hiya! i'm saria, and this is my side-to-be-main blog from @4mrplumi . i'm a multifandom blog but at the time you're reading this you might just be seeing batfam stuff. there'll be others eventually. eventually.
𦴠bonegirl. ( batfam x neglected?reader )
the world's most average, most out-of-place, most disappointing girl is unlovable. who would've thought, you seemed so... promising. is it difficult to love you, or is it difficult for you to be loved?
hihi im too shy to say it on my main but your dc x csm x reader idea? golden incredible i love crossovers so baddd. the character interactions being the main focus you get me. you get me. excited for anything you put out for itâźď¸đŤśđŤś
aa sorry for such a late, late response TT, but firstly thank uuu!! i too am a huge sucker for crossovers and i maayyy still write this. sometime. however i find that my interest in dc has been dwindling just a little bit recently- so if its still there post baby doll, i'll fs give it a go.
also... no spoilers!! but now that csm's ended im just hfggdhhf... atleast it gives me a full timeline to work with. if i do write this u BESTT believe yoshidas going to be front and centreee kinda sorta in it. and considering im giving the reader a slight omniscient advantage,, i wanna,, i wanna superboy prime aswell.. ideas ideas...
â§ă ¤ch1; the hands resist him - cruel and shallow, affluent and charming, no version of this girl is the real one. both everything and nothing at the same time, (name) is already a monster.
â§ă ¤please familiarize yourself with the disclaimers listed for this series; ă ¤typical slasher/coming of rage warnings; murder, toxic relationships, child neglect, female, minor reader, non-sexual descriptions of sexualization, self-harm, reader is not a good friend/daughter/person, internalised homophobia and misogyny.
+full on m.list.ă ¤// ă ¤next
in the middle of the night, creeping through empty allies, scattering matted rats , some manner of creature unhinges its jaw- swallowing whole whatever feeds his hunger. scary stories some young girlâs grandmother tells her, while her mother smokes in the balcony- it keeps her up at night, checking under the bed with a flashlight, hiding under the covers.
some young girl, no older than eleven, sits next to her aunt, face pressed against the womanâs arm, soaking her jacket with tears and snot. her auntie has a hand on the small of her back, seeming exhausted and hollow, her eyes pink and wet. sheâs just lost her sister and her mother, only days apart from eachother. was it just her now? her and this little girl left to her? she didnât want any children, she didnât want to take care of her. but doesnât she owe something to the child- to her blood?
some young girl, about twelve (and a half! she tells her teachers indignantly, who assume sheâs thirteen like the rest of her classmates, surprised when sheâs not), carves a little ânâ for natasha and another ânâ for nolan into a heart- a joke the whole class is in on, subtly mean to the weird girl and the freak boy. natasha lives with her father, her mother having left after an ugly divorce, wanting nothing to do with her. you feel some kinship, the two of them are alike in a way- but when she enters the class and her friends snicker meanly, she says nothing. survival of the fittest, natasha, get with it!
some young girl, a month from fourteen, hears her aunt on the phone talk about a mr. wayne. she's seen him on the tv, the news and some of the signs on buildings her older friends take her past when they want to âhang outâ after school. later, auntie tells her, with her hands pressed against her arms, looking weary- the youth sucked out of her face by an evil spirit, that her father wants to take her with him. âItâs what your mother wanted,â she tells the girl despite her protests, âdonât be a bother!â. but what about her auntie? when will i see you? i want to stay with you, not him! what about my school? my friends?
some young girl, sixteen and sharp eyed, swats at her brotherâs hand, that reaches for her phone instead of his by mistake. he scowls at her, and she makes a face back, snatching it up and heading off to her room. in the very first days, sheâd tried to be nice, but itâs difficult knowing her father assembled a whole family around him before caring for her and her mother. didnât he owe anything to her? his child- his blood? it wasnât like her brothers tried to accommodate her antisocial personality either- and her sister avoided her like the plague. when she hears about a little boy, great old mr. wayneâs son, coming to the manor, she bursts into flames. fine then! whatâs it to her?
she feels a kinship with the boy, both children too long gone from the nest. before talking to him, she watches him with the other birds. unlike natasha, it seems this boy already knows, itâs survival of the fittest, and he's fitter. she best keep away.
some young girl, now no older than eighteen, sobs into her palms- deleting pictures of her friends, swearing sheâll never be intimate again! sheâs disappear, sheâll become nothing, never ever will she trust anyone again! but she knows itâs no use, in an hour sheâll restore the pictures, in half an hour sheâll get a text from her friends, in two hours, sheâll put on a dress and sneak out of an empty house, climbing into a boyâs car- pulling at the hem of her skirt to keep it down.
why be the fittest huh? she could always be the most affluent. just like your dad, a friend cackles, and she pushes down a strong wave of repulsiveness, smiling stiffly at her.
cassandra has tried to empathise with everyone sheâs ever come across. thereâs good in every person, or at least, was good in every person. itâs not entirely untrue when she thinks, guiltily, that (name) does not have much good in her.
