bro does NOT know how to write

[chaulafan777]

don’t Look Back in anger

the masterlist

in which reader dies in a brutal way and the whole Batfam wakes up exactly one year before reader dies, thinking they’re the only ones who went back in time, when it’s actually the whole Batfam except reader.

concept

chapter one

1.5: autopsy report

chapter two

2.5: Many Worlds Interpretation Theory

chapter three

[chaulafan777]

dont Look Back in anger

chapter three: a better place to play

warnings: Grief, mischaracterization, no proofread, graphic violence, mentions of death, brief mentions of sh (?)

Bruce

“Hey, Bruce,” You called from your room.

Bruce sighed, picking up pace as he made his way from the hallway to your room. Knowing you would not move a single inch from your bed this time in the afternoon.

Even though you called him over, he still knocked. Knowing you were usually moody and changed your mind quickly.

“Come in!” you said, and he did.

Your room was a mess. Clothes everywhere, food containers empty on the floor. Your iPad sat on your lap. But your PC was a tangled mess of wires.

Didn't Alfred just come by a few hours ago to clean your room?

Bruce pinched his nose and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, ignore the mess. And try not to step on anything,” you waved your arm to call him over.

His expression of worry fell as you typed something on the device. Did you truly call him over again just to show him something you found funny?

Bruce nodded, and he walked over until he felt something on his foot.

An invitation.

The logo of your conservatory.

You are cordially invited to an evening of distinguished musical performance.

The Blackwood Conservatory warmly welcomes you to a private piano recital, followed by refreshments and conversation among esteemed guests.

Black tie preferred. RSVP required.

He picked it up, not missing the wince you let out. As if you had been caught doing something you shouldn't have.

 "[Name]?" He raised an eyebrow. Waiting for you to explain.

Why hadn't you told him?

Was it because of last time?

“Listen, Bruce. I- That's not a big deal. Just a small recital. A formality, really-”

“It's your final exam, [Name].”

Without another word, he took a seat beside you on the bed. It dipped under his weight.

“Why didn't you tell me about this?” He inquired, putting his hand on top of yours.

“You didn't come last time,” you mumbled, eyes watering.

Bruce took in a sharp breath; he knew you could feel his hand stiffening.

“We agreed you would tell me about these things, and I would come,” He insisted.

“I know, I know, I just… didn't want to bother you. You're saving the city and all. Why would you even want to go to some piano recital anyway?”

Bruce sighed, taking his hand away from yours as he clasped them together.

“You know you don't have to worry about that. I can make the arrangements needed to come and see you.” He turned to look at you, and his chest ached as he saw your eyes water.

“I'll come to this recital, I promise,” He said. 

“Sure.” You looked away, and he did everything in his power to ignore the sarcastic undertone in your affirmation.

It hurt.

From the pinky to the wrist, Bruce's bones hurt.

That's usually what happens when you hit someone time and time again.

He had never cared about pain, though. Knuckles healed. Torn muscles scarred. It was the price both he and the criminals paid.

Every broken bone had always been worth it if it meant someone else went home alive.

Not dead.

Dead.

That word again.

He had never been a stranger to death.

Some would think that the word loses meaning when you're a Gothamite.

It doesn't when you always end up on the receiving end.

His parents.

Jason.

You.

He had tried to kill the one responsible for Jason's death once.

Clark stopped him.

For years, he'd told himself Clark had stopped him to prevent an international incident. 

Deep down, he knew that wasn't why.

Bruce would never stop.

Just like an addict, Bruce would keep going. He'd find pride in it. He would tell himself it was to keep Gotham and everyone living in it safe.

But now?

Looking down at the man who had killed you?

Bruce realized something.

He wasn't fighting the urge anymore.

His fingers flexed.

Once.

Twice.

He knew exactly what they wanted to do. But he didn't want to admit what that something was.

He remembered;

Saving lives had become less of a mission and more of a compulsion.

They never erased the names he'd already lost.

They only delayed adding another.

Once, every time the thought crossed his mind, something inside him recoiled.

A rule.

A promise.

His father.

Clark.

Dick.

Alfred.

You, most of all.

Something always stopped him.

He searched for that feeling now.

It wasn't there.

As the man lay terrified on the floor, shaking uncontrollably…

Bruce stood there.

Waiting for something to happen.

Unmoving.

Staring right into his eyes.

Looking for something that proved that man deserved to live.

He found nothing.

He waited for something.

Anyone to come in and drag him away before he did something he'd regret.

He already knew he'd regret it.

He simply wasn't sure regret would be enough to stop him now.

Or the times that would come after.

He waited a bit longer…

And nobody came.

Jason

Anger.

Rage.

Pain.

Those three had been trailing behind him like shadows ever since he returned from the dead.

He had clawed his way up from the grave. with nothing but his fists and fingers.

Like that one movie you liked. With the woman in the yellow jumpsuit.

And now he clawed at his skin.

He couldn't process this. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything as he drew in ragged breaths. He tried to breathe in for four, just like Bruce had shown him, but he wasn't sure what came after, so now his chest hurt, and he couldn't breathe. 

Great.

He hit his thigh. Once. Twice. Three times, as if pain alone could ground him, and yet pain was the very thing overwhelming him right now. Weird. That worked every time. Pain always snapped him out of it. Even if he refused to admit it felt real. Made him feel alive. Reassured him that he was more than a corpse. That he was not six feet under.

It didn't work.

He did it again.

Nothing.

Dead.

You were dead.

You, who were supposed to be safe. You, who were supposed to live a normal, happy, long life, were dead.

You, who couldn't run to save your life. You, who couldn't throw a punch and ran out of breath walking up stairs, had fought tooth and nail to keep yourself alive.

And you weren't.

He was sure they'd escape this fate.

Sure, you'd escape Gotham's claws.

