#tw: implied/ referenced suicidal ideation

[raccoonrobyn-imagines]

TW FOR IMPLIED/REFERENCED SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND EXTREME DEPRESSION BELOW! CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK

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Batman went alone to check on the reason due to all of his kids being on different missions to stop the assholes from setting any more fires in Gotham or other major cities. He doesn't particularly want his kids to come for a potentially dangerous recon mission, but at the same time, he's also gotten far too used to being followed by one of his kids at this point to enjoy the lonely silence that had followed him throughout his younger years as The Batman before Dick came bursting into his life wjth a homicidal rage.

This is all to say that he's feeling a bit unsettled over the silence that is usually filled in the Batplane by at least one child/young adult he's partially raised. That's not even touching on the fact that Damian is now going to college and is in his own apartment now after Bruce's and Alfred's nudging so that he may become at least slightly more self sufficient than Bruce ever was at that age (at least in being able to cook meals without burning the water and learning how to do other things that Alfred has always done for him.

Bruce has never had any long span of time without at least a joyfilled visit from one of his children since Jason died, leaving Bruce and Dick perpetually at each others throats due to their grief and Tim not having shown up yet. Bruce had never wanted to say it outloud, but he thinks that Alfred is right, like always.

He's getting empty nester syndrome... and that is a pun that he will have to keep Dick from hearing.

Suffice to say, by the time he touched down in the icy tundra of the Antarctic, he's feeling even more depressed over not having at least one of his kids chattering to him on the plane ride here.

Once the plane has landed, he can vaguely see in the distance a small glowing black and white blob on the snow. Instantly, he is relieved that his plane was soundproof and had been set to invisible due to the grey and black appearance of the Batplane and what would normally be such a loud and eye catching appearance in the nearly entirely white expanse of ice and snow that even in the near perfect darkness of the eternal night, anyone would notice.

Instantly, Batman puts his suit into Arctic camouflage mode and leaves the plane without a sound. As he sneaks closer to the small black blob, he can start to notice that the blob is not a blob... it is a person...? A small one at that. He is quickly worried once he's close enough to make out details in his binoculars, as the person does not have appropriate clothes or equipment on to be laying on the snow in the Antarctic winter night.

While he knows that this person is likely the cause of the eternal night, he also doesn't enjoy seeing people suffer for any reason. Bruce has instantly pulled a collapsible heating blanket from his backpack and has set off the chemical reaction within it to cause the heating to begin. He's moving far faster now, only barely keeping his stealth enough to allow him to vanish, should the person begin looking around for anyone coming up to them.

He's maybe 30 meters away from them when he can pick out that they're a teenage boy, and that they're crying.

He knows around three quarters as much as Cass does about body language, and while he can be off the mark, he knows what a child grieving looks like. He's seen it on his own face, and on each of his children's faces. He knows what the face of someone pretending to grieve looks like, and this boy has every mark of someone having their entire world collapse on them, leaving them to face the harsh realities of life on their own.

Bruce instantly drops the stealth and walks up to the child, reminded of how he had once been the only one to hold a young girls hand while she died. He still regrets not being able to help Ace when she needed it most before she was manipulated by everyone around her, but he can hopefully help this boy before it's too late.

"Hello." He says gently, his boots having crunched the snow audibly long before he was in speaking distance.

The boy, still staring up and into the stars as tears trail along his face, whispers, "Hello Batman."

Bruce sits on the ground around two feet from the boy. "Are you okay?"

The boy with white hair and glowing green eyes looks over at Batman, shimmering tears still budding up and falling easily down his face. "I don't think I am Batman. I can't do this anymore. I... I have messed up so much. I don't think I can continue on anymore, but I know that I am unable to die. I've already done that once, and I tried again, and I have caused so much harm and destruction since. My family is gone, Batman... It hurts so much... Do you know how to stop hurting...?"

Bruce's frown deepens even more. "What's your name, son?"

"Danny. I don't have a last name anymore." Danny replies, his face showing the pure pain thag comes from losing your family.

Bruce has had this type of conversation many times before, and he knows almost exactly what to say. "Danny, I'm going to tell you the truth because you dont need pretty lies to make you feel better. I know from my own life, and watching my children's lives, that losing your family is the worst pain you could ever go through. My parents died long ago, when I was much younger than you, and it still hurts today. I can't say that the pain ever truly goes away, but I can say that it lessens with time. It won't always hurt this bad, and it will have its ups and downs. Some days, it will be bareable, and on other days, it will be so debilitating that you won't be able to get up in the morning. The one thing I know that can help is being with anyone who you can either come to care about or doing something so that you won't be focused on the pain. You wouldn't be replacing your family by becoming a part of a new family or trying to make friends with new people. I know that for a fact. You would just be trying to help yourself become a part of something new. I know for a fact that if anyone that was in your family truly loved you, they would want you to try and heal and be happy despite them being gone. Would you like me to help you, Danny? I can help find you somewhere to go where you would be happy."

Danny had sat up while Bruce talked and had ended up next to Bruce, seemingly not noticing when he ended up leaning against Bruce's side, the heating blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "T-they really won't be mad?" He asks, his tiny head leaning against Bruce's shoulder.

"If they truly loved you, they would want you to be happy, no matter if they were here or not." Bruce states quietly.

"I... I don't know if I can be happy anytime soon..." Danny trembles, iridecent tears still streaking down his face.

"I know. I think they would know that, too." Bruce murmurs, gently rubbing Dannys back through the heated blanket. "Would you like to try a little anyway?"

Danny stares up towards the stars, and whispers, "I... don't know... but Jazz would want me to try."

"Then I will bring you somewhere that can help. Do you want me to carry you?" Bruce asks, his tone as gentle as a feather.

"Please... please help me..." Danny's voice is as weak and trembling as a baby bird that's just hatched. Having no way to protect himself and needing someone's care to begin to get any stronger.

Bruce picks up the boy and begins walking to his plane, and for the first time in weeks, he is able to see the sun beginning to rise on the horizon.

It seems like Bruce is no longer going to be an empty nester.

...These bird metaphors and slight puns should never reach any of his children's ears. He will only be teased mercilessly for them.

Danny Fenton is fourteen when he dies. He's fifteen when he ceases to exist.

All traces of Danny Fenton just gone. No records, no photos, no memories. It's like he was never born. Naturally, without Danny to turn on the portal comes no ghosts, so no Danny Fenton also means the GIW never came to be. Time is carefully set back on Amity Park. There are no longer any ghost sirens, charms, merch, or cracks in the pavement from Vlad knocking him out of the sky or scorch marks on the side of buildings from Skulker's stray shots.

The Fenton's only have one child, a smart, ginger woman who's pursuing psychology in some top-league out of state college like Harvard or Yale or Brown. There's no little brother to keep her confined to the little town in nowhere Illinois where she was born.

Sam and Tucker never became friends, because there was no Danny Fenton to bring them together.

The Fenton's portal never turns on, so they focus their research on the ambient ectoplasm in the air around them. They become leading scientists in clean energy. Ectoplasm is the perfect resource; endlessly reusable, infinite supplies that never deplete, no negative effects on the environment.

Danny Fenton is no one. There is no Danny Fenton. There never was.

And the world is better for it.

Danny doesn't exist, there is no place for him, nowhere for him to go.

This was the only way to stop the GIW from starting a war with the Infinite Realms. It was the only solution.

It still hurts.

Danny is fifteen. He has no last name anymore, no family, no friends, and no home. He could live in the Ghost Zone, but he doesn't want to. He's still human, even if it's only half. He doesn't want to go. It feels final, like turning his back once and for all on all he knew and was.

So he does the only thing he can think to do and watches the stars.

In the frozen tundra, no one around for miles, Phantom lays in the snow and stares up into the speckled darkness. He doesn't move. He doesn't breathe. He stays so completely still he's entirely dead.

The snow doesn't bury him. The sun never rises.

It doesn't stop snowing.

Danny doesn't exist.

He's dead.

What is he supposed to do now? Go and be Prince of the In Between? He doesn't want to. He wants to go home. He wants to cuddle up with Jazz and play Doomed with Sam and Tucker. He wants to hug his dad. He wants his mum to sing to him like she used to when he was little enough they still tucked him into bed.

