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I'm feeling angsty tonight. Send me a heartbreaking tear jerking prompt, can be as sad or as mellow as you want.

I'll be posting the ones I get at 10 pm PST.

I'm feeling angsty tonight. Send me a heartbreaking tear jerking prompt, can be as sad or as mellow as you want.

I'll be posting the ones I get at 10 pm PST.

angsty: conner crying and going thru a lot and telling to clark that he wasnt asked to be born and clark just not accepting him

FUCK okay

(Conner goes to Clark's house seeking some help, but Clark's not too happy about it...)

"I-im sorry..." Conner sobbed, curling in on himself a little. Clark's increasingly sharp and loud tone setting off his superhearing even worse. His eyes hurt and his head was pounding, he couldn't breathe.

"Stop your sniveling! I told you not to come around here or try to contact me! And what did you do?! You fucking contacted me. During a family dinner!"

"Clark please, I just need some help-"

Clark fumed, when would this thing get it?! "What you NEED is to get out of here." He turned back towards his house.

"C-Clark," the clone hiccuped, "dad-"

"I'M NOT YOUR GODDAMN FATHER! I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOU!"

"WELL I DIDN'T ASK TO BE FUCKING BORN!" Conner screamed back. Clark took a menacing step towards his clone, but he decided against letting his anger control him.

Terror shook through Conner as he tried and failed not to flinch. He just needed someone to talk to, someone who could relate to him. He hadn't even realised he called Clark "dad", but they both subconsciously know that the older alien doesn't deserve that title. Not to Conner.

Clark took some deep breathes, trying to calm himself, and walked back inside, feeling every ounce a shameful man. The young alien choked on yet another sob and shakily jumped, he didn't need Clark. Or Superman. Or The fucking hero of Earth. He needed his dad.

And he certainly wasn't getting that anytime soon.

Angsty prompt: Bruce dies instead of Jason

Noor pls ma heart can't take this-

Jason's hands were bleeding from digging through the rubble. His lungs stopped working about 15 minutes ago and the tears were making it impossible to see, especially with the night approaching.

Just as he was about to give up, curl up on the debris and sob for the loss of his missing father, he felt something. Something soft touched his hand, reminiscent of warm. A caring, callused hand. Bruce's hand.

This discovery renewed the Robin's determination and the adrenaline rushing through his veins helped him lift the large slab of concrete off the bloody man. Jason's hands were shaky as they ran over bruce's face, trying to evoke an eyebrow twitch, eyes fluttering, anything that meant Bruce was still alive.

All he got was a ghostly sigh and cold stillness. By the time Dick arrived to take him and Bruce's body, their dad's body, Jason had passed out from exhaustion and pain.

Two weeks passed before any kind of service was held. The first funeral was small, and short, and in any other city the rain may have seemed symbolic, but now it seemed mocking. Only a handful of people were invited; Alfred, Dick (who brought Kori for support), Jason, Selina, Harley, Lucius, Leslie, Jim, and Harvey.

The second funeral was a public one. Broadcasted on every channel, with all the famous people that didn't know, didn't care, about Bruce.

The third was held in the Watchtower, the founders and their sidekicks attended to pay their respects to the Batman. Beloved superhero, son, father, philanthropist.

(four weeks after the third funeral)

"Jay?" came Dick's tentative voice at his brother's door. The 17 year old sat down and carefully peeled the covers off of Jason's face. Blank, but no longer tear stained. Dick didn't know if that was a good or bad sign.

"Hey, uh, so me and Alfred were cleaning out...his...room, and we found this. He would want you to have it." He held the thick book up and placed it down next to the other teen. After a quick pat on the shoulder Dick left to finish cleaning. Jason sat up and picked up the book, breath catching at the thick, rough leather cover. It was the book Bruce had been reading to him. Tears welled up as he opened the front cover, a soft sob escaping his lips as he read the note scribbled in Bruce's delicate writing.

'Jaylad, I'm so proud of you. Whenever you read these stories, please remember that. I love you, kiddo!

Dad ♡'

Thinking about the YJ cartoon: Clark “accepts” Conner as his son making everyone happy, takes him to the fortress, leads Conner on basically playing him telling him he’s a clone and an abomination. Traps and sends him to the phantom zone. Then tells the team that something happened and there was nothing he could do to save Conner.