Worst of all, you had died in the same way he had.

Violent and young.

Just like everyone knew he'd die.

Just like no one expected you to.

He had run away from the manor as soon as he could because the familiarity of it all anyone youening.

He hadn't been there the night he died, of course.

But he couldn't help but wonder if they had stood there the same way he did.

If they had pronounced the same words but with a different name.

If they had reacted the same way theyre reacting now.

Maybe they were cursed.

He didn't even believe in those, but hell, he had fought demons, monsters, and magicians.

Maybe they had cursed you as soon as you stepped foot into the manor.

As soon as Bruce signed the adoption papers.

Maybe it was him.

Maybe it was anyoneyou interacted with.

Maybe Gotham.

Maybe all of them.

Maybe everyone who got close to them was already dead, and nobody wanted to admit it.

And then his head lifted.

Glowing green eyes stared right at him through the mirror.

He needed to make this right.

He needed to make that man pay.

Bruce was probably with the guy right now.

Chasing him.

Hesitating.

Planning to throw him into jail.

Planning to do the right thing.

He knew damn well Bruce would not finish it.

That piece of shit murderer didn't deserve the right thing.

He needed a bullet between the eyes.

Jason didn't want this to please himself. To call it a job done.

He wanted to end it.

He needed to be six feet under. Just like he was before. Just like you were about to be.

As he looked away from those haunting green eyes that forever glowed, he made a promise.

Everyone involved would not survive.

Tim

THE GOTHAM GAZETTE Nine Dead, Dozens Injured After Mass Shooting at Gotham Youth Arts Center

Nine people were killed and several others injured Thursday evening after a gunman opened fire during a student piano recital at the Robinson Performing Arts Auditorium.

According to the Gotham City Police Department, the suspect acted alone, and investigators have found no evidence of ties to any known criminal organization or supervillain activity. Officials also stated there is no indication that any victims were specifically targeted, describing the attack as a seemingly random act of violence.

Tim slammed the console once more and tried another article.

Looking for something.

A typo.

A witness. 

An inconsistency.

Nine Dead in Gotham Auditorium Shooting By Lois Lane | Daily Planet

What began as a student piano recital ended in tragedy Thursday evening when a lone gunman opened fire inside the Robinson Performing Arts Auditorium, leaving nine people dead and several others injured. According to the Gotham City Police Department, investigators have found no evidence linking the suspect to any known criminal organization or supervillain activity. Officials said there is no indication any victim was specifically targeted. The suspect has a documented history of severe mental illness, and a motive has not been established.

Tim put his head in his hands and pulled at his hair.

That couldn't be right.

There had to be someone else to blame.

Not a crazy man.

Joker.

Bane.

Ra's.

Because there should be a pattern.

A conspiracy.

A plan. 

You couldn't have died like that.

Not like every other victim in Gotham City.

You weren't supposed to be some statistic.

You were his sibling for god's sake.

Yeah, you fought sometimes.

Called him a nerd.

Touched and borrowed his stuff without asking.

But that doesn't matter, right?

They always come back.

Bruce.

Jason.

Stephanie.

You could come back too, couldnt you?

There was nothing to worry about.

He could have you back in no time.

What, a few months?

Two years?

You were just like them. You were strong. You knew how to hold your own ground. You were invincible. You couldn't possibly be dead. Because you belonged. Because you were part of the team. Because yo,u were one of them.

Except you weren't.

He thought that li,ttle detail alone would keep you safe from all the dangers of Gotham. He thought it could keep you alive. Happy. Normal.

However,r that detail was the one that is now preventing you from coming back.

You didn't belong, did you?

You never did.

The sound that came out of his mouth was not human.

He slammed his fists against the console again and again. And none of it seemed to distract him from the all-consuming grief that filled his chest right now. His eyes blurred and he was sure he was crying but he could not feel his face and neither could he feel the tears running down from it.

This was what happened whenever someone close to him passed.

He panicked. He looked for a way to fix it, and he looked for it over and over and over until he realized there was no way to fix this. Like some fucked-up stages of grief.

Was there even a way to fix this?

There was no plan.

There was no conspiracy.

Only coincidences.

How could he even work with that?

His breakdown stopped almost immediately as he looked up at the screen again.

This was final.

This was immediate.

There would be no more fights.

No more texts.

No late night convos.

Nothing.

Because you were gone.

All in a blink.

He shook his head as he typed furiously again, trying to get the smashed keyboard to write whatever the hell was going through his mid.

He could fix this.

He would.

He just needed to dig further.

Look closer.

And you'd be fine.

BRUCE

He stumbled towards the man, his breathing ragged and heavy.

The man, even mangled, desperately tried to back away, falling backwards, only to try and crawl back again.

Bruce closes his fist, preparing for a final blow.

And raises his hand.

The lights seemed to flicker, even though they were out in the open.

A sharp pain hit Bruce's whole, he could not quite pin where the pain itsef was. Just that his whole body seemed to ache. As if a thousand needles struck him all at once.

And then, he was gone.

[chaulafan777]

JAJSHAJABAJNSBDJSUSBDJDJFNFHJF

chapter three coming out in two days…

any ideas for 3.5 tho??

[chaulafan777]

an apology + update info

hey guys!! I’m back. Sorry for being radio silent.

so first of all I want to apologize for disappearing out of nowhere and not telling yall when I was coming back. It’s lowkey kinda irresponsible cause I’ve published only two chapters so far and I’m already taking long breaks. I can’t help but feel pathetic when I compare myself with creators who update every two or three days.

Look Back is coming back. I’ll try to publish at least one chapter by the end of this week and hopefully finish the story by September.

