#neglectful superhero

[patchworkorphan]

The Hero and the Infant: Part Two

Read part one here

*~*~*~*~*

“Villain.”

The hero didn’t shout it. They didn’t need to. Villain would hear them fine even over all the destruction and screaming and emergency services. Hero just stared from the street up at Villain and Villain looked down at Hero. Hero lifted their hand in a wave and then pulled the cigarette from their lips, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

“Hero –” sidekick began but Hero shook their head.

“It’s okay kid. I got it from here,” Hero said still staring at Villain. “So, you gonna invite me up or do I have to climb twelve flights of stairs?”

Villain just stared. Sidekick moved forward, suddenly hesitant in bringing Hero here. Just as they opened their mouth to say it to Hero, Sidekick was wrenched into the sky by an invisible hand and suddenly Hero and the street were below them.

“Fucking shit,” Hero cursed, flicking their cigarette to the ground as they started running to the apartment building to the left of Villain and taking the stairs two at a time.

Villain stared at Sidekick with a probing, scientific kind of curiosity, like they were able to look under Sidekick's skin and unravel all their secrets with enough determination.

“You’re new,” Villain purred. Their voice like liquid silver dancing its way through the sky to Sidekick’s ears sending a shiver down their spine.

“Yeah. I’m Superhero’s sidekick.”

Villain tilted their head to the side and asked, voice deadpan, “do you know the mortality rate of Superhero’s previous sidekicks?”

Sidekick stared Villain in the eye as they said, “I do.”

“And you took the job anyways?”

“I did.”

“Hmm. Not very chatty. You remind me of an old friend of mine.”

“Forgive me, I don't usually chitchat while floating this high in the air."

"Hmm," Villain rumbled, "how about falling?"

For a single terrifying moment, Sidekick felt gravity's effects on them, yanking them back to earth and they gasped, reaching forward and grabbing Villain's leg like their life depended it.

"NO! Nononononononononono, wait! FUCK!" Sidekick cried as their grip on Villain faltered and they slipped. They fell an inch further in the air before they were suspended again, this time with their back to the ground below, staring up at Villain with wide frightened eyes. The only thing keeping them from the hard tarmac below thirteen stories below and being alive.

Villain turned over in the air, rolling onto their stomach and lying like a schoolgirl on their stomach with two hands supporting their head as they grinned down at Sidekick, drinking in their fear.

"You sound just like my favourite hero, Sidekick. I knew letting you fall would loosen your tongue a bit."

Villain was fucking insane, Sidekick realised, their heart still pounding like a rabbits at seeing a hungry dog catch their eye.

"Hero, I’m guessing?" Sidekick said eventually, though their voice still came out higher than it should have.

Villain smiled a fond smile that went to their eyes and lit up their entire face. “Yes. My dear cantankerous hero, so foul-mouthed."

“I met them today," Sidekick said, just trying to keep Villain talking and keep themselves suspended until Hero was able to talk Villain into hopefully letting Sidekick go. Where the fuck were they?

Villain's interest was piqued and they dove slightly towards Sidekick, grabbing Sidekick by the collar of their shirt and sitting on their waist, legs dangling over either side. Somehow, Villain made sure that even flying in the air, Sidekick could still feel the restrictive weight of Villain on top of them.

"And what did you think of them?" Villain asked.

What did Sidekick think of Hero?

"They were... difficult," was the first word that came to mind. Villain grinned and nodded sagely, agreeing with Sidekick as if it was a sacred moment.

“Nothing easy is worth having, Sidekick. Some parting advice.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“Oh yes,” said Villain with a disarming smile. “Quite literally.”

Sidekick didn’t have time to process Villain’s words before Villain shoved Sidekick down below them and wind rushed through their clothes, through their hair, through them as they fell like a comet to earth. This was how they died.

Then their momentum stopped suddenly, and they were swinging into a brick wall, their arm yanked out of its socket and Sidekick cried out in pain. Craning their neck up, they tried glancing up to see Hero above them, leaning half out a broken window, two feet planted on the sill and pulled Sidekick up despite their cries and cursing.

“God, I know. I’m sorry Sidekick. You shouldn’t have been here, god where the fuck is Superhero in all this!” Hero pulled Sidekick in the window and into their chest before stepping back and setting Sidekick down on the window sill.

“Fucking what the fuck?!” Sidekick mewled cradling their arm to their chest.

“I'm sorry, Villain doesn’t usually act like this,” Hero told them.

Sidekick blinked, pain lancing through their shoulder and down into their chest. “What?”

“They don’t usually act this way. First impressions are everything, but I swear there’s good in them.”

Sidekick blinked at Hero, shaking their head. “You’re defending them?!”

“Well, it’s my fault you see. This whole temper tantrum. I haven’t been returning their texts.”

“You haven’t—” Sidekick asked, then blinked and let out an exasperated “what?!”

“Your shoulder—” Hero said. “It’s dislocated.”

“No fucking shit!" Sidekick mewled. "You yanked it out of its socket!”

“Would you rather be a splat on the concrete? Cause I can still push you out the damn window, kid.”

Sidekick walked to the stairwell, fury and pain mixing in their heavy breaths as they braced themselves against the wall. Hero stepped forward a warning on their lips: “kid, I wouldn’t do th—”

It was too late. Sidekick had already thrown themselves against the wall. A resounding pop echoed throughout the stairs, followed by a sharp shriek of pain from Sidekick as they slid down the wall, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.

Hero opened their mouth, but Sidekick just held up a finger from their good arm and wagged it in Hero’s stupid face: “don’t. Say. A thing.”

Sidekick braced themselves against the wall, sliding up it with a groan of pain and rolled their shoulder. Forwards. Backwards. Then they set their furious eyes on Hero and without a word turned and started ascending the stairwell to the roof.

Hero laughed, stunned at the kid’s resilience, and followed them up the stairs. “Do you want some—”

“Just shut the hell up,” Sidekick said, kicking the door to the roof open and looking down pointedly at Hero who was midway through taking a bag of sweets from their pocket. “And go out and do your job.”

“Yes boss,” Hero said with a smile, putting a fizzy lace through their teeth. They emerged onto the roof, arms spread wide and yelled: “Hey! What the fuck are ya doing?” to Villain who was no doubt still floating in the sky, and Sidekick sat down heavy on the steps and took a few deep breaths.

They nearly just died.

Villain almost just killed them.

They would have killed them if not for Hero, and all they wanted to do was cry, but they were too angry.

“Just go out and do your job,” Sidekick chastised themselves, standing and wiping the remnants of tear trails from their cheeks before joining Hero on the roof.

Crying could come later if they lived that long.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued Here

#The Hero and the Infant #THATI #hero villain story #hero villain snippet #hero villain writing #hero villain whump #sidekick whump #sidekick whumpee #sidekick x villain #heroes and villains #writing snippet #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero villain angst #sad hero #alcoholic hero #reluctant hero #neglectful mentor #bad superhero #neglectful superhero #superhero sidekick #sidekick #villain #hero #sidekick hero buddy cop duo #orphan #orphan writing #whump #unhinged villain

[chaotic-orphan]

Hero and the infant part four

Read part one here

TW: suicidal ideation, suicidal ideation implied, mentions of suicidal thoughts, borderline depressed Hero, mentions of death, mentions of hopelessness

*~*~*~*~*

And they popped out again on the ground, next to the police and the reinforcements that were called in. Sidekick gasped in a harsh breath and coughed it out again, wheezing. Hero forgot to tell them about the whole deep breath thing before teleporting. Whoops. Hero groaned as someone helped them to their feet and brought them to the back of an open ambulance.

Paramedic was there waiting, glaring at Hero.

Wonderful.

“Ah. Paramedic. You look radiant today,” said Hero as they sat down on the back of the ambulance, nodding their thanks at the Officer that helped them over.

“Are you going to hospital this time?”

“No.”

“Of course not,” Paramedic grouched, nodding at the officer that assisted Hero to step away. “I’ll just wait here while Villain kills you, shall I? Make sure we get you to the morgue straight away.”

“Villain won’t hurt me, Paramedic,” Hero said and then hissed as Paramedic’s gloved fingers pressed down hard on Hero’s broken fingers. “Fuck!”

Paramedic was deadpan as they said: “Yes. They would never hurt you.”

“Can’t you just wrap them up for me and let me go again?”

Paramedic laughed, a short, derisive sound. “Yes. I can just keep patching you up while you for round two and three and twenty.”

Hero sighed, putting their elbow on their knee and pinched the bridge of their nose with their good fingers, head tilted down. So, they didn’t see the concern knitting Paramedic’s eyebrows together as they bandaged the two fingers together. Then bandaged them to Hero’s pinkie for support.

