#ocd bruce

[brucie-baby]

pls share your ocd Bruce thoughts. as in your thoughts about Bruce having ocd. Pls and tanks

[big warning for intrusive thoughts, compulsions, paranoia. i do list specific ocd thoughts in this post. please be careful and don't read if those might affect you in any negative way.]

his compulsions mostly lie around keeping his family safe. he spends a while each night after patrol doing a perimeter check and ensuring all the security is online/working (one night he accidentally fell asleep in the cave and didn't wake up until morning - alfred woke up startled to see bruce checking his pulse because you fell asleep without checking and now he's dead he's dead and it's your fault).

he struggles a lot with intrusive thoughts; they're quite difficult to combat because he knows they aren't real but also a fair few of them are based on things that have happened to him in the past so he's more than aware that they're still possible (e.g. your son is dead somewhere, go find him; your friend has turned evil, check you have your defence against them and get ready to use it). he often just gets incredibly graphic images in his head, and he digs his nails into his skin until it goes away.

another thought he struggles a lot with is 'this person is an imposter. they are wearing someone else's face. this is not the person you know'. this is one that he definitively knows isn't true but also it's happened before so it can happen again. it makes him feel a little silly whenever this happens, because his way around it is to find somebody he does trust in that moment and stay near them whilst keeping a subtle eye on the 'imposter', and it makes him feel like a little kid hiding behind his mother's legs at a gala all over again.

there are some positives though!! he's not too sure why but these paranoid thoughts aren't often in regards to j'onn, so occasionally he'll request for j'onn to scan someone's mind to check if they are who they say they are, and j'onn does it with no questions asked. j'onn doesn't fully understand why bruce needs him to do this but he does recognise the spike in anxiety just before bruce asks and the relief bruce feels after, and so he does it because he knows it helps his friend, even if he doesn't know why.

(sometimes, when it's just him and the 'imposter' in the room, he just leaves. he doesn't explain. he doesn't say goodbye. he just leaves. he tells himself that it's to ensure his own safety. he ignores the way it feels like fleeing.)

he has a lot of little compulsions too, like rapping his knuckles against a specific part of the wall before using the zeta tube (if he doesn't, the transport will rip them apart). whenever somebody questions it, he says it's for luck. this leads to the team believing batman to be incredibly superstitious. the only people that know the truth are dick, jason, tim and alfred. eventually he does tell clark and diana, and he stops trying to hide it around the rest of the batfamily, but he does not like people knowing about it.

[urfavhasocd]

BRUCE WAYNE from batman has OCD!

[shadebloopnik]

This is gonna sound SOOO off or smthn but

Was the Perfect Family Harmony planned to be a weapon against the Bergens?

Long post ahead bc brain is rotting

Ok so as we know, the Perfect Family Harmony is smthn that's so powerful that its capable of shattering diamonds. Not just that but its one of the only thing capable of doing so(according to Floyd it was the only thing but giving the benefit of the doubt)

So we know its strong, and we saw it blasting off Velvet and Veneer off their platforms when they performed it, and they weren't even the targets, they were blasted away by just the shockwave that came with using it.

"Its that powerful."

Ok, so its definitely powerful enough to be used as a weapon right? Yeah it was relatively safe enough to use in front of a crowd, else they wouldn't have tried to do it during a concert, but that could just be when those harmonizing aren't targeting anything.

If it could shatter diamonds, how easily could it break cages? What would it do if it was used to target a Bergen? A whole Kingdom of Bergens?

Lets also go back to that concert, to that time John was obsessed with them getting it right. They were in the Troll tree, in Bergentown, a place where any of them could die during Trollstice. The Bergens were a huge threat, something that trolls, at their size, couldn't fight back against normally so they had to run instead right?

But what if they COULD fight back? What if they had a weapon so powerful that it might finally be able to free them? To defeat the monsters that tortured their kind for centuries?

What if John Dory found a way to help make sure nothing would threaten his brothers' safety ever again?

Like, it'd make John Dory's obsession make SOOO MUCH MORE SENSE

Like yea he clearly has OCD and anxiety and some bossiness and that definitely added to it all, but imagine if it was more than that?

Look at him during that performance. He was in deep. He had a wild look in his eyes, a sort of deranged obsession to have everything be perfect no matter what. It wasn't healthy, it was scary, maybe even downright terrifying for his brothers who had to be subjected to it.