I was inactive because I felt like my stories or my way of writing was too cringey. I felt like I was rushing the story and my chapters were too short. I feel like I’m not good enough as a writer and I imagine people constantly criticizing me and my way of writing even though a logical part of me knows that’s now happening. Again this is not an excuse!!

well I hope I can finish this fic because I genuinely love writing. I love putting my feelings into words. I love projecting and making my characters chudmaxx all day.

anyway bye!!

[totallynotashieldagent]

ummm sooooo-

childhood best friend jason todd who makes promises like when i grow up, i'll marry you and then we'll be happy forever- but then he gets adopted by bruce and becomes robin and between all that, loses touch with you and then dies.

he comes back, becomes red hood and its not until he sees you again when he remembers his promises.

you run a small bookstore thats also a safe haven for kids to just loiter around and read-

he goes home and looks up everything about you, everything he's missed out on and what you're upto now- he finds out that you got married and then divorced, something about an abusive husband and sealed police and hospital records- a restraining order as well so he does what he what he thinks is right. he kills your ex for you and then starts to leave little trinkets for you at your shop- giving the kids gifts to bring to you from red hood-

this goes on for weeks and weeks until you stand outside your little shop, hands on your hips, looking up, trying to find him-

he lands right infront of you and takes off his helmet, you still dont recognize him. he's older now, scarred, his eyes aren't even blue anymore-

its not until he says im all grown up and i still wanna marry you that you realize who he is- and all he can do is hope and pray that you still want him the way he wished you did when you were kids.

send post <333

[chaulafan777]

I love Jason so much it’s insane

[chaulafan777]

In Dubio, Pro Reo

In dubio pro reo is a Latin legal maxim that translates to English as "when in doubt, rule for the accused". It is the foundation of the "benefit of the doubt" rule, dictating that if a judge or jury has reasonable doubts about a defendant's guilt, they must acquit.

I know I shouldn’t start another series when I don’t even have chapter three of Look Back but HEAR ME OUT.

Bruce adopting a kid with a criminal past.

And I mean EXTREMELY criminal.

They’re still wanted by the cops.

Reader thinks this is a new chance to start over.

Who would suspect Bruce Wayne’s kid?

Except Bruce KNOWS.

And still keeps them.

Reader doesn’t know Bruce knows.

But oh he does.

he DOES.

As soon as they don’t find out he’s Batman, reader can live a normal life.

Except when reader was a criminal the sole thought of Batman made them shit their pants.

Can’t wait to write this dynamic.

[chaulafan777]

so uh guess who failed her physics, math, biology AND math exams?!? Me!!! I did!!! Anyway guys uh I might be grounded for life. But I’ll update the fic in secret don’t you worry

[chaulafan777]

Hiiii

Regarding the many references to TV shows, movies, musicals, and songs, will they be the kind where if you don't know them, you won't understand what they're talking about? I don't consider myself very disconnected from the internet, but I don't spend all my time there either, and I wouldn't want to lose the thread of the story just because I don't know what you're talking about

I'm sorry I didn't ask my question in the post, and I'm also sorry if my question wasn't clear; I translated everything because I'm not very good at writing in English.

Hey! Don’t worry about it, most of the references I’ll use are just yk phrases. But if there’s some kind of media that truly affects the story (take Everything, Everywhere, All at once) I’ll definitely explain!

[chaulafan777]

stuff I’m planning to add on this fic

-reader dying by repeatedly being beat with a hammer, just as Jason was beat with a crowbar moments before dying

-many many many and I mean many references to shows, movies, musicals and songs.

-dick being an angry child growing up to be a kind man, and Jason being a kind child growing up to be an angry man.

-bruce being too late to save Jason, and Bruce being too late to save reader.

-reader wearing something to do with pearls when they die (could be a necklace, a bracelet or the buttons on their shirt) iykyk

-jason wanting desperately to be robin and ending up dying, reader desperately NOT wanting to be robin so they dont get the same fate and still dying.

-jason dying angry reader dying loving everyone

-reader getting into fights at school, just as damian and dick

-self projecting and adding dermatillomania rep

-self projecting and making reader a bed rotting blob who all they do is eat

-worm holes, time travels, theorems and paradoxes

if you guys have more ideas comment or ask!!!!

[piouscoffeelover]

i miss you 2012 avengers. i miss you the avengers tower. i miss you irondad and spiderson. i miss you meme lord shuri and peter. i miss you loki lingering in the tower for no other reason than that he's the main love interest. i miss you poptart-eating thor. i miss you grumpy bucky barnes. i miss you old man, chronically offline steve rogers. i miss you clint in the vents. i miss you girls night with wanda and natasha. i miss you resurrected, shamelessly flirty pietro. i miss you clueless, socially inept vision. i miss you the rare bruce banner feature. i miss you sassy sam wilson. i miss you cheeky reader who always called fury by his first name. i miss you super nanny phil coulson. i miss you christmas avengers blurbs in the middle of the fanfiction written by an autistic 14 year old. i miss you 😔😔😔

[chaulafan777]

English is not my first language-I'm sat

40 years for another update!

LOLL i didnt realize that english not being someones first language is good in a fic. tysm for ur comments. these kinda comments make me hyped up for writing. so maybe more parts coming soon?

[chaulafan777]

something that definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the plot…

Many world’s interpretation is a theory proposed by physicist Hugh Everett III in 1957, this real theory suggests that every time a quantum event has multiple possible outcomes, the universe splits. Every single choice or random occurrence creates a brand new, non-communicating parallel universe

Because all these alternate universes evolved from the exact same starting point, your consciousness across the multiverse shares a unique, microscopic quantum link.

the user must perform an action so statistically improbable and erratic that it violently jerks their consciousness off its predictable path.

The bizarre action creates a temporary bridge to the closest parallel universe where that specific action was mathematically relevant.

I got this shi from the movie Everything, Everywhere, All At Once so make sure to check that out!!!

[swaguicide]

.ᐟ JL x hated hero!Reader

oneshot.

the party's done

and I'm no fun

I know

I KNOW

You never knew why they hated you.