“Did you bang your head?” Paramedic asked and Hero nodded slightly. Their headache exasperated by the movement. “Show me.”

Paramedic’s cool fingers pressed lightly on Hero’s scalp. “Yeah there,” said Hero as Paramedic hit the sore spot. Paramedic pulled their hand back and said: “okay. There’s no blood. Most likely bruising. Just try to not get hit on the head again, okay?”

“Okay,” said Hero standing. Paramedic pushed a packet of pills into Hero’s hand. Hero popped out two and swallowed them dry before handing Paramedic back the foil packet.

“Keep it. You’re gonna need it.”

Hero nodded and slipped into the packet into one of their coat pockets. “Thank you, Paramedic.”

“See you in five.”

“Ah, come on. At least give me ten,” Hero said with their usual big smile, and Paramedic just shook their head.

Sidekick was speaking with Superhero fervidly when Hero strolled over, languid in their pace. They pulled their packet of smokes out and their lighter, lighting the cigarette as they walked. Superhero was the first to notice Hero stopping beside them, blowing smoke in the big shot’s face with a grin.

“Howdy Superhero,” said Hero with a grin, lapping up Superhero’s disgust. Hero nodded at Sidekick in greeting, taking another slow drag.

“Hero, I don’t have time for your shit right now. Why don’t you go crawl under a bar somewhere?”

“I was trying my best, but your delightful new sidekick here came and ruined all my fun. Why is that Superhero?” Hero asked, turning their head to look at Superhero again. “Is it because you’re too chicken shit to face Villain yourself? Maybe you should tell your new Sidekick that so you don’t kill another kid because of your cowardice, hmm?”

Superhero’s glare would have burned a hole through Hero if it got any more intense. Their lips pursed; nose held high. Hero felt sick as they let the smoke out through their nostrils.

“Oops,” Hero said, voice deadpan. “Looks like I just let the cat out the bag, huh?”

“Villain only wants to talk to you. Word is you haven’t been answering their texts.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice excuse—” Hero grumbled to Sidekick, then tilted their head at Superhero. “Listen, are you gonna help me stop them or are you gonna sit down here, safe and sound and send your Sidekick to do your dirty work?”

“This temper tantrum is your doing Hero. Clean up your own mess,” said Superhero squaring up, stepping closer to Hero’s face. Hero didn’t flinch. They didn’t do anything but follow the movement with their eyes, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Hero exhaled the smoke through their nose, and let their voice drop a tone lower. Something cold and vicious behind it.

“Villain’s a villain because of your doing, Superhero. How ‘bout you clean up yours, before you end up killing another—”

Before Hero could finish the sentence, Superhero wrapped a hand around Hero’s throat and drove them backwards until they were pinned against the front of a fire truck.

“Superhero!” Sidekick cried, running over and trying to take Superhero’s hand off Hero’s throat. Hero’s head was aching, but they didn’t let it show, just glared at Superhero. Sidekick stepped between the pair when they failed to remove Superhero’s hold, and Superhero was forced to let go of Hero. “This isn’t the time. Villain’s still up there!”

Hero stepped forward, fixing their long duster and took the last drag from their cigarette, savouring it before flicking the butt to the ground and twisting the ball of their foot on it to stomp it out.

“I’m going then,” said Hero.

“I’ll come with you,” Sidekick said immediately, but Hero shook their head, letting the smoke out through the corners of their lips.

Hero put a hand on Sidekick’s shoulder, and said: “you’re not coming this time.”

“What!”

“Villain doesn’t like you and you’re just something they can leverage against me if they catch you again. You’re staying put,” Hero ignored their protests and turned their attention to Superhero. “Don’t let them follow me unless you want them dead like the last one.”

Superhero’s hard stare melted away with a pop. Then Hero was on the roof again, facing Villain’s back. A metre or two between them. “Sorry for the delay.”

“Not at all, Hero,” Villain purred, turning to face their favourite reckless hero. Dishevelled, bags under their eyes, hands deep in their signature brown trench coat they wore over their black combat trousers and black sweatshirt. Villain couldn’t help but smile. Hero never changed.

Villain’s eyes searched the empty space behind Hero. “Where’s your friend? Haven’t scared them away already, have I?”

Hero shrugged, easy, blasé. “Nah, I put them in timeout. Left them with their babysitter.”

Clever, violet eyes settled on Hero’s. Oh, so alluring and bright at having Hero’s entire undivided attention. “Good. I always preferred when it was just the two of us. Come closer, I won’t bite.”

“No, but you’ll break,” Hero said, holding up their bandaged hand and tilting their head to the side. A soft, fond smile slipping onto their lips. Hero felt an invisible hand slide around their own. Inspecting at first. Gentle, then guiding Hero, pulling them closer to Villain, bridging the gap between them without Villain moving an inch.

Villain raised their own hand, palm facing up. Hero felt a phantom hand in theirs, guiding them gently towards Villain, closing the gap between them. When they were close enough, Villain took Hero’s hand in theirs and began an inspection of their own. Hero watched Villain’s violet eyes scan over the fingers bandaged together, inspecting the wrapping around their palm and wrist then back up again for support.

Violet eyes meeting theirs was the only warning Hero had before Villain pressed down hard on the injury. Hero hissed, yanking their hand back but Villain kept Hero’s hand locked in their iron grip.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” Villain asked with a sly smile, eyes never leaving Hero’s. Taking in every small twinge of pain, every squirming effort to hide said pain from Villain’s prying eyes. Oh, how they loved Hero’s small reactions.

“If you don’t want me to abscond you could just ask me to stay,” Hero told them honestly. Pained eyes meeting Villain’s, pleading for them to let go. Hero raised their other hand and placed it on Villain’s probing wrist. “It doesn’t always need to be pain that clouds my judgement, Villain.”

Villain smiled, a little genuine, before finally letting go. Their hand went to Hero’s cheek instead. Pads of their fingers digging in, gentle, with the smallest amount of pressure, because pain always came with Villain.

It was in Villain’s nature, Hero told themselves, they couldn’t really help it.

“I know,” said Villain, “but I do so love to watch you suffer, dear Hero. You make it into an art form.”

Hero pulled Villain’s hand away from their cheek at that, chest tight. “Perhaps you should witness me in my everyday life then. I suffer eternally.”

“Maybe you should start answering your phone when I call.”

Hero scoffed, turning their body half away from Villain, pulling the box of cigarettes from their pocket. Their hand was shaking after Villain’s inspection so they were happy to block Villain’s view of it with their body. Hero took a cigarette between their teeth, dragging it out before flicking the lid closed. The click of the lighter was reassuring, reliable.

Hero cupped their hand around the flame, a delicate thing to coddle especially on a roof where the wind was raging against their hair and their clothes. Hero could control the flame, let it burn enough to light their cigarette or they could smother it, the only thing they could control right now. They flicked the old zippo lighter closed, looking at the small black engraving on the side.

“You’re not special, I don’t answer anyone anymore. I put the stupid thing on silent. It kept incessantly buzzing,” Hero grumbled, looking over the wall of the roof down to the commotion below. Police lights and emergency services below, the street cordoned off from the public. They couldn’t make out Sidekick and Superhero below, but they could see Paramedic in their uniform and maybe pick out police but other than that it was just busy.

Hero heard Villain moving behind them, walking up to Hero and reaching over their shoulder, plucking the cigarette from Hero's hand. Hero grumbled out a half protest, hearing the flame ignite right by their ear, like a soft gasp of air. Villain slid it back between their fingers again.

“Cheers,” said Hero, flicking the ash off onto the wall. Villain exhaled a couple smoke rings then let the rest of the smoke out through their nose, the smell and smoke entrancing Hero. Hero watched the rings dissipate into the sky, as Villain’s hand stretched around Hero’s torso and pulled them both back away from the dangerous edge of the roof. Away from the prying eyes of back up below. Ensuring Hero’s attention could be focused on Villain completely again.

Hero rubbed their temple with the pad of their thumb, irritated. “All this fucking mess for what? Because I wasn’t answering your every whim? I’m getting too old for this, Villain. As are you.”

“Perhaps I should kill you and be done with it then,” said Villain, tightening their hold on Hero, tone cool and cutting. Hero couldn’t deny the chill that ran down their spine at the easy threat.

Villain could just throw them off the rooftop. Granted, it wouldn’t kill them, Hero had learned to quiet the panic when it came to life-or-death situations. Panic they could deal with, pain… well, pain was like Villain; it demanded Hero’s undying attention.