Maybe he just won't do anything. Maybe he'll just stay here forever, not Danny or Phantom and far from alive. Just nothing. He's nothing. Nothing and no one.

---

Nobody can see the sun.

It's still there, of course. All you need to do is leave the atmosphere and bam, there it is. On Earth though? No sign of it.

It's like they've fallen into an eternal night.

Best part?

It's caused by very powerful magic.

Listen, Batman has a lot of patience. A lot. But it's been two weeks of this, Zatanna's off-world, Constantine's only just answered his goddamn phone and the planet has collectively decided panic is the only course of action. He's been Bruce Wayne for a collective ten hours in the past fourteen days. It's ridiculous.

Thankfully it only takes Constantine a few minutes to track the source to somewhere in the Antarctic after he finally shows up.

[storytellersumayyah]

a look into tristan nightingale's search history after the fire

tw: referenced child abuse, implied disassociation, suicidal ideation

is my mother abusive? how do i know if i'm a bad son? am i allowed to hate and love someone at the same time? college scholarships how to design a ticket for an event therapists near me how to hide therapy from your parents blue fountain pen cambridge decision release date this year how do you go low contact with your parents capitulate meaning grounding techniques eros academy fire inquiry outcome books for pre-law majors photo printing suicidal ideation will my concealer shade change in summer nail polish tutorial journals camilla viron

[hectorthedoggo]

teehee!! new chapter!!

tws under cut (but, they have slight spoilers, so steer clear :D)

Tws: referenced underage drinking (/j), suicidal ideations, implied past es not living la vida loca (slight physical, emotional child abuse), also, there is no csa/sa at all in this fic for es, btw :)

(@kani-miso good morning)

[john-macnamara]

tw suicidal ideation/thoughts, attempted suicide mention

Oh. Suicidal thoughts and ideation. Which I guess I always have, but they get worse real quick. That and if things get bad enough… genuine attempts.

[He looks incredibly guilty]

Hello, do you have any timeslots available today? I realized we never got around to scheduling the next appointment.

@john-macnamara

i've got space at eleven if that works for you?

[blaisenova]

what's up gamers, sorry for disappearing for a while there. life's been kicking my ass lately LMAO

to all the people who've sent in requests, i'm working on them!! as for why they're taking so long, see above.

been writing some stuff on and off for a bit, and i'm sure my fellow writers know how it is. when inspiration for something hits, you just kinda shit it out and then move on. i try to put a little more effort into my requests LOL. but i love killer and i also love hurting him, so this is what came out of that. yippee!!

this one goes out to all the people with complicated romantic lives!!!!!!! i see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so, take this piece of shit to tide you over. thank you guys for your patience <3

content is below the cut due to length and sensitive subjects. as always, it can be found on ao3 in the reblogs if that's your cup of tea.

cw/tw: major character death (offscreen, but a main point), implied/referenced toxic relationship, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, an all around shitty situationship

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grains of dust fell between his fingers and into his joints, making them crackle when he gripped the faded red scarf in his hands. It was so like when his brother had died, and there was something poetic about that thought, and that poetry was the highest insult the multiverse could have asked him to endure. Nevertheless, there was a distinct lack of snow, and, though his surroundings were deeply familiar – the cool toned darkness of the castle’s atmosphere, broken only by the warm, orange glow of the castle’s mounted lanterns – they would never be as familiar as limbo.

Dust piled beneath his knees, scraping against the bone and leaving it raw, but all Killer could do was press his forehead into the pile before him and hold his breath to prevent it from dispelling; to be as close as possible without disturbing the remains.

When a voice rang out from the shadows, he didn’t startle; its presence had been imminent from the start. It held the same chilled, deep tones of the castle, broken only by the warm dredges of poorly concealed laughter behind its words. Despite himself, Killer found that the tension in his bones melted away at the sound.

“So, you finally killed him.”

It wasn’t a question. There was no surprise.

Voice hoarse, Killer laughed, and the dust darted away from his breath and stuck to the liquid determination that marred his cheeks. “He was hurting me.”

Beside him, someone knelt. Fingers, dark with viscous negativity, ran through the particles and pressed it together testingly. The other hummed, then shook the dust from his hands, as if it were something dirty. Killer shouldn’t have felt so offended at the thought.

“Well, obviously,” Nightmare responded, voice flat with disinterest. “It’s about time that you did something about it.”

Clutching the scarf to his chest, Killer’s soul wobbled unsteadily, and he wheezed. “Do you think– Will– He’ll… He’ll be better when he comes back, right?”

At that, came Nightmare’s laughter – warm, comforting, and Killer hated himself at the feeling – and a hand came to rest against his back. Fingers danced what might have been soothing circles over the fabric of his jacket, coaxing out small noises of misery that Killer hadn’t realised he was holding back. “He’s not like you, Killer,” Nightmare hummed. “He won’t come back.”

At that, came Killer’s laughter – warm, comforting, and Killer hated himself at the feeling – and he curled further into the dust as it continued to try and run away. “Oh,” he breathed. Then, again, “oh. That’s– That’s not what I wanted.”

There was a beat of silence, and Killer breathed in the judgement in the lack of words. “Then,” Nightmare finally drawled, steady in a way Killer could not be, “what did you want?”

A sound was pulled from his chest at the question, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I just wanted it to stop hurting,” he hissed. “I… I didn’t want to lose him forever.”

With another hum, Nightmare’s fingers pressed more firmly into Killer’s back, drawing him out of wheezing breaths he hadn’t realised he’d been taking. “Why not, if he was hurting you?”

“Because I loved him,” Killer spat; immediately; bitterly. Then, through a lump in his throat, “love. Because I love him.”

For a moment, Nightmare’s steady ministrations faltered, as if the admission surprised him, though Killer was certain he must have known; must have felt it even through every other emotion that had led them here. Just as soon as he began to miss the touch, though, they started up again, and, once more, he choked on a sob as his soul spasmed against his chest. Each breath was suffocating and filled with dust, coating his bones from the inside out and sticking to him in a way that made him feel sick.

“I didn’t want this,” Killer repeated, like a plea. “What did I do wrong?”

It ran deeper than a slash across the chest and bones crumbling between his fingers, blood painting his sweater bright red. It must have. It must have been more than the final blow.

“I– I fucked up somehow,” he wheezed. “If I just knew how, I… I could have done better. Should have done better. Then, maybe…”

“There’s no point in trying to fix it now,” Nightmare chided, with a subtle gentleness that Killer might not have recognised if not for the tenderness of the hand that pressed between his shoulder blades reassuringly. “You’re agonising over your relationship with a corpse. It cannot hear your apologies.” A beat. “Although, perhaps, it wouldn’t matter even if it could.”

Sockets squeezing shut, Killer bit back a wail. His knuckles ached from the force with which he clung to the scarf, and the soreness extended to his chest, right where his soul sat. “I hurt him,” he said. “He’s gone.” 

All at once, he sat up, and Nightmare’s hand darted away in surprise, cyan socket wide. Dust speckled the dark streaks across Killer’s cheeks and clung to the bone where he’d feverishly pressed his skull against the pile, as if it might feel his touch and spring back to life. Dull, pale eyelights trembled in his sockets, and the expression of pity before him was blurry and unclear, though, something about that was a mercy. 

At the thought, Killer scrubbed at his sockets furiously, trying to deny himself the grace he didn’t deserve. The moment his vision cleared, however, it was blurred again by tears. Idly, he found himself thankful for the threadbare cloth in his hands, without which his fingers would have found their way to his soul and tried to pry the feelings out themselves; another mercy he refused to indulge.

“He’s gone,” Killer repeated. “I was in love with him. And, now, he’s gone, and it’s my fault. I hurt him.”

Through fuzzy vision, Killer watched Nightmare bare his teeth; it could have been a snarl, or maybe a grimace. “You’ll live.”

“I don’t want to live,” he wailed, unable to stop himself. He blinked, and tar-like tears smeared down his cheeks. They dropped down to his chin, then fell into his lap, and a choked sound of anguish left him as he realised the scarf was stained with them. The damage was done, though, and he sobbed louder as he pressed the cloth to his face. His words were muffled through the barrier, “I loved him. I loved him. Why did I hurt him? Why did he hurt me?”

