#fishiewrites

[pufferfishzero]

part 2!

part 3!

something something bruce offhandedly mentions being autistic and it's like a record scratches as his kids turn to him with expressions varying from "how the fuck did i not know" to "why the fuck did you not tell me." there's the beginnings of an argument because, well, it would've made communication a lot EASIER if they knew.

"Honestly," Bruce huffs, "I thought you all knew."

"How would we know without you telling us, Bruce? It's been over a decade. You didn't think it would be useful??"

"I thought it was one of those things most people just automatically knew, but I didn't. Every kid I grew up knew before I did."

Pause. What?

"You're telling me everyone knew Brucie 'Prince of Gotham' Wayne was autistic?"

"I wasn't Brucie back then," Bruce said flatly. "I was just a kid. And yes, everyone knew, before I did actually. Though, with how often they said it to my face, I should have figured it out sooner."

"...Called you autistic? They called you autistic to your- Bruce, did no one do anything??" Dick asked. He was very aware of the kind of bullying a newly-orphaned kid might receive, but it had never been anything like that.

"It was the 80s, they used the more outdated term. And they were right, so what was there to report?" Bruce shrugged. "I think everyone assumed I got hit in the head real hard during my travels, and it fixed me." Bruce made to push past his kids, but they refused to move.

"Bruce. You can't still... you know there's nothing to fix, right?" Tim asked hesitantly. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that his dad was a vulnerable kid once too.

Bruce turned to his son and gave a wry smile. "Of course I know that now." He'd learned to control his nervous rocking on his heels; he kept his hands and body still as he talked; he studied up on social cues and body language like he did economics or history.

He wasn't lying; he knew there was nothing to fix because there was nothing left to fix. What was left of him was too broken to even try, and it would have to remain one of his many failures.

This time, as Bruce moved again, he was let through to his bedroom.

Let's hope they don't find out about my time in Arkham, Bruce thought mildly.

[pufferfishzero]

de-aged bruce wayne but he's in his training years, a young twenty-something and, and oh god, he's talking about what he'll do after. he's (comparatively) bright-eyed and his intense passion is more blazing than dark and imposing, and he wrinkles his nose in playful distaste, and he makes sly jokes, and he offers small smiles, and, and, and he believes he'll live to see an after.

dick has to put his head in his hands, after bruce tells him he wants to travel the world again, peacefully, when his job in gotham is done. tim is quick to reach for the ginger-ale for the nausea rolling in his gut as bruce is hopeful about going to med school, of saving people with gentle hands. jason finds himself in that alley after bruce describes his dream for the people of park row, not crime alley, park row. he doesn't leave for a long, long time. damian goes to spar but ends up just sitting at the mats, staring off into nothing, after bruce shyly mentions a beautiful woman he wants to settle down with. cass tries to go to sleep and forget the hope emanating from bruce, hope and conviction and (comparatively) none of the weary resolution or thick self-hatred that she and bruce knew all too well, when he speaks of the milestone that will let him know he can be stop, a soldier dreaming of a declaration of peace.

they didn't know batman was supposed to be temporary. they didn't know bruce started this with the intention of stopping, because they bruce they all knew would never stop. they didn't know he never intended to sign the rest of his life to this, this violent duty that stretched him thin between gotham and wayne charities and the justice league.

they didn't know, or perhaps just forgot, that their dad used to want more from life than just mission objectives.

[pufferfishzero]

bruce gets de-aged to shortly after he was orphaned but his house is empty. he figures out he’s in the future quickly enough and is terrified of letting people know he’s even more alone and vulnerable than he’d been when it was just him and alfred. he hated how high society members looked at him, touched him, made fun of him, even if alfred said he was lucky for the attention…

he pulls a fanon-tim drake, fucking around online to get groceries delivered and keeping busy with random skills and textbooks to distract himself from the bone-deep chill of loneliness or the flashbacks from thunder or the insomnia-inducing nightmares or the-

anyways.

he can almost convince himself he enjoys it, that he prefers this. he doesn’t have time for anyone, they’d just get in the way of his studies. sure, he doesn’t go to school, and he misses hearing people's voices outside of video lectures. but he’s always enjoyed learning, and he wants to be a doctor! the best there is, like his dad.