a callous smirk, like sheâs trying to hold down a cruel thing to say at the most mundane remark, overtly snappy and aggressive reactions to the simplest things, her constant absence from family dinners or anything important to any of their civilian lives- itâs more exhausting and annoying than it is irking.
she thought, no, perhaps itâs something else. perhaps sheâs just defensive, perhaps something makes her sour, but sheâs truly sweeter on the inside. sheâd tried a few times to understand, hovering around her when she sat in the living room, noticing how she bristled and left despite bruceâs half-hearted protests to stay. she tried to speak to her, even though tim had rolled his eyes and told her itâs no point, to which (name) had scowled quite darkly and slammed the door on her face. she noticed how (name) secretly glared at alfred or dick when they talked, like it was all somehow beneath her to be in their presence. rude and bitter for very little reason. theyâd all had difficult lives, but (name) just made her own and everyone elseâs lives more difficult.
(name) never came on patrol. cassandra understood none of that was to be spoken about to her. she doesnât have it in her to be mean to her, or pretend she liked her only to breathe sighs of relief when she wasnât around her anymore, so she does the best thing she can and stays away. let there be no illusion of a family, a sisterly bond among them. (name) clearly didnât want her, and she was learning not to want (name) either.
she pretends not to notice the (name) shaped figure on the roof, among others at night, flying away. she doesnât need to worry about (name) entering the manor early, early in the morning, since she doesnât live there. itâs her favour to the younger girl, their ignorance of each other benefits them both.
damian acknowledges that heâs softened around the edges since the first time he set foot in the home of his father. that softening gave way to so many people he cherishes, the warmth that came with them. that softening did not however, quell his frustration with his older sister, (name).
heâd initially labelled her a threat, as he had labelled all the others, perhaps more of an extravagant one, considering that she too, was bruceâs own flesh and blood. you wouldnât see it on her face, her features that of a stranger, a woman he didnât know, nor cared to know about.
heâd understood her as weak, when she didnât react to his provocations, sneered at his demands to settle the better- but never engaged. but some of it started to make sense, when he understood she wasnât one of them, wasnât like them.
even after discarding his more violent tendencies, he found it impossible to like her. no fog was cleared out of his perceptions; she was every bit the weak and threatening opposition heâd thought her to be. she was disrespectful to father, even when he seemed to turn a blind eye to it, unkind to grayson, rude to drake, and⌠strange? with cain. with jason? he didnât even know if sheâd look at him twice.
thankfully, the witch mercifully spared him of her personality, avoiding him so obviously that tim had raised an eyebrow when she left the moment he entered the room. never had he recorded a pleasant conversation wih her, and looking at his family, neither had they.
(name) kept her distance, and damian was more than happy to let it be there. there was little time wasting oneâs efforts on people who donât deserve it, heâd even said so to his father, who frowned instead of agreeing. nonetheless, he had decided without any bias, (name) was wicked, yet too weak to do anything abour it.
even when you shut your eyes, you canât block out the colour changing lights. everyoneâs so loud over the louder music, yelling and laughing and cajoling. you could go for another drink, but the self appointed bartender, franâs, to busy making out with her boyfriend in the bathroom- so you just claw at one of the beers.
mary, the host, and her best friend seem to be arguing in the corner, you notice in a haze, pulling your eyes away. ronnieâs on the couch with some of his friends, and he smiles when you make eye contact. you look away grimly.
notably, anitaâs not here. itâs nothing surprising, your best friend isnât as affable as you to even get an invite, you assume sheâs probably at home, studying or moping. a girl from the flag team, you recognise her curly dyed hair, saunters over to you, shorts tight enough for her to be waddling a little, like a penguin. she says something- you canât hear much, making it up; âall right, wayne?â.
you smile, subtly nudging off her chrome-clawed hand off your arm. âcheck!,â you correct, âiâm good.â she says something more, but you donât hear it- since itâs drowned out by some song a few people scream about, and maryâs started yelling too. but her lips shape into an âoâ and âeâ and she juts out a finger to the couch again.
you shrug, hoping the flashing lights are enough to disorient her from your sneer. go ahead, you mouth at her, iâm going out. she seems positively giddy, waddling over to a more than pleased ronnie- who unlatches from his perch on the couch head. he grins your way, and you hope you look disgusted enough.
but you really are going out now, you decide, trudging out of the huge kitchen, past a now wailing mary, pushing past a number of extras to stumble through the door.
a boy, you squint at him, trying to remember his face, offers an arm, a ride back home. do you know him? big green eyes, a little rugged looking, much older than your classmates⌠no, no not really. youâre so out of it right now. you canât have him drop you to the manor, so you just shrug, naming a building from where youâll just walk the whole night to the grounds.
thereâs a message on the phone from anita, both in all caps, a link too. you don't feel like dealing with her right now, putting the phone down and pressing your eyes shut. the boy (man?) mutters about something, and you hum in acknowledgement. youâll deal with everything later. for now itâs just you.