That was the thing that kept you awake.

You remembered when it wasn’t like this.

It wasn’t always like this

When you first joined, they welcomed you handshakes, nods, smiles. You thought you’d earned your place. You worked harder than anyone. You stayed later. You listened more. You helped because that’s what heroes were supposed to do.

hell even Superman gave you a hug and a hand shake telling you “welcome”

But something shifted.

And you felt it.

and then you saw it..

Wonder Woman stopped asking your opinion during strategy sessions. Superman thanked everyone except you. Aquaman spoke over you like you weren’t there. Green Lantern barely hid his annoyance, rolling his eyes when you spoke, scoffing when you corrected him.

Batman stopped meeting your gaze entirely.

That one hurt the most.

Lunch made it obvious.

A table full of heros, gods, and your idols. and somehow you were always alone. Not because there weren’t seats—because no one wanted to sit next to you. Conversations died when you approached. Barry laughed loudly with others, then went awkwardly quiet when you passed, like your presence ruined the mood.

If you were late to a meeting, no one saved you notes.

They just said “sorry didn’t bring any notes”

During briefings, you could feel it—eyes narrowing when you spoke, tension tightening the room. When you pointed out legal consequences or civilian risk, batmans jaw clenched.

Once, he said it aloud.

That—that hurt the most.

“Y/N,” Batman said flatly, “you could’ve helped if you’d been paying attention.”

You had been paying attention.

But no one backed you up.

Wonder Woman looked away. Superman stared at the table. Aquaman crossed his arms. Guy smirked like he’d been waiting for this. Even Barry didn’t joke—just scratched the back of his neck and avoided your eyes.

Only shazam looked at you.

That awful, knowing pitying look.

You hated that look.

You noticed how they talked to Guy more than you. How they laughed at his jokes, tolerated his temper, forgave his mistakes!

You noticed how your name never made it into press releases. How there were figures and plushies and posters of everyone else—even alternates, even temporary members.

You searched once.

Nothing.

Again—nothing

You weren’t any kids favorite hero.

That realization settled deep in your chest, heavy and suffocating.

You dont even think people like you.

On patrols, your voice was ignored on comms. You warned them about risks they brushed you off. You suggested alternatives they dismissed you. if anything bad happens its on you.

Once—just once—you stopped talking altogether.

No one noticed.

You helped Barry with science. Helped shazam with homework. Wonder woman research old laws. Helped batman refine protocols.

And they hated you for it.

Maybe you made them uncomfortable. Maybe you reminded them that justice wasn’t just punching harder. Maybe you were proof that you didn’t need to be chosen by magic or born powerful to belong.

Or maybe they just didn’t like you.

or maybe they found something out?

Maybe this will all just blow over

You loved them once.

God—you loved the Justice League as a kid. You believed in justice. In fairness. In heroes who protected people because it was right, not because it looked good.

You loved justice you always wanted to be a hero or a lawyer.

Now you saw the truth.

Heroes were still people.

And people could be cruel.

You were drowning in the thought—heavy, spiraling, familiar—when a voice cut through it.

“Y/N.”

Nothing registered.

“Y/N?”

Suddenly—

CLAP

Right by your ears.

“Ow!” You flinched, jerking back as your phone nearly slipped from your hands as you almost got up your chair scraping the floor.

Flash stood there, hands raised, a forced grin on his face. “Uh… you okay?”

The room snapped into focus.

The table. The paused hologram. Batman’s cold stare. Wonder Woman’s distant expression. Superman’s tight, uncomfortable smile. Aquaman’s impatience. Guy’s barely concealed irritation.

Shazams pity.

That same look.

And it hit you all at once.

They didn’t hate you because you were useless.

They hated you because you didn’t fit.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t powerful. You weren’t chosen. You didn’t shine.

You just… existed.

And that made you easy to dislike.

You swallowed, straightened your spine, forced your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, As you sit back down.

No one replied

And you wondered—briefly, bitterly—how long it would take before they realized they didn’t need you at all.

Because if they did—they wouldn’t treat you like this.

A/N thanks for reading! First fic i posted here! Hope you liked it :P

[chaulafan777]

don’t Look Back in anger

chapter two: Don’t you know you might find…

warnings: Grief, violence, death, mischaracterization, English not being my first language

Bruce.

Bruce had never known how to properly raise kids.

He spent years improvising.

He convinced Cass to forgive herself.

He accepted and embraced who Jason was.

He still looked to Dick whenever he wasn't sure what the right thing to do was.

Took responsibility for every kid he felt he had failed.

And yet he doesn't know how to fix this.

He takes a few deep breaths and adjusts his grip on the bouquet.

He doesn't really know which flowers you like, but he knows you like yellow.

Right?

Your favorite superhero wore yellow.

Invincible.

Invisible.

Something along those lines.

The boy spent most episodes getting punched, which seemed misleading.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh.

Maybe when he gets home and you're locked in your room—as you usually are when he misses big events—he'll order from that burger place you liked.

You always seemed more willing to talk when food was involved.

And then he'll apologize properly this time. No explanations. No excuses. No promises. Just the apology you deserved.

The silence hits him first.

Not unusual silence.

Wrong silence.

The kind that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

No television.

No music.

No footsteps.

Nothing.

Bruce steps inside.

"Alfred?"

No answer.

His grip tightens around the bouquet.

A second later he spots him.

Alfred sits slumped on one of the living room sofas. He's not breathing. He's not taking a break. He's not working. His hands shake as he sweats and even that seems to take a lot of effort out of him.

And beside him—

Commissioner Gordon.

Bruce stops.

For a moment he thinks someone has died.

Again.

Dick.

Jason.

Tim.

Damian.

Steph.

Cass.

His stomach drops.

"Alfred."