But you know what else he looked like?

Terrified

Man was scared out of his mind. His anxiety and stress levels were through the roof. He probably was one wrong tune away from hyperventilating.

What if it was bc it was so much more than the fans? What if he put the salvation of the entire troll-kind on his shoulders?

One wrong step meant they were nothing.

One wrong step meant disappointing the fans.

One wrong step meant letting down the kingdom.

One wrong step meant another troll getting eaten.

Thats why when they failed, John blew up. He took all of that self-hatred of failing to use that weapon to defeat the bergens and poured it all onto his brothers.

"I know we can reach the Perfect Family Harmony."

"What if we don't want to."

John Dory, blind to how and WHY his brothers didn't want to follow his lead, felt betrayed.

To him, all he's ever done was to ensure their safety, everything was for the greater good. He'd done everything he could, his goals slowly twisting him into a crazed obsession. To hear his brothers say they didn't want to help anymore might've struck a cord too much. If you'd noticed he actually looked really sad and hurt when they started bringing up how much they hated being in the band, but it slowly twisted to anger instead. Kind of in a like, "I tried doing everything for these shts and THIS is how they repay me???" way. He was so stressed and stuck in his own head with his failures that he just couldn't see what his brothers were trying to say.

So in a fit of impulsive rage, he left. To him it probably was like that rlly childish way of saying "Yea im leaving, good luck dealing with the Bergens while im goneee." You know? Like how kids runaway from home when they get angry or upset over every little thing but come back when they realize how stupid that was?

"Im not allowed to change."

And he DID come back. Who knows how long, but he did. Imagine how he must've felt seeing their empty pod in an empty tree, with the knowledge that he could've done something about it. The Perfect Family Harmony could've saved them. They could've used it to break the cage, to fight the Bergens. Hell, it could've been powerful enough to wipe out all the Bergens if they do so wished.

"Im the oldest, I have to be the leader."

He and his brothers were the only ones who'd ever gotten close to getting it right.

"Why do you think I moved into the middle of nowhere? So I didn't have to be in charge of anyone."

The village was counting on them. Counting on him. He let them down. He failed.

"Freeing the village Four little brothers is a lot of responsibility."

They could've gotten it. If only John did it right. If only John did it differently.

If only John Dory was Perfect

[mysterycitrus]

from what ive seen dick grayson having bpd is a pretty popular idea on twitter but i dont think ive ever seen anyone on tumblr mention it...was wondering if you might have any thoughts as the resident dick expert. sorry thank you

so sweet! imo the trifecta for dick graysons diagnosis is ocd + bpd + psychosis, though ur mileage may vary. i know some people read him as audhd but that’s not a personal preference for me. ive talked about it before a while ago but i think all of bruce’s kids show very clear compulsive behaviours and intrusive thoughts, and i think dick grayson in particular — as both a professional acrobat and considering the circumstances of his parents deaths — would have rigorous compulsive habits wrt safety and personal equipment. there’s also the idea that treating ocd in part comes from exposure therapy, and it’s kinda hard to argue against the logic of someone obsessively checking his grapple as a unpowered superhero lmao. like bruce inflicted these neurosis on people for a reason, which makes it very hard to unpick

wrt bpd i also think that fits well with how he’s been written traditionally — the compulsive thoughts, how he isolates himself, can struggle with sudden shifts in mood, has self-destructive habits, etc. i do also think he has a history of canonical psychosis in some capacity, which could be exacerbated by his history in the spotlight, or his intense observation by bruce. i imagine he was probably diagnosed into adulthood, where maybe someone like bridget clancy or the metropolis therapist picked up on some of his behaviours.

overall i think the idea that someone with bpd or ocd — or whatever other lens he can be analysed through — is beloved and trusted and capable is very important! the nature of bpd in specific is so isolating so like…. yeah i think it’s neat that someone with those symptoms can be reflected in a positive way. i try to incorporate my personal diagnosis in little ways regardless — there’s a part in persephone where roy’s emergency bag has a bottle of clozapine — and it’ll be shown more explicitly in some of the other stuff i eventually work on

[toobytoobs]

Autism: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne/Al Ghul, Cassandra Cain.

OCD: Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake.

ADHD: Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson.

Neurotypical: Alfred Pennyworth.

None of the above: Jason Todd, Duke Thomas.