“The multiverse is cruel,” Nightmare said, “and we are but inhabitants of it, carefully crafted to perpetuate its cruelty. You asked too much when you sought out happiness.”

“Then,” he breathed, pulling himself together long enough to speak, “what was I supposed to do?”

“You shouldn’t have fallen in love,” came the answer, simply. “Certainly, not you. Certainly, not with someone like him.”

His breath faltered once more, and something giddy made his soul tremble. A soft rattling emanated throughout his bones, nausea making some deep, magic based part of him broil and burn. He made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and held the scarf over his eyes as if going blind to the situation would make it disappear. “Maybe I deserve everything he ever did.”

With a huff that might have been laughter, Nightmare hummed, “Maybe you do.” He gestured to the messy pile of dust – the thin fabric of the scarf easily showing the shifting shadows – and Killer shuddered at the reminder. “And, maybe he did, too.”

At the notion, Killer’s shoulders sagged, and, tiredly, he shook his head. “Not him,” he whispered, reverent. “Never him.”

Again, came that laugh, and there was something frustrated in its bitter tones. “Oh, what a pedestal you’ve placed him on,” he drawled.

“Why don’t you care?” Killer spat, and anger sparked alongside despair like a match to gasoline. All of the exhaustion from before was driven away, and fevered fury took its place. His soul spasmed painfully as he finally yanked the scarf back down to face reality head on, staring Nightmare in the eye with a strange sort of determination to condemn himself. “He was yours, just as I am. Why don’t you care that he’s gone? Why don’t you care what I did to him?”

Refusing the vitriol that he’d been met with, Nightmare’s tone remained carefully even. “And, forget what he did to you?” His head tilted to the side curiously, and he regarded Killer’s crime with indifference. “You’re hardly being fair. It’s not as if you haven’t killed others for much less. It’s not as if he’s not just as replaceable as you.”

Tiredness returned, like a weight in his bones or a fist around his soul, making him wilt. Unconsciously, he leaned towards his king, and Nightmare mercifully closed the distance between them, allowing Killer’s skull to rest against his shoulder. Shame burned alongside misery as he found miniscule comfort in the familiar worthlessness. “No. He was different. He tried,” he mumbled. Then, insistently, “He tried, and he loved me. Who else has ever done that? For me? I don’t deserve it.”

“And, yet, it wasn’t enough,” Nightmare replied, and Killer couldn’t help but cringe at the callousness.

“Well, it should have been,” he persisted. “It should have been enough for me.”

“And, yet,” he repeated, “it wasn’t.”

Scoffing, Killer shifted, pulling his knees up to his chest. He hoped that he looked as small as he felt. “Gee, thanks, Nightmare,” he murmured. “Like I wasn’t already feeling like a piece of shit.” Then, with another scoff and marked bitterness, “I mean– Shit, it’s not even like I was asking for very much, right? Or– Or, I was, I guess, but it shouldn’t be so hard… right? How many people are there in the multiverse that have perfectly healthy relationships? Where they feel like people? Why not me?”

He ran a hand over his skull with an exasperated laugh, pressing his forehead against his knees. “I mean, I know why not. I’m not a person, but is it so much to ask that someone pretends? That… That I don’t fuck everything up without even trying? That I don’t deserve to be hurt?” he hissed, sharply. “That I don’t earn mistreatment simply by being?”

Thick, black rivulets of determination fell from his sockets, and Killer raised his head once more, meeting the chilling cyan of Nightmare’s gaze and feeling an awful lot like he was asking for answers he didn’t really want. “He was trying, Night. I know he was. I saw it,” he insisted, though his words grew soft as his shoulders slumped forward again. “What does it say about me that even when someone is trying not to hurt me, I make them do it anyway? Without even meaning to?” 

He cringed, the tips of his fingers pressing into his bone with a satisfying sting. “And, then, I hurt them back. God, like I don’t deserve it when they do it, right? Like– Like they did?” His gaze went back to the pile of dust. “Like he did? I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t, but I did it anyway, knowing it would hurt, because I’m so selfish that I wanted it to stop hurting me. Like it would ever stop hurting, even if he was gone.”

Finally, Killer fell silent, with a shrug that he could only hope would communicate everything he could no longer force past the lump in his throat and the way his soul wobbled painfully in front of his chest, fighting to make him feel all of the emotions he’d crushed down and bottled up for so long. His sockets burned unpleasantly, but he didn’t dare blink, afraid that the motion would start up a sickening sort of sobbing that he wouldn’t be able to stop until he passed out or died. An unfitting way to go for someone like him; it would hurt, but not enough; never enough, when wallowing in his own self-pity.

When he looked up, he was met with the scrutinising glare of Nightmare’s eyelight, and he felt himself unconsciously straighten, as if that would make him appear any less pathetic.

“Do you know what I think?” Nightmare began, haltingly. “I think… you’re reading too much into the actions of someone who was just as broken as you. Regardless of his intentions, he hurt you, and, now, you’ve hurt him. And, the worst part?” he hummed, almost pleasantly. “It was entirely inevitable. You shouldn’t have fallen in love, Killer.”

Not trusting himself enough to speak, all he could do was nod.

“Pick up the dust of your ruined relationship,” Nightmare continued, and he gently knocked Killer’s skull away from his shoulder as he urged him towards the scattered pile. “Store it away somewhere that you won’t forget; close to your heart, but not in it. Then, move on. There’s nothing more you can do now but that.”

Shaking eyelights, darting from the dust to the tattered scarf gripped between his fingers, stared down at the macabre display of an end that was, in many ways, poetry; poetry of insult. He swallowed his agony. “Will that make it stop hurting?”

Without looking up, Killer could feel the way that Nightmare regarded him, somewhere between disdain and pity. “No,” he said. “But, it’s a start.”

Another dust filled urn on the mantel, each gathering a thin layer of grime that dulls the shine of their golden casket with time. This one would remain golden for a while, like the last, marred by nothing but fingerprints from when he would take it from its place and hold it in his arms. But, eventually, it, too, would lose its beckoning lustre, and its tarnish would mean healing.

Another dust filled urn on the mantel, and here’s to many more.

[supernovaa-remnant]

a small drabble for @sixteenth-day-event with the prompt "a silent grave"

tw for implied/referenced torture because, well, torture box, y'know? also potential slight suicide ideation

Sleep in Pandora’s Vault is fleeting, coming in flashes, quick increments that leave Dream more dazed and restless than before. It’s never an escape—even in his bursts of sleep, the incessant dripping of the crying obsidian plays the role of a backing symphony, and the ache of his body never leaves him for a moment. He’s never sure how long the sleep lasts—the last clock he burnt still hasn’t been replaced—but with how tired he feels, he can’t imagine it’s that long. 

Before, he used to shift around between his moments of slumber. He’d walk up and wander around the cell, settling down in a different corner as if searching for a more comfortable spot. Now, though, his vision swims as rushes of vertigo overcome him whenever he tries to sit up, let alone walk around. He definitely got a head injury of some sorts a few visits ago, and not even healing potions provide an instant fix to those. But, even before he became afflicted with light-headedness, the prospect of moving lost all appeal, considering how his entire body flares with pain at any sort of motion. So, he stays still, even as the jagged obsidian digs into his back, aggravating the wounds there. 

Sometimes, rarely, he’s granted true sleep, and he dreams. The dreams are never pleasant—it’s as though his mind only wishes to cycle through a few dreams, including recounts of sir’s visits, that day in the attachment vault, George and Sapnap, and more. Most of the time, he’s unaware that he’s dreaming, but this time he finds himself in the one dream he’s always lucid for. 

He’s sitting beside a small, unremarkable grave, unable to move, as though he were tethered to it. It’s always silent. Not even the creatures of the world venture close, and it makes something perhaps akin to bitterness coil in his heart, that even the animals of his world that had been his steady companions don’t bother to visit him in death. 

But, all things considered, it’s not the worst dream. Sure, the laughter of his friends the server members that echo from outside his vision grate on him, and their obvious joy in the world post-his demise is unsurprising but stings nonetheless, but it’s not painful. It’s not limbo nor Pandora, and sure he can’t feel the sun, and he’s not entirely sure his mind is conjuring the apparitions of the sky and trees correctly, but it’s still peaceful, in a way. He thinks if death were like this, maybe solving its mysteries wouldn’t be such a necessity. 