The older man's head lifts.

Bruce feels his pulse quicken.

Alfred looks exhausted.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

Like someone who has spent hours carrying something far too heavy.

Something is wrong.

Very wrong.

The bouquet shifts in his hands.

"Is everyone alright?"

Alfred opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Bruce turns toward Gordon.

The commissioner won't meet his eyes.

The cold feeling in Bruce's chest deepens.

"Alfred. Is it Dick?"

Silence.

"Jason?"

Silence.

"Tim?"

Nothing.

"Damian?"

Still nothing.

He names every single person except you.

Because it couldn't be you.

You could handle yourself.

You were normal.

You were just a kid.

You had refused to be Robin or Batgirl or any kind of vigilante because you were scared.

Scared of dying.

Of being tortured.

Of breaking a bone.

So no.

It couldn't be you.

Another pause.

Then, quietly—

"Master Bruce..."

His voice breaks.

The flowers slip from Bruce's fingers.

Yellow petals scatter across the marble floor.

A drop of water rolls from the crushed wrapping.

Bruce stares.

Alfred never breaks.

Not like that.

Not ever.

"Where are they?"

Alfred closes his eyes.

Just for a moment.

As though gathering strength.

When he opens them again, they look older.

"I am so sorry, Master Bruce."

"No."

The answer comes immediately.

Instinctively.

Without thought.

"No."

"Master Bruce—"

"No."

Because Alfred is mistaken.

Because you had called him.

Because you were supposed to be home.

Because you were waiting.

Because Bruce still has things to say.

Because there is still time.

There has to be.

Alfred looks away.

And Gordon finally speaks.

Quietly.

"Bruce..."

Bruce's head snaps toward him.

No.

No, no, no.

Not Gordon.

Not sitting in his living room.

Not looking at him like that.

Because Gordon only came here for one reason.

Bruce feels the world tilt.

Because this doesn't make sense.

You weren't Robin.

You weren't Batgirl.

You weren't anything.

You were supposed to be safe.

That had been the deal.

The entire point.

The reason Bruce had spent years arguing with you whenever Gotham came up.

The reason he never pushed.

Never trained.

Never insisted.

You had chosen a normal life.

And Bruce had let himself believe normal meant safe.

"Where are they?"

His voice rises.

Sharp.

Desperate.

Alfred's face crumples.

Bruce hates that expression.

Hates it.

Because he knows it.

He has seen it reflected in hospital windows.

Police stations.

Funeral homes.

The faces people make before they shatter his world.

"Tell me where they are."

Silence.

Bruce's pulse thunders.

"They're at the hospital."

You could survive being in a hospital.

You fought tooth and nail as much as your body allowed you to.

"They're unconscious."

A coma?

Did you pass out on stage again? You had when you were small. You sobbed for an hour until he came to pick you up.

God, you'd hate that.

"They're hurt."

God.

Let that be it.

Anything.

Anything except—

Gordon lowers his head.

Alfred's eyes fill with tears.

And suddenly Bruce understands.

The room goes silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

The kind of silence that swallows everything.

Bruce can't breathe.

His chest expands.

Nothing happens.

For one horrible second he thinks his heart has stopped.

"No."

The word comes out weaker.

Smaller.

Almost childish.

"No."

"No."

Gordon's jaw tightens.

"Bruce—"

"No."

The word rips itself out of him.

Louder this time.

Sharper.

"Stop."

Nobody moves.

Nobody speaks.

And somehow that makes it worse.

Because if there was hope, someone would have said it already.

Someone would have corrected the misunderstanding.

Instead Alfred is crying.

And Gordon is looking at him with the same expression he's worn outside morgues, hospital rooms, and crime scenes for years.

"Bruce."

"Stop talking."

For a moment Gordon says nothing.

Then he straightens his shoulders.

Because he knows Bruce.

Knows what happens if he leaves even the smallest space for denial to grow.

And Bruce is already trying.

Already reaching for explanations.

A coma.

A mistake.

A bad identification.

Anything.

Anything except this.

So Gordon forces himself to continue.

"They were attacked this afternoon."

Bruce shakes his head.

"They were found by emergency services."

"No."

"There wasn't anything the doctors could do."

"Stop."

"The injuries were severe."

"Stop."

"Bruce."

Gordon's voice drops.

"They were struck multiple times with a hammer."

The world stops.

Not metaphorically.

Not poetically.

It genuinely stops.

Bruce can't feel his hands anymore.

Can't hear the clock.

Can't hear Alfred breathing.

Can't hear Gordon's voice.

Only those words.

Multiple times.

A hammer.

Multiple times.

His mind rejects them instantly.

Because those words belong in police reports.

In case files.

In photographs he keeps locked away.

They belong to strangers.

To victims.

To people whose names become statistics after a few weeks.

Not you.

Never you.

You were supposed to be home.

You were supposed to be angry.

God, you were always angry lately.

Always rolling your eyes at him.

Always pretending not to care when he forgot something important.

Always saying "it's fine" in that tone that clearly meant it wasn't.

You were supposed to be upstairs.

Locked in your room.

Ignoring his texts.

Making him work for forgiveness.

You were supposed to take one look at the flowers and tell him they were ugly.

Supposed to laugh at him for not knowing what kind you actually liked.

Supposed to complain that he bought too many.

Supposed to steal his food when the burgers arrived.

Supposed to exist.

And suddenly Bruce realizes there won't be another birthday.

No awkward family dinners.

No arguments.

No chances to apologize.

No future conversation where he finally gets it right.

There won't be a next week.

There won't be a next month.

There won't even be tomorrow.

Because while he was driving home thinking about burgers and flowers and apologies, your life had already ended.

You died.

You died.

The thought enters his head and immediately shatters something inside him.

Because death had always been something Bruce fought.

Something he chased into alleyways and abandoned warehouses.