"I'm glad you're finally opening up to him, Clark, he's so excited to finally be YOUR son and not Luthor's." Dinah said, placing a gentle hand on the aliens shoulder. He nodded, shooting her a soft smile. She didn't need to know. No, really, he was actually making them all safer by doing this.

The blonde left the room, headed to the common area where the other kids were just as Conner bound down the stairs, overstuffed backpack on his shoulder and bright crooked smile on his face.

"Ready to go?" Clark asked.

The clone nodded and walked outside with the Superman, letting him pick him up to fly them both. They land outside the fortress and Clark takes a deep breath, it's now or never, Kal.

"You can set your bag down over there, we need to.....discuss a few things before you settle in."

"Okay!" the younger placed the bag down and grinned up at the full blooded Kryptonian, "thanks for agreeing to do thus, dad." Clark had to physically restrain himself from knocking the clone across the room. Instead, he nodded. He went on to tell Conner that in order to start their first session if training the boy had to stand in one specific spot, and when he did, four glass walls sprung up, the box filled with red light.

"D-dad?!"

"Don't call me that."

"W-what are you doing?! Why-"

"The lamp is producing red sun rays, so if you try to escape, you won't be able to. Conner," no response, Kal-El sighed, "Kon, im sorry. This is just how it has to be."

"Why." The teen sounded choked up. Oh great, an emotional kid.

"Because you're an abomination Kon. You're a freak of nature. You're too dangerous to be here." In his subconscious, Clark knew how villainous this sounded, and deep in his heart he knew it was wrong. But sometimes people make hard choices to protect those they love.

"But hey, look on the bright side, you can take your backpack into the Phantom Zone with you!"

Any colour left in the boys already pale face drained. His own biological father, who he thought had finally come around to being his father, was sending him to the fucking Phantom Zone.

Kal pushed the box until it was close enough yo the portal. He opened the side and grabbed Kon by the shirt and threw him in, along with his backpack.

"I'm sorry, Conner, but it's for the best."

-----

"-i tried. But I was too late, and now he's gone." Superman put his head in his hands. Every sympathetic/empathetic pat on the back felt like confirmation and congratulations on his acting skills. After he closed the portal, he had thrown himself around a bit, to make sure his suit was convincingly torn up enough.

He wiped a forced tear off his cheek and noticed Batman still staring at him from the other side of the table.

"What did you do, Clark?" The billionaire whispered.

"What I had too, Bruce."

Angsty prompt: Clark “accepts” Conner into his family only to blame him for every little problem that happens. So Conner goes on in life thinking he’s useless and everything is all his fault till Lois accidentally meets him, tells Ma and Pa and it’s Conner rescue time till...idk?

Y'all are really jumping on the villain Clark au aren't ya lol

Tw: child abuse, mentions of depression and anxiety, degrading language

"Go to your room."

"B-but it was an accident!" Clark sighed and started picking up the shattered plate.

"Don't argue with me, Conner. Just go. Now." Conner's lip trembled a bit but ran up the stairs without another word. Clark had been doing this lately, where any little thing that wasn't to his liking was Conner's fault. It confused Conner to a point, but he told himself he understood. Clark had to be tired, working two full time jobs, yeah. That was it. Clark was tired.

Conner was tired.

He asked Dinah, who was the supervisor of Young Justice, about it. She's always been nice to him, and she told him maybe going on a mission could help them bond some, like it did with Clark and Bruce when the Justice League originally started. Conner nodded along and asked for Clark's permission.

"Let me think about it." He nodded enthusiastically. It wasn't a no.

The clone thought the mission went well. No one died, they got the destruction picked up, the villains were rounded up and locked away, and they made it home in time for dinner!

However, before the boy could make it to the kitchen, Clark pulled him into the living room.

"What's up?" Conner asked nervously, trying to keep a smile on his face. It falls as Clark's hand comes down on it. Conner blinked in shocked and stumbled back a bit.

"What's up? What's up?! What's up is that you were reckless and stupid enough to fall for a trap on the battle field! "What's up" is that YOU were knocked out, destroyed part of an important building, and then was USELESS for 10 whole minutes!"

"I'm sor-"

"Go to your room."

"Wha-"

"You can come down for Breakfast tomorrow. Until then, stay up there."

This went on for a couple years, sometimes getting better, sometimes worse. Conner's feelings of inadequacy, terror, and depression increased throughout the years. He didn't really know why, it's not like he didn't have it good. Good meals, sturdy father figure, friends, a best-best-best friend, and a good enough education. He didn't the right to complain. Sometimes Clark would apologize for slapping or yelling at him, and buy him something cool. Sometimes things were peaceful.