(a/n) welll was that anything? was it a little underwhelming? err maybe.. keep in mind most of this fic will follow the movie's plot line but i will make some changes for added bits.. let me know what you think!
taglist (ask to be added) @starseekingaheart @abigaiili @akanescrustyashes @ivantheterr1ble @iloveescara
heyy.. three month hiatus.. erm.. i've been super busy with my studies and also kind of been in the dumps for really long. but i wanted to get back to writing and i'll really try to be more consistent and a bit more serious about it..
i can't 100% promise anything though, my mental health goes into shit randomly and i'm having back to back exams and having to prepare for them.
i'd really appreciate more comment or inbox interaction. it makes writing for enjoyable with an interactive audience and i'll be very honest, hold a lot of the appeal i have for posting stuff online.
for those of u who've shown interest in this, and my other series, i'm so sorry for being absent!! i know that interest dulls over time and it's annoying when an author doesn't post for months on end, so it'd be valid affff if this seems underhwleming or a lame excuse.
i'll see u guys at the hands resist him very soon, thank u for all the support i've gotten on this site.
HEYYYY it's the Jennifer Check enthusius!! And I wanna say thank you for bringing back the jennifer!reader, and I've very excited to see what you write.
I saw that you were having trouble writing and/or characterising the batfam, which I think EVERY batfam writer struggles with because they are very complex. Personally, I already really love how you write the behaviour of the batfam in Bone Girl (idek if that's what it's called, sorry!!) and I think you can bring how you portray them in that story into the jennifer one! And as you said making the batfam think she's like bratty and rude is PERFECT in the sense of future plot development and angst reasons.
I would LOVE to hear more of your ideas for this story because I'm gonna be obsessed with it!!! Take your time writing, and please take care of yourself!
(ALSO LAST THING, I feel like Jason would TODALLY understand Jennifer when the truth comes out on what happened to her, and I love this idea even more because Bruce's no kill rule that he and some of the other batfam wouldn't understand her reasoning and try and "change" her, or something on track with how Bruce dealt with Jason's during his "justice" rampage.)
i'm super excited to write for her too!! thank you for the kind words :))
i'm soo hung up on the idea that hearing the family discuss/get agitated by reader's victims would probably make her more attached to the persona, and yes! gosh! jason! jason's position in the family and general society is such a goldmine on it's own .. i do think him as redhood would have some qualms about jenni's methods since she is doing it with way less moral backing.. also want to maybe include selina since her backstory's similar to what i had in mind for the reader's pre-wayne life, and she's had the same conflict between herself and catwoman the way reader's planned to have with her persona in ch3.
plot.ă ¤everybody wants a piece of the wayne's baby-doll, but no one really wants to keep it with them, whole. no one notices when you you missing for half a week, and return with only half a human soul. there's a hunger that festers inside you, you're nobody to not satisfy it. don't worry, doll, everyone will notice exactly what you want them to.
disclaimers. ă ¤typical slasher/coming of rage warnings; gore, murder, cannibalism, substance abuse, toxic relationships, child neglect, child abuse, etc. ă ¤// ă ¤female, minor reader, non-sexual descriptions of sexualization, reader is possessed by a demonic force, reader is groomed and then sacrificed by adult males in a cult, self-harm, under-age sex, mentions of prostitution, reader is not a good friend/daughter/person, violence, misandry (if that's a disclaimer?), internalized homophobia and misogyny, girl on girl action, some body horror. ă ¤//ă ¤ additional disclaimers; expect from reader what u expect from jennifer, this series takes her civillian concept and demon origins but strays quite a bit from the movie, batfam is a tad bit ooc not bc im a larper but bc i suck at characterisation. this content is only on tumblr under '72clones'
chapters.ă ¤â§
01. the hands resist him
cruel and shallow, affluent and charming, no version of this girl is the real one. both everything and nothing at the same time, (name) is already a monster.
02. the punishment of marsyas
low shoulder's concert really did change your life. maybe people consider you just as inhumane as before, 'least now you're not just a silly little girl. just half of one!
03. saturn devours his son
you feel a little overshadowed by the half of you that squeezed into your brain uninvited... it seems all anyone can talk about is your persona, not you. it's time you come to terms with what you're trying to do.
04. raft of the medusa
anita tries to talk some sense into you, always the lovely, sensible one among the two of you, the only one who you've let get this close. maybe that was your mistake. what's gonna happen to you when even she decides you're just too much?
ă ¤//misc.ă ¤â§
pls send stuff! interaction is appreciated
taglist.㠤⧠ask to be added!
@.starseekingaheart @.1abi @.akanescrustyashes @.ivantheterr1ble @.iloveescara
WAIT I MIGHT HAVE THE WRONG PERSON BUT WERENT U GONNA MAKE A JENNIFERS BODY!READER X BATFAM ???
nope u got it right!! thats me!! i'd posted a prologue and first chapter but the world wasn't ready yet.. plus i want to experiment with some interactive features which i'll probably do after bonegirl's over (another 4-5 chapters) đđ
hmm ive been thinking about it and now i'm curious, would u guys prefer a jennifer check reader or just a slasher/killer reader w no ties to jennifer's body?