yeah. yeah! if he had anyone around, they’d just distract him from his mission. he prefers this.

and he’s doing fine, he thinks. at least, he’s doing the best he can.

it’s just- he’s in the future, right? and he’s still alone? there wasn’t anyone for him? still? he should be in his forties and the manor is still empty?

but there are signs of people having lived here. a family, even! he looks himself up and- oh!

he has kids! a family! he adopts five kids in the future! he has a family!!

but he’s been alone for months, now. the manor has been cold and empty the whole time he’s been there. where... are they? why haven't they come home?

oh. they probably left him too. alfred always does did say he’ll drive people away, being so miserable and gloomy all the time. they probably saw the broken thing inside him that seems so visible to everyone he meets, the thing that makes people laugh at him, the thing that makes him miss social cues. like he's not really a boy, but a novelty.

he wants to go back home. to the past. maybe it wasn’t so bad, with just alfred. he should’ve been more grateful. is this a test? if he’s better will he get to go back? he wants help, he wants a hug, he wants anyone.

he hates this. he hates cooking for himself and he hates tucking himself in bed and he hates dragging a step-stool around between the kitchen sink and the stove and the countertops because even on his tippy toes he can’t reach. he hates that every step echoes because the house is so empty and he hates that he had to wear a dozen layers because he’s cold and can’t figure out the thermostat and he hates that he cries every night while hugging himself because no one is there to do it for him. he hates that the happiest he feels is when he gets a Congratulations! email after finishing an online course.

he’s supposed to have a family now, and even his adult-self couldn't be good enough to keep them around, and he’s alone alone alone.

what was the point of this? what was the point of bringing him to see the future that awaits him? to see how worthless he is and will always be? how easy he is to leave? how awful it is to be around him??

he was stupid for hoping his future would be better.

what was the point surviving that night? of surviving every night after that? why even bother staying alive?? to be alone???

not for the first time, nor for the last, bruce goes to sleep praying he wont have to wake up.

pt2 will be something w the kids coming home! more angst dont worry <3

tags: @urk-m this is the next brick hehe @nikiexe0 @shrimpsoupthedrawer

[pufferfishzero]

bruce wayne is going to be sat down with alfred or, worse, one of his kids and told, gently but still painfully, that he needs to watch what he says and how he says it more. he will be told his advice is harsh and rude (bruce can see this, but he thought he was allowed to have no filters around family. he thought they were supposed to understand his intent and see past his abrasive tone). he will be told he doesn’t always know what the other person is going through, so he should keep his thoughts to himself (bruce thought that, in a conversation, if he shared his thoughts, the other person would share their own? they’d explain themselves so he could understand better?). he will be told he’s been alienating his own family by constantly criticizing them (…he was just trying to help. that’s just what he was thinking, is he meant to stay quiet?)

bruce isn’t going to understand this fully. he was being his genuine self and, through the well of hurt, he’s going to realize that his thoughts are not appreciated and it’s his authentic self that alienates his family. he will not know how to reconcile who he is with who his own family wants him to be; all he will see is that they are separate people.

he’s going to feel like that dumb fucking kid again, the one at the playground who doesn’t know how to connect with the other kids. he’s going to feel, again, like there’s just something he isn’t getting. there’s always something he doesn’t get, when it comes to the people in his life, and he’s always only going to be that dumb fucking kid and he hates it. he thought he built a family who got it, got him, but now he’s just a dumb fucking adult and nothings changed.

he’s going to pull back instead of reaching out, he’s going to swallow the words he SWORE they wanted him to share in the first place. he’s going to be so, so lost because there is no person who understands what he’s trying to communicate, no person who sees past his words into the intent in his mind. he really, truly doesn’t know how to be understood. he tried speaking his mind more and that didn’t work so now he’s back to talking less and his family seems more upset than before. he doesn’t know, he can’t know, he won’t ever know.

he just knows he’s alone. he just knows no one will hear him.