And when he awakes to the sound of pistons, he thinks that maybe spending eternity in a silent grave wouldn’t be so bad.

[insoukokuhell-434]

Chuuya Takes Care of Dazai Fics

Includes:

Emotional Hurt/Comfort (long term & immediate)

Physical Hurt/Comfort

The format I’m using is:

Title - writer (ao3 link) Fic length Time period (teen/mafia skk, 22! Skk, all ages) Additional tags (Tags in bold added by me for extra info) TW

Some fics have parts of the summary/ comments added for additional info

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Long Term (multiple instances)

hey look, the sky's falling apart - saffroncassis    

24.8k TEEN SKK (16/17) AU - Canon Divergence Protective Nakahara Chuuya, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Developing Relationship Found Family (the Akutagawa siblings, Oda's kids, Kyouka, Oda, Ango) TW- Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse and discussions of both these, also cw food for the whole fic

Summary - "At age 16, Chuuya defects from the Port Mafia and drags his partner with him not so much kicking and screaming as silently begrudging, and the rest follow suit in time."

Mostly Chuuya helping Dazai, but Dazai supports him too <33

[Really realistic depiction of the relationship between a depressed person and their supportive partner!]

For the Record - zombiemarker

19.1k TEEN SKK  AU- Spies & Secret Agents + Physical Hurt/Comfort Nightmares, Childhood Trauma, they get all dressed up and go to a gala, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff & Angst, Literal sleeping together, Getting together, First kiss, Developing Relationship TW - Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma

From tags: "Chuuya's a government experiment, Dazai's been with Mori for years, they've both got trauma now"

Mostly Chuuya helping Dazai, but Dazai supports him too <33

A mouth to empty into - series by osamuchuu

Not listing all 4 fics cause this post is already so long, but they’re all amazing pls go read them!

The series depicts depression + CSA trauma so well!

This is my favourite -

Love is not a victory march - osamuchuu

8.7k 22 SKK Soukoku taking care of each other, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mental Illness, Depression, Drug Addiction, Blood and Injury, Healing, Recovery, Soukoku Tenderness, Light Angst TW -  Dazai-Typical Suicide References and Attempts, Addiction, Drug Use

believe me darling, the stars were made for falling -communist_sasuke

14.6k ALL AGES Worried Chuuya, Love Confessions, Dazai is a Mess, Angst, Self-Harm , Fluff & Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon timeline, First Kiss, TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions , Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt

Trust Fall - insi 

3.5k ALL AGES (Dark Era, Post-Dark Era, 22 SKK) Emotional Constipation, Mental Health Issues, Dazai has issues TW - Implied/Referenced Suicide & Self-Harm, Suicidal ideation

From tags: Chuuya has met Dazai on the rooftop many times throughout knowing each other.

Immediate

Emotional H/C

Even the Darkness We're Watching Is So Beautiful - NastyaEx

4k 22 SKK (post-109) bsd 109, Fluff, Dazai Needs a Hug, Dazai is a Mess, exhausted dazai, dazai cries but only a little bit, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Soft skk, Dazai centered, yosano is a bit here and she's great

I'll Make A Home In Your Gut Because its Somewhere Warm to Sleep - arahabakii

8.9k 22 SKK Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Making Out, Getting Together, Domestic Fluff, Touch-Starved Dazai, Dazai needs a hug, Chuuya needs a hug TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References

stay- neon_toad

4.6k 22 SKK (pm!skk flashbacks) Suffering Dazai, Dazai Needs a Hug , Dazai is Bad at Feelings, Oblivious Dazai Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hugs, birthday, Birthday Presents, soft skk TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References

where are you? - doeinstinct

2.8k 22 SKK Depression, Disordered Eating, physical symptoms of depression, Mentions of past self harm, m because they shower together, canon adjacent, meal replacements, Love Confessions, They're In Love Your Honor

Run Away With Me - Anonymous

5.3k Dark Era Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Suicidal Thoughts, Soft Soukoku, Dazai Needs a Hug , Dazai Has Feelings, Pining, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Chuuya Needs a Hug, Kissing, Dazai asks Chuuya to run away with him

stay the night - Shinkirou

3.6k 22 SKK Gen or Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, Character Study, Sharing a Bed, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dazai's depression

Physical Hurt/Comfort

Fool for loyalty, or some other word - osamuchuu

1.7k Dark Era Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Injury Light Angst, chuuya deals with so much tbh, what a champ, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Established Relationship, chuuya being Dazai's nurse because he absolutely was Dazai's angry nurse

under wraps - Coffeebiscuits

5k Post-Dark era + Emotional hurt comfort Love confessions, deep talks, Light angst, Fluff and angst, kissing, crushes, sharing a bed, Suicide, Self-Harm, Tending to Wounds TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm 

From tags: “basically chuuya has to patch dazai upand they talk about some things they need to discuss”

Chuuya also gets some emotional comfort

EXHAUSTION

So if you go too far I'll be there - Kimisu

2.5k 22 SKK - Pre-Fyodor | Cannibalism Arc  No Plot/Plotless, Literal Sleeping Together, Some Fluff, Canon Timeline

From Summary: Based on a HC that Dazai spends days before every major arc planning and arranging the pieces in order for everything to 'work'. He also pushes his body limits a bit too far when doing that sometimes.

SICK FIC

Nothing More Important Than You - StormDew2

3k MAFIA SKK (15) Sickfic, Soft soukoku, Vulnerability

Please like/reblog if this helped u find a fic, I'd be delighted to know asjsj <3

“Dazai takes care of Chuuya” recs here

Fic rec masterlist here

[miscellaneoussmp]

I am genuinely sad, so people get to be sad with me. I am sorry. Anyways, here's Roier and others making onto the boat (cw/tw: implied/referenced death and implied/referenced suicidal ideation):

It goes like this:

There are ten seconds left. Roier is on the boat. He can't see Cellbit. Where is he? Fit and Bagi make it on the boat.

>adios guapito.

No. No. Cellbit isn't doing this to him.

>no pendejo.

They aren't saying goodbye like this. Till death do they part. This isn't death. It can't be.

>te amo.

Don't do this to him. Roier can't take another heartbreak. Jaiden isn't on the boat. Nor is Richas or Leo. Roier doesn't know about Foolish or Vegetta either.

>donde estas?

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is Cellbit? Where is the love of his life? Cellbit wouldn't do this to him, right? Cellbit promised he wouldn't betray Roier.

It goes like this:

The timer hits zero. The boat is moving. There is a shockwave and a large explosion. Roier reaches over the railing towards hell itself. Bagi and Fit keep him from falling overboard.

No Pac. No Tina. No Ramón.

No Cellbit.

It goes like this:

The boat is moving. There is no timer.

There are tears running down Fit's cheeks. Real tears. Bagi sobs. It's a mix of rage and genuine anguish. Tubbo is looking at his hands blankly. Philza has his arms around Tubbo. Roier screams as his heart finally shatters into a million little pieces.

It goes like this:

Roier knows how to get to the highest point of their castle. His wedding suit should still fit? He wants to be buried in it.