Most of the time they weren't, though.

One day, when Conner was home alone, preparing dinner exactly how Clark showed him, there was a knock at the front door. Conner turned off the stove and wiped his hands off before opening the door. Outside was a pretty woman with dark, shiny black hair and warm Hazel eyes. She looked surprised when she saw him, probably expecting the Kryptonian.

"Hello there, my name is Lois, do you know where Clark is?" He looked inside for a minute, trying to decide what to tell her.

"He's....out. I can give him a message for you though."

She thought for a moment before she said,

"You're Conner, aren't you? I'm friends with your dad. I know who he is, it's okay." He opened the door a little more and let her in. She walked around a little, surveilling the room. Conner's hearing picked up her saying "I thought there'd be more pictures, huh." under her breath. The living room was filled with pictures from Clark's youth, but none of Conner.

The boy shrugged it off and didn't noticed Lois coming towards him. He flinched back hard and covered his face with his arms before he realized it was just the gentle woman's hand patting his shoulder. He shakily looked up, trying not to burst into tears on the spot, as Lois looked back in shocked and sadness.

She knew what abuse looked like. She had to cover a case involving it every now and then. She was confused, why would Clark, SUPERMAN, do this? To a child?

"Conner.....can I ask you some questions? I need you to answer them truthfully for me, and I promise I will not get mad at any of your answers. Okay?"

They left before Clark got back.

---

Six months later Superman was taken into custody of the police, being charged with several counts of child abuse, neglect, and domestic violence. Conner moved in with Bruce and his best-best-best friend Tim.

(This is so fanon I’m sorry)

Angst: Dick actually sends Tim to Arkham thinking he’s crazy for believing Bruce is still alive

I've been thinking about this all day-

"Timbo? Tim-Tim, I need to talk to you."

Tim didn't look away from the computer he was doing research on. He knew Bruce was still alive, he HAD to be.

"Uh, yeah, what's up Dick?" He heard a sigh behind him, and a couple more pairs of feet shuffle into the room behind his brother. The acrobat got closer and knelt down beside his brother.

"Tim, you need help. And I can't give you that help, so these nice people are going to help you for me." that got Tims attention. He finally turned around, eyes protesting at the change in lighting, and saw the two nurses.

Arkham Asylum For The Sick and Insane.

The Red Robin stared in horror at Dick. How could he betray him like this. Arkham was for the crazies. Not him.

"What about......work." he croaked at dick, who sighed and put his arm around Tims shoulder, leading him up and away from the months worth of research and discoveries on the desk.

"You're....gonna take a brake, okay? It'll be good, trust me. Hey, we'll even come and visit you as much as you want."

Everything else was a blur for Tim. He couldn't believe his own brother just gave him up to the looney bin.

Now how was he supposed to find Bruce.

Tim went completely non-verbal after six months. He started refusing food, refusing visits, until one day he got a gut feeling to go to the one Dick scheduled for that day.

His head was stuck with a permanent fog nowadays, so he relied on the nurse to pull him along down the hall. He got to the sitting room that they let the non-violent patients have visits in, and saw a tear-stained and sick looking Dick talking to......

Bruce.

A little bit of the fog cleared up as his father hugged him, alive and well. Gentle, callused hands ran over his shaggy hair and cold face, and it felt like he was alive again himself. He let out a soft laugh before clutching tightly at Bruce and crying into his shirt.

"I'm so sorry Timothy, I'm here now. We're going home."

Angsty Superbat with your evil Clark, luv ya bestie❤

I luv u too beloved ❤❤❤

TW: domestic violence, blood, abuse

Looking at their wedding photo, nobody would assume that Clark and Bruce were anything but the perfect couple. No one would assume that a man as seemingly kind as Clark would lay a finger on his husband.

No one would assume that bruises were so easy to hide.

What once was "Clark. Let. Me. Go.", turned into "yes, sir." and "I'm sorry dear.". Bruce told himself that he could go through this. Clark loved him, they were happy. Bruce's family was happy, and safe.

Clark could take bruce's patrols away, could keep him from going out, and kal could definitely do what he pleased with bruce and the possessions of the house.

But no one, no one, puts a hand on Bruce's children.

As soon as the human caught a glimpse of the quickly fading bruise on Conner and the thick hand coming down on Jason's cheek, the Batman saw red.

