#your not sure. he's constantly triggering himself to the point where out of the cowl he HAS to decompress. it never really was him that was

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

#panels are also from batman (2016) no. 52#'i'm not... i AM myself. but not what i want to be or what i should be' iconic line#just such a fascinating examination of a traumatized protagonist who purposefully uses fear as his main weapon!!!#reminds me very much of the batman annual 'from the diary of alfred pennyworth' (also written by tom king)#where alfred reflects on how he used to wonder how such a constantly nervous child grew into an ostensibly fearless man#before concluding 'i firmly believe he is in fact horribly terrified a majority of the time'#because he never got over any of it he's just using batman as a coping mechanism#except the thing about batman is that batman is constantly being put in situations similar to the original source of his trauma#so his ptsd is being triggered constantly. 'a majority of the time' one might say#there's also a number of good scarecrow lines about how batman copes with his fear by inflicting it on others#i'm constantly chasing this ephemeral parallel of bats being a cultural symbol of death#bruce being terrified of death and murder because of witnessing his parents being killed#bruce often being portrayed as having a childhood fear of bats#bruce deciding to avenge the murder of his parents by punishing all criminals#USING his childhood phobia of a cultural symbol of death to terrify them#but then never killing them because he's afraid of becoming a murderer#it's just such a fascinating combination of elements that have emerged in the batman mythos over time#although this story in particular has bruce admit that batman is a god to him#(so loaded on so many levels)#so something something immortality/god/death/putting the fear of god into them/jeremiah arkham calling batman the serpent in eden#idk i just woke up. i'm going to go make myself breakfast because OBVIOUSLY my blood sugar needs help

<prev tags

I really enjoy Bruce directly comparing the emotional fallout of his childhood trauma to the emotional fallout of the trauma he puts his villains through… especially since here he’s acknowledging that his PTSD episodes are what cause him to be especially brutal to them in the first place. He’s exorcising his own fear by inflicting it on them, but then what do they do with it?

[dcnatural]

The Dominoed Daredoll

Word Count: 3656 

Pairing: Arkham Knight!Jason x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis:  You, the hero Flamebird, thought you would never find love again after your first love, Jason Todd died. In a attempt to rescue Oracle, you run into the mysterious Arkham Knight.

I should’ve waited for Bruce. That was the last coherent thought that crossed your mind before everything went black.

You woke up what could have been minutes or hours later, hands cuffed together behind your back and your ankles tied up preventing you from running. Your head still pounded where you had been hit and you could feel the dried blood that clung to your scalp. 

It all had happened so fast: in one moment you were jumping from building to building following the trail that the Arkham Knight had left behind and in the next he had been upon you. You could only hope that, since you were still alive, maybe there was a chance Barbara also was. She had been your mentor from the moment you entered the world of crime fighting and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. You still hadn’t healed from the death of your best friend years ago, you couldn’t lose her too.

And so, you had sprung into action the moment you heard Oracle had been kidnapped, ignoring Bruce’s orders to stay away from the militia. You wouldn’t let anyone take anything from you again; as long as you were breathing, you would protect the ones you loved. But it seemed you wouldn’t be breathing for much longer, unless you could find a way to escape.

The room you were in was completely dark and you couldn’t see anything. The floor and wall behind you were made of cold metal and you assumed they had taken you to an abandoned warehouse. The only sound was that of your own erratic breathing; they had left you alone.

Except you weren’t. You heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking and felt the muzzle pressing up to your forehead. Whoever it was, had approached you in complete silence. Not only that, but they had been able to see you, even without any lights. It must be the Knight himself, you guessed.

“Look who finally woke up,” his modulated voice announced, sending chills down your spine. He loomed over you and even though you couldn’t see him, there was something familiar about his presence. Like the two of you had met before. 

“I swear I’ll beat the fuck out of you when I get out,” you hissed in return. Even being at an extreme disadvantage wouldn’t stop you from getting mouthy.

He laughed dryly. “You surely talk a big game for someone who can’t even defend herself.” And as to prove his point, he slammed the sole of his boot against your ribs, causing you to growl in pain. He kicked you again, stronger this time and you felt the air leaving your lungs. You bit your tongue to avoid screaming, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. 

“Fuck you,” you managed to curse as you coughed, blood spurting out of your mouth. “You’ll see. I’ll get Oracle and we’ll defeat you.”

“Keep dreaming, daredoll.”

You flinched, the nickname hitting you harder than any punch could ever have. A wave of nostalgia rolled in as the memories flashed in your mind. 