to whoever sent the second ask about this concept, i lost the message đĽšđĽš but i will in all likelihood be going along with the jenni story line. like u said, the angst potential is crazy especially considering jennifer's origin and how much of her character revolves around trying to get attention. i'm just a bit conflicted atm about how i wanna write the batfam's behaviour.. i've tried making them not ooc in bonegirl but i kinda want to indulge in the more fanon-y aspect of these fics and make them see her as kinda shallow and be kinda sorta dicks to her. one of my fave villain reader inserts just has the batfam straight up bullying a 12 year old ,, and for jennifer!reader maybe it contributes to her just being kinda cruel and unkind to other people. let's see. thanku for the kind words and im sorry i lost the ask i gen have no clue how that happened #lol
WAIT I MIGHT HAVE THE WRONG PERSON BUT WERENT U GONNA MAKE A JENNIFERS BODY!READER X BATFAM ???
nope u got it right!! thats me!! i'd posted a prologue and first chapter but the world wasn't ready yet.. plus i want to experiment with some interactive features which i'll probably do after bonegirl's over (another 4-5 chapters) đđ
hmm ive been thinking about it and now i'm curious, would u guys prefer a jennifer check reader or just a slasher/killer reader w no ties to jennifer's body?
the concept of a rift being created between both universes, identified by the public safety when devils start retreating into a cut in the atmosphere to escape multiple battles. devils appearing in the dc universe, being handled by heroes and forces who aren't knowledgeable in what these devils are, and how to deal with them.
public security that sends their experimental special division into the universe to deal with the threat to protect (other-worldly) civilians by sending the devils back to the original universe, and identify the cause for this rift.
fiend reader who's a part of this division, and can't for the life of them take anything seriously during the whole thing. these people, this world, they're all so similar to the foreign comic books they indulge in back home! sure the names are a bit off, and you don't remember some of these -mans and -womans, but it's so sick to see these flashy old fools anyway!
devil hunters who are also seen as threats by the justice league, since they can apparently summon monsters of equal danger, have a slight sense of disregard towards casualties and infrastructural losses, and use strange abilities to presumably help the monsters escape through some strange portal.
the story that goes over different cities and different batches of characters per "arc", if i extend it out that long. i do want a focus on constantine (for the occult), zatanna (for magic), superman (some devils are kaiju-like, right? and science) and batman (for the technical elements) 's mythos, but i'll skip around the other characters too.
for the chainsaw man view, i'll have to take a few liberties. unlike dc, and like most manga, csm follows a story that's already there. i'm going to kind of pull them out of that and probably miss out on a number of character defining things. i think it might be a bit awkward too since i can't exactly pinpoint at which place in the timeline i pull them out. the starter csm character rotation will however have denji, power, aki, beam, kobeni, galgali, angel and kishibe, so it's somewhere around and about the katana-man arc.
fiend reader that the devil hunters vote into an "ambassador" type of role but because they can't take shit seriously they're just loitering around like a bum irritating everyone. think; isekai story where the (somewhat) all-knowing protagonist doesn't really gaf.
maybe there's an aki and rose wilson thing, maybe power and batgirl (from power's thing with the bat devil) and maybe denji and fiend reader mistake constantine for kishibe from a distance, i dunno i'm still getting there.
anyway i just want to write this real bad because i'm getting really attached to csm. let me know if it's interesting and i might just indulge in it... its always better to have people to chat about it to than to just write into the void,,
i haven't been on tumblr long enough to confirm it but i do feel like my previous dc related things on my old blog didn't go anywhere unless it was explicitly batfam x neglected reader or a fic where the batboys (specifically) were directly involved with the insert somehow.
i mean it's no surprise that batstuff gets more motion (have u seeennn dc itself?) but its probably a deterrent... just rambling to myself here but it's either going to be this or a batfam x slasher series. ive been feeling bat-fatigue but i miss writing scavenger and night terrors.. let's see let's see
the concept of a rift being created between both universes, identified by the public safety when devils start retreating into a cut in the atmosphere to escape multiple battles. devils appearing in the dc universe, being handled by heroes and forces who aren't knowledgeable in what these devils are, and how to deal with them.
public security that sends their experimental special division into the universe to deal with the threat to protect (other-worldly) civilians by sending the devils back to the original universe, and identify the cause for this rift.
fiend reader who's a part of this division, and can't for the life of them take anything seriously during the whole thing. these people, this world, they're all so similar to the foreign comic books they indulge in back home! sure the names are a bit off, and you don't remember some of these -mans and -womans, but it's so sick to see these flashy old fools anyway!
devil hunters who are also seen as threats by the justice league, since they can apparently summon monsters of equal danger, have a slight sense of disregard towards casualties and infrastructural losses, and use strange abilities to presumably help the monsters escape through some strange portal.
the story that goes over different cities and different batches of characters per "arc", if i extend it out that long. i do want a focus on constantine (for the occult), zatanna (for magic), superman (some devils are kaiju-like, right? and science) and batman (for the technical elements) 's mythos, but i'll skip around the other characters too.
for the chainsaw man view, i'll have to take a few liberties. unlike dc, and like most manga, csm follows a story that's already there. i'm going to kind of pull them out of that and probably miss out on a number of character defining things. i think it might be a bit awkward too since i can't exactly pinpoint at which place in the timeline i pull them out. the starter csm character rotation will however have denji, power, aki, beam, kobeni, galgali, angel and kishibe, so it's somewhere around and about the katana-man arc.