It was a long fight, lots of blood and kryptonite (the little amount he managed to hide from Kal), and dead silence save for the breaking of glass bottles and fine china.

After a few hours the Superman was knocked out cold, bruce was bleeding badly, and his family was headed out and away.

They were all scared, so many possibilities and options, so much danger. Where will they go? Will they be alright? Will Kal find them? What'll happen if he does? Will the cops even do anything? Bruce was drowning in worry.

Although, in the end, they were found.

quen if you can make a angsty prompt of jim dying in front of bruce's and babs' eyes

Anything for hun ❤❤❤

"Jim Gordon was many things.... A detective, a friend, a son, a husband, and most importantly....a father. My name is Barbara, and Jim was my father."

A gun shot. Loud and clean, then a gasp and a loud thud.

"My dad was the best person I could ever hope to have in my life. He was kind, smart, and did his best to always help Gotham. He led a short, but fulfilling life, from helping me with my math homework at the kitchen table to helping the citizens of Gotham feel safer in the streets."

Blood, rapidly cooling and sickeningly red, spreading like an oil spill in rapid waters. Gloved hands, one on the wound and and one on a cold cheek. Tears running down a daughter's face, and memories flashing behind a billionaires eyes.

"Although he's not with us now, I know he would want us to hold our heads high and continue towards the future he saw, not only for Gotham, but for our families, for ourselves."

Red and blue flashing lights, sirens, hat removed in respect. It was all a blur. Getting home, the next week of planning and mourning, the pity and sympathy. Getting up to speak at her father's funeral.

Walking over to the casket and placing her hand on the lid, closing her eyes, almost being able to feel his warm hands on her shoulders.

"I could go on for years about how great of a person Jim Gordon was, but I know others would like to share their experiences as well, so thank you, Gotham. For being here to celebrate a wonderful man's life cut short."

Sitting back down, grabbing her faux brothers hand and wiping her tears.

Jim Gordon, the good always die too soon.

Since we did angsty stuff,,,, would y'all like to send me fluffy or comforting prompts to write?

Posting schedule for prompts:

Monday-Saturday

10 pm PST

Fluffy prompt: some batdad hugs❤ luv ya babe

Awwww we love batdad hugs in this house, ilyt beloved ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Bruce was lost in thought, shuffling through paper upon paper from W.E. So focused in fact, he didn't even notice the door to his office (which he had his back to) swing open, and lean arms wrapped around his torso. He's a bit embarrassed to admit it, but he did flinch a little at the initial contact. However, he relaxed and turned around as soon as he realized it was just his eldest son: Dick.

------

Jason and bruce relationship was strained after the whole "surprise bruce I'm not dead your hot ex brought me back to life" situation, but there were times when being family was easy. Hugging each other was easy. This was one of those times, Jason curled up beside bruce while the older man read one of Martha's old books out loud. Bruce curled an arm over Jason's back and occasionally rubbed his hand on his son's arm in comfort (totally not to reassure himself that Jay was still there), he paused when he felt arms wrap tightly around his stomach.

"Jaylad? Everything okay bud?" He got a nod in response and didn't feel like pushing it, so he returned the squeeze.

------

Out of all his children (there were quiet a few), Bruce thinks Tim is the most neutral hugger of all of them. Except when he's half asleep or super sleep deprived. Normally Tim gives quick hugs, not too tight, on the verge of casual. Without 3 hours of sleep in over a week, however, Tim melts. Bruce found this out the hard way when he went to force his son to go to bed, only for the boy to go limp in his arms and fall asleep on the spot. Bruce thinks it's kind of cute, Tim in his limp koala state.

------

Duke's hugs were some of Bruce's favorites. Strong, passionate, and warm, just like the boy. They were always happy. Like if the meta just beat his first bad guy and wanted to share his joy with his mentor. Bruce wouldn't trade them for the world.

------

Bruce wasn't Stephanie's actual guardian, but she's become more and more a part of the family, which means she gets roped into the hugs as well. Not that she (or bruce) minds. She's strong, maybe a little too much for her own good, but it doesn't make a real difference for bruce. When she hugs him, he gladly hugs her back.

------

Strong hugs are good sometimes, but other times, soft and stable hugs are the best. Cassandra was the master at giving those hugs. Bruce could be doing anything, probably sitting down, and he'd feel thin arms snake around his shoulders from behind and a warm forehead rest on his shoulder. He'd cover her hand with his, and they'd just sit there. Relaxing and enjoying each other's company. Other times she'd crawl up next to him, much like Jason, and they'd both watch the news or observe the others bonding.