Hero shook their head, slinking out of Villain's hold with ease and popping up to the top of the wall, walking to the edge of the building and standing on the ledge.

“I can’t keep doing this Villain,” Hero repeated, chest tight. Behind them, Villain tilted their head at the Hero, their Hero. “You killed that kid.”

“That kid, was Superhero’s little psychopath. I was doing everyone a favour.”

“You could have saved them, Villain,” Hero said, half turning their body towards Villain, looking down into those violet eyes that used to give them so much comfort. “You could have tried to help them. We were once Superhero’s little psychopaths, no one put a bullet in us.”

“Maybe they should have,” said Villain tightly.

The wind whistled through the area between them on the roof, rustling their clothes and their hair as they let the weight of the words fall over them. Hero held Villain's unflinching eyes and some part of them wanted to scream. In another life, maybe they would be meeting on rooftops for secret midnight rendezvous, or to share a cigarette. The possibility broke Hero's heart, so they buried the thought and looked away from those piercing eyes.

Hero glanced down at all the commotion in the street below. They plunged a hand into their pocket, fist tightening around the cool metal lighter, while their other drew the cigarette to their lips. They nodded as they raised their head to the sky.

“Maybe they should’ve.”

Silence ebbed between them for a moment.

Then: “How are you, Hero?”

Hero laughed at the question. A loud, humourless laugh. It was such an absurd question coming from the Villain who had ruined how many people's day? Worrying about Hero, wanting to know how Hero was.

The worst part was the fact that Villain didn’t sound like Villain when they asked that question. Their voice was softer, quieter, more genuine. It was Hero’s best friend that asked how they were doing, not Villain. Not the scourge of the city, not the name whispered by civilians just in case it summoned the demon to wreck havoc on them.

It was just Villain.

Hero's Villain.

The one they had met in the early days at the Hero academy. The one who created schemes on how best to annoy the Heroes. Always getting them into trouble, always a little too clever for the Professor’s tastes — always questioned them a little too much. The one who took a punch for Hero, and threw a punch for them. The fastest, fiercest friend Hero had ever known. The quiet voice in the night when neither of them could sleep asking if Hero was still awake. The rebellious teenager who somehow managed to drag Hero into everything with them. The quickest study of them all, and it still wasn’t enough.

It was hard to distinguish Hero's friend from Villain these days, the waters were too muddled with Superhero's Sidekick's murder still fresh in their mind.

It tarred any fondness Hero harboured for Villain.

“I’m tired, Vil,” said Hero, their words clogging their throat and coming out thick. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of being a Hero. I’m tired of drinking and smoking to keep my head clear and my hands steady. I’m tired of not being able to save everyone. I’m tired that I am the one that is called to your every public beck and call. I’m fucking tired of it all.”

“Maybe if you just picked up the phone, I wouldn’t have to resort to these extreme measures to see you,” Villain snapped.

Hero whirled on their heel, eyes ablaze, cigarette dangling from their lips, feet balanced precariously on the ledge. Villain’s body twitched as if they wanted to step forward, something like protectiveness winding their body on instinct, that Hero refused to notice.

“You know where I live,” said Hero through gritted teeth. “You know where to find me. Don’t you try and justify your actions by blaming me! Don’t you dare!”

“Hero—”

“He was seventeen!” Hero cried, throwing their arm wide just to do something. Fury and guilt were battling for dominance in Hero's bones and blood and left them with this frantic, frenzied energy. Hero's hand went to their cigarette, a shadow crossing their face and molding their features into a stoic expression, hard stare almost startling Villain as Hero took a long drag and then stepped back off the ledge.

Villain's hand shot out and Hero drew the cigarette from between their teeth, grinning wildly as they nodded, as if they understood everything all of a sudden. Hero heard screams below that died down quickly when they didn’t fall, but looked as if they were floating on air above the roof.

"You can control life and death, Vil,” said Hero, voice low and rough. They dropped the cigarette onto the invisible platform Villain constructed for their reckless Hero. Hero’s eyes narrowed when they met Villain’s, before they said: “and you let that kid die.”

Hero sucked in a breath through their nose, chest expanding, and that was all Villain saw before Hero disappeared before their eyes.

Hero popped out beside Villain, whistling as they drew back their good fist, sending a devastating right hook to Villain's jaw. Villain's head whipped to the side from impact, and when they righted themselves they turned on their heel, but Hero was gone again.

A whistle behind them and a kick to the back of their knee and Villain fell to one knee, catching themselves on their hand. The second their hand made contact with the ground, Hero's feet were in front of them and there was a swift boot coming for Villain's chest.

Villain didn't have time to react before they were staring at the sky, lying on their back and Hero popped out on top of them again. Their fists bunched into Villain's sweatshirt, pinning them to the ground while a knee straddled each side of Villain's waist, keeping them trapped beneath a particularly lethal Hero.

"I'm here now," Hero hissed, digging their knuckles in painfully to Villain's chest. "What the fuck was so important and pressing that you wanted me here, Vil, hmm? Did you want to kill another kid? Want to make me watch, again? Fucking break a few of my bones instead, hmm?! WHAT IS IT?!"

Villain, to their credit, didn't flinch at Hero's emotional outburst, they just stared up at Hero, trying not to startle them too much. Villain swallowed before they spoke, Hero could feel the motion in their hands and they waited.

"You were MIA, Hero," said Villain softly. Their voice was calm and soothing, as they reached a gentle hand up to wrap around Hero's wrist. The violet melted from Villain's eyes returning them to their normal light brown, trying to show Hero that they were no threat. "No one could contact you, I hadn't — well, other villains said that you weren't yourself. I was worried about you."

Hero's hands began shaking in their hold, their adrenaline slowly leaving them in shock. "You... you were worried about me so you threaten and disrupt a block of offices to get my attention?!"

Villain tried for a smile. "It worked didn't it?"

Hero tightened their grip on Villain and lifted their torso off the ground before slamming them back against the rooftop, leaning in closer and growling: "You were so worried you nearly killed another kid, is that it Villain?”

"I knew you would reach them in time."

“But you knew I wouldn't reach the other one, right?” Hero asked, the words that haunted them the last few weeks spilling from their lips. Villain relaxed in their hold and Hero let out a scoff, sniffing back the tears that wanted to fall as they narrowed their eyes down at Villain. Villain their best friend. "I— I fucking knew it. You knew I wouldn't—”

"Hero, that was different."

"HOW?!" Hero demanded, lifting Villain up again just to make sure that Villain would look them in the eye when they told them. Tears gathered behind Hero's shining eyes, glazing over just waiting for Villain to release the dam.

“He was going to kill you, Hero,” said Villain softly.

Hero shook their head, “no. No, you did it for a reason.”

“You are enough of a reason for me to kill, Hero.”

“I don’t want to be,” Hero said with a strangled whisper, not trusting their voice enough to speak.

“I know,” Villain cooed. Their hand tightened slightly over Hero’s wrist, not painful. Not yet. “But when there is a rabid dog, it is a mercy to put them down.”

“He was Seventeen,” Hero said again, their grip loosening slightly on Villain as they spoke as if the words were Hero's only defence to Villain's honeyed logic.

“And Superhero sent him after us,” Villain told Hero, like it was the most important thing in the world. “If the blood is on anyone's hand it's Superhero's! Superhero sent him after us, Hero, not just me. Me and you, they wanted that kid to kill us. To kill you.”

Hero tightened their grip in Villain's sweatshirt, twisting their fists further and pulling Villain closer. Hero's eyes were dark, hooded, desperate — they scared Villain.

"Maybe you should have let him," said Hero, voice devoid of all emotion. The words hit Villain like a truck and left a heavy lump in their throat. This was exactly what they were scared of. Hero being so beat up about not being able to save the very person who was ordered to kill them. To kill both of them. Villain did the right thing putting the mongrel down, even if Hero was upset now. They won't be in the future, Villain would make sure of it.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Taglist: @d-cs @somebodytolove31

#The hero and the infant #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #writblr #hero villain writing #hero #villain #writing #orphan writing #whump writing #orphan #emotional whump #hero x villain #villain x hero #villains and heroes #hero and villain #reluctant hero #neglectful superhero #reckless hero #villain whumper #hero whumpee #hero whump #tired hero #tw suicidal ideation #suicidal ideation #tw sui ideation #suicidal thoughts #tw suicidal thoughts #mentions of death #mentions of suicide

[creekfiend]

truly nothing is more American than being like "yay I love the Marvel films yay I love the Captain America films" until the Captain America film has an Israeli superhero character who works with the Israeli military. and then we have to boycott it. but before this it was fine to support films about Captain America, an American superhero character who works with the American military!

our wholesome and universal commercialized nationalism vs their sinister child murdering nationalism!!! lmfao

ive made this unrebloggable but just in case someone gets up in my face I will make this crystal clear: I am not telling you to hate Israel less I am TELLING YOU TO HATE AMERICA MORE

#sorry #im so tired. some of us already hated this shit because we have consistent values. many such cases. #'we are boycotting the mcu' sweet im glad youve decided to join me -- oh. i see. #yeah if you neglected to get mad about militarism in the mcu before this then i think you may actually just be an anti-semite sry. #goodbye #do not get me started on the fact that this is like. AFTER DECADES OF REMOVING THE JEWISHNESS FROM SUPERHERO COMICS #om the part of the mcu #fuck a you! fuck a your shitty fucking army recruitment films! AAHAHAHAAHGGHHH

[sugarbell]

Batfam X Neglected! Batsis! Reader

Part 1

Today had started out like any other day. You had woken up, gotten ready, and gone to school. You were little more than a phantom in the school halls, hell you were little more than a phantom in your own home.