[serickswrites]

Whump One Shots V

Caretaker snaps request--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, broken bones, wounds, drugging

Devil's Advocate--TW: self sacrifice, restraints, gags, implied captivity, implied torture

You Can Lead a Bitch--TW: head injury, blood, amnesia

Coma request--TW: coma, referenced accident, referenced self harm, hospital, suicidal ideation

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait--TW: captivity, torture, blood, restraints, wounds

Bent Out of Shape--TW: head injury, unconsciousness

Hammer Time--TW: scars, healing, wounds, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery

Second Mouse Gets the Cheese--TW: threat of violence, kidnapping, knife, threat of death

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words--TW: blood, unclear character status, restraints

Lost and Found--TW: botched escape attempt, hypothermia, captivity, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper

Thin Ice--TW: captivity, torture, burns, brands, cruel whumper

You Don't Want To Do That--TW: hidden injury, blood, unconsciousness

Get In--TW: survivor’s guilt, grief, referenced death, referenced mcd

It's Not As Bad As It Looks--TW: captivity, restraints, implied future torture

Threat to society whumpee request--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, scars, hurt/aftermath

You're Doing Great--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, drugs, drugging, gag

What's the Bad News?--TW: escape, infection, bite, blood, wounds

Breathe, Damn You!--TW: rescue, torture, electrocution, shock, cpr, restraints

I Should Have Listened to You--TW: captivity, torture, burns, wounds, defiant whumpee

Caretaker and whumpee fight before kidnapping request--TW: kidnapping, restraints, manipulation

Can You Hear Me?--TW: destruction, explosion, rescue, captivity, implied torture

It's No Use--TW: captivity, torture, forced to watch

Suicidal whumpee request--TW: hospital, suicide attempt, unconsciousness, coma, emotional abuse

What Were You Thinking--TW: captivity, torture, escape, blood, wounds, impalement, unconsciousness

Please--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, stress position, blindfold

How Long Have You Been Like This?--TW: captivity, restraints, sleep deprivation, torture, gaslighting

Standing cuffs ask--TW: captivity, restraints, implied future torture

On Three--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, choking, strangulation, forced to watch

How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up?--TW: rescue, captivity, torture, unconsciousness, restraints, poison, caretaker and whumpee

I Made a Mistake--TW: blood, gun, gunshot, wounds, self sacrifice, unconsciousness, unclear character status, cpr

I'm So Sorry--TW: left for dead, abandonment, betrayal, sacrifice, violence, injury, bruises, broken bones

Carving request--TW: captivity, implied future torture, knives, restraints, blood, carving, mutilation, humiliation, cruel whumper, defiant whumpee

It's Really Not That Big of a Deal--TW: hidden injury, bruises, escape

Detective whumpee request--TW: captivity, restraints, drugging, creepy/intimate whumper, confined space, implied necrophilia, trauma, dissociation, did

Deprived--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, gags, blindfold, head phones, white torture, cruel whumper

Stay--TW: self sacrifice, captivity, torture

Unconscious whumpee--TW: blood, head injury, unconsciousness

Buried--TW: buried alive, torture, rescue attempt, captivity

Please--TW: captivity, torture, unclear character status, emotional whump

Whumper tries to recruit whumpee request--TW: kidnapping, unconsciousness, physical violence, defiant whumpee

Earth--TW: blood, stab wound, falling from a great height, left for dead

Unstable--TW: captivity, torture, rescue, collapse, unconsciousness

Whumpee waking from a coma request--TW: hospital, coma, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Right Here--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, isolation, hallucinations

King whumpee request--TW: emotional manipulation, control, creepy/intimate whumper, noncon touching, yandere whumper

Trail--TW: forced to watch, captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds

Yandere car whump--TW: kidnapping, restraints, gag, drugging, yandere? Whumper

Fae whumpee request--TW: betrayal, knife

Knuckles--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, bruises, broken bones

I Can--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch

Late whumpee--TW: bruises, yandere whumper

Rope--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced restraints, referenced forced to watch, unclear character status, burns

But Now This Room Is Spinning--TW: falling from a great height, head injury, blood, nausea, vomitting

I'll Call Out Your Name--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, cruel whumper

Except the Moon--TW: captivity, torture, touch starved, loneliness, self sacrifice

You Better Pray--TW: captivity, torture, sadistic whumper, broken bones, beating, physical violence, blood, restraints

Do or Die--TW: kidnapping, captivity, restraints, video recording, forced to watch, knife, blood, stabbing, mcd

Slightest of Sounds--TW: explosion, injury

I'm Not a Soldier--TW: kidnapping, implied torture

These Days--TW: kidnapping, restraints, blindfold

Never Leave--TW: captivity, yandere

Going Dark--TW: blood, broken bones, restraint, gun, gunfire, unclear character status, captivity

Slept in Days--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, PTSD, nightmares, caretaker and whumpee

Strength in Your Bones--TW: captivity, restraints, rescue, hidden injury, unconsciousness, blood, bloody nose

'Til I Drown--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, water torture, drowning, potential to drown

Forget the World--TW: knife, stabbing, blood, mcd, grief, caretaker and whumpee

Deflect--TW: restraint, captivity, torture, bruises, blood, defiant whumpee

The Chain--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, weapons, forced to watch

Hit the Floor--TW: fighting, physical violence, broken glass, blood, wounds

End of the Night--TW: stalking

Head Full--TW: kidnapping, head injury, blood

So Tired--TW: kidnapping, restraints, gag, torture, video camera

Around My Scars--TW: scars, trauma reference (vague), hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt recovery

Second whumpee in the alley request--TW: unconsciousness, blood, hurt/aftermath

Sink Deeper--TW: referenced captivity, injuries, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort

I'm Not Ok--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, unconsciousness, blood, wounds, unclear character status

Getting Better--TW: mcd, grief, mourning

Second ICU request--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced wounds, referenced forced to watch, referenced restraints, hospital, unconsciousness, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Caretaker and whumpee misunderstand each other request--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, implied non con, hurt/aftermath

Cup--TW: poison, self sacrifice

Halloween whump request--TW: physical violence, head injury, captivity

Lie to Me--TW: captivity, torture, threats of violence

Drift--TW: head injury, unconsciousness, captivity

Miss Me?--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, presumed dead, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, kidnapping

Caretaker fails to rescue whumpee request--TW: captivity, torture, bruises, broken bones, blood, rescue attempt, restraints, forced to watch

Cosy--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, gag, stress position, collar, blood, wounds, cruel whumper

Whumper loves caretaker request--TW: kidnapping, restraints, gag, torture, yandere

Precise--TW: captivity, torture, restraints

Rail--TW: wound, blood, knife, captivity, escape attempt

Another catatonia request--TW: referenced torture, referenced captivity, catatonia, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Fever Dream--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, infection, fever, illness

Santa Claus--TW: restraints, claustrophobia

Winter Winds--TW: captivity, fever, hypothermia, hidden injury, blood, infection, sickness

Ebeneezer Scrooge--TW: referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

A Good Nightmare--TW: kidnapping, nightmare

Jack Frost--TW: drugging, unconsciousness, captivity, creepy/intimate whumper

Got Away--TW: blood, injury, unconsciousness

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, cruel whumper

[abyssal-ali]

you knew the hero died, so what's the movie for?

Pairing: Gen Ao3 Masterlist

Rating: E for Extra Bad Mental Health WC: 2.2k

Summary:

Babs finds some footage of Jason acting strangely and calls in the Bats to help her figure out what's up with Jason.

TW: Suicidal Ideation/Passive Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Depression, Major Character Death/Major Character Undeath

A/N: (Yes, I'm fine<3) Title from hoax by TS. I love the Immortal Jason Todd theories but I also think he'd have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about death and life after the first time. (Also don't worry, there is a happy ending.)

~

Barbara Gordon spun on her chair’s wheels to face the Bats. The whole clan, minus one, were admitted to her domain after her special request.

“Why could you not send us the footage?” asked Batman, his voice not so raspy with the modifier turned off.

“It’s safer here. This is extremely delicate information here, and I cannot have it fall into the wrong hands somehow.”

The Bats exchanged glances at Oracle saying she didn’t want to risk this being hacked. Her finger hovered over the play button on her large screen.

“I hacked Hood’s helmet just after he ducked out of patrol to tell him I’d received info I thought he might want to know for a case he’s on. He was speaking, but it didn’t seem like a call or voice-to-text, and the security cam from the alley he was in doesn’t show anyone or anything. The context is weird and the whole situation is…disturbing.”

Babs finally played the CCTV footage after her explanation, showing a typical Gotham alleyway, Red Hood’s large shape the only figure visible as he walked normally into it from around the corner. 

His steps stutter, then his whole being seems to lose tension as he walks further in, his shoulders curling inwards slightly. “Now?”

A pause, then, “What is it this time? I haven’t decided what I wanted to cross off my list this time.”

He leans against the wall, one foot propped on the rough brick casually as he tosses a knife through the air, always catching it by the handle. After a couple seconds of seeming silence, he turns abruptly, his posture tensing. “I just want quiet, is that too much to ask?!” 