[pufferfishzero]

i want bruce to be hurt so badly that, even when his family realizes they fucked up and come back, there’s something genuinely broken about him. there’s a disconnect between him and his feelings; not him attempting repression but him actually having cut the bridge. that last fight, that last door slamming shut, that last “off” period between him and his family, it sent him into a spiral of depression until he landed firmly in apathy.

oh, he still cares. he still loves gotham, fights for her, bleeds for her, feels for her. but when it’s a question of anyone loving him? ha! that almost made him twitch his lips. he’s lost in his head with self hatred, unable to believe he could be loved.

he feels mechanic in his movements, but even roombas are loved. then again, they’re also useful. he just- well. he just rots in his own body.

he doesn’t understand their attempts at bonding; they don’t need to put all this effort into pretending. he knows already, that their affection and worry is fake. they don’t need to try talking to him, especially not when he’s so awful at it. they don’t need to wrap themselves around him when he knows he’s disgusting to touch.

they’re being weird, and bruce is patiently waiting them out until the other shoe drops. if they feel less guilty by pretending to like him, then that’s fine by him. they’ll give up soon enough, like they always do. at least he’s not choking on his own hope that maybe this time it will last. at least this time, he knows he’s just temporary.

at least this time, he’s too used to it for it to hurt.

[pufferfishzero]

bruce struggles to talk about the things he really enjoys because it feels like every conversation ends when he tries to join in. he sits in the shadows and silences his steps because he hopes people will forget he’s there and be themselves around him, if not with him. the first time he noticed his family get quiet when he walked in, he left soon after to dry heave in the bathroom. he didn’t come back. the first time only cold misery showed up for dinner with him, he stared at his plate, unable to move, for an hour. he never took a bite. he knew only loneliness awaited him, even as a child, but for awhile there, he really thought…

well. he knows what he’s like. he should’ve known better.

[pufferfishzero]

i’m crine what the fuck are you talking about are we talking about the alfred that doesn’t even APPROVE of batman?? the alfred who hired people to act out the death of bruce’s parents and then BEAT HIM UP to prove a point?? the ONLY way alfred had a hand in creating the batman is because he failed to help bruce process his grief, and even then bruce might’ve been a vigilante anyways but just slightly better adjusted. mind you fear is why bruce chose a BAT which he was always SCARED OF in an attempt to CONTROL his own fear. mind you that implies alfred never intentionally made him feel SAFE, which is kind of crucial to a victim of gun violence!!

also it’s INTEGRAL to batman’s origin story that his parents WERE good people and they wanted to help the common people. bruce’s no kill rule stems from his father and his charities are a homage to his mother as EXTENSIONS OF HER WORK

10.4k likes that’s ten thousand and four hundred people like that’s one thousand which is already a lot but TEN times i need to touch grass im normal about this im normal im fine its all fine guys im like normal about this

[pufferfishzero]

when bruce dissociates after a bad night he still finds himself blinking into awareness at his parents’ graves, curled up between the headstones like he’d been that night, when he’d been waiting for someone to notice and help. the “i need my dad” feeling is something he never got the chance to grow out of; instead it just got stronger. he hates himself for it but sometimes he’s pettily jealous that his kids were whole and pure enough to be loved (esp by alfred…) but he was flayed open and fragmented to dust and was born wrong on top of that.

he hates himself for grieving too much and he hates himself for not grieving enough, or “correctly,” and he hates that every emotion he’s felt was wrong and every emotion he’s expressed was expressed wrong and sometimes he thinks there isn’t a single part of him than was put together correctly.

and he hates himself for trying to be better because then the list of failures just gets longer and longer. and he hates that he can’t even say he wasn’t trying as an excuse. he hates that this is the best he could do and he hates that this amalgamation of rotted organs and dirt and broken glass scrambled together in the shape of a man is all he’ll ever be. he hates that he’s dirty and impure and untouchable and decayed.

he hates that he’s alive and trying and he’d hate himself if he were dead and useless. he hates himself for trying to keep his family close by because he hurts them and he hates himself for pushing them away and hurting them.

he hates that he’s stuck in this miserable limbo. all the love in his body flows outwards and he hates that he’s selfish enough to wish he could direct some of it to himself.