You weren’t complaining. Your life was considerably better than lots of other people in Gotham City, but what is a life without love? You had love in your life once upon a time, or so you’ve heard. Your mother was a beautiful, kind woman who girl-bossed through her whole life, and ran her own business company that sold many products for women. Mostly beauty products and clothes.

You had always heard how incredible your mother was. She was capable, independent, fiery, bold, but caring and compassionate. Or at least that’s what you had always heard, but you had no reason to doubt any of it. She was always committing some lovely charitable act. She had always been your hero even though you never had the chance to make any memories that you could remember with her. You had seen her in pictures and she was absolutely beautiful. So were you. Your father was also a very handsome man, which only added to your beauty. You were a mix of white and Japanese.

Your father was a lawyer, and you had also heard that he was a very intelligent and smart man, but he was a total goofball. The way people made your parents sound made you wish you had the chance to know them. On some nights where you lied in bed awake you would cry and wonder why the world had to be so cruel. Why couldn’t you have a chance to know your parents instead of being forced into a “home” where you were shown no love, affection, or care?

But then you would remember that you weren’t there only one who had it rough. Matter of fact, many people had it way, way worse than you did. So you would smile and thank God that you had a roof over your head, clothes to wear, and food to eat.

Although the problem never really was with material things.

Your mother and father had been apparent close friends with multi-billionaire playboy, and Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, Bruce Wayne. He was a trusted friend of theirs and they had written it down in their will that should anything ever happen to them, you were to be immediately placed under the care of their good friend Bruce Wayne. And when their car drove off a bridge on date night, you were orphaned. The letter with their will in it had gotten lost for quite some time until it turned up years later, by the time you were already ten years old. You had been in an orphanage all that time until the letter was found, and it was revealed that you were to be placed under the care of Bruce. Of course, Bruce accepted you graciously with open arms.

To the public of course. He had already had seven kids of his own, not that he minded another one, or meant to neglect you, it’s just that he never really seemed to have the time for you. Honestly nobody ever did.

You had been so excited to leave the gross, cold orphanage. You had seen Bruce Wayne on television and he seemed so nice and cool! But that was far from the truth. You envied his relationship with the other kids. You envied their relationship with each other.

Dick, he never meant to ignore you. It’s just…you were so ordinary. He hadn’t truly meant to brush you off but…he did. He was just so aloof and distant. He never tried making a relationship or a borderline connection with you, and you couldn’t say you hadn’t tried, but his detachment to nobody else but you made it increasingly hard. Like no matter how hard you tried he just couldn’t be interested in you in the slightest.

Jason, wasn’t necessarily outright harsh to you, however he didn’t bother trying to hide his disinterest in you. Whenever you spoke to him, he would only respond with grunts or groans, and when he did speak actual words to you, he sounded like it bothered him so much, so you had given up shortly after.

Tim was always too drained or tired to even bother with you. It was always tired hums whenever you tried speaking with him and so you gave up trying with him eventually too. He never really was rude, but he definitely couldn’t care less about you.

Damian definitely hates your guts, you were sure. Anytime you entered a room, he would scoff or “tt,” which made you self-conscious each time. You were older than him but it still hurt. You had tried giving him time to possibly warm up to you, he’ll you had tried it with everyone, but it never really happened. He despised you, and in turn you tried to stay as far away from him as possible.

Barbara, you never really spoke much to. She was always either preoccupied with something, or you just felt like she was so unapproachable. She was so beautiful and she seemed so kind and outgoing that you just felt like you weren’t in her league.

Stephanie seemed so light, and bubbly and kind, and in the beginning, you truly thought her and you would be fast friends, but when you heard her talking with Damian once behind closed doors about how they truly wished you had never joined the family…well you knew your assumptions about her were wrong.

Cass didn’t need words to build an unbreakable bond and an envious relationship with everyone else, so why not you? You had tried reaching out as well, but she was a little worse than Dick in the way where she was aloof, and would sometimes, more times than others just show her annoyance or unconcerned feelings towards you.

And then there was Bruce…he was supposed to act as your godfather…maybe even someone you could call ‘Dad’ just as many of the other kids did, but that never happened. Bruce was cold and harsh towards you. It was obvious he didn’t care about you. You had tried being the perfect golden child-getting straight A’s, excelling in all classes, helping out tremendously around the house to the point where you might even put the sweet, old Alfred out of business, been the sweetest, and the most patient with everyone, but it never seemed to work. Nobody noticed a thing except Alfred. Oh, he was so sweet and kind, and caring and compassionate towards you. And he never looked at you with pity. You hated the look of pity. One you had grown up with your whole entire life. He felt for you, and would always sneak you sweets and other treats during the days. Not that he has to sneak them to you…everybody else couldn’t give a damn what you decided to do. And you never wanted to feel like you were bothering anyone. So you took care of pretty much everything yourself.

Bruce took care of everything financially that you would need. You had plenty of clothes to wear, and many other material things that you needed, but never the one thing you truly needed. The one thing you truly craved… love.

You had a lovely room in the manor, but you always felt so cold and alone in it. A large bed with plush covers and duvets in Wayne Manor, but it was no help with sating the numb, empty, cold feeling inside your heart. The chill in your bones that you could never seem to get to leave. Not even on the hottest day in July.

You had lived in Wayne Manor for seven years of your life. You were seventeen now, and your birthday was coming soon. You had thought countless times of moving out when you turned eighteen, but you knew that you wouldn’t bring yourself to be able to do it. Even if your siblings and father, your “family” didn’t love and care about you, you still loved and cared for them deeply. Leaving them would only serve in hurting you more. Maybe that was what you needed though, time away girl them to realize that you truly didn’t need anybody who didn’t care about you or love you for you. Then you could rise from the ashes of the weaker person you used to be and into a new more ethereal creature who was stronger from the flames of her weakness and pain melting away, like a beautiful phoenix.

But you didn’t fancy the notion of lying to yourself. You knew that wouldn’t happen because you had too much love for them. Besides, you had never thought yourself a phoenix anyway. You honestly weren’t sure what you were yet. Maybe that journey of self discovery would do you a world of good. You figured yourself something of a solitary creature. But one that could thrive in an environment with others, however you were perfectly fine surviving on your own. You’d make do like you had all these years of being practically alone. You were fine, or were you? You thought yourself a fledgling bird…one that simply wasn’t ready to spread its wings and soar just yet. Maybe one day it would, and maybe it never would.

You knew of your family’s secret double lives. Vigilantes that roamed Gotham City at night protecting the people of Gotham from danger. Just one more reason why you felt like you never compare to any of them. They were all so unique and incredible in their own way, hell, they were superheroes at nighttime! And you…you were just ordinary girl that was thrust into their routine, and you were sure in their eyes, a punishment of some sort. Only there to ruin their lives, which you seemed to be successfully doing for each of them, no matter how hard you tried. It didn’t help that almost all of them, whether intentionally or not acted like they were better than you as well. And, you had started to think, especially recently, maybe they were right.

Anyways, you were less than an afterthought for all of them. And it would probably stay that way for the majority, if not all of your lives. And you had grown used to it. Didn’t mean you didn’t care, or that you didn’t wish it would change, because of course you did. The hopeful little girl inside you still hoping that all of her siblings and her father would have a change of heart and they could be the perfect family, although the realist older girl that was you now knew that it wouldn’t work out like that. Not without a miracle, and none of those seemed to ever happen in your life. You had just simply accepted it. Instead you stuck to your art. Your favorite pastime and escape from the world. You used lots of different mediums, you drew, painted, and did digital art. Not that anybody noticed, except Alfred of course, bless his kind soul.