He calms, then continues, “I don’t hate you, D. It’s your sister. She always interrupts and it’s gotten really old. You…can either stop flirting with me or do somethin’ ‘bout Elle. She keeps bringin’ me back down…”

He sheathes his knife and shifts into an offensive stance. “I was at peace, D! I’m just…so…tired…” His voice trails off, revealing the weakness his family has never picked up in him.

After a moment, he relaxes back into his slump against the wall. “We’re running outta options. Explosions, blunt force trauma, asphyxiation, suffocation, smoke inhalation, drowning, exsanguination, jugular sliced, cardiac arrest, hypothermia, electrocution…” He ticks off his fingers. “I’m immune to most poisons and toxins, so they’re out, medication burns through me too quickly…” Another pause.

“I can’t just run off with you, D. They’re detectives, and any explanation they’ll believe is falsified, and they’ll pointlessly search space and time. I’m not gonna spark PTSD and make them sad. Oh! We haven’t tried decapitation yet, we could recreate Dickens’ scene…or there’s my personal favourite, you kidnap me in my sleep. Sounds peaceful….NOT THAT I WOULD KNOW ABOUT PEACE!”

The watching Bats flinched at the sudden outburst from the dejected Hood they were wrapping their minds around. 

On the screen, he waves at air, then turns on his heel and stalks out of the alley, heading somewhere else. 

Babs’ trackers showed everyone in the Clocktower, and one red dot at a known safehouse of Jason’s a few blocks from the alley.

Babs turned to the Bats. 

“Hmm,” Batman mused.

“Ambiguous,” decided Nightwing. “You didn’t pick up any interference, magical or alien?”

“No. Everything is clear,” replied Babs, spinning back to her computer to run more scans on the footage. 

“I hate one-sided conversations,” said Spoiler, staring thoughtfully at the frozen image of Red Hood walking out of the alley.

“Who’s this ‘D’ he’s talking to?” demanded Red Robin. “He usually only calls Dick ‘D’, and even then it’s rare. And Dick doesn’t know about this.”

Batgirl got the others’ attention. “Jason is hurt. Always. Not from fighting.” She thought for a moment. “Heart-hurt. Always tired. This is…tired, but relieved.”

“Hmm,” said Batman again.

Two days later, Nightwing and Red Robin knocked on Jason’s door. He’d managed to instill the basic modicum of manners in them with careful traps, a fair amount of glitter, and occasionally a minor wound or two. When he didn’t answer after two tries, and Babs reassured them through their comm link that his tracker was still pinging from that location, they let themselves in.

The first thing they found was Jason, dead in his bed.

In shock, confusion, and grief, the Bats were notified, confirmed it was truly Jason and not some elaborate scheme to fake his death for some Jason-only-knew reason, and taken back to the Cave to prepare him for burial. Again.

To their great surprise, Talia al Ghul marched into the Cave and swept past all their baffled questionings to the table Jason lay on, more peaceful in death than they’d ever seen in life.

She carefully scrutinized him, then sighed and put her hand on his. 

“Don’t touch him,” Bruce snapped, looking worse than he had in years. 

Talia removed her hand after a slight hesitation, turning to face the grieving Bats. “Before you bury Jason, please wait one more day.”

“Why?”

“You do remember what happened last time you buried him,” she reminded them flatly.

With a grunt, Bruce agreed to wait 18 more hours, looking over at his son’s body every few moments from the tea Alfred was forcing him to drink.

The Bats were quietly mourning their brother, son, grandson, friend, tormentor, coworker, rival, saviour when a loud stream of swearing shocked them out of their grief. 

“NOT AGAIN?! WHY?! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!” Yelled one very alive Jason Todd, sitting straight up and looking as pale as a ghoul.

He slipped off the table, stumbling towards the group in zombie-like motions, collapsing into Talia’s waiting arms. “Tals? Why’re ya’here?”

“To stop your idiotic, grieving, well-meaning family from hastily burying you again.”

“Oh, thanks.”

The still-stunned bats slowly gathered around the hugging duo. Talia dragged Jason over to the cot in the medbay and forcing him onto his side. “Stay still until you’re better. You should know better, habibi.”

“But my mom was here, I had to hug her,” he grinned crookedly up at Talia, who was unimpressed.

Still, she smiled softly at him, running her fingers through his hair. “Just lie still. 15 minutes on every side.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo, Tals,” he grunted, but stay where she left him. 

Tim opened his mouth and Talia turned her fierce glare on him. With one motion, she directed them all away from Jason to the debriefing area, where he was still within sightline, but wouldn’t be disturbed by their sure-to-be-invasive questions.

“How did he die?” she asked them, looking sternly at Bruce.

“I don’t know.” He collapsed into a seat, staring at Jason blankly. “Oracle showed us a concerning video she found with Hood, we went to his safehouse…and found him…peaceful, in his bed. A little smile on his face,” he choked out.

Talia sighed, glancing back at Jason.

“Why are you here?”

“Mother’s intuition,” she shrugged. “Something was very wrong with him. I was worried, so I came.”

“T, I can deal with them,” called Jason. “I’m a big boy, I can handle their need for privacy invasion.”

Talia sighed but relaxed from her gatekeeping stance, letting the Bats crowd Jason’s bed again.

“How dare you alive again? You were definitely dead,” blurted Tim. 

“Life and I have a mutual hate for each other,” said Jason cryptically. “And Death and I are kinda close.”

“How did you die?” asked Dick, quietly horrified.

“Oh, D was really accommodating–I was asleep this ti-”

“‘D’ is Death?!”

“Yeah, I call Death ‘D’, so what? You all have nicknames. And like I said, this ain’t my first rodeo, We’re tight, she likes me.”

“Ethopia…” remembered the Bats awkwardly.

“Why are you lying down?” asked Steph as Jason shifted to his front, turning his head to watch his family.

“I can’t lie on my back for longer than a few second because of PTSD. And my heart hasn’t been pumping for…awhile, so blood flow ain’t the best right now. 

“First, there’s numbness, like when your leg’s fallen asleep, only full-body. 

“Then, prickles of pain as all your muscles and circulatory system start up. 

“Third, your brain’s fuzzy from lack of oxygen and bloodflow, so you spill your deepest darkest secrets to your needlessly nosy family because some twisted part of you feels guilty for putting them through your death again. That last part might just be me, though.

“Fourth, I’m tired and I want to sleep, so ask T or wait for me to wake up. Trust me, I will,” he grumbled. “Oh, you may wanna shock me a li’l bit to make sure my heart’s started properly again. Sometimes it needs a bit of a tune-up to make sure it’s good as new.”

“Why do you sound like this happens regularly?!” Dick demanded.

“It does.” Jason closed his eyes, turning his head to the other side.

Talia shooed the murmuring Bats back to let Jason rest in peace (consciously).

A couple hours later, Jason sat up again, with more colour to his skin and smoother movements. Talia carefully supported him, leading him to a chair and mug of steaming hot chocolate.

The disturbed bats gathered around him until he looked up with a grimace at them. “I’m fine, okay? Why are you even so worried?”

“No, you’re not fine! You were dead, again, and now you aren’t, and you’re acting like this happens every week!”

Jason shrugged. “Done it enough it feels like it. Don’t worry, I get better quicker the more often it happens; you’ve never noticed."

“You died the first time in Ethiopia?”

Jason nodded.

“And it took…six months for you to come back? This was…24 hours or less. So how often have you died, and what’s the exponential rate?” demanded Tim. 

Jason shrugged again. “Dunno. Based on past times…” he trailed off, looking to Talia.

“With this one, it should be about twenty hours until his resurrection the next time.”

“Why were you even looking for me?”

“I hacked your comms when you were, apparently, talking to Death, and I brought the CCTV footage from that alley to their attention,” reasoned Babs, pulling his free hand into hers and squeezing it gently. “Why would you not tell us about this? We were worried sick about you after we saw that! And then you disabled your tracker, and it took me ages to find your last ping and find your new safehouse!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled into his mug. 

“So you were actually talking to Death? Who is…apparently a person…being?” asked Steph.

“Yep, she’s cool. I’m her favourite repeat customer,” he joked. It fell flatter than one of Bruce’s pancakes.