[toytle]

as the prophecy foretold

i’ve actually wondered if i had ocd for a while now, but hearing other ppl’s experiences with it never resonated for me. the puzzle pieces didn’t start clicking until i found out batman has ocd too, and what luck, it’s the same kind that i have. bc ofc it is.

[pocketramblr]

Please... Give Harvey Dent one of those 2020 quarter dollars with two Samoan fruit bats on one side... I'm sure absolutely nothing could go wrong with giving Harvey a 2020 quarter with two bats on it...

[bats-and-birds-24]

Okay, for the Marked AU, I've come up with a game plan;

Tim Drake acquires 3 siblings

Tim basically infiltrates the league to bring back Jason, but along the way picks up Cass and Damian as well. It also has Bruce and Dick growing closer after Jason's death.

I'm thinking it will have roughly 20 chapters, may add a few more depending on how the plot ends up being.

Gotham Gang War

Follows the batfam directly after Tim's story. Focuses more on the world building of Gotham and Jason's reaction to the growth of the Joker Gang and the underground black market in general.

Barbara get's shot by the Joker and Tim gets kidnapped by the Joker.

Also introduces Harper, Cullen, Duke, and Stephanie to the batfam.

Cullen's decision (One Shot)

Follows Cullen's pov as he stays back at the manor to help Alfred. Ends with Cullen training under Alfred so that he can support the vigilantes alongside him.

Gotham's history

Is an in depth history of the Marked AU's Gotham. We get to know previous bearers of the mark and how they coped with the curse.

We also learn more about the curse itself and how it's spreading.

Family Chaos

A rare day off in the batfamily where everyone's at the manor and don't have cases to complete.

A fluff instalment detailing each of the batfamily members hobbies.

Tim and Jason Casefic

Tim and Jason try to clean up a weapons smuggling ring based on Paris island. Involves brotherly bonding and Jason reconciling with Bruce.

Bruce Wayne's OCD

Bruce becomes so overbearing that the batkids stage an intervention after he has a mental breakdown. Bruce ends up getting therapy from Harley and begins to heal.

Bat Training (One Shot)

A look inside the average batkids training at the manor. Also Cullen's training under Alfred. Happens at the end of the year.

Red Hood's Street Kids

Set 4 years after the Bat Training one shot. Jason's 21 during this fic

Jason discovers that he has been adopted as the official father figure of the street kids of Gotham.

The rest of the batfamily promptly decides that they're the kids various aunts and uncles and shenanigans ensue up until Black Mask makes the very stupid mistake of infringing on Hood's territory, and breaking the bones of the kids who live there.

May create more fics but these are the ones I know for sure that I'll write.

[amethyst-halo]

all of the brozone bros have ocd thank u for ur time

[starzwithapen]

OUR HCS FOR THESE GOOBERS USING TEMPLATES FROM @koppaitepaladin !! Plus bonus creek because I'm uhhh normal about him . They're All autistic 2 me but Branch and Poppy r most important to me <33

[asilentguardian]

Rituals

also on ao3

Gotham isn’t quiet when it rains.

Most cities slow down, become near empty, when rain is pouring from the sky. But Gotham continues, despite the rain mixing with the rot of the city and bathing the streets in the smell of mildew and seafood. Despite the streets that always flood, roads built on old rivers and inlets. People have jobs to do, families to protect. It becomes easier to hide, to exchange money and drugs and guns in the cover of rain clouds and the water rushing towards the sewers. 

Gotham isn’t quiet, so neither are the Bats.

They’re built for this. All of them live and breathe with the city, they’ve grown up here and the city has grown around them. Rain doesn’t deter them, and waterproof and insulated armor shields them against the rest of it.

The feeling of raindrops pelting his cowl keeps Bruce grounded as he stands over the city. The others–just Damian and Cass tonight–are already steadily making their way home, swinging across rooftops and dipping down to the streets when they spot someone in need. But Bruce stays here, standing and watching as the night creeps into dawn and the night shifts give way to the morning shifts. It’s become a ritual, of sorts.

Down on the streets, the city becomes a jagged, haphazard array of the various shades of horrible things people are capable of. Every block can feel like a new, solitary ecosystem of politics and gangs and survival. But up here, on a tall roof in the outer edges of Gotham, the city becomes the living, breathing thing that Bruce knows it to be. Sometimes, if he’s still enough, Bruce swears he can feel the pulse of it. He can feel the cars speeding down Murphy Avenue, he can feel the quick steps of morning runners in the Diamond District, the shuffling through Park Row, the fear, the anger, the sadness, the hope.