You had hoped to get into a lovely art school in Gotham after graduating high school. After all, your mothers industry was waiting for you to turn eighteen and finish school when you could take over. You had tons of money. Fuck-you money, and then tons more. From both your mothers business and savings from your father. There was tons of money, houses, estates, for you to take over. The entire business was on hold right now, but the second you were read to claim it after school, it would be there waiting for you.

You hummed quietly along to the music playing through the red wireless headphones atop your head as you delicately stroked your paintbrush across the canvas attached to your easel by the large desk in your room. You sat on a little stool in front of it by your little window seat in your room. You paused your music.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You slowly got up, wrapping your beige paint covered throw cardigan tighter against your pajama clad body. Your bare feet carried you to the door as you set your headphones down on your dresser. You opened the door slowly to see Alfred at your door with a tray of sandwiches, crackers, and tea. “Ahem. Young Madame Lana, I noticed you have been locked up inside your quarters for the majority of the day without anything to eat, and I figured you might want to have a meal.”

A soft smile graces your soft features. Your slender doe eyes crinkled just a little at the corners as your naturally plump red lips pulled into a soft smile. You reached out and grabbed the tray from Alfred and set it on your dresser, because your desk was mostly used as your art desk and was covered in art materials. You launched yourself onto Alfred. It meant so much to you. No matter how many times you shut yourself in your room doing art, he would always come to make sure you had eaten something. Alfred was the only person in the world who currently have a damn about you and it made your heart swell that at least one person cared for you. “Thank you, Alfred. Very much.”

Alfred gave you a smile and a slight bow before leaving and shutting the door. You smiled to yourself as you went to the bathroom inside your room to wash your hands of the paint before coming out to eat your sandwich. You ate the sandwich and then looked at the clock.

4:30 p.m.

You decided to get dressed in real clothes to go out for a bit. You pulled on a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, sneakers and grabbed your headphones, phone and keys before slipping out of your room. It was early Spring, the kind of time where it’s warm, but not enough for most people. You tried to be as quiet as possible as you left your room. You went down the stairs and you had hoped you wouldn’t run into any of your so-called siblings, but you were out of luck apparently. You seemed to be always out of luck.

Stephanie, Tim, and Damian were sitting at the kitchen table. Damian was reading a book that he looked up from to see you in mid-motion, walking towards the door. He scoffed and went back to reading his book. Tim was hovering over Steph’s shoulder as she held her iPad in her hands and he was giving her instructions on something or the other. Neither of them acknowledged you. You didn’t think much about it and left the house. You were used to it.

The thing about you was you were so caring, so compassionate, sweet, kind, loving, and incredibly selfless. You were so good and pure. People who knew your mother would tell you you were just like her. Bruce had eight kids now. One of them was bound to be a little less favored than the others, right? And honestly if you had the chance, you would take it all over again. The pain, the emptiness, the loneliness, the numbness, the feeling of knowing that you’re so much less than all those around you. You wouldn’t wish it on anybody else. You would rather it be you than any of your other siblings, and that was what made you such a beautiful person. It was a shame that you were all alone, and had nobody to realize all the beautiful flowers inside of you.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you replayed the harsh words your younger brother had said to you nothing short of an hour ago.

“You had been descending the stairs, excited for new art supplies that would be arriving today. You had sped towards the door and knocked into Damian by mistake, making him spill his tea onto your arm but mostly on the floor. He was furious. It wasn’t even your fault. He had been walking incredibly slow, and made no effort to move when he saw you descending the stairs first. He was so princely sometimes, such a brat. Like he expected you to move first before him because he rules over you or something. He wasn’t even the one who ended up getting burned and having to clean up the mess anyways. Thank God it send the lay bad and it would clean up easily, and the burn wouldn’t hurt too badly if you kept an ice pack against it. Your skin was still intact. He showed no concern for your safety. He was just irritated that his drink had been spilled. “You’re nothing! Don’t you realize that? It’s why none of us ever bat an eye in your direction. Because we don’t care about you. At least do something useful and make yourself as scarce as possible so none of us have to deal with seeing your disgrace of a face. Sorry excuse for a person.” You had tried not to cry in front of him but it was near impossible as he spouted the words in your face. He brushed his shoulder ag isn’t yours as he walked up the stairs, scoffing at your tears. “Pathetic.”

You had spent most of your evening crying. The thing was, you knew every word was true. He was right. Nobody cares about you, or what happened for you. You were nothing more than a burden in this house. Nothing more than a nuisance to everyone else. After a while your tears were replaced with anger. How as any of this your fault? Did you ask to live with Bruce Wayne? Did you ask for your parents to die? Did you ask to be adopted into this family and become related to any of them? Did you even ask to be born? No. The answer to everything was no.

You were becoming increasingly tired of every domes high and might act, like they were so much better than you. You were tired of it. So tired of giving more than you ever received, if that was ever anything. Your hard work, your blood, sweat, and tears were all worth nothing in their eyes and that was fine. Because you were tired of trying to please them. Your days of tip-towing around the manor were over. Of holding your tongue in the face of the blatant disrespect from all of them.

You were done. You had enough. You were tired of being lonely, empty, cold. You wanted to feel…feel…something. You wanted to feel like you belonged.

Harry Osborn was throwing a charity event at his own manor, and he had personally invited you. And hell if you weren’t gonna show up. This wasn’t the kind of event that Bruce would show up at-scratch that, it was, but Bruce wouldn’t be making an appearance this time. It was really more of a lowkey thing, not necessarily for huge, huge names like Bruce Wayne’s. And while the Osborn name was large in itself. It wasn’t a very large event. A cocktail event really, under the guise of raising money for orphaned children, but really it’s just an excuse for blue-bloods to get together at a down low event and drink cocktails and eat shrimp and caviar.

And while you originally thought him a snotty, stuck-up, blue blood kid that tossed his money around, with not much more to his personality. But then you met him on the sidewalk while you were on a run as he was getting out of his limo. You were on the sidewalk trying to get to a little cafe that was just around the corner, but you had to pass OsCorp to do it.

You had passed OsCorp many times on your way to the cafe, but never had you run into him. It was your fault, you had your headphones on, and you weren’t necessarily paying attention to your surroundings. He has accidentally hit you with the door of his limo as he was stepping out. You let out a strangled little whine and pulled your headphones around your neck and looked around for the cause of pain in your side.

You watched him step out fully and shut the door before turning to walk over to you. “Holy shit, man, you good? Shit, sorry…” but he seemed to trail off for whatever reason you weren’t sure about. He paused in his steps, and his eyes trailed over you and your face before he seemingly came out of his trance. You couldn’t know that it was because at first he had assumed you were a guy, and the second he laid eyes on you he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. But he had seen you before…where had he seen you before? Oh shit, that’s right. You were Lana Lang, the adoptive daughter of Bruce Wayne. Of course you had been on the news, and in papers, and God, he was such an idiot. How could he not recognize you, and hit you with his fucking car door?

“Mr. Osborn, is everything alright?” A voice wrestled him from his thoughts. He turned back to the limousine driver, and had to do a double take as he realized that he was standing next to him. Has he really been in his thoughts that long? Well, that was a problem. “Yeah, Bernard I’m fine. You can actually go ahead without me.” The older man gave Harry a confused look. “Sir?” He asked again, just to be sure. Harry sighed a little bit patted Bernard’s arm to assure him. “Yeah, I got it Bernard. I’m fine, go ahead, I’ll be in shortly.” Bernard gave a swift nod, and a polite smile to you before walking inside OsCorp.

Harry gave you a shit-eating grin…possible flirtatious? “Hey, I’m really sorry. You alright?” You were still getting over the shock of one, being hit by a car door, two, talking to Harry Osborn, and he hit you with his car door, and three, just how fast he switched up his personality. It was giving you whiplash and a headache. “Y-y-yes, I’m alright.” You mumbled softly. You also couldn’t help but notice just how handsome he was. Of course you had seen him on tv, and in papers, and you had thought he was handsome from there, but never really thought too much about him. But the more you because aware of his striking green eyes, the side swept, incredibly soft looking blonde hair, and the pinkest lips you had ever seen on a boy. It became increasingly harder to look him in the eyes the more aware you became of his prettiness.