“You sounded happy to see D,” said Cass, watching him closely.

“Yeah, she’s a lot nicer than her bitch of a sister, Life. She keeps bringing me back,” Jason bemoaned under his breath.

“You don’t want to come back?” Dick asked sadly, inching closer.

“Not really. It’s peaceful being dead. Being alive is so…tiring,” he sighed, leaning his head back and gently placing his mug down.

“Habibi,” Talia said thickly, running her fingers through his hair again.

“But…but you talked down that jumper last week!” pointed out Tim.

“So?”

Cass rewound the footage Babs had played them, playing a section back for the others on the Batcomputer. “I’m not gonna spark PTSD and make them sad.”

“‘Sad’ is…a wrecked car. Replaceable. ‘Grief’ is you dead. We cannot replace you. We are not sad for you. We grieve for you.”

At Cass’s revelation, the Bats’ heads swiveled between Jason and the screen. 

“Little Wing…do you think we would grieve you less than the first time?”

Jason didn’t answer, picking up his mug to see if there were any dregs left.

Talia laid her hand on his shoulder. “Why are you still the Red Hood, habibi? No one is forcing you to. You became the Red Hood to antagonize Batman*. You’ve done that, moved past it. Move on, don’t just give up.”

A strange look crossed Jason’s face at Talia’s face. His eyes darted to a harrowed-looking Bruce, then back to the depths of his mug. “Thanks, T.”

Red Hood retired, Jason choosing to hand the reins of his crime bossing business over to his trusted lieutenants as he moved to Europe, entering Oxford to pursue a secondary education. 

One or another of his family members were more often than not flying to and from his flat to remind him how much they loved and valued him. 

Talia visited him often, making sure that he knew just how much the other side of his chosen family also cared for him. She introduced him to a therapist that was accustomed to dealing with clients with more confidential matters than usual. 

Gradually, Jason healed and discovered his personality aside from ‘anti-hero crime-boss vigilante’. He pursued therapy as a career, becoming a therapist and mentor to the Justice League and its associates, specifically the sidekicks and teen heroes. 

The twenty-hour resurrection rule wasn’t needed for several more decades.

*****

A/N2:

*Yes, I'm aware he also wanted to change Gotham in a way that Batman couldn't/wouldn't etc, but I couldn't get into the nuances there.

Jason has canonically died several times, including the time Bruce stopped his heart (don't ask me for canon references, I don't touch those things with a 10-foot pole) but as I was editing this fic, I decided to go the good/semi-decent dad Bruce route instead; Jason's hurt enough, so you'll only find one small easter egg about that. I also left out the line about the slit throat from the Batarang Bruce threw in UtRH, which I am firmly convinced hurt Jason more than was shown in canon.

I got the inspiration for Jason dealing with post-mortem/post-resurrection stiffness etc from a fic but I can't remember which one. Possibly Who I Am. Who I'll Never Be by Zootopon?? If you find one, feel free to lmk.

Jason is depressed and isn't very objective about the Batfam, and even though they're on fairly good terms in this fic, they're still emotionally consitpated Bats and Jason's a good actor; they're not thinking to reassure him they love him and want him, and he's sure not gonna outright ask for reassurance. As someone with depression (not speaking for everyone, just drawing on my own experience), it really makes you feel like even those you love most and who love you most don't actually. It's hard to ask for confirmation of their love, and especially with dynamics like the Batfam/Jason have, that complicates matters further. If you're reading this and you don't somehow have Issues, learn from this and face your feelings.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder/In the mood for...

~*~

1. itmf pining. WangXian or Yizhan but either way so much pining it's a forest. With a happy ending. Please!

Cut to the Feeling by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, YiZhan, Famous XZ/not-famous WYB, Soft Boys)

Stripped by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 16k, YiZhan, College/University)

next time there's no doubt by annemari (M, 35k, WYB/XZ, future fic, getting back together, past miscommunication, learning to communicate better, hurt/comfort)

The Upgrade Clause by fyredancer (E, 40k, YiZhan, Modern AU, Non-Famous XZ, Sugar dating, Mutual Pining, Blow Jobs, Love Bites, Sex Talk, Happy Ending)

even if the sky falls by fyredancer (E, 27k, YiZhan, Canon Divergence, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Voyeurism, femboy XZ, cam/streaming, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Vibrators, Top WYB/Bottom XZSpanking, Safewords, Light BDSM, Restraints, Anal Fingering, Fisting, Sexual Roleplay, School Uniforms, First Time, Barebacking, Friends to Lovers, Blow Jobs)

Fixtures and Fittings by ella_minnow (E, 42k, WYB/XZ, interior designer XZ, motorcyclist WYB, pining, famous/non-famous, slowest burn)

Satisfaction Brought it Back by feenwitch (E, 16k, YiZhan, Magical Realism, Animal Transformation, Getting Together, Cohabitation)

听候发落; As You Wish by sunsandships (E, 99k, YiZhan, tw: mentions of homophobia, tw: light internalized homophobia, tw: smoking, tw: mentions of suicidal ideations and mental health issues (of non-main character), Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Non-Linear Narrative, Translated from Chinese, Top WYB/Bottom XZ, bjyx)

The Scent of Happiness by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 48k, YiZhan, soft baker XZ, famous WYB)

yesterday, tomorrow by sophiahelix (E, 80k, YiZhan, Movie Sets, Breaking Up & Making Up, Future Fic, Mutual Pining, reverse slow burn)

With Joy and Purpose by feenwitch (E, 29k, YiZhan, Robots & Androids, Space, Android WYB, Slow Build, Happy Ending)

forehead kisses, break my knees by kinkywrists (M, 54k, YiZhan, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Exes to Lovers, Slow Burn)

小偷玫瑰 · Voleur de Roses by fefedove (M, 14k, YiZhan, Friends With Benefits, Police, Closeted Character, Ambiguous/Open Ending, xz is an asshole, yibo is dumb, they fuckbuddies, slowburnish, Angst)

Pretty Dead by Verona95 (M, 252k, YiZhan, Strangers to Lovers, Police, Detectives, Crime Scenes, Investigations, Age Difference, Dark, Angst, Happy Ending, Fluff, Smut, Murder Mystery, Murder, Bottom WYB/Top XZ, Top WYB/Bottom XZ, Small Towns, Bratty WYB, Slow Burn)

A Weekend in Sanya by biscutpoo (Not Rated, 22k, YiZhan, Getting Back Together, Weddings, Sharing a Bed, Angst, Pining, bjyx, Post-Break Up, Tropical Destination Weddings, Top WYB/Bottom XZ, Non-Famous, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Close Your Pretty Eyes by DeviyudeThoolika (E, 20k, YiZhan, High School, College/University, Angst, Mutual Pining, the slowest burn, BJYX | WYB/XZ is Real)

~*~

2. Hi, I'm looking for a modern era fic. Xiao Zhan was in love with jin juxuan and was dumped by him. The world believes that xz betrayed him with another man. Later he owns an art gallery where he helps artists by displaying their works. Xz parents are rich and powerful. xz has I think a one night stand with wy who is a famous star and enters into a relationship with him. End of the story wy agrees to help run xz father's company. Hope you will be able to help me as it is truly a beautiful story

FOUND? Encounter by thetaintedblade (E, 129k, YiZhan, Top WYB/Bottom XZ)

Update: story appears to have been deleted, link will not work anymore - Mod C

~*~

[ao3feed-narlie]

Drown the demons

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/oplT8Am by HSNomad Read the tags. Charlie has a bad brain day. He deals with it. Words: 1485, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Heartstopper (TV), Heartstopper (Webcomic) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper) Relationships: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring Additional Tags: TW: suicidal thoughts, Bad Brain Day, Recovery, Sorry not fluff, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper) Needs a Hug, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper) has Anxiety, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper) has OCD, mental health, Depression, Intrusive Thoughts, Suicidal Ideation, Fighting, Therapy, Dark Thoughts, learning to love yourself, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, No self harm in this story read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/oplT8Am

[zeeskeit-writes-sometimes]

Hard to see the light now, just don’t let it go | Neil Perry Adoption AU fic

words: 4.2k 

TW: implied suicide attempt, implied/referenced child abuse, discussions of food and restricted eating, suicidal ideation and all the general angst that comes with Neil ‘Daddy Issues’ Perry 

Summary:

“Sometimes he missed his father. The thought made him want to die.

or, Neil's struggles with fatherhood and family while staying with Mr. Keating after the night of the play”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48357478

[tbb-appreciation-week]

TAGS ARE YOUR BEST FRIENDS

(Updated: June 2024)

Hello there!