You and Robin, fighting side by side against Two-Face and his thugs. You and Jason, getting ice cream downtown. You and your best friend, taking out drug dealers. You and your first love, swaying in the gym during a school dance. You alone at his funeral, watching as the empty coffin was lowered into the earth. And echoing through the memories, his voice calling you his daredoll. 

“My dominoed daredoll. The Batgirl for my Robin,” you remember him saying on the first night you donned your cowl, draping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you closer to him as you both watched Dick and Barbara, now in their new mantles of Nightwing and Oracle, kissing in the Batcave. You had blushed, wishing he would kiss you like that.

“Don’t call me that,” you said through gritted teeth. You focused on your breathing, refusing to let yourself cry in front of him.

He snickered. “I think it suits you, don’t you agree?”

You ignored him and tussled against the restraints, desperate to escape. If you could only free your hands, you knew you could disarm him.

“I asked you a question, daredoll .”

You felt a silent tear running down your cheek. There was something about the intonation he said that stupid nickname that was so like Jason. Annoyed by your lack of response, he pressed his feet to your injured ribs, threatening another blow. Finally, you gave in and slowly you shook your head, the gun's barrel sliding down your cheek until the muzzle was caressing your mouth.

“I hate it. It reminds me of someone I once knew.” Another tear fell down your face and your captor crouched in front of you, using his free hand to wipe them away. His touch was cold and harsh, a mockery of what should have been an endearing gesture. This close to him, you could hear his heartbeat and the faint buzzing of the circuits of his suit.

“Why so sad? I thought bats didn’t cry,” he taunted.  

You shook your head again, feeling the cold metal sliding across your lips. “You know nothing about us. About what we have lost.”

He chuckled, amused by your answer. “I know more than you would think.” There was an edge of sadness in his tone, the first emotion he had shown since you woke up. Or perhaps you had only imagined it.

Either way, he couldn’t possibly know what it had felt like after losing Jason. You couldn’t even look at your Batgirl outfit without feeling guilty. Guilty that you were alive and he wasn’t. After Tim came along, it became too much. You didn’t blame him for taking Jason’s mantle, you saw it as a way to honour him, but you simply couldn’t be another Robin’s Batgirl, and so, you abandoned the purple and black suit to adopt a new one. Following the step of your older brother, you moved to Bludhaven and began to call yourself Flamebird. Not only the kryptonian bird was a perfect match for Dick’s Nightwing, but it also symbolized rebirth. Just like a phoenix, you had been reborn. It did nothing to quell the ache in your heart, but at least it was easier than to be constantly reminded of your deceased love.

A new idea seemed to cross his mind and, grabbing you by your chin, he pressed the pistol past your lips. Before you could react, it was already half buried in your throat and you choked on it, struggling to breathe around the large intrusion. 

“Suck it,” he ordered and, not seeing another alternative, you did as you were told. His finger was on the trigger the whole time while you shoved your tongue inside the barrel, the taste of gunpowder and metal coating your tongue.

There was a fire building inside you, not of anger, but of excitement. It was dangerous and thrilling and you wondered how it would feel if, instead of his gun, he had placed his cock in your mouth. You quickly dismissed the thought, he was a criminal, for God’s sake.  When he pulled it out, you couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed.

“Damn,” he exclaimed as he looked at you, drool dripping down your chin and cheeks flushed red. “I wonder if you’ll be as good when sucking my dick.”

His words affected your body in ways you refused to acknowledge, the mere threat of what he would do to you making you squirm. You knew your arousal was building up and really hoped he didn’t notice.

Even in the dark, you felt when he got up and walked away, causing your heartbeat to quicken. You feared what he was going to do, thinking that perhaps he would try to assault Barbara too. Please don’t harm her, you begged mentally. You would take whatever he threw at you, as long as it meant your friend was safe. She needed to survive, she had Dick waiting for her, she had someone to return to. You had no one. Perhaps if he kills me, I’ll see Jason again, death will reunite us for all of eternity, you thought hopefully, recalling the words engraved in his tombstone, a line from one of his favorite poems: “No more let life divide what death can join together.”

You were blinded by brightness when all of the lights lit up simultaneously, your eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, struggling to adjust to the change. The Knight came back and now you could see him properly. He wore an armor with the symbol of Arkham Asylum on the chest and his physique was in top shape, not even the metal protection being able to hide his muscles. On the holster, his pistol still glimmered with the wetness of your mouth. As you analized him, your eyes stopped a second too long on his thighs, your brain already starting to think about how it would feel to straddle one of them.   

The light also allowed you to inspect your surroundings. Like predicted, it was indeed an old warehouse, a rectangular space empty except for the wooden boxes piled up under the mezzanine. You caught sight of your utility belt tossed on top of the boxes. If you could escape the binding on your feet, you could reach it and use one of the many tools it stored to open the cuffs and escape. The only problem would be doing all of that before you got shot. 