fiend reader that the devil hunters vote into an "ambassador" type of role but because they can't take shit seriously they're just loitering around like a bum irritating everyone. think; isekai story where the (somewhat) all-knowing protagonist doesn't really gaf.
maybe there's an aki and rose wilson thing, maybe power and batgirl (from power's thing with the bat devil) and maybe denji and fiend reader mistake constantine for kishibe from a distance, i dunno i'm still getting there.
anyway i just want to write this real bad because i'm getting really attached to csm. let me know if it's interesting and i might just indulge in it... its always better to have people to chat about it to than to just write into the void,,
after bonegirl is over, i want to write just one more series with the batfamily, since i feel like i've already wrung this trope dry... i'll post a concept later, let me know if you guys would be interested in it (when i post the concept)
WAIT I MIGHT HAVE THE WRONG PERSON BUT WERENT U GONNA MAKE A JENNIFERS BODY!READER X BATFAM ???
nope u got it right!! thats me!! i'd posted a prologue and first chapter but the world wasn't ready yet.. plus i want to experiment with some interactive features which i'll probably do after bonegirl's over (another 4-5 chapters) đđ
â platonic batfam x neglected?reader | 4081 words
ââ DESC. you've lived your life in fragments you keep forgetting. no one bothers to remember for you, so you've given up completely.
ââ MLIST. ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4 . . . tbc
ââ CONT DISCLAIMERS. female reader, substance abuse, mental illness, unhealthy dynamics, some profanity, others to be included if they're chapter-specific.
ââ a/n. is my writing too introspective? am i doing hashtag too much? am i very fond of pre52 jason todd but also awful at characterizations and dialogue? maybe. but it ok riley. im joy
there was a time when your life was normal. more normal, in comparison to circus boys, assassins and the children of killers.Â
your father rarely visited, a blurry shape in all your memories of him, but his presence filled every corner of the penthouse he provided for. your mother was a journalist, not the best, certainly not the worst, but notable enough to get his attention when they were younger. an interview led to another, then to a date, then to many more, and down the line- to a girl.
youâre not sure when you started to have difficulty remembering what he sounded like, what he looked like, who he was, but you remember exactly when mom started waiting up in the living room, head in her hands and a neglected cup of yellowing liquid perched on the sofaâs armchair- teetering at the edge.Â
nothing you did ever made her go to bed, not your pecking at her face, not your small arms trying to hug her, she nudged you slightly farther the closer you came. back then, youâd thought it was awful you couldnât cure her, learning only later, you were the cause of her diseased moping.Â
she was always waiting. waiting for something to come and help her, for some promise that never came to fruition, and probably never would. you cursed whoever, or whatever it was that had made her so upset. you found a newspaper on the coffee table once, opened to a page about the elusive âbatman and catwomanâ their cowls and billowing capes making patterns in the blurry picture on it. mom wasnât in the living room, not this time, and when you turned your head, you saw the faintest glimpse of her silhouette in the balcony. she was waiting, watching, waiting to catch something. someone.Â
in the winter-time, your grandmother and aunt would come to visit, their gleaming faces brightening the whole world. your mother would smile more, wouldnât wait up at night, wouldnât nudge you away when you went to struggle for a hug. it was love, love for you, for them, for herself. the two of them loved, loved her- their daughter, their sister, and loved you, their daughter-or-sisterâs only little child.Â
auntie would paint your nails, telling you stories about her and your mother in their school days, the boys they kissed, the actors they watched, the clothes they wore. you were so fascinated, so excited for mom to tell you these things too, when it was your turn to be a big girl. but mom only loved in the wintertime, and the world would go dark again when they waved goodbye after new yearsâ. she wouldnât tell you these things, and you promised yourself to never think she didnât love you. she did love you, didnât she?
the year you turn eleven, your mother gets a call in autumn. grandma died in her sleep. they hadnât told mom about her falling sick, didnât tell her about auntie skipping work to take care of her, didnât tell her about grandma getting admitted into a hospital.Â
the two of you had stood frozen in the kitchen, momâs phone on speaker at the counter. for minutes, no one said a word, only auntieâs hiccuping and sniffling audible through the crackly and frankly shitty audio from momâs phone. after she hung up, no one said a word, the house had seemed to been thrown into pitch black darkness, the silence making your ears ring and ring and ring.Â
you didnât go to try and cure mom that night. you stayed curled up in your room, hugging yourself, still struggling with how to turn your joints, how to comfort yourself. you regret it. at midnight, when you were still wide, wide awake, you padded out to the sofas where mom sat, looking for her. waiting for her. in the quiet, you saw her in the balcony again, her arms outstretched waiting to fly. you wish now, you hadnât waited to long to sprint over to her, voice stuck in your throat- refusing to cry out.
the dark inverted in on itself, a big bang of colour and light- you didn't notice youâd screamed- the world had gone silent.Â
you didnât hear anything when she fell.Â
gotham, so close to the coast, has significantly mild winters. but with all the smoke, the dust, the tension in the air that traps just about everything, âmildâ loses its meaning, and you find yourself shivering through two sweaters and a puffer-jacket on the top of some nameless building.