In the pursuit of giving the participants tools for tagging their works correctly, thus allowing everyone else to curate their experience, I’ve put a non-comprehensive list of tags together that should be used if they apply to your work, during the event (and afterward, if you want).

There are gazillion other things that could be tagged too, but let’s be honest, it’s impossible to tag warnings for every single squick or trigger of every person in the world. So, I collected a list of the most common ones below. Like I said, this barely scratches the surface. It’s just a small guide for themes and things that you should warn about. If there’s anything else you think it needs tagging in your work, do it, please!

As the title says, tags are the best friends of both writers and readers. Use them to warn and/or block the content you write/read. Not only that! They also serve to finding the content you want to consume! You got the power. Use it!

I classify the tags into broad themes or issues, and then give some examples of specific tags within each theme. Those are just a few examples, not a complete list. Use your judgment to add others if your work requires them.

#️⃣ Explicit Language - For stories with excessive use of curse words

Curse words, foul language, profanity, etc.

#️⃣ Sexual Content - For fics where sexual content is explored and described in detail.

NSFW, Smut, kinks (specify which ones), mild/explicit depiction of sex, etc.

#️⃣ Underage: This is NOT for hand holding and sweet pecks on the cheek. It's for detailed depictions of sexual activity by characters under the age of eighteen.

#️⃣ Mental Health Issues: If your work depicts or implies/mentions the characters' mental/emotional struggles.

Paranoia-Inducing, Intrusive Thoughts, Medication, PTSD, Eating Disorder, suicide ideation, self harm, trauma, etc.

#️⃣ Violence: For stories that contain all kinds of violence.

Graphic Depiction of Violence, (implied/referenced, psychological) torture, gore, (mention of) weapons, (gun, domestic, canon-typical) violence, murder, etc.

#️⃣ Whump: For works that rely heavily on the hurt, and might or might not have comfort, especially when it's physical. Almost always, it goes hand in hand with violence and/or abuse.

Whump, injuries, blood, CPR, darkfic, sick fic, brainwashing, kidnapping, broken bones, etc.

#️⃣ Abuse: For works that mention, imply, and/or depict acts of abuse.

Domestic, physical, psychological, gaslighting, emotional, verbal.

#️⃣ Substances use: For when there's use or abuse of legal or illegal substances.

Mention of drugs/alcohol, recreational drug use, drug/alcohol addition, overdose, etc.

#️⃣ Death: For when the dead of a character is part of your work.

Mention of death, Main character death, side/background character death, Child Death, (implied, notes of) Suicide, Graphic Death, Animal Death, etc.

#️⃣ Type of relationship: Let your readers know what kind of relationship is explored in your work.

Platonic, romantic, x reader, clone shipping, father-daughter relationship, sibling rivalry, friendship, etc.

And the list goes on and on and on…

Now that you have some idea of what to warn about, let me remind you how you should tag your work. Be sure to @ this blog and add the following hashtags:

#tbbaw2024

#the theme of the day and/or #prompt(s) used

#medium (gifset, fic, podcast, fanart, etc.)

#trigger warnings, if applies. (see list above)

#prompt(s) used

#nsfw (only for NSFW content)

#any other relevant tags go here

More recommendations:

Please, don’t, I repeat, DO NOT put “tw” if front or at the end of your warning tag. Why, you ask? Because using just the word or phrase is much simpler for readers to block the thing. It’s because of the way the blocking feature works on Tumblr that blocks only the exact wording and not all the tags containing X or Y or Z word (it sucks, I know. I agree!). Let’s use PTSD as an example. I’ve seen #ptsd, #tw ptsd, #ptsd tw, #tw; ptsd, #tw:ptsd and more. So, you see the problem, right? Instead of just PTSD as a tag, people need to block every iteration of the tag that other people come up with, and that happens with every other single tag. Let keep it simple. That will be easier for everyone.

Tumblr veterans know this, but you should neither censor your tags, replacing letters with numbers or symbols. That takes out the very function of the tag, which is mainly to allow people to avoid topics they don’t like for whatever reason. Nothing of su¡cid3 or unalive, please! This is not TikTok or Insta; here on Tumblr, we tag using the actual words like human beings that we are.

Use Keep Reading break to hide NSFW, violence, substance use and/or dark themes, and tag it properly.

For any piece where the creator pairs the reader with a canon character, please use the tag #x reader alone, without canon characters or modifier for the reader. If you want to include also the specific tag of the character x reader, you can add it. That’s fine. An alternative is specifying what kind of reader is in the post text. Because since the combinations of canon characters and several types of reader is virtually endless, it’s easier for anyone who don’t enjoy reading fics in second-person POV to filter out these fics if writers use a wide-spectrum, nonspecific tag for it. It’s the same problem as with the warning tags.

Likewise, writers who do a piece pairing clones romantically, please tag your work as #clone shipping, so people can block the tag if those works aren't their cup of tea for whatever reason.

Gifmakers, if applies, please tag your gifsets #flashing gif or #flashing lights to warn photosensitive folks about it.

Use #dead dove do not eat for when you go hardcore, very dark, and/or graphic in the themes of your work AND also have tagged everything you're presenting in it, to indicate simply that this fic is clearly labelled and fully warned for, so if you open it, you know what you are getting into. If you heed the tags, then there will be no surprises.

I understand why some writers are wary of tagging some things, fearing spoiling the story among other reasons, but it's better sinning of over tagging than missing a delicate issue that could disturb a large portion of your audience.

But if you're still insisting of not tagging some things, please use Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings if you add your work to the collection on Ao3. As it says on the site's warning help (x): "Use this if you don't want to warn for anything. You may also choose this option if you don't know what you should warn for; if you don't like warning for certain topics or warnings in general; if you want to avoid some spoilers, but not others; etc.". It's a wordy way to say to your readers: "Read at your own risk because there could be unpleasant surprises".

Also, you can add the tag TBBAW2024 while posting on the Ao3 Collection, if you want. This is optional, not mandatory.

And last, but not least, readers, please curate your own experience. Be sure to block the tags AND post content for the things you find disturbing or could trigger you. Take control of what you interact with.

Two more suggestions, even if they're not exactly tagging related: The first one, let’s make art more accessible to disabled folks, so it’d be nice that fan artists (including artists, gifmakers and graphic manipulators) included image descriptions to their works. You can add those both on the web and the app. Just click on the 3 dots that appear in the bottom right corner once you have uploaded your image/gif, then click on Update image description (on the web) or Add Alt text (on the app), and write your description. Also, there's the option to put it directly in the body of your post.

The second one is also using Keep Reading break to shorten the length of your post if it's too long. It's annoying having to scroll down what feels like forever when you're not interested in said post. Also, you can add the tag #long post, if you want.

This turned out to be longer than I expected, so I'll leave it here. If you got suggestions or questions, please contact me through the ask box or chat, either in this blog or on @nimata-beroya.

And remember: tags, tags, TAGS!!!

[seductive-snail]

I was just thinking,minding my own business when-

"WHAT IF JD SURVIVED AND VERONICA DIDNT-"

next thing i know i've vomited this out..enjoy..or not

tw: death, implied/referenced suicidal ideations?? its ambiguous but its there..| 100 words/drabble

he may have survived but he was already dead

He's nothing but a corpse, a soulless husk forced to witness time and time again the destruction his once alive being wrought on everything that he loved. In every dark corner and sunlight space, he sees it. The reminder of what he'd lost. He sees no value in his being, yet he cannot seem to destroy himself. Because he already has. He'd seen his life, his love, his soul, everything that he once fought for, lied for, killed for, gone just like that. Destruction unlike any other, destruction he'd wrought unto himself. Yet he was still alive. And she wasn't.

anyways i hate myself/pos

idk why i did this...but i feel guilty for not having anything up recently so..uh yea.