He tries not to examine this too closely.

The rain drowns out any hope of feeling it tonight, anyways. Street lights in the distance begin to flicker off, and Bruce takes that as his queue to follow his kids home. He slides down the ladder on the side of the building, down the stairs, and off the shortest ledge into the alley where he left his bike. The rain has begun to let up, but he still fits his goggles over his eyes.

The ride back to the manor is always quiet at this hour, no one braving the empty roads before the sun peeks over the horizon. Bruce doesn’t pass Damian or Cass on the way there, quiet check-ins on the comms telling him they’re already home, probably eagerly peeling off their armor and racing towards Alfred’s hot chocolate. On nights like tonight, where the rain is constant and cold, even Bruce doesn’t bother with proper reports or storing his gear. Sweating in the cold rain of Gotham is a different kind of hell, and a warm bed is all that’s on all of their minds.

Bruce rumbles into a predictably empty cave, quickly parking his bike next to Cass’ and shutting it off. He pushes back his cowl and sits for a moment. This, too, is a ritual. The cave is never really quiet. The hum of computers and machines, the roar of a waterfall, the chittering of bats. The background noise never changes. It’s too far underground for the sound of rain or thunder or footsteps to reach. There could be a full house upstairs, and you’d never know. 

There’s no one around to hear the way Bruce grunts as he pushes himself off the bike. His bones creak, his muscles protest, and his back reminds him just how cold it was tonight. He’s getting old. Here, where there’s a myriad of evidence of his children, the thought doesn’t scare him as much as it used to.

His bed is just a few hundred feet away, but he’s still careful to put his armor in a vaguely neat pile, still starts uploading the night's footage before he makes his way to the elevator. Bruce pushes the grandfather clock aside to an empty, but warm, sitting room. The warmth of the house slowly begins to chase away the chill in his body, and Bruce gently replaces the clock and heads to his first stop of this third ritual; the kitchen.

The light is brighter in here, but still warm and easy on eyes that have spent hours in the shadows. Cass and Damian sit at the counter, their mugs in front of them. Damian is half asleep against Cass’s shoulder, and, despite the concern Bruce feels, there’s a burst of pride that makes its way through his chest. Damian has had a rough time adjusting, but he’s come so far with all of them. 

Cass’ eyes snap to Bruce as he enters, still alert and fully awake. Bruce knows that she usually doesn’t sleep after she patrols, that she can’t, most times. He used to worry about it, but she insists that the time to herself is helpful, that she uses it to recharge. He tries to trust her on that.

Bruce nods towards Damian. Is he okay?

Cass gives him a sheepish smile and nods.

“Raced to the bike,” she whispers. Bruce sighs. He has long since given up the battle of preventing his children from making a competition or game out of patrol. It always exhausts them, always causes squabbles. But it keeps them young, keeps laughter ringing through the comms, and brings smiles to their faces. It was never a battle he would win.

He still snatches a sip from Cass’ mug in retaliation. She glares at him after he returns it, wrapping a protective arm around her mug and Damian’s. Bruce chuckles, ruffles her hair and lightly touches Damian’s shoulder before moving to the next stop. Damian lets out a vague mumble. Cass will deposit him in his bed eventually, after their own post-patrol rituals. Present and accounted for.

The stairs to the second floor have always creaked and groaned, even when Bruce was young. The only difference now is the loose third step, evidence of a young and energetic Dick Grayson and a Bruce who didn’t know how to handle all of that energy. He carefully skips that step, making a note to fix it, which he will forget to do as always. He makes his way down an equally old hallway, deftly avoiding the noisy floorboards. He has less stops to make than usual tonight, the manor a little emptier, a little quieter. Closer and closer to an empty nest, as Alfred would say. 

Dick’s room is empty, and so is Jason’s. He still places his hand on their door frames, marking his progress. Tim’s door is cracked, his lights off–thank god–and his sheets a chaotic mess around him. He never stops moving, even in his sleep. Cass’ door is open, light spilling into the hallway. Her closet door flung aside and the Black Bat uniform on the floor amongst various other clothes. Bruce rolls his eyes and collects the pieces, tucking them away from view. Its displacement will be reprimand enough. He can never properly scold her for feeling comfortable enough to do it, anyways. 