so close to new years, lights flood the city in beaming displays and advertisements of sales, discounts, the occasional wanted or missing person headline, and a buy-two-get-one-free offer. if you squint out at the waterway corridor between gotham and bludhaven, youâll notice the sister cityâs neon lights look especially fluorescent around this time.
you know someoneâs staring, taking another drag from the cigarette you snubbed off an eager old man who was here before you. you donât bother to look around, youâre not really doing anything wrong are you? children in gotham are born with a sixth sense, they know when someoneâs looking, and you hope the lack of an exciting, loud entrance means its a troublesome, mythical hero instead of a conspiring criminal.
whoever it is, has been here a while now, and they hesitate to show up. you snub out the snout on the railing, a small ring of ash crumbling off of it. thereâs a rustle beside you, the faintest glimpse of an oversized thrush in the corner of your eye. when it chirps, his voice is dry, dull and quiet. discomfitted and bored.
âdonât ever see the point in smoking,â it commented, watching you drop the cigarette down twelve, maybe fifteen stories, âwhat good does it do you?â. you wait a while before responding, muttering under your breath, watching the orange end of it disappear, âgoody two-shoes here to lecture me?â
he doesnât respond, cape making no noise at all, even as it flutters and moves in the wind. the red robinâs a curious figure, a legend and a rookie at the same time. you catch a look at him maybe once a year, the santa of gothamâs menagerie, and he disappears before you can figure out it was him. heâs not as elusive as some of the others, but really does his best to play mysterious.Â
âitâs bad for you,â you keep yourself from sighing at him and his monotone buzzing, âso is staying up here so late in the cold. youâd best get home, kid.â you contemplate it, returning home to an eerily quiet house, feeling out of place and disgustingly aware of everything and everyone around you. and as you think, red robin stands up on the rails with a grapple gun on his hand, muttering in a way that sounds almost disgruntled, âdonât you kids ever think about your family worrying about where youâve been?â before he leaps off, swinging away. you scowl a little at the place where he was standing just now.
the first arrangement of thoughts is indignant, offended. what if you didnât have a family? orphans and no-names arenât a rarity is gotham, itâs not too nice of him to be so blunt about something youâre sure some folk must be sensitive about. itâs none of his business trying to get personal.
the second arrangement crawls over to a place in your heart thatâs a bit too soft and childish. what if they donât worry? whyâs he have to be so blunt about something someone might be sensitive about? these jumping and whirling creatures arenât very kind. but, you suppose, no one here is.Â
you regret dropping the cigarette, ears straining for any noise beyond the light howls of boat horns from the coast and police sirens from the city beneath you. youâre waiting for something, not sure what, wishing you could fly. everyoneâs blunt and unkind and unmeaningly and unnecessarily cruel. you hate gotham. truly.
he wasnât ever hostile, wouldnât run away from conversations or ignore you. but some part of you still wondered if he resented you just a little bit. or was he scared? maybe it scared him to see you, your motherâs face printed on your skin.
bruce wayne looked different from what little you remembered about him. the blurry edges of his face and smudged blue of his eyes were really actually sharp and cutting, nothing like momâs, deep, cushioning stares.
maybe that was your problem. maybe you never really gave him a chance. you were looking for mom in someone who wasnât her, disregarding anything that suggested it. you couldnât bring yourself to be satisfied with his shoddy attempts to talk to you first, couldnât appreciate the way he just couldnât bring about the same warmth you remembered from mom.
maybe some part of you resented him too. resented him for leaving mom, thinking that if he showed up surely sheâd still be here. he must have been who she stayed up for every night. maybe you were scared.Â
he had no reason to love you. you were your motherâs only child. she loved you because she had no other choice. even if it hurt to admit, that lack of choice gave you something to rely on. maybe she left because you were selfish. but dad⌠he had alfred, he had richard, he had jason, he didnât need you. does anyone?
richard was bright. kinder than you could have been grateful for. it was your fault for latching onto that, you mustâve overburdened him, expecting too much, clinging on too close. you were afraid of everything. youâd never had a brother, thought he was the best, too quickly, too fast. but he pulled away, strangely, your shared smiles suddenly became awkward. you became hyper aware of how painful you probably made every outing. stressed about everything you did and crawled into the covers and swore youâd never leave again. out of shame for nothing- you stopped trying. stopped bouncing on the heels of your feet and trying to play little sister. how embarrassing, (name), to become so dependent so fast. you were a stranger still, invading. you donât blame him if he felt uncomfortable.
with jason, things were different. he didnât seem to mind it when you hid behind him at galas, following him around like a duckling. didnât mind it when you went quiet for days either, shuffling into you room and just sitting quietly on the bed where you lay. you chalked it up to him being as socially inept as you, strange and odd. maybe he was just nicer than you gave him credit for. the two of you talked a lot, babbling on and on at the dinner table while bruce would be missing from every meal. but the real conversations, away from alfredâs attentive ears, in the secrecy of pillow forts, those were the ones you cherished the most.