A smirk spread across his rose lips, making the tiniest of dipped appear, but just for a second. “Well if you’re sure. It’s…Lana, right?” He asks like he didn’t know. You were pretty sure he did. “Yes. Lana.” You said with a shy smile as you averted your gaze again. “Hey, you don’t have to be so shy. I don’t bite..” he said, and his smile was genuine, but something like mischievous fire danced in his eyes and it made you think that he did. “Oh, yeah right, sorry.” You mumbled, and you wanted nothing more than to turn heel and run away from this incredibly awkward conversation, at lest on your end. Harry seemed like he was having fun. But you didn’t do that. Instead you straightened a little, wincing at the pain in your side before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He stared you down, and it made you feel like he could see right through you. But for the most part, you were just as much a mystery to him as he was to you.

“I’m hosting a charity event at my house, next week. It’s to raise money for orphaned children.” You narrowed your eyes a little bit. If it was anyone else you would consider that a little rude, but Harry Osborn was an orphan himself. His mother died early in his life from late stage cancer, and his father passed away only some months ago due to a degenerative disease that had been eating at him for years. Harry himself had the disease, but he was the only person alive to be able to beat it. Harry never really seemed to upset about his fathers death, and you suspected it was because they didn’t really have a great relationship. Well that’s two things you guys had in common.

“Um…that’s nice… I, uh, hope it goes well.” You smiled awkwardly and adjusted the headphones around your neck. You hadn’t really had time to pause the music so it was still playing through them until you clicked the off button. Harry’s grin stretched even more and it unsettled you just a bit, but the way he was so easy on the eyes was enough to somehow put you at ease, and make you nervous at the same time. “Arrival of the Birds. Love that song. I wouldn’t call myself a classical fan in general, I mean my father was imperative that I learn the piano, but it wasn’t necessarily my favorite genre. But that one…my mother taught that to me when I was eight.” Harry seemed tragic to you. And you figured he was a little obnoxious from the way he just bursted into commentary about himself, and leaned against his sleek black limo. His green eyes trailed over you again before he looked up. The sky was a little cloudy but it was blue and bright. He seemed to be reminiscing about something. This boy…he confused and drained you. But he interested you.

“I would like to invite you to my fundraiser.” He spoke suddenly after a few moments of quietness. You frowned a little, and narrowed your eyes. “You want me…to come to your fundraiser next week? Uh, why?” Your earlier nervousness was mostly gone, and now you were just downright confused. “Well, you’re an orphan, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help the shocked gasp that tore from your throat. “Yes, but what does any of that have to do with—“With someone like you, you and I could really help out, ya know? Put a dent in things like this. Besides,…” he got up from off the car and walked to the front entrance of OsCorp and you could see just how crowded and busy it was in there. He just left you there, like he expected you to follow after him. What an obnoxious, arrogant, stuck-up, annoyingly attractive boy. You hated how he was right in assuming, no, maybe knowing, that you would follow after him, because you did.

You had to jog a little to catch up with him when you decided to just let him win this one. You both stood at the entrance, you with your hands on your hips and a raised eyebrow. He chuckled lowly at your expression and posture, and the sound made your knees weak. “Sorry, sorry.” You glared up at him. He wasn’t by any means a really tall person, in fact he was either average or a little under, but you were definitely way under average height. He thought you were so adorable, and you reminded him so much of a cat. You could be perfectly polite and docile like earlier, but when provoked you were sharp and fiery. He liked that. A lot. “Easy, kitten. What I was going to say was…you intrigue me. I’d really like for you to be there. If you decide to come, something will be sent to the house for you. Think of it as also a way for me to make up for hitting you with my car door. Anyway, I’ve got to go. But I’ll see you around hopefully.” And he left just like that, leaving you riddled with questions, your face hot and red, and your side bruised. Kitten? It made your cheeks pink just thinking about it.

You decided to forgo the cafe today. It was already a little late, you having spent most of the day in your room. Not that anybody would really care, but you were tired. Mentally and physically exhausted just from hardly interacting with him for more than ten minutes.

You truly hadn’t really planned on going, but a day later, with the debacle regarding Damian in the kitchen…his words striking a bell and making you realize that nobody was going to notice you on their own. Well you decided to take matters into your own hands. You wanted to prove yourself to your family, and you were tired of being seen as less. Insignificant. A nobody in your own home.

What exactly were you planning to accomplish by attending this event? You had no idea. What were you going to do while attending this event? You had no idea. But somehow it felt…liberating. You had been to plenty of these things before. Bruce dragging all of you along to charity events, balls, galas and many more, but going to one of your choice on your own, and using your own personal savings (which was a lot as it was.) to help raise money for other orphans felt…like you were actually making a difference in Gotham…or at least that’s how you hoped it would feel. But you had never been personally invited to one by Harry Osborn. Honestly you were a little curious as to why he would choose to solely invite you upon meeting for ten minutes on the sidewalk, but you had a feeling your questions were going to be answered there. You wanted people, the press, whoever, to recognize you as Lana Lang, adoptive daughter of Bruce Wayne. It would help your reach and help you succeed in making a difference. You might not have been a vigilante(yet)but you could still help out where you could until that time would come.

Part of you was hoping that your father and siblings would realize how wrong they were about you, and would graciously offer to train you and take you under their wing, and you would become the newest addition to the Batfamily. -That’s what you had taken to calling them over the years,- but that didn’t happen. Ever. It was a foolish and naive fantasy, you had come to realize. So now it was time to take matters into your own hands. You were going to show up there, raise tremendous amounts of money for orphaned children like you years ago, who need help. You were going to work on your vigilante persona later on, and you were going to prove yourself to your family. And you would make Damian eat his words and admit that he was wrong about you. You would make your entire family admit that they were wrong about you.

#batfam #dc #batfam x reader #named reader #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #barbara gordon #cass cain #stephanie brown #x reader #damian wayne #robin dc #batman #batgirl #spoiler dc #superheroes #villains #neglected reader #orphaned reader #red hood #Red Robin #orphan dc

[noisytenant]

i feel like fandom people love to put characters into archetypal family roles, especially like "adoptive parent", and it's so fucking annoying because half the time the characters in question are not parental at all, and should not under any circumstances act in a parent capacity. they just have a meaningful intergenerational friendship/mentorship and that's inconceivable

it's worse when the younger character has a canon family that's actually decent. the idea that an adult mentor should only function as a replacement for or extension of the family is so perverse. you familypilled fascists

#indexed post #fascist is being used as a joke but i do think the entrenchment of nuclear family is dystopian conservatism #Anyways this is coming up because of dr. two-brains but reigen is another victim of this treatment #Tim Botsford isn't perfect but he's a lovable and fun character who cares about his daughter even if he doesn't Get her #Because nobody gets her because superhero status is a one way ticket to child emotional neglect #And Reigen isnt that good at taking care of himself he's still in a moment to moment mindset. You don't want him as a father #His ability to emotionally support Shigeo in a meaningful and special way is BECAUSE they are unburdened by family and its responsibilities #(banging my fists on the table) LET CHARACTERS HAVE WEIRD OLD GUY FRIENDS

[thecruellestmonth]

Normal Batman fans: I don't want to engage with parts of canon in which my fave is an abusive asshole. I choose to engage with other stories instead, and I ignore stories that I dislike.

Nasty toxic Batman fans: Ooh, Bruce is being totally gross again, don't mind if I do~

Good Dad Bruce™ stans: Yes, I fully acknowledge that every single one of Bruce's kids is deeply—at times suicidally—traumatized by his parenting failures in canon, but he is NOT a bad parent! Bruce LOVES his family. Sometimes COMPLICATED PARENTS make their children feel WORTHLESS and ISOLATED, and then don't do anything to fix it! It's totally NATURAL, Bruce is just a COMPLICATED parent! He's COMPLICATED! Bruce LOVES his family. COMPLICATED, I say! NOT ABUSIVE! Would an abusive parent put a hand on his child's shoulder in a vague display of warmth once every few years??? Hm??? Yeah, I DIDN'T THINK SO, YOU STUPID ABUSE VICTIMS!! Bruce LOVES his family. He does nice things—why are you ignoring all the nice things that he's done? He is just an IMPERFECT person, he has made some teeny tiny mistakes repeatedly with 5+ separately acquired children over a twenty-year period. Bruce is just a regular IMPERFECT human being—which means that you critics are the UNREASONABLE MONSTERS imposing PERFECTIONIST standards on a poor innocent middle-aged baby adult man! Bruce LOVES his family. How could we expect exceptionally privileged hyperintelligent parents NOT to regularly use their position of power to make 4-6 children feel inadequate, unsafe, and alone?? What ridiculously high standards! Bruce LOVES his family.

