memories, they often feel too painful to revisit. He likely spent most of his time cooped up in a safehouse (which was established as something he makes no effort to make comfortable), only going out when he absolutely had to. Interacting with the city and its people as little as possible. While I don't think the Joker ever meant him to survive his torture, the amount of scars and physical injuries he bears means that a lot of his interactions bring a lot of (misplaced) guilt and shame. Did that shopkeep spend too long looking at his face, his scar? Maybe he'll pass by some hole-in-the-wall shop and remember that he and Dick and Barbara would cool down there after patrols. The ramen, he'll think, is surprisingly good. The owner is a smiling, heavyset man who insists that they never pay for their meals. Maybe he'll even take a single step toward the shop, only to remember that the scars on his hands make it so it's hard to hold cutlery without shaking. That there are days when it's physically painful to eat. And he'll shake his head and walk away.

But I think the more he interacts with PG in the story and the more he fixes his relationship with his family, the more he'll be able to interact with Gotham City. Maybe going to the grocery won't be treated like a military supply run. Maybe he'll look up from his carefully-curated list and realize a type of candy Barbara used to be obsessed with is back in stock now. Maybe he'll put it in his cart, and for the first time in a while, he doesn't have to think about what he did to her as the Arkham Knight. One day, he'll wake up before his alarm and remember that you used to talk about watching the sun rise over Gotham Bay. He'll take a long walk along the shoreline and watch the way the sky turns into soft shades of pink and orange, and he'll be surprised at the realization that there are still beautiful things in Gotham. Maybe your face will flash in his mind, and he'll think that perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised, after all. Maybe one day, after a long night of patrol, he'll pass by the ramen shop again and this time, he decides to stay. The only thing that has changed is the owner, who's gained weight and a few gray hairs, but his smile is still the same. He'll bring Jason's order without asking, and he'll insist that he doesn't have to pay for it. Eating doesn't hurt as much as he feared. In fact, some days, he can move his hands without feeling pain. This is one of the good days. Maybe on that good day, he'll be surprised to find that the ramen is still good. That he can think of the days he used to stay here with his family after patrols, exchanging combat tips and juicy bits of gossip. And this time, he's able to smile.

[remotepixel]

Hi, how would yandere avengers react if their platonic teen obsession threatens to disclose their yandere tendencies or has actually done so to the media?

Hii, thank you for requesting!!

Tw: yandere themes + kidnapping mentions

-I’m assuming this is somewhat far into the obsession, enough where it’s obvious to you that something is very wrong, but not to the ‘they’ve gone completely off the rails and everyone can tell’ point.

-Getting the evidence would already be pretty hard. Sure, you have the obvious fact they’re always hanging around you, but, they’re superheroes, people are naturally going to support their side unless you have enough proof (or, sometimes, no matter what).

-Any clear red flag (e.g. trackers) would be specially manufactured by a world-renowned genius, so a casual police search likely wouldn’t find anything, and it’d be pretty nerve-wracking to try and record a conversation with a superspy.

-However, if you do collect enough, it still wouldn’t be easy to get rid of them.

-If you threaten them, the amount of guilt-tripping would be mental. Some of them are more self-aware than others, but all of them share the same sentiment that, at the end of the day, they’re (or, think they are) helping you. They know some of their behaviour crosses normal lines, but look how much your life has improved since they’ve been around, isn’t it a good thing someone cares about you?

-All of them would be hurt by your threat, and likely back off at least for a while if you strike some sort of deal (e.g. you leave me alone, I won’t tell). But they’ll be back, or still lurking around in parts of your life.

-I think members like Natasha and Bruce, who are more self-aware yet never speak out against the more delusional ones (since they’re still working together at the end of the day), would back off the most. They don’t want you hating them even more, and, currently, your relationship is on a thin line - it’s better to back off and subtly guide you back to them then force it.

-None of them fully take your threat seriously, even if it hurts their feelings. They know they have the upper hand here: government links, popularity, influence - you’re completely out of your depths even if you think, or act, otherwise.

-If you’re still very consistent on disclosing everything to the media despite their efforts to chill, you’re likely getting kidnapped. Drastic, obviously, but it’s the only way to guarantee you’re both in their grasp and others aren’t concerned.

-If you already disclosed it however, the methods you used to go through with it play a big role in the outcome.

-As I mentioned, there’s probably trackers in your phone, both for location and general monitoring, e.g. a keylogger. The second you post your blog, or send your email to the news, it’s getting deleted and completely wiped if possible. In this case, it’s probably going to follow the same route as before, but with extra emotional pain because you didn’t even “try talking” to them.

-If you focus more on meeting up with reporters in real-life, maybe getting them to collect their own evidence in the background, there’s a higher chance of success. However, that does require having insiders in a hopefully-popular newspaper company, something a teen probably wouldn’t have.

-Assuming the avengers haven’t noticed the news coming out about them, for at least enough time that citizens are able to read and share this, panic would ensue the second they realise.

-They would experience a range of emotions, most mentioned above but some would also hold a bit of rage (not necessarily at you, your actions more so). They have one, very obvious thing they need to do now though: address the ‘rumours’.

-Deleting the reports would raise more suspicions, and they can’t just admit everything the news is saying is technically true, so they decide to try and twist this into their favour. They’ll (mainly Tony as he’s probably dealt with this sort of thing before) make up some sort of story that puts you into the wrong - like you’re lying for attention or were trying to purposely ruin their reputation for petty revenge.