jasonâs mother had passed away well before bruce found him, heâd told you. sometimes, he felt guilty. guilty for living in the manor after being out on the streets for so long, wondering if he deserved all this privilege. âfeel like oâm abandoning my mom, you know?â heâd murmured, flipping a page from the book he was reading for school. you knew. you felt guilty too, living with the man you were so sure was the reason mom was so sad. guilty for coming into this family uninvited, her death the only reason he wanted you around at all.
two little gargoyles from gotham perched on the tallest spires in the city, the two of you knew each other better than anyone else. you saw the way his expression shifted a little whenever dick was around, even when he was happy, his mouth would twinge just a little bit. you learned from your own experience, it was envy. the slightest, smallest bit of envy. you never knew why. he saw the way your eyebrows furrowed at bruceâs often empty chair, resentment, guilt, and said nothing. you appreciated it, even when you knew he knew, appreciated how heâd talk about something else when alfred asked why you seemed so down.
heâd talk about school; heâs doing great in literature! about rena; he likes her so much- (name) donât laugh at me! name), me and bruce are going to find my mom! no, catherine was my mom, but she didnât give birth to me. yeah, my other mom, iâm going to find her, (name)!
you hated yourself for feeling bitter, hated that you couldnât bring yourself to be so, so purely happy for him. hated that you felt something was wrong when he left with bruce, piercing your nails into the skin of your arm. god, you were such a miserable bitch. why couldnât you be happy for him? why did you have to be such an awful sister?
jason didnât come back.Â
bruce didnât come for any meals. but that wasnât out of the ordinary for you. the house was empty, jason was⌠your brother was dead. his funeral was quiet, you, bruce, alfred and barbara, the kindly stern lady who youâd see around sometimes, dick missing entirely. his life was too short to have caused too much of a stir, jason left without anyone hardly knowing him at all. jason left in the winter, by spring, nobody knew you at all.
you end up pricking yourself with a hiss while embroidering, damian looking up from his homework for just a second before you shake your head- and he looks back. youâve not had much to do since school closed for winter break, busying yourself with a myriad of hobbies you had fleeting interests in. this half-weekâs was trying to decorate a handkerchief you found in your cupboard, eyes blanking away from the pre-existing, cursive âMâ on the top-right corner on the cloth.
itâs that weird time in the afternoon, right before the sun sets, that makes the world strangely slow and melancholic. you try to remember what you did around this time with your old friends, but remember that the basementâs âgame roomâ had no windows. this melancholic time just didnât exist with your friends.
over the past four weeks, youâve seen basically everyone that was here before, with the addition of damian, and the absence of tim. barbara had come over for something, and you ran into her while she was talking to bruce. weary about interrupting, youâd turned around to leave- but whatever she was saying to your father, she dropped for some mild small talk with you. you excused yourself after a few awkward moments, relieved the second you went around the corner. why did you make everything so weird?
duke, another boy in the manor, came back from his school trip. he was alright enough, nodding politely as bruce introduced the two of you. he didnât seem all too bothered at your lack of response, the way you smiled stiffly and looked away. damian said he was a reliable guy, more praise than youâd heard from him about anyone for a while. but what did it matter to you? you werenât looking for anyone to rely on.
stephanie and cassandra came over to visit for a few days just the day before yesterday. steph, the jovial girl who youâd been somewhat comfortable with once, seemed just a bit more mellow now. you chalked it up to her growing up, even as she smiled brightly and gave you a small tight hug, observing the slightest dark circles under her eyes. she left after only a few hours, wanting to go out for something. she asked if you wanted to come out a walk, but you refused automatically, preferring the warm mansion to the brutal winds outside.Â
cassandra on the other hand, seemed to haunt the manor for most of the time. you had no clue where she disappeared when she wasnât hanging around bruceâs study or curled up in the library next to a miserable damian struggling through assignments from school. she hadnât spoken to you even once, beyond an acknowledging look when they first arrived. it was like she knew you didnât want to talk, and you were grateful for it.Â
tim was the only person you hadnât seen yet, and with your history together⌠you imagine he wouldnât want to see you. you donât blame him- youâre not too sure you want to see him either. tim was a sudden addition to your life after⌠you push the thought away. you didnât give him a fair chance when he first showed up, pushing everyone away. you realise now that it probably made him feel unwelcome, the way he did, how was he supposed to know you werenât close with anybody at home? that it wasnât just him.
that was your mistake, youâd realised one day, a year or two away from gotham. youâd centered yourself too many times, been too selfish. itâs why every hurdle, every awful thing that ever happened in your life, felt like punishment. richard graysonâs distance had felt like your punishment for being needy, jason toddâs death was your punishment for getting too attached, bruce wayneâs coldness was your punishment for being alive. thatâs how you thought.
but it wasnât the truth, was it? you had no hand in any of it. itâs wasnât your fault, but neither was it theirs. how could it be, when you never existed to them at all? when you never existed at all? (name) died before jason, (name) died before bruce brought her to the mansion. youâve been dead since she left. youâve been nothing all this time. but forgetting this, you were cruel, werenât you?Â
cruel to tim, who felt just as out of place and uncomfortable as you had. what if heâd tried to find kindness in you, only for you to shove him away? cruel to your first doctors, who really just wanted to help? why do you do it? youâre awful, just awful. for once, without being selfish, you take these consequences with grace. this is punishment for being cruel. for thinking too much about yourself.Â
disappear (name), be nothing at all.