#I hope you impressionable youngsters are learning the warning signs of abusive families and cults during your time in this fandom. #Bruce Wayne hate club #COMPLICATED PARENT BRUCE WAYNE #You know I personally like my own cobbled version of Bruce Wayne too. I like to ignore canon as I please. #But some of you stans work overtime to come up with the cruelest most hurtful insensitive and vomit-inducing IGNORANT opinions about abuse. #So eager to sanitize decades of a grown rich white male hero living his power fantasy on the backs of vulnerable and traumatized kids #--in your zeal to make sure that the world's most popular superhero doesn't suffer a whisper of criticism-- #you choose to echo the excuses given to powerful people who use their power to hurt and control smaller people. #'He is complicated—' His behavior is abusive. #'He didn't intend to—' He did something abusive. #'But he LOVES his family!' He is an abusive piece of shit and he needs to do better. #'Well he is just an imperfect human—' Nobody is asking him to be perfect. Not everyone perpetuates abuse and refuses to change. #'But you have to understand that he had a very terrible childhood.' Every single one of his kids has had an inarguably worse childhood. #'Hm. That version of Bruce really is an abusive asshole. My homebrew isn't and he wouldn't do that.' DING DING DING! WINNER WINNER! 🥳👑👑👑 #'Bruce is an abusive asshole. He is the perfect meow meow for my fiction about toxic families and dark themes.' YES. YOU WIN. 💗👏👏👏😘😘😘 #IMPERFECT PARENT BRUCE WAYNE #negativity #fandom discourse #anti Bruce Wayne #child abuse mention cw #The funny thing is that this blog discusses Jason Todd the most but I'd say he probably suffered the least abuse. #At least he's a villain. What is Bruce's excuse for the way he mistreats and neglects the others?

[somehowmags]

imo tommy should be sidelined more in aus. a lot of the time he just does not fit the role people are trying to put him in lmao

#like with royalty aus theyre always like he's a neglected and lonely prince and its like thats ooc for everyone #cause wilbur and phil and techno would not neglect him (most of these are sbi aus) #but you know who Would fit that role? fundy would. #and then in like superhero aus its like he's a scrappy and alone superhero vigilante while wilbur/sbi are cool important superheroes #and its like yeah cool i guess but. #he's just not that. if anything he'd be wilbur's sidekick. or he wouldn't even be a hero #jack definitely is a scrappy and alone superhero vigilante who regularly gets the shit kicked out of him though! #like. he's not the main character. there is no main character. a lot of these aus are just deeply ooc for everyone #just so that tommy can be the main #warping the characters to fit the plot when it should be the other way around #i have DEFINITELY complained about this before lmao #chatters #mcyt fandom critical #<- only kind of #dsmp

[crykea]

actually writing this rn and realizing that I don't think I ever gave sidna a day job??????

#i was so caught up in the luxury of her superhero vigilante life that i #neglected to think of how shes paying that bills

[youronlybean]

Lately I’ve been thinking about posting mcyt fics again. Don’t have the time but I’ve been thinking about it for sure

#I have neglected my Hermitcraft fics for so long but in my defense they kind of suck #and I have MANY ideas for new ones. but between my pr1 fics and life stuff I don’t have time to create them. yk? #I’m so tempted tho my superhero au is so elaborate and funnnn to think abt #youronlychat

[made-nondescript]

One of the things I think that’s kind of difficult to adapt about Technoblade in AU settings is his relationship with violence and morality. Like, from a probably very young age violence has not been a choice he’s gotten to make; it’s been necessitated either by circumstance or his patronage by the Blood God.

His moral compass forms around this: he will give unto others what they give unto him. He has no choice but to hurt others, the least he can do is try to direct that violence to bad people who ostensibly deserve it. After operating on such a rigid system of morality for so long it’s become second nature and he doesn’t really critically think about it much any more, leading him to make choices that from the outside seem unjustly cruel and perhaps are.

Keeping this attitude/personality and penchant for violence without otherwise justifying/explaining it leads to him just seemingly like a cruelty loving dick. (Which wouldn’t be a problem if that were the point!) Exacerbated by the fact that a lot of Technoblade AU fics aren’t about him, but rather the SBI family dynamic.

#been thinking about this a lot w the superhero fics ive been reading / re-reading and also other au fics #so often techno has never been wronged by anyone and yet will do something that feels incredibly unjustified and outside the tone of the fic #the longer i go on about this though the closer i get into anti sbi territory because oh boy is his character neglected for sbi #but at LEAST its not mutilated like phils. so theres that. #i should say OFTEN neglected and OFTEN mutilated #hashtag not all sbi fics #ALSO........not worth its own post but while im complaining under the guise of thoughtful character commentary #HATE when people have techno call tommy theseus on au fic without considering the thematic reason hes called that in canon #esp bc it is SO clunky a lot of the time #SOMETIMES IT DOES WORK!! but when it doesnt oh boy #nondescript post #im not main tagging this i dont think im wrong im just terrified of embarassing myself in front of the cool technoposters

[frostluvrs]

the dabi reveal in the anime comes a new resurgence of horrible takes like “so endeavor loved his kids and touya wasn’t abused he was just trying to keep him safe” argument. OH BROTHER.

#b speaks #dabi #believe it or not having a child jus to raise them as a superhero in the making and for your own gain is abuse #doing the bare minimum by not wanting him to die by his own fire does not make him a good father #neglecting and ignoring the son you raised to think that was all he’s good for afterwards is ABUSE #ignoring your child as they’re obviously spiraling out of control mentally is ABUSE

[unexploredcast]

Coming soon, to The Unexplored Places... 

#actual play podcast #ttrpg #superhero podcast #masks a new generation #yes I have been neglecting this blog for months no we're not gonna talk about it #I keep forgetting that libsyn doesn't auto-upload to tumblr #I promise I'll post the rest of the Tango Sector episodes someday

[givemeyourmiraculous]

Felix, honey, are you sure you don't want Mummy's help in getting those miraculous? I really think we could invite them in for tea instead of all this supervillain business.

MOM

You're embarrassing me in front of the cool kids.

#this is a joke #I am headbutting a wall #why would you EVER assume your son is a supervillain #go hug your son #or don't I guess parental neglect makes good akumas #another life with parisian superheroes #alwps

[lildevyl]

Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic, Chapter 7: Group Home

Summary:  Tommy gets put into a Group Home where he winds up meeting his three best friends and future roommates.

We're starting to get into Tommy's Backstory. So, a word of caution, I will continue to put Trigger Warnings (TW) at the beginning of each chapter. But things will be getting dark here soon! Be careful!

TW: Mention of Child Neglect, Mention of Child Abuse?. Mention of Bullying.

Tommy sat on the rickety porch bench, arms crossed with a heavy scowl on his face.  Refusing to acknowledge, let alone pay any attention to the woman standing next to him, while they wait for Tommy’s Social Worker, Sam Nook.  Tommy knew he shouldn’t have gotten in a fight at school but the dickhead deserved it!  They kept on pushing and pushing and pushing about Tommy not having any powers.  And then they kept using their own powers, Minor Telekinesis, on Tommy constantly!  From tripping him in the halls and on the stairs, to moving his seat from under him when he was about to sit down, to moving everything that Tommy needed for the class (pencils/pens, erasers, sometimes even his notebooks, a few times his finished homework!) so that Tommy never has it!  But of course the teacher never “saw” anything even when it happened right in front of them!

So, Tommy just snapped!  He punched the guy and more then likely broke their nose, but they were a wrong’un!  They deserved it!  But apparently the school didn’t share Tommy’s opinion on the matter and told Tommy that he should have gone to them if he had a problem instead resulting to violence.  Ha!  What a joke!  What do they think Tommy’s been doing?  He reported to every teacher that would listen to him but of course nothing came of it and Tommy still got bullied!  The teachers brushed it all off and turned a blind eye to when things kept happening to him.

Oh, but of course, if Tommy did anything to the “Golden Boy” then suddenly the teachers actually did their job and reported to the Principal.  And unfortunately for Tommy, the school records weren’t in his favor.  This was Tommy’s third strike even though the first two should never have counted, but the universe apparently has it out for Tommy for some unknown reason.

Sam Nooks’ beaten up dark blue car rolled up the driveway and Tommy quickly hopped in the car while the adults talked about how much of a “Problem Child” Tommy was.  Tommy hated this!  He hated how the school system turned a blind eye to the blatant bullying going on.  He hated how the Foster Homes blamed everything on Tommy for how everything bad that happened.  Tommy hated that no matter what it seems like he’s just one of the twenty percent of the population that doesn’t have powers.  Tommy would be fine with the fact that he would be powerless.  If it wasn’t that it’s the standard norm to have some sort of powers!  You were either born a Hybrid or you had powers.  If you had none then Society saw you as an outcast, a defect, a genetic mistake that blemished the face of the “Perfect World.”  Tommy can’t wait to finally be able to get the hell outta the Foster System then, quite possibly get the hell outta L’Manburg!  Maybe Hermitcraft City?  Yeah, that would be quite poggers.