“Much better this way,” he said, looking around at the lit up room. “You look much better without the night vision lens.”

He sat on your legs, pinning you down even harder. From a pocket, he pulled a sharp knife, which he ran across the skin of your neck, erupting goosebumps and leaving a faint red line across your skin, blood barely prickling through the cut.

“It would be so easy to kill you right now. No one would miss you. Hell, they likely haven’t even noticed you're gone.” 

You knew he was just trying to get under your skin, but there was some truth to his words: with everything going on, your absence would take a while to be noticed. Especially since you had been doing exactly what Bruce had ordered you not to do. He probably thinks I’m patrolling Bludhaven like he asked.  

The Knight then pressed the blade to your shirt, cutting past the yellow and red kevlar from your suit and exposing your breast to him. He tossed the pieces of fabric aside and cupped your boobs with his gloved hands. You ignored the sensation running through your body as he pinched and twisted your nipples, focusing solely on reaching one of the shredded bits. You took advantage of his assault to wiggle a little, making it seem you were only reacting to his ministrations. When you finally felt the cut material under your fingertips, you began to peel away the many protective layers in search of the metal wires, knowing that you could use those to unlock the handcuffs.

Unfortunately, he soon got bored of your chest and your red skirt became the next victim of his knife, followed closely by your leggings and panties. Your heartbeat quickened at the realization of what he was going to do and you began to work faster on freeing yourself. You closed your eyes in a pathetic hope that, if you couldn’t see it, then it couldn’t be really happening. However, you sprung them open again when you felt a cold object being pressed to your pussy lips. His gun. 

“Please, don’t,” you croaked, eyes tearing up again. “I’ve... I’ve never…”

“Oh, don’t tell me you are a virgin. With such a pretty face, it’s hard to believe that.”

“It’s true. I'm in love with a dead guy,” you said in almost a whisper. After Jason died, you promised yourself to never be with anyone, and so, despite the many admirers who were constantly asking you out, you always declined, knowing they were nothing compared to your deceased beloved.

He seemed surprised at your confession, and he hesitated for a moment. But just as you took a breath of relief, his demeanour went back to what it was before. “Liar. Everybody knows you are a slut for your stupid boyfriend.”

You frowned. “I swear it’s the truth. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, daredool?” You muttered a ‘no ’. “I’ve seen you and him together. Nightwing and Flamebird. Crime-fighters and lovers.”

You shook your head vehemently. “No, you got it all wrong. He’s my brother, I’m telling you. The boy I loved died years ago. So, please, I beg you, let me have this last symbol of loyalty to him. Don’t touch me where he never had the chance to.”

You wished he wasn’t wearing a helmet so you could have seen his expression as he pulled away the gun. You didn’t understand why he cared about this detail, but mentioning Jason seemed to have affected the Arkham Knight in one way or another. Perhaps this could buy you enough time to escape.

“Tell me more about this boy,” he demanded.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You had to suppress a cheer as you finally pulled free a wire from the discarded armor. “Okay. His name was Jason. We were the same age,” you began, thinking carefully of what you could say without giving away your secret identity. “We were adopted by Batman at the same time. He trained to become Robin and I, Batgirl. Jason was smart, handsome, strong and passionate. I was in love with him for the whole time, but he only saw me as a friend. And then he died.”

“How did he die?”

By that point, you were crying freely. “The Joker… the Joker killed him.”

“If you loved him so much, why didn’t you avenge him?”

You didn’t know what to reply. The truth was that you had wanted to do just that, a life for a life. But Bruce always stopped you, saying you wouldn’t have been able to live with the guilt. “I couldn’t. Batman didn’t let me. But I should’ve. At least the Joker is dead now.”

You had opened up thinking that he would change his mind, but that hope was crushed as he spread your lips open and pressed the muzzle to your entrance. “If your Jason hadn’t died, would you have allowed him to do this to you?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice, as if it was a private joke only he understood.

“Yes,” you told him, not missing a beat. “If he was alive, I’d let him do anything.”

“And if I offered you a deal... You cum for me once and I’ll return him to life. Would you take it?”

“Yes. But you can’t bring him back. He exploded, not even Ra’s Al Ghul with his Lazarus pit could bring Jason back.”

“Just remember that you consented to it,” he gave as a last warning before shoving the gun into you. It slid in easily, the path well lubricated by your arousal. Still, it hurt. The barrel was wide and it felt like it was splitting you apart. The metal was cold and it was a sharp contrast to your own warmth. You wanted to shout to the Knight that you hadn’t consented to anything but you couldn't find your voice.