Duke’s door is firmly closed, and he’s a light sleeper, so Bruce settles with pressing his ear against the door, waiting until he hears Duke’s light snores before he moves on. He’ll lay eyes on him in the afternoon, he reminds himself. Damian’s door is open, too, revealing a much neater chaos than Cass’ room. There are piles everywhere, books and sketch pads and games all in places that only make sense to Damian. Titus lifts his massive head and wags his tail as he spots Bruce, but remains curled up on Damian’s bed. Bruce gives him a scratch behind his ears before moving on to his last stop.

He passes the door to his room—still firmly closed—towards Alfred’s door. It’s wide open, as it usually is. Alfred is sitting upright in his bed, book open in his lap and glasses perched on his nose. The sheets are still the same ones from Bruce’s childhood, though they’ve since faded. Bruce still remembers how it feels to be cocooned within them, to have them and Alfred be the last and strongest defenses against the rest of the world. Alfred looks up, still able to sense the barest bit of movement in a way that eludes Bruce, and quietly shuts his novel. They’re both silent for a moment, taking the other in.

“Go to bed, Bruce,” Alfred says, as he always does. 

“Only after you do,” Bruce always replies. It used to be a longer conversation, and before that it was a heated argument. It used to grate on his nerves, the way Alfred would sit and wait for him in those first few years. He took it as silent judgement, or worse, distrust. Bruce would demand he just go to bed, would snap at him in a way that made him feel 16 years old again. Alfred never budged. And then Bruce became a father, and he understood. Still, in the back of his mind, a distant worry. If Bruce is getting old, what does that make Alfred? Alfred would not approve of that line of thinking, so he’s never voiced it aloud.

Bruce’s father smiles at him and Bruce nods back, softly shutting the door behind himself as he leaves. He retraces his steps to his own door and stops in front of it. Breathes in, and breathes out, tries to shed the worry and anxiety of empty rooms. It gets easier every night. It gets harder every year.

Bruce pushes his door open and stops. Shifts a few things around in his head. Takes a moment to rearrange his routine.

Hal Jordan, ever present wrench in his plans, is asleep in his bed. Home early, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, and curled up on the side furthest from the door. He came in through the window, if the trail of clothes is anything to go off of. Bruce picks them up and tosses them in the hamper, trying not to be overly annoyed about it.

He takes a moment to drink in the sight of Hal, safe here in his bed, before he slips into the bathroom. His clothes are shed quickly, pointedly tossed into a hamper. The walls are thick enough that the shower shouldn’t wake Hal, but Bruce still moves through the motions with brutal efficiency, scrubbing away mud and sweat and the last of the cold Gotham air clinging to his body.

The steady pelting of the shower grounds him in a way that the cold rain doesn’t. Here, it’s soft and warm. If Bruce stays here long enough, he’ll feel a different pulse underneath his feet and in his chest. Steady breathing in and out, the pitter-patter of four-legged creatures, the settling of a centuries-old house. This, too, Bruce doesn’t examine too closely.

Bruce shuts the water off and dries himself with a towel, continuing to move through the familiar rhythm of his routine. He exits the bathroom and blindly grabs a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, a lifetime of children at his door dissuading him from jumping straight under the sheets.

He carefully pulls on the pants, distantly registering the Ferris Air logo down the sides, before turning towards his bed. Hal is now facing him, brown eyes silently watching Bruce. Bruce doesn’t bother suppressing a soft smile as he makes his way over and crawls under the covers as Hal lifts them up. Bruce settles in, and Hal drops the covers.

“Hi,” Hal whispers. Bruce clings onto that single word, already picking it apart from every angle, trying to determine how Hal’s feeling, where his head is.

“Hi,” Bruce whispers back, still watching Hal’s face, still searching for any changes. Hal reaches out and rests his hand on Bruce’s face, his thumb tracing his brow, his cheekbone, his lips. Bruce catches his hand, presses a kiss to his palm, and intertwines their fingers.

“Okay?” Bruce asks. A single word, a compromise between silence and a veritable interrogation. Another product of well worn arguments. Hal’s answering smile is soft. Fond.

“Yeah. You?” Hal asks. An admission of the same fears. A lot can happen in just a few days.

“Yeah,” Bruce responds. Hal tugs on their joined hands, and Bruce shuffles closer, bodies slotting together. Their lips meet, and the last piece of Bruce shifts into place. His muscles relax, starting at every point of contact between him and Hal. Hal’s lips shift to his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, and Bruce’s eyes drift shut.