Something he punched and kicked and bled against.

Death was supposed to be the enemy.

An opponent.

A thing that could be beaten if he was fast enough.

Smart enough.

Strong enough.

But he hadn't even known there was a fight.

He wasn't there.

He didn't save you.

Didn't protect you.

Didn't even know you needed protecting.

For all his training.

For all his plans.

For all the satellites and contingency files and years spent turning himself into something impossible—

he had still failed the one person who wanted nothing to do with any of it.

And the worst part—

the truly unbearable part—

was that the last thing between you wasn't forgiveness.

It wasn't understanding.

It wasn't even a proper goodbye.

Was there even a goodbye?

And in one final act of desperation,

Bruce remembers you had called him.

“No but they just— they called me. How could they be dead? They called me—”

He scrambled for his phone, hard shaking as he looks for the voice,ail you sent him.

God, you were such a smart kid, weren’t you? You were probably telling him where you’ll be hiding until he comes. He’ll pick you up and fix everything and—

The audio starts to play.

there is silence for a while. White noise.

then—

“fuck.”

An immediate gasp from your part. He can hear the door opening as you let out a scream.

a thud.

your scream.

“please— please don’t—”

another thud as you let out loud, gut wrenching animal sounds.

Bruce looked around the room.

For what? Confirmation? For someone to say that maybe this was a sign that your injuries weren’t fatal? That there was a slight chance you were alive?

Alfred flinched at each hit. Stared right at Bruce. Begging him with his eyes to stop it.

Bruce didnt turn off his phone.

There had to be something.

Anything.

And then he looked at the top of his screen.

The voicemail lasted 2 hours.

2 hours you were beat.

2 hours you suffered. Begged. Screamed.

He turned off his phone.

Looked at it for a second.

Five.

Half a minute.

And slammed it against the wall. Once. Twice. Five times.

And stormed out.

Damian

Damian knows something is wrong.

He can feel it in his bones. There’s a tightness on his skin, as if there was something underneath it. He’s pacing on his room, suit now discarded on the corner of his room.

Did he push too far?

Did he truly hurt you that much?

He knows you’re a volatile, sensitive person and yet he still said what he said.

He thought he had grown so much as a person, yet that attitude and behavior of yours could make him regress back into the boy he used to be when he first arrived at the manor. He had worked so much to learn how to be vulnerable. Disciplined. Sensitive. A child.

You were always irritated lately.

Even if he won’t admit it, he had worked so hard to make you feel included. Part of his this family. The same way his father and brothers had. And yet you mocked and ignored him.

Simply because of his age?

Well, as always, he had to be the bigger person.

You were probably asleep by now. He was going to apologize tomorrow. Over breakfast. You seemed more forgiving when food was involved.

It was settled.

He had all the time in the world to fix this. And you had all the time in the world to fix your attitude.

Dick

It was strange, chasing and looking for Bruce late at night. It was usually him or one of his brothers who had to be chased by Bruce.

What the hell had happened?

For Bruce to react like that, it sure had to be something very serious. The man was so focused on being made of stone when it was so obvious he was actually the most sensitive out of all of them.

This was wrong.

He had tonight to fix this. And Bruce seemed focused to fix this tonight too.

whatever “this” was.

Bruce.

At first, being Batman was strange.

Most people thought he was a monster. A spirit. He was an urban legend, chasing down criminals and disappearing right as he took care of them. Most words didn’t stick.

Monster did.

Did he look like this right now?

Punching the man who took your life’s face again and again?

They said you looked unrecognizable.

Maybe the man needed to be unrecognizable too.

Dick

At first, being Robin was strange.

Most people thought he was just a kid. Happy. Excited. And he was, at first. Then had to be. Even after he found out about the reality of his parents’ death.

And then he couldn’t pretend anymore.

He was angry.

And Bruce looked angry.

Punching some guy again and again.

He grabbed Bruce by the shoulders and pulled him off.

“Bruce, what the—

Bruce

— hell?!”

Bruce looked up at his son. Breathing hard. He knew how he looked right now. Wild. Lost. He could see it in Dick’s eyes, the moment he realized his father wasn’t himself right now.

Bruce opened his mouth. Trying to explain. Nothing came out.

Because saying it meant admitting it.

And admitting it made it true.

“[name]’s dead—

Dick

—Dick.”

Bruce had said it so calmly, he thought Bruce didn’t say it at all.

You? Dead?

Bruce’s voice didn’t shake when he said it, which contrasted with the way he was moving before.

Like he wanted to kill the guy.

“..what?”

Bruce just stared up at him.

You were dead.

But how?

You were— you were you. How could your life be in danger— be over when they were supposed to take care of people like you?

Civilians.

Kids.

Dick took a sharp breath. And shook his head.

His eyes filled with unwanted tears.

His hands shook.

And with that, he turned around.

If Bruce wasn’t going to take responsibility, if he wasn’t going to help everybody else process it— he would.

He takes responsibility. (tell me you get it guys)

For you.

All he did lately was for you.

And now, it included this.

As he rushed back home, his brain refused to accept it.

But he had to.

If he couldn’t deal with this, how did he expect anyone else to do so?

Just yesterday, you were in one of your moods. Slamming doors, spamming him to go to your recital.

He had to.

You were munching on your Korean corn dog as they dressed up for patrol.

He had to.

Complaining about no one coming to your recital.

He had to.

Hugging him goodbye and apologizing for being so mean.

He couldn’t.

Hugging you back.

How could he?

He stood in front of the doors of the manor.

Saw Jim, who looked like he wanted to talk to him.

And had to.

Duke

Seeing the whole family sitting together was a weird sight.

Even weirder when you weren’t there.

Were you mad? It was the most reasonable response, being mad.

Hell, he’d be mad too.

If he played piano.

Or had a recital.

And no one came.