And then he began to move in and out of you. The pain melted into pleasure and your hips rocked automatically to meet his rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in ways that made your whole body shake with passion. Moans left your throat against your will and you knew he was smiling behind his mask. His pace quickened and you felt your orgasm building up.

You climaxed with an explosive scream, its sound covering the noise of the metal handcuffs hitting the ground. You were unable to move, your limbs were heavy and your vision blurred. Besides, in that very moment, you had no wish to leave.

The Knight holstered his gun and brought his hands to his helmet, slowly removing it. At first, you thought you were imagining things. But there was no denying it was him. You would recognize those blue eyes anywhere.

“Jay,” you yelled in joy, jolting up to throw your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, the context of your reencounter completely erased by the sight of him. Your hands roamed his face, assuring you he was real.

“That’s me, daredoll.” Without the modulator, his voice was exactly the same as it had been when you had last seen him and you were flooded by a mixture of emotions. 

New tears began to fall from your eyes, this time out of happiness. They were mirrored by his own as he reassured you time and time again that it was really him. He placed soft kisses all over your face and whispered secrets only he could possibly know. When your mouths finally met, it was everything you had ever dreamed of and more. You were lost in pure bliss. When you finally broke away you had a giant smile plastered onto your face. It was like all your dreams had come true.

He looked older, of course, but other than that, it was the same face from before: from the disheveled dark hair to the crooked smile. Then your gaze fell to his left cheek, where a “J” shaped scar marked his otherwise perfect skin. Your eyes widened in shock, and his smile faltered, a dark shadow crossing his face.

Your hand raised upwards to touch the scar and he turned away. “What happened to you?”, you asked quietly. The euphoria of finding him alive had run out and the situation once more hung heavy above you. And by hugging him, you had thrown away the chance of catching him by surprise, as he now knew you had freed your hands. Stop, you told yourself, he’s not the enemy anymore. There must be an explanation to it all. He would never intentionally hurt any of us. We are family. 

“The Joker happened,” he stated simply. “He didn’t kill me, no. He kept me prisoner at Arkham this whole time. And none of you came looking for me.” There was anger in his voice, but also disappointment.

“That’s not true. Bruce tried to-”

“I DON’T CARE!” he shouted and stood up, his helmet tucked under his arm. “He tortured me, daredoll. The Joker did things so awful I can’t even put it into words. And no one stopped him. No one. Not you, not Bruce. Bruce. Bruce fucking Wayne. You know this is all his fault right? If he had gone to a fucking terapist instead of dressing up like a bat our lives wouldn’t be this messed up. I’m just trying to fix what he ruined.”

He began to walk away, his heavy steps echoing in the metal walls. He did have a point. If it wasn’t for Batman, there would be no Joker. Besides, who in their right mind would train children to fight? You had once thought that being chosen to be Batgirl was the highest honour possible, but right now, you felt like you had been manipulated to take on a duty that wasn’t yours.

You untied your legs and followed after him, grabbing his arm just before he could open the door. “Where are you going?”

“Away. I need some air,” he ran his finger through his hair, “I need to think. I-”

You shut him up with a tender kiss. “Don’t leave me. Not again,” you pleaded.

“You were the one who left me.”

His words shattered your heart. It hurt that he thought of it in that away. He’s not wrong, though. I should’ve done something. I shouldn’t have sat back and listened to Bruce.

“So tell me how to make it right. Please, Jay. I just want you. I don’t care if you are trying to kill Batman or to destroy the city, I wanna be with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you.” Your voice broke as you spoke, words being cut in half by your sobbing. You didn’t know when you had started crying again, but now you couldn’t stop. “Whatever you are doing, you can count on me.”

You could see the doubt in his eyes. “You would turn your back to the only family you ever had?”

“ You are my family. Besides, I told you. For you, I’d do anything.”

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly, and placed a kiss on your forehead, like he used to do when you were kids. “I love you, daredoll.”

“I love you too, Jaybird.”

And with that, he escorted your out of the warehouse, careful to cover your exposed body with his on the way to the car. An hour later you stood in his headquarters dressed in an outfit matching his. He didn't admit to it, but the fact that he had an armor waiting for you proved that he had never given up hope that you still loved him. 

Outside, a mass of soldiers waited in a semicircle, a fire lit in the middle of it. Your former uniform burned to ashes and fed the flames, which went high into the night sky.

“I introduce to you my partner, and your new captain,” Jason announced as you walked to his side. “Lady Arkham.”

Holding his hand, you raised your first to the sky. You glanced at him out of the corners of your eyes, still kind of wonderstruck on how it had all worked out. “Let’s make this city pay for tearing us apart.”