“Sleep, baby,” Hal whispers into his hair. Bruce hums an acknowledgement and lets the warmth of Hal pull him under, lets the hand caressing his neck lull him towards sleep. 

-----

Awareness comes quicker than sleep, a habit Bruce doesn’t think he can ever get away from. It’s a trait that he foolishly hopes his children didn’t pick up. He knows better.

His mind is quick to catalog his surroundings. The bed beside him is empty, but warm, recently vacated. The light streaming through the window means it’s at least 11, six hours of sleep more than Bruce had expected. The rain has passed. The door is slightly ajar, and the laundry hamper is missing. Bruce huffs a laugh. Message received and heard.

Bruce lets himself be sluggish in his movements. He slides to the edge of the bed and checks his phone. No urgent notifications or alerts about the end of the world, so Bruce braves a glance at the perpetually-muted family group chat. A slew of incomprehensible jokes and minor arguments. A good morning dweebs from Dick, sent two hours ago. A middle finger emoji from Jason in response. Accounted for.

The most recent text is a picture from Tim of Alfred the Cat sitting on his laptop, captioned come get your spy dami. He taps out a quick reply.

Bruce: Good cat.

There's an onslaught of reactions and responses, and Bruce is quick to shut off his phone.

He finally gets up, finds a sweatshirt that he’s pretty sure is his, and exits his room. A glance at Alfred’s door, open and room empty as anticipated.

Damian’s room, empty of the boy and the dog. Duke’s room, also empty, but with a perfectly made bed. Cass’ room, empty with a closet door pointedly closed. Tim’s room, occupied.

Bruce pauses and taps on the door frame. Tim glances up from his desk, free of its feline occupant, who has made himself comfortable in Tim’s lap. Tim, present and accounted for, healthy and not obviously injured.

“Good morning,” Bruce says, his voice still gravely from sleep. Tim grunts in acknowledgement, turning back to whatever more interesting thing he’s working on. Bruce shakes his head. Teenagers.

Jason’s room, empty. Dick’s room, empty. The floor creaks. The third stair is loose. The kitchen lights are brighter, there’s soft voices in the dining room. Bruce follows the noise.

Hal sits with his back to the doorway, facing Cass. He has Cass’ full attention as he tells a–likely exaggerated–version of his recent stint in space. He’s always been a wonderful storyteller, complete with impressions and sound effects. Bruce makes a conscious effort to make his steps audible and deliberate, not wanting to interrupt the story and stop the wonderful sound of Hal’s voice.

He drops a kiss on top of Hal’s head, rolling his eyes at Cass as she scrunches her nose and sticks her tongue out at them. Hal barely pauses the story, reaching up and squeezing Bruce’s hand.

Bruce sees the coffee on the far end of the table and gently flicks Cass’ forehead as he passes by. He lets the rhythm of Hal’s voice and Cass’ answering questions wash over him as he pours his coffee and takes his spot next to Hal, shifting so their knees rest against each other. 

“But you made it? Everything is okay?” Cass is asking, voice serious despite Hal’s smile.

“As always, Miss Wayne,” Hal responds in an exaggerated voice vaguely reminiscent of Alfred’s accent.

“Hm,” Bruce responds. Hal sighs dramatically.

“I can’t catch a break with this guy,” Hal says to Cass, gesturing to Bruce. Cass giggles, a noise that will never fail to warm Bruce’s chest.

“I didn’t say anything,” Bruce responds, desperately hiding a smile behind a sip of coffee.

“You did though. That was your I disagree with you noise. I should know, I hear it often,” Hal insists. Bruce raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? And what other noises are you familiar with?” Bruce asks. Cass lets out a quiet ew, and Hal’s answering grin is wicked.

“This conversation is over now,” Duke says loudly as he enters from the kitchen, carrying a plate stacked with pancakes. Duke, present and accounted for, healthy and not obviously injured. Maybe a little bit stiff, but otherwise moving normally. 

“Babies,” Hal says gleefully. Duke just flips him off and sits down to start eating. Bruce’s stomach rumbles loudly. Hal laughs softly and presses his knee a bit more firmly against Bruce’s.

“Go get food, Sleeping Beauty. Cass and I already got some,” Hal says, turning to look at Bruce.