He liked you. He really did. You were a normal person he could talk to. You kept him grounded. The only other person who didn’t wear a mask at night. You didn’t even wear a mask at all.

So he understood why you were angry.

At least this time it made sense. You always got mad for anything. Wether someone was breathing too loud chewing too much, staring at you.

You were still a kid.

Duke looked up at Jason. Red-eyed. Hands shaking. Breathing too controlled. In. Out. In. Out. As if he didn’t control every single part of his body, he would break down.

Dick took a deep breath, as if there wasn’t an easy way to say this. There was an attack this afternoon. At the recital hall. It wasn't a Rogue. It was just... a robbery. A mass casualty event. Jim just confirmed the ID. It’s [Name]. They're dead."

What?

The room went silent.

Dick’s words sounded practiced. Like he had said them over and over until they lost their meaning and became sounds and nothing else.

Duke flinched as Jason kicked a table over, and rushes out the room, taking his gun with him.

Watched as Damian followed after.

Then Tim. Followed by Steph and Cass. Cass held Steph upright as Steph’s legs failed her. Breaking down.

Dick left too.

Every time something happened, each one of the, went their own way. They have different ways to process things. Those ways clashed. Made things worse. Caused fights. So. Yeah. Space.

Duke stared straight ahead. and wondered what to do next.

Raised by detectives, he needed proof. He sobbed hard, barely breathing as he rushes up to your room and slams your door open.

The first thing he saw was Damian, curled up into fetal position in your bed.

Then he saw your ghost.

Or rather, your thermal signature all over the place.

Of course, the bed was the most noticeable place. You never really got up unless it involved food, malls, or piano lessons. You spent most of the time scrolling.

The bathroom was next. You spent hours getting ready.

What he didn’t know, was why there was one on the window.

Did you sneak out constantly?

Or just stood there?

God, there was so much he didn’t know about you.

His legs failed him, and before he fell he sat on the bed next to Damian, who didn’t flinch when he put a hand on his shoulder. Which was bad.

“It’s gonna be alright, bud.”

Damian didn’t reply.

And Duke didn’t talk again.

a/n: so… that was intense. Anyway. Did y’all like this chapter? I feel like I’m going way too slow. Like- I feeel like they should be going back to the past now but I’m trying to develop the story. I feel like the chapter was ass lol. Anyway tell me how you feel about this thingy. For the next chapter I’m going to incorporate the taglist. Anyway bye

[chaulafan777]

I just realized that I’m writing a very intelligent plot (time travel, wormholes, theorems, paradoxes) with very intelligent characters (literal detectives) and I am, in fact, not an intelligent person 😭

[chaulafan777]

something something something chapter two is coming out in two days, anyways here’s some excerpts so y’all can wait

[gothamgraveyard]

Summary: You're in a toxic fwb with them. Only, you're the toxic one.

TW: Emotional manipulation, gaslighting, gold digging, heavyyy mentions of sex, Jason angst, more angst, replacing, cheating, fwbs in general.

A/n: I'm not adding Cass, because not even in my wildest nightmares would I have the balls to hurt her feelings. No Superman either. Also, sorry in advance xx Also no Damian, bc that would be a little weird sorry.

Dick Grayson

[10:14 PM] Dick: Hey, haven't heard from you in three days. Just wanted to make sure you're eating and doing okay? ❤️

[11:42 PM] You: why do you always track my time like a parole officer? it’s suffocating.

Dick: I'm not tracking your time, babe. I was just worried. We had really great sex on Thursday and then you completely went dark. It gives me a little whiplash, that's all.

You: oh look, the golden boy is the victim again. you do this every time. you put on this selfless protective act so you can feel morally superior when i don't give you a standing ovation for doing the bare minimum. it’s actually so manipulative.

Dick: Act? It’s not an act. I genuinely care about you. How is me asking if you're okay manipulative?

You: because you’re demanding emotional labor from me when i clearly want space. you’re using your "niceness" to guilt trip me into paying attention to you. it’s gross, dick. it makes me want to log off permanently.

Dick: I am so sorry. God, I didn't mean to make you feel like that at all. I swear. I just get anxious. I’ll back off. I won't text you for the rest of the week, okay? Just please don't be mad at me.

You: i'm not mad, i'm just tired of the drama. if you can promise to just be normal and stop acting like my boyfriend, you can come over at 1 AM. but if you bring up your feelings once, i’m locking the door.

[12:16 AM] Dick: I’ll be normal. I promise. Thank you for giving me another chance. I'm leaving right now. Sex?

Jason Todd

[01:02 AM] You: forgot to tell u, i ran into bruce at the gala tonight. we talked for like an hour. he’s actually so charming when he’s not dealing with all your baggage lol

[01:05 AM] Jason: Why the fuck are you talking to Bruce about me? What did he say to you?

You: nothing, he just asked how you were doing. i told him you’re still doing that angry little crime lord routine. he looked so sad. honestly jace, it’s kind of embarrassing how obsessed you still are with his approval.

Jason: FUCK YOU. You have no idea what he did to me. You don't get to pass judgment on my life from your comfortable little apartment. I broke my hands trying to claw my way out of a coffin while he was busy adopting a replacement. Don't you ever talk to him about me again.

You: case in point lol. look at you throwing a tantrum over a text. you’re so unstable. this is exactly why bruce gave up on you. you’re broken, jason. you're just too toxic to be around.

Jason: I'm toxic? YOU brought him up! You know exactly what that does to my head! You do this on purpose to watch me spin out! You always leave me feeling like shit. Fuck you. You don't even wait for me to pull my pants up before you're out that door. You're fucking INSANE. Don't EVER contact me again.

You: [Sent an attachment, wearing lacey black lingerie]

Jason: Wait. Baby. You're right. I was actin crazy. Sorry. I'm coming over. Leave the door open. I'll leave when you want me to please.