-If they’re feeling really nice they may try and chalk it up as a misunderstanding, but I think it depends who has a role in writing the response. For example, Steve would think it’s slightly too far, while Tony would just think of it as a necessary outcome - he also just doesn’t like listening to Steve’s advice so.

-You become a pretty big talk in the media, but, when people start believing the avenger’s side, it’s mostly snide comments or dragging your name through the mud. The avengers would probably feel bad for the amount of slander you’re getting, assuming they didn’t before, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they deleted a few, just plain evil comments. But you forced their hand, if you haven’t had ‘lied’ in the first place, this would have never happened.

-In a way, this may just bring you closer to them. With what feels like the whole world against you, the only people who really seem to care anymore are the avengers. They might even offer you a deal - you admit you were lying to the media, apologize, and they’ll publicly support you. Sure, it won’t get everyone off your back, and you’re be scared to even go outside in case reporters are there, but it means you have the most powerful team in your corner again, and isn’t that what you need?

[the-brash-spud]

Not gonna lie. The more I look into how they portray Bruce grieving about Jason, the more disappointed I am. They want to hurt him mentally all the time yet won't allow him to go through said mental aggony. It just seems to be so indecisive by the writers.

For example I find the whole thing of Batman wanting to off Joker in his grief and being stopped by Superman as cool and shit, but if they went with that as to why Batman didn't kill Joker then it should have continued for longer.

I mean, I would've loved a small series where Batman is out for blood. As in, he goes out of his way to try to track down the Joker and actually kill him, so all of JL needs to take turns to be on a bat duty. I think it would've been so heavy for us to watch through their eyes just how badly Batman went off kilter with grief, to the point they have to go out of their way to make sure their friend doesn't do something stupid.

Of course, he'd also manage to work around them, or generally when they're not there as everyone has their own lives. So sooner or later, he will definitely have tracked Joker. Let's say that after the initial murder attempt, he tried to do it three times more before stopping completely.

Maybe because Tim showed up or because he went to grief counselling, and as much as he was still heavily grieving (and still being hard on criminals), he doesn't go out of his way to kill Joker and people wanting to associate with him. Maybe that's when Tim showed up? Before, he was too afraid to make Bruce stop with his brutality by threats as then he was just as likely (in Tim's mind) to off him in his quest to avenge, but now (even though still shaking like a wet cold puppy) he could try to make Batman stop with being so hard on criminals. I think it would be a great wake-up call that a child that was afraid of him so much that he was shaking just looking at him but still felt as if they had to do something to stop Batman. Can you imagine the guilt? When you were supposed to give people hope from within the darkness of Gotham but lost your way so much, you were pretty much chocking out that hope and safety of better future? Making a child feel like they had to confront you? I'd imagine that guilt would've been a great narrative block to their relationship if explored further.

Additionally, imagine being a Joker goon at that time of grieving. You're used to having a gun be hit out of your hand with a battarang. That's normal, but this time, it got logged into the wall right by your head? And Batman loudly grunted in anger or however you would describe it. You'd think he was annoyed that he missed, but something is clearly off. The battarang seems a bit too sharp, too much like a knife, and thrown a bit too close to your face to be accidental. And when the sinking feeling of danger really sends in, you're in a whole world of pain before waking up in a hospital, most likely with at least one injury that won't heal fully.

Just saying, the writers fumbled a bit.

[mysterycitrus]

your roy snippet was sooo good!! i love how you brought together his perspective on 17 yr/o dick both as an adult and as a father. when we’re older, we tend to be more aware of the true nature of the things we experience, especially when it comes to a traumatic event. we’re able to better understand when something that happened to us or a loved one was wrong, which only gets emphasized when someone becomes a parent. you convey that really well in the snippet, including the guilt that roy feels for not realizing that that’s what dick was experiencing at the time. can’t wait to read the full thing, and i hope you write more roy stories in the future!

there’s a kind of quiet, profound horror that stems from being an adult forced to retroactively understand all the terrible things u endured as a child…. so im glad i captured that for u!! the entire point of the fic is a depiction of dick grayson the person vs dick grayson the performance, and how he’s perceived by others. the idea of a thirty year old meeting a seventeen year old and seeing how he’s been hurt by adults because u have that insight now, etc

persephone was drafted as a mixed pov fic rather that being solely from dicks perspective — which is where the roy snippet came from — something im really glad i changed. his narration is unreliable because his views of the world are fundamentally flawed, something that the people around him are capable of recognising, but he is not. roy as an adult and can now reflect on past events with a new perspective. he’s a father, and his daughter is the same age as dick was when he lost his parents. he thinks about the vast network of people ready to die for lian, and the total absence of love and support dick had in the wake of his own grief. that’s horrifying.

we as the audience know what dicks like as an adult, and that he survived this grief and continued to survive worse, but seeing him this young and grappling with this much pain… u gotta be in his skull got that. contrasting dick’s understanding of what’s happening — that he fundamentally failed bruce and his parents, that he’s still unable to stand up for himself, that the robin name has been bastardised and used to kill children, that he’s inextricably tied to gotham, is debilitating. he is so, so ashamed of himself.

but he also doesn’t understand why no one else sees it that way. after their argument, wally leaves because he’s terrified of causing more harm and linda has to deescalate. they’re running interference on bruce to keep him away at all costs. getting even a peak into someone else’s head puts it into perspective — they’re all grieving for him, and they do not find him wanting.