“Damian?” Bruce asks. Hal doesn’t laugh, or poke fun at him, but his smile does turn slightly amused.

“Yeah, baby, he ate before us. Went to take Titus for a walk. Tim already ate, too,” Hal says. Bruce is a little startled at the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet, but nods jerkily anyways. He sets his coffee down and gives Duke another once over. Is he leaning more to his left? Hal nudges his knee harder, so Bruce gets up and heads for the kitchen.

“How’d the test go, Duke?” He hears Hal ask as he pushes through the door. He wasn’t aware Duke had a test, but his response seems positive so he lets it go.

Alfred is moving around the kitchen, cleaning and putting things away. A single, warm plate sits on the counter, pancakes made exactly like Bruce has always liked. Alfred glances over at him.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the finally is implied, “Eat your breakfast, Master Bruce,” Alfred says. Bruce’s lips twitch.

“Only after you do,” he responds. Alfred nods in acknowledgement, smiling. He finishes the tidying, grabbing his own plate from the oven. Bruce grabs his plate, but doesn’t head for the door yet. Alfred raises an eyebrow at him.

“Duke?” Bruce asks.

“Pulled a muscle, is all. Now quit worrying and go sit,” Alfred commands, no room for the follow up questions burning to get out. Bruce nods, resigned, and heads back to the dining room. He holds the door for Alfred and watches as he carefully lowers himself into his seat. Alfred notices his watching and glares at him.

“Sit,” Alfred says. It’s Bruce’s turn to sigh dramatically as he returns to his spot beside Hal, who smirks at him but wisely keeps the comment to himself. Their knees brush together again, and Hal rests a hand against his leg. A steady, grounding presence.

Bruce looks at Hal again, notes his relaxed posture, the laugh lines next to his eyes. He’s okay. He’s here. Present and accounted for, healthy and not obviously injured. Bruce nods to himself, reaches for his food.

“Plans for the day?” He asks Hal.

“Not a thing,” Hal responds. Bruce smiles.

[officialbruciewayne]

Ooc. Finally heading home today! And if my inbox has 500 asks before I get hone I will write Bruce doing...

I dunno. Something fun and dramatic.

Why don't y'all suggest something?

[batfamfucker]

There are four main types of Batfam fans in regard to how people interpret Bruce Wayne as a dad (/Joking. This is mostly satire and should not be taken seriously):

Fans that think Bruce is emotionally constipated and isn't the best at being a parent but still tries (Differs per person). Don't necessarily think he's absuive but thinks he can be toxic or have unhealthy expectations for the Robins. Can smell the Oldest Daughter Syndrome coming from Dick and have Family Line (By Conan Gray) as their top song on their Dick inspired playlist and Daddy Issues (By The Neighbourhood) for Jason.

Fans that choose to believe Bruce goes to therapy in their own canon. Love B:WFA. Thinks the comic can be cheesy at times and so find a balance between B:WFA Bruce and Please Go To Therapy BruceTM as their middle ground. He struggles. They advocate that Bruce is not a bad parent, he just has bad writers that seem to forget Bruce wouldn't hurt kids, especially not his own. Love the humane moments and scenes he has in BTAS and the early JL cartoons. He may not be perfect but he's not literally abusive. Whores for Bruce being able to admit when he is wrong and for Jason and Bruce reconciling. I recommend Grow As We Go by Ben Platt for this one.

A mix between the first two. Was fine-ish when Dick was younger. Didn't help him in the healthiest way but eh. Still emotionally constipated but that happened more so after Dick left and Jason died. Started getting better when Tim came back but was still closed off. Should probably go to therapy with the kids so they can drag his ass about all the things he's done that have actually affected them negatively. Understands his mistakes and is also able to admit when he's wrong, eventually. It's not easy but he starts to do better and learns to be more emotionally available. Still has to get chewed out by Alfred sometimes but definitely better than he used to be and it shows. Reconciliation is slow and gradual but progress is made for everyone involved.

The one's I personally avoid for my own sanity and wellbeing:

Think Bruce is a complete bastard and abuser. Want him to choke. Hate any and all interpretations of him. Some of which will refuse to understand how anyone could have a different interpretation. Will point out comics where, in all fairness, he is a dick but forget that characterisation can significantly differ from one series to the next, as comic characters are constantly passed around to different writers and have been for decades. Not to mention movies, shows, etc.