Tim Drake

[03:12 PM] You: [Attachment: Link to designer heels] [03:12 PM] You: get me this? my card is maxed out

[03:15 PM] Tim: Babe, we haven't spoken since Friday. You haven't answered any of my texts explaining why you were upset. Why would I buy you heels right now?

You: because if you don’t, it means you don’t actually care about making things up to me.

Tim: Making things up to you? You left me. I spent the last 48 hours analyzing everything I did in bed, tracking your micro-expressions on my security feed, trying to figure out what I said wrong. I haven't slept. I'm trying to fix this.

You: You're not exactly a gold medalist in bed. And you hardly care about me.

Tim: I care about you so much it’s literally affecting my work. I just want to understand the pattern here. One day you’re screaming my name, and the next you treat me like a malfunctioning appliance.

You: because you are malfunctioning. look how much text you’re sending me over heels. it’s pathetic. either buy it and prove you’re useful, or stop wasting my battery.

Tim: [Attachment: Order Confirmation Screenshot] Tim: It'll be at your place by Wednesday. Tim: Are we okay now? Can I come over tonight? We don't have to have sex if you don't like it.

Bruce Wayne

[02:14 AM] Bruce: I am sorry I missed dinner tonight. An emergency arose in the Bowery. I hope you understand.

You: i do understand. i always understand Bruce. it’s just funny how your "emergencies" always happen right when I open up to you.

Bruce: That is not true. The situation required immediate intervention. I left as soon as I could. Are you still awake? I can come by your place now.

You: no don’t bother. i’m used to being a second thought to you. honestly, it’s my fault for forgetting what you actually are. you’re incapable of real love. I guess saving strangers is easier than holding a woman’s hand when she’s crying.

Bruce: Darling, that is unfair. I care about you deeply. You know the responsibilities I carry. I am trying to balance this.

You: you’re not trying. you’re using your trauma as an excuse to neglect me. it’s honestly exhausting. i put on that dress for you tonight, bruce. i sat alone at that table for two whole minutes. you treat me like a secret shame you only visit when you want to forget your own life.

Bruce: I am sorry. I never wanted to make you feel hidden. I will make this up to you, I promise. Tell me what you need.

You: i need you to wire transfer me the rent money for next month like you promised, since i missed my shift at work waiting around for you tonight. and don’t come over looking for sympathy. leave the check with alfred. And I want Jimmy Choos.

Bruce: The funds have been transferred. I'll have Alfred stop by the mall tomorrow. Bruce: I am outside your building. Please open the gate. I just want to sit with you. I won't ask for anything.

Stephanie Brown

[11:12 PM] Steph: Hey!! Guess who just intercepted a major smuggling ring by the docks entirely by herself? 🥇 Purple looks good on a winner. You free tonight to celebrate?

You: oh congrats lol. i’m actually out with some friends right now.

Steph: Oh, cool! Which bar? I can swing by and meet up with you guys, I’m already in uniform but I have a jacket in my bike.

You: uhhh please don’t. my friends are kind of normal corporate people, they’d think the whole vigilante cosplay thing is a little cringe. plus you get kind of loud when you drink steph, it’s a lot for them.

Steph: Cosplay? I literally just saved a shipping container full of people. And I’m not "a lot." I’m fun :(

You: yeah, you’re fun for a Tuesday night when I have nothing else to do. but in public it’s just different. you always have this desperate "look at me, i’m a hero too" energy. it’s like you’re trying too hard to prove you belong with the bats. it gives me secondhand embarrassment ngl.

Steph: Wow. That’s… genuinely the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me. You know how hard I work. You know how much it hurts when people look down on me. Why would you say that?

You: because i’m the only one who’s honest with you. everyone else just pities you. anyway, the bar is getting boring. come to my place at midnight? leave the purple suit downstairs though, it smells like dock water.

Steph: I shouldn't. I really shouldn't come over. You're horrible to me. [11:42 PM] Steph: Are you going to be awake at 12:30? I have to go home and shower first. Please don't go to sleep before I get there.

Barbara Gordon

[09:30 PM] Babs: You missed your physical therapy appointment today. I checked the clinic’s log. I explicitly told you how important it is for your recovery timeline to stay consistent.

You: oh my god, are you tracking my medical appointments now? you’re not my mom babs. i slept in. it’s fine.

Babs: I am not trying to be your mother, I am trying to keep you functional. You complained for an hour on Sunday about your shoulder hurting, so I made an appointment for you to fix it. A simple "thank you" would suffice.

You: i didn’t ask you to "optimize" my life. this is exactly why your relationships always fail. you are so overbearing.

Babs: If I didn't manage things, your entire routine would fall apart. You're incredibly reckless, sweetheart. I do it out of love.

You: see? there’s the lecture. honestly, the only time you’re actually fun is when your mouth is busy doing something else. when you talk, you just sound like Bruce. it’s a total turn-off.

Babs: That is incredibly disrespectful and reductive. I run the entire information network for Gotham's defense, and you are reducing my intellect to "nagging" because you're too lazy to go to a doctor. I'm shutting this chat down.

You: okay, go back to your computers, oracle lol. i’m gonna go hit up a club. don’t watch me on the traffic cams, it’s creepy x

[09:58 PM] Babs: I am not checking the traffic cams. [10:12 PM] Babs: Which club are you at? The grid is showing increased gang activity near the Diamond District. [10:15 PM] Babs: Sweetheart, answer me. I’m sending a car to your apartment. Just stay home. I’ll come over after the shift ends. We can… drop the schedule talk. Just text me back so I know you're safe. Please.

A/n: The original plan was to have a lot more DC characters, but this took two hours and four crash outs, so I'll be adding them and making a part 2 another day. Sorry T<T

If you made it to the end, congrats soldier. here's your medal 🏅