the soilâs a little damp for the oddly timed rain, your clothes picking up bits of dirt and mud as you sit near her. youâve started to forget what mom sounded like, itâs been so long, you wonder if she even existed. if those soft memories and happy days were real, or if they were figments of your imaginations, manifestations of your longing.
at the party you escaped today, bruce was talking to a lady. you know how it is for him, he has to be charming, has to be beautiful for gotham to survive. but looking at the two of them, you couldnât help but remember agonisingly, the shape of your mother on the couch. waiting.
if alfred, or anyone else knew you were here, they wouldâve been upset. when you came back home after the day you ran into the red robin on the rooftops, bruce had sternly spoken to you about just how dangerous it was, and how he couldnât afford you risking yourself like that without telling anybody. you wonder how he knew, he never used to know before.
the graveyardâs not empty. quarter a mile away, a family begins to leave their grandpa. a funeral processionâs going on on the other side, a few loud wails and whines muffled by the wind. you close your eyes and try to remember, what you wanted to tell her, what you thought youâd vent out to your mother. iâm afraid? i want to go back (to my friends? to you?) ? whyâd you have to go so quick?
âi miss you,â a murmur escapes, and it takes a moment for you to realise you said it. a few years pass by in your head while you stay dazed, skin prickling in the cold, remembering her, auntie, grandma, waiting, your old house, your primary school, waiting, your friends there, your teachers, waiting, sheâs talented, waiting, sheâll do great things, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting. eventually, mom stretches her arms out on the railings, about to fly. you open your eyes to save her, but the stone in front of you gloats that itâs too bad you didnât really.
â(name),â a voice. a name- your name! you blink, turning your head back, registering a black jacket, gloves, a frown, âdoes bruce know youâre here?â
jason. jason. it takes a moment to respond. you forgot he was still alive. forgot you were there when bruce came back looking ruined one night, forgot nearly passing out in shock when you saw him in the kitchen one night, forgot about sitting at the top of a spire as he talked, voice distant and far away. how could you forget? jason. your brother was alive.
jason and your mother had both left you suddenly, bursting into light or plunging you underwater. you didnât want to think about them. you didnât want to think about how jason wanted to do a masters abroad, didnât want to think about how he was looking forward to the next addition of a book series heâd begged you to read, didnât want to think about how heâd murmured that once he saw the light leave his motherâs eyes, he wasnât afraid anymore. you wish you knew enough about mom, to not want to think about her.Â
tried instead to think about how it was going to happen anyway. how mom was going to die eventually. how jason would disappear from your life like her and richard did, haunting presences. better yet, you refused to think at all. you were safe in your cocoon. you didnât have to care about anyone ever again.
you shook your head, swallowing, turning your head back. after jason died, you saw him in the corner of your eyes, sometimes heâd be in your room, sometimes heâd frown at you across the dining table. if you spoke to him, looked for too long- heâd disappear. you donât say a word, looking away before he evaporated into dust.
he doesnât either, looking at the gravestone in front of you. when the two of you were younger, youâd walk out here holding each others hands, hoping the flowers you got your mothers were the ones they liked. it was painful to think that youâd never know if she did. so you didnât think at all.
âyou should go home,â he muttered, sounding so different from the last time you heard him. far less cheery than when you were younger, far more weary than the day he explained. you wonder if he tried to find you when you were gone at the hospital, âitâs cold.â
despite that, the two of you sit there for much longer, quiet. he shuffles and sits next to you after a bit, you lean on his shoulder out of instinct. if he stiffens, you ignore it. years pass by in your head, wondering if it hurt for her. wondering if she felt the impact, wondered if she thought about you. wondered if she even cared that she was leaving you all alone. wondered if she knew what yoou were going to become.
âwhat was it like?â you asked jason, voice too quiet for him to hear, since he shifted a little in question. âwhat was it like to die?â the question doesnât alarm you, you donât think of it as something he might hate you for. this was jason, he knew you, you knew him. he wouldnât bristle or despise you for it, youâd asked such questions when he came back, too.
heâs silent for a while. you look at him side ways, waiting. his curly hairâs gone flat, the freckles gone from his face. his green eyes have gone gunmetal gray. he looks like a different person, the pale ghost of your memories of him. finally, he shrugs. everything he said when you were children were naively detailed and long winding, like he was preparing for a play. even when you met him before going away, heâd retained some of those dramatics through bitter and soft monologues where you said nothing. you waited to listen, to hear him, you knew what he was like.
ânot everything feels like something else, (name)â
ah. heâs a different person. you donât know him at all.
ââ a/n. it's been a minute,,, i'm flopping so bad in school and have been feeling like shit for months. buts thats ok riley im joy. please interact !!! send asks or replies or stuff idk !! ill start drawing for the end of these eventually !! stephanie focus next chapter !! bye !!