[house-of-slayterr]

Random OCD Headcannons:

An: cause I’m still in the process of getting diagnosed and I relate to these characters heavily

Mary Kathrine Blackwood:

I’m like 95% sure this is on purpose and intended to be cannon. Her obsessions and compulsions are so obvious in both movie and book it’s hard to ignore them. And she gets massively distressed when she can’t complete one of her “rituals” or something is in her space that shouldn’t be. She speaks in her racing thoughts and ruminates almost constantly.

The Mad Hatter: more specifically Jarvis Tetch

I think there’s a lot going on with this character but he does have some quite odd compulsions. And he certainly has a control problem. I think there’s a lot of darkness he tries to hide and controlling that darkness inside of him is one of his obsessions. I see it in a lot of the version of him but Jervis is the most egregious example. His obsession with Alice and the Tetch virus cause him to do things without thinking often.

Jonathan Crane:

It’s not uncommon for mental health professionals, especially in this universe to be mentally unwell themselves. Crane thinks he hides it well but it obvious to Harley and Batman both that this man has his obsessions. He obsesses over Batman, people watching, fear… specially making people feel his fear. The fear his compulsion tried to drive him to get rid of in himself. Compulsion that drive each of his crazy schemes and attacks. Jonathan would be nothing without the Scarecrow, just a sad broken man locked up in Arkham himself.

Batman & Damian Al Ghul:

Batman has morality OCD, he’s obsessed with appearing morally superior at all times. Going as far to ruin his reputation as Bruce to make Batman seem better in comparison. He cares about all his villains but he has the most unhealthy obsession with joker. Bruce feels like he’s better as Batman, making him fear and avoid just being Bruce Wayne, or ever confronting who that man truly would be.

Not to mention he may have a small obsession with saving children like he wished someone had saved him, he refuses to have a repeat of his childhood. Man is running a damn mini orphanage in his house. Poor Alfred has so much work cut out for him.

Damian got hit with the genetics stick hard. From both sides, he had no way of escaping this in all honesty. He struggles with his morality to, it just comes across as more egotistical then his father. He’s obsessed with being good and being different from the bad guys. He judged daily based on how good he is to family, how good his is as a hero, the type of pet owner and student his is. If he didn’t give into his compulsion he would quickly go insane having no sense of direction without his golden rules he must fallow.

Hannibal Lecter:

Hannibal’s obsession first and foremost is cannibalism, then the human Psyche, then William. Hannibal feels small without his psychiatric knowledge, and he must be the most intellectual person in every conversation. He hates keeping his “equals” around as he sees no one to be truly equal to him but Agent Graham.

Without his cannibalism he would also be nothing. Hannibal has a black or white, kill or be killed mindset, it’s a survival tactic. Become the biggest predator, nobody can hurt you again. Even if he tried to consciously change and get “better” he’d eventually fall back on the compulsion of consuming human flesh to feel safe and superior.

And his obsession with Will, will drive him to do anything necessary even to the extreme, disregarding his own safety to go through with whatever compulsion his brain is telling him at the time. And of course he’s unmedicated through all of this because Hannibal genuinely believes he is controlling himself and in control of his own actions, he’s delusional ontop of it all. Will consumes a lot of his thoughts and time, to way beyond an unhealthy point.

The Riddler:

I think it’s fairly obvious he has an obsession with Riddles. He can’t even do something as simple as have breakfast alone without his riddles. But nobody knows why he’s afraid of the silence without them. But I also firmly believe he has the double Whammy of it being paired with Autism. Special interests can easily be turned into obsessions by the brain and become unhealthy.

An: I know a lot of these are comic hero/villains, leave me and my hyperfixations alone 😤 and if I’m forgetting anyone else you think should be on here let me know.

Tag: @mothmans-kingdom @oceansrose2002 @kados-of-chaos

[dickgreyson]

hmm! super duper interesting how OCD is actually not super heritable, that its pretty directly tied to stressful events, the environment in which you're raised, and just a general feeling of loss of control at a young age. super duper interesting how its closely linked with impulse control disorders, anxiety disorders, and particularly avoidant behaviour as a means of harm reduction. really makes dick's sisyphean dedication to tearing his life apart brick by brick and isolating himself from everyone around him make a tonne of sense

[trafficlightchild]

rip to the wayne (they’re not dead there is just an ocd medication shortage all across the united states)