------

Damian was tricky. The young boy would often proclaim to not be interested in hugs, as he didn't need "physical acts of endearment to know his worth", but if you caught him in the right mood, he would hug you with all he's got. Bruce loved those times, when his youngest son would let him squeeze him to his chest and tell him how proud he was of him without protest.

Bonus:

"Happy birthday Bruce!!!" They all gathered around him and attacked him with hugs. Bruce was lying if he ever said he doesn't like hugs, especially the ones from his family. Their different hugs, all combined and shushed together as they wrapped around the man who they saw as a father. It was great. Bruce was starting to look forward to his birthdays a lot more.

SCHOOLS OUT BITCHES!!!!! SEND ME SOME FUGGIN PROMPTS BABEYYYYY

(or go to my other blog (quen-writes-prompts) and send me a prompt!!!)

A lot of of you followed me bc I write batman stuff but I haven't written a n y t h i n g in too long 😔 so let's change that y'all.

SEND ME A BATMAN/BRUCE WAYNE PROMPT

At this point I'll pretty much write anything so go berserk you funky goblins

Jdkdjdjsjd bruce angst with alf slander dhjdjdjdj *does a gross little laugh*

Dhjdjdjdjd

"-so that's how my week went. Had to scrub shoe prints off the ceiling again but what's new about that, right? What about you, Bruce?" said Lois, crossing her right leg over the left as she looked at her friend.

Refilling his glass and taking a sip of the rose colored wine, the billionaire replied, "oh, nothing much, same ol' same ol'. Dicks off in Blüdhaven, Jason's in his rebel phase, I don't even know what's going on with tim to be honest. Duke and Cass pretty much do they're own thing and Damian is trying to live up to Jay's nickname of "demon brat", he shrugged. He looked over when his reply was met with silence, his eyes being met with a worried and judgmental gaze.

"Is everything okay, Bruce? You and your kids don't seem very....close? No offense."

The 36 year old spoke without thinking, internally cringing as he heard himself speak, "we're as close as any family. I don't see any difference between my kids and I and when it was just Alfred and I."

The brunette reporter thought, perfectly manicured eyebrows scrunching together. She hesitated before asking, "How close we're you and Alfred, Bruce? When you were younger?"

He thought a moment. How close were they? He has plenty of fond memories, mostly birthdays and holidays, but he doesn't really recall any alfred-centric memories beyond that. He was mostly left to his own devices as a kid and teen during the day, meals were silent, and when Alfred wasn't cleaning or cooking he was doing paperwork and required silence.

He loved Alfred, he really did. He was a tough old man, but he practically raised him. Not as much as the streets of gotham had, but he was still mostly there, right?

Bruce's thoughts spiraled from 'yeah he was a great dad' to 'every parent gets critical of what their kid is doing' and 'did he really not want me' to 'i wonder what happened to Rose?'

He didn't notice when Lois left and he was finally alone with his contemplation and wine.

@vorgeoisie SHIT THIS IS SO GOOD WHY DIDN'T I SEE UR COMMENT I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG

Pt. 1

[Trigger Warnings: Intense mistreatment and abuse of mentally ill people, child abuse, blood, general gore, and angst]

"That won't work, Flash," the Bat growled, "Arkham isn't a place where just the mentally ill go."

"You seem to have a lot of experience, B, what, you go there often?" Green Lantern smirked, teasing.

"When I was young, yes." The room was filled with dead silence. The lantern halted in his tracks.

".....You're joking, right?" He was joking, right?

"I was....not a good kid. I was violent. I needed help and let me tell you," he turned to look at the speedster, "Arkham Asylum did nothing but mistreat patients, abuse them, and increase the harm done on them."

Clark pulled him aside, but he barely noticed it, lost in memories. The rage and impulses burning him up inside out, the coldness of his room- no, cell. The nurses shoving pill upon pill down his throat as he thrashed, wanting to get one good kick, one good scratch, before they sedated him. The scraps of food he'd have to fight for and the inedible sludge they'd give him on bad days. The satisfaction and awful delight he got seeing blood drip onto the pristine white clothing of the nurses. Being strapped down the table for a lobotomy and spending 6 months regaining his full speech after Alfred finally got custody and took him out.

When he snapped back to reality Clark watch him with sad eyes as he removed his arm from inside the wall.