The car door opened and then closed and then the car started to drive off.  Tommy took a shaky breath and waited for the dreaded lecture that he was about to get from Sam.

“You’re going to be placed in a Group Home, Tommy,” Sam said.

“What?!  But - Sam!”  Tommy had heard stories of those kinds of homes.  None of them were good either.

Group Homes were where the “Bad Kids” were taken too.  The ones that were such a problem that no Foster Home would take them in.  Usually they were made for kids who had out of control powers, were deemed too powerful, or in Tommy’s case a lost cause because he has no powers.  Tommy wasn’t a “Bad Kid” nor was he a “Problem Child.”  Sure he had anger issues but it wasn’t completely his fault when everyone just kept relentlessly bullying him because he had no powers!  Seriously, if they just left Tommy alone and let him get on with his schoolwork so can get the hell out of here!  Then everything would be fine!

“I’m sorry Tommy but I don’t really have a choice.  This is the twelfth house this year!  So, I have to put you in a group home.  Don’t worry,” Sam reassured him.  “This one I think you will like.  Her name’s Ms. Scarlet Pinkett.”

Tommy seriously doubts that he would like this Ms. Scarlet Pinkett.  But Tommy doesn’t have a choice.  What’s worse is that it’s in the middle of the school year.  So, it’s going to be very hard to change schools now that Tommy got kicked out of his last one.

They arrived some time later in East Side driving up to a somewhat cozy one story house.  The house was painted a pale yellow and had a nice flower garden in the front with a couple of bushes on the corners.  And what looked like a nice backyard and a vegetable garden back there too.  Walking up to the door, Sam knocked.

“Ah, you must be Tommy!”  A very cheery female voice said from the front door.  Tommy looked up and was completely shocked at what he saw.  His new Foster Mom was a Piglin Hybrid!  Tommy had met Hybrids before at school but this was the first time he met a Piglin Hybrid.  Huh, maybe - maybe Same wasn’t lying about this one.

“Ah, yeah, I’m Tommy Innit, Ms. Pinkett,” Tommy answered nervously.

“Oh just Scarlet is fine, Tommy.  Come on in!  I’ll introduce you to Ranboo, who is also staying with us and my son Michael.  Hope you don’t mind sharing a room for the time being.”

Ms. Pinkett - Scarlet led Sam and Tommy to the Kitchen where another kid taller than Tommy with black hair, heterochromic eyes, small horns peeking out of the hair and a tail sat at the table.  And a small Piglin Hybrid drawing away without a care in the world.  Ah, this must be his new roommate Ranboo and Scarlet’s son Michael.

“Ranboo, Michael, I would like you to meet Tommy!”  Ms. Scarlet introduced Tommy to the two.  “Ranboo, why don’t you take Tommy and help him get settled in?  I need to talk to Sam for a bit.”

“Ah, okay,” Ranboo said nervously, fidgeting with his sleeve.  Ranboo took Tommy to their room as the two adults talked.

“So, this will be our room,” Ranboo said, pushing open the first door on the right when they entered the hallway from the Kitchen.  “The bathroom is across the hall.  Scarlet’s room is the one on the left, Michael’s room is next door.  Oh! We do have a full furnished basement!  It’s where we have the “Game Room” and the Laundry Room and an extra bathroom just encased.”

Tommy looked around the room, there were two twin beds right next to each other with a small bedside table that was holding a lamp.  A large dresser was on the other side of the room and a closet.  The window was a decent size and the currents were a pale blue.  Tommy just dropped his stuff on the floor and plopped down on the other bed that wasn’t being used.

“So, ah, your name’s Tommy?”

“Yep, that’s me Ranboob!”

“Not my name.”

Tommy smiled at how quick the guy was to do a small banter.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

****

Dinner rolled around and Tommy still was trying to wrap his head around things.  This was a Group Home and yet, Ms. Scarlet Pinkett wasn’t acting like the Witch that Tommy heard stories about.  No, it was just an act!  An act!  Once she sees just how much trouble Tommy truly was then the niceties would stop and she would reveal her true intentions.  They always do!  Never trust adults!  First lesson you learn in the System.  They don’t have the best intentions and they have no problem in using you for a free paycheck!  Yeah, that’s what’s going to happen.

“Oh Tommy!”  Ms. Scarlet called bringing Tommy out of his thoughts.  “I wanted to talk to you about school.”

Tommy nodded, yep here it comes!

“Well, I talked to Sam and your old Principal and managed to get your records.  Well, the thing is, since the new semester will be starting in about a month.  I can’t get you in school until then.  However, what I want to talk to you about is.  I talked to Principal Riley Price and they said you can start when the new semester starts but you will have to take some classes during the Summer to make up for the time that you lost for the year.  You can do it online though.”  Ms. Scarlet explained.

Uh, that didn’t sound too bad.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”  Tommy agreed.

(Summer Time)

Summer had rolled around and Tommy was now using the Kitchen table and the “Family Laptop” as Scarlet called it, to do his Summer Schoolwork.  In all honesty, this new school wasn’t too bad.  Tommy has made a new friend in Ranboo and both of them are in almost every class together.  Now, Tommy had a chance to finally relax and get used to the new schedule and the new rules.  It seems like this new Foster Home wasn’t too bad.  Tommy still has his guard up though, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it just never came.

Now, here Tommy was at the Kitchen table doing a report on the history of L’Manburg.  Tommy honestly doesn’t mind this, he loves history!  What he doesn’t like is the fucking essays they have to write about the history!  Like why do they have to write a report to prove what they learned in class?  Wasn’t that what the damn tests were for?

Tommy was finishing up his report and about to hit send when the sound of the car pulling up the driveway caught everyone’s attention.  Why was someone pulling up the driveway?  Wait, didn’t Scarlet say they were getting a new roommate?  What was their name again?  Tony?  Tobie?  Tubso?

“Tommy, Ranboo and Michael?  I would like you guys to meet Tubbo.  He’s going to be staying with us.”  Scarlet introduced, when they came into the Kitchen.

Tubbo was shorter than Tommy, with dark blond to light brown hair, brown eyes and wearing a green t-shirt and jeans.  He also had a dark green backpack with him.

“I’m Ranboo.”

“Hi, I’m Tommy.  Welcome to hell bitch boy!”

“Tommy!”  Scarlet light heartly scolded.  “Don’t make Tubbo more nervous then he already is!”

“Sorry, Scarlet.”

“No, you’re not.”  Scarlet just rolled her eyes and went to get dinner ready.

“I’ll show you our rooms, Tubso.”

“Not my name.  It’s Tubbo.”

“You and I are going to get along just fine!  Me, you and Ranboo against the world!”  Tommy proclaimed putting an arm around Tubbo and leading him down the hall with a huge smile on his face.

But unfortunately, for the trio their friendship would be tested without them knowing it.  And Tommy never knew just how true his statement actually was.

****

Tagging: @weirdmixofweirdness, @tracobuttons, @ashedflower, @nightfuryobsessed, @luna-moonblood, @isa-ghost, @a-humble-narcissus

#dsmp superhero au #tommy innit's secret clinic #tw mentions of bullying #tw mention of child neglect #tw mention of child abuse? #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #awesamdude #sam nook dsmp #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp au #dsmp tommy #dsmp tubbo #dsmp ranboo #bench trio

[leg-made-a-thing]

really mad i can’t just take concepts and characters that corporations make up and then forget about once they don’t make a gorillion dollars instantly.

#i just learned about dc comics character sideways #and now i can’t stop thinking about how well he’d fit into my main fiction worldbuilding project thing #the one about superheroes that travel through dimensions to fight evil #but because disney needs the boatloads of money from michael rat merch i can’t put sideways in any of my stories without getting sued #i might be exaggerating here but it feels like watching a sad wet cat be neglected and not being able/allowed to help #it’s not like DC is doing anything with the character either #his comic series was cancelled and the last time they even acknowledged his existence was by giving him a cameo in the young justice finale #this is like blorbo feelings times a million #if anyone from detective comics comics is reading this pls let me adopt your soggy neglected cat

[killmebythebeach]

Well, MY patron is the monster under my bed

If you even care.

#this is lila! shes a villain in my superhero setting dnd campaign! #her pact weapon is a baseball bat and shes doing evil for funsies (and to see if her emotionally neglectful mom likes it) #this is a homebrew i found on pinterest. like 'monster in the closet' patron or somethikg #dnd #dungeons and dragons #lila lullaby #north fortville campaign