DP x DC Therapy Prompt
Part 2
Bruce Wayne makes a point to send all his kids to therapy. It didn't matter how much they moan and groan, they were going.
If Alfred thought it was a good idea to force teenage Bruce to go to therapy, then it's definitely a good idea to send the Batkids.
And it helped. Therapy did good for his kids, and eventually, without fail, the kids started being okay going.
Wanting to go.
So yes, when a new black hair, blue eyed teen joins his family, he included him.
Especially when Danny dropped a trauma-bomb during the middle the dinner like it was nothing.
If any of his kids needed therapy, it was him.
Thing was, getting Danny to the therapist was like getting a dog to the vet. If the dog had ghostly abilities and was extremely hard to catch.
Cut to the new weekly tradition of "will Danny go to therapy this time?"
They never managed to catch him for his appointment.
Bruce was getting fed up with all the chasing, and arguing, just all of it.
So he decided on a new course of action. His therapist absolutely wasn't the one to suggest it. He decided to finally just ask Danny why he was so against therapy.
He didn't get an answer. Instead, Danny deflected the question. Asked him why it's so important, the teen was fine. He didn't need therapy. Danny got defensive.
Bruce dropped it.
After all, how could he forced an over-powered teenage king into going to a regular old therapy office?
As much as Bruce says he forces his children into therapy, he doesn't actually really force anyone. If someone puts their foot down, he'll back off.
He never brought up again, never bothered trying. Danny made it clear he didn't like therapy, regardless the reason.
Bruce can respect that. He just wished Danny would just give it a try.
Then one night, when he got home from patrol, Danny was waiting for him in the cave.
Looking ridiculously uncomfortable, and fidgeting, Danny finally talked to him. Even as Bruce watch tears gather.
Danny recounted everything that happened when he dealt with a therapist for the first and only time. How she turned out to be an evil ghost, driving the students of his high school into a deep depression.
How it took so long for him to be able to get pulled out of it. His fear that there will be a repeat, and he doesn't think he can handle it. All the fear and anxiety he felt every time they mentioned him going to therapy.
The adrenaline response he’s body would kick into.
That night ended with a hug as the teen silently cried. Bruce promising him over and over again that no one would force him to go. If he ever decided to give it a try, he can leave the session at any moment. Fire the therapist.
Whatever Danny needed, Bruce would give it to him.
A few weeks later, Bruce was happy Danny was giving it a try.
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Could we have vampire Col accidentally bite Linden maybe? 👀👉👈
Anonymous asked: Could we get some more vampire Colton? Maybe with Colton accidentally biting Linden?
well, you can get something close!
(masterpost)
CW: pet whump, vampire whumpee, brief mention of wanting to die (but then rescinded), some written gore
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The vampire was no less stiff the next day. Still a model pet, nothing but obedience and eerie silence. He didn’t come out of his room until Linden asked him to. He had crawled out, and Linden had very gently asked him if he could try standing, and of course the poor thing had immediately struggled to his feet.
The vampire was taller than Linden, but from the way he had to hunch over, pawing at the wall to stay vertical, Linden guessed he could be much taller yet.
“If it gets too hard, you can sit down. You’re allowed on the furniture, you know that?”
The vampire nodded listlessly.
“It’s time for breakfast. Want to go downstairs and get ready at the table, like before?”
. . .
More sloppy cow blood. His sleeves were rolled up and he had squinted and turned his face away when he emptied the package, scared it might splatter over his face and clothes, but luck had been on his side. He really didn’t want to deal with cleaning old blood off himself, and he also didn’t want to start smelling any more like a potential meal.
Linden tapped the side of the bowl, seeing if he could make the gelatinous thing jiggle. Maybe he could freeze it? Turn it into an ice lolly to nibble on. But perhaps vampires liked their blood as close to a liquid as possible?
He thought about going the opposite way, then, and seeing if it would melt in the microwave. Oh god, but the smell if he did that. Linden had already sacrificed this bowl to the blood-drive-for-one, he didn’t want to sacrifice the microwave as well.
The vampire therefore received the same miserable offering. If he was disgusted, he certainly didn’t show it. He looked to Linden first, waiting patiently for permission, but when Linden nodded he wasted no time in devouring the contents.
Linden had his arms half-uncovered, blood pulsing just beneath the surface, and the vampire was only now exiting a period of severe starvation. The sudden regular meals had probably woken his stomach up, and now it wanted more, desperate to not starve again.
He had done all of those things and more, carelessly, thoughtlessly, and the final straw was when he reached down to take the bowl. Linden knew he shouldn’t blame himself, but he did.
The vampire had licked it clean, without a single speck of blood left, but it was still Linden taking his food away. Still predatory, in the eyes of a desperate vampire.
He pulled the bowl away just in time to see the vampire’s jaws snap down a hair’s breadth from his own wrist.
Linden jumped out of his skin in fright. “No- don’t!” he cried, stumbling back against the kitchen counter and pulling his arms over his head instinctively. The bowl fell to the floor where it bounced and rolled away.
He realised he had just raised his wrists up to the vampire. Through the gap in his arms, Linden could see the vampire’s eyes were wide and hellishly bright- but with what emotion, Linden couldn’t tell.
“Don’t, please, I’ll turn!”
It had all taken place in less than five seconds. When the vampire didn’t come any closer, Linden lowered his arms, bracing against the counter instead. Hands curled around the scuffed edges. The cutlery drawer, complete with several large knives, with just below him, although he knew if this vampire did pounce, he would have no time to react. He’d only seen a few actual vampire attacks, all of them via videos on social media that had been taken down mere minutes later. Vampiric speed was terrifying. Perhaps the most terrifying thing about them. In half of the videos he’d seen, the victims hadn’t even realised what was happening. One second they were chatting with friends, walking home from a good night out, and the next they had been dragged across the road with their throat torn out.
Their blood didn’t even have time to splatter against the pavement, because the vampire’s jaws had clamped over the gory chasm and begun to feed.
The throat trauma was often so savage that it verged on decapitation. Coupled with the vampire pushing against them, dizzy with the taste of their freshest kill, the human’s head tipped backwards until it touched their shoulders. A body staring up at the stars with dead eyes.
It was that fear that had been sown while seeing such violence that now bloomed as Linden stood in the kitchen, having a face-off with a vampire he had invited into his own home.
The vampire hadn’t moved- not even to kneel. Linden couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or not.
He had a moment, so he breathed.
“You don’t have to do that. I promise. I’m going to feed you, okay? I’m going to feed you every day, and it won’t come with a price. It isn’t going to be like your old life. Even if you can’t trust me yet, I need you to believe me.”
Believing is trusting, he thought. Whatever. What was the vampire going to do, pipe up and correct him?
He knew if this vampire intended to kill him, he’d be dead already. Even this one, in his dangerously weakened state, was still far stronger than any human. Like in the videos, Linden wouldn’t even know when his life ended and his eternal death began- it would be too sudden.
Why had the vampire almost bitten him, then? Why didn’t he do it? Was it his conscience kicking in, or his training, or a mixture of both?
Linden knew he wasn’t an advantageous kill, right now. He was the master of the house, and had already proved that he could supply food, and comfort, and all other basic needs.
He was pinning all his hopes on a simple belief that was seeming more unhinged every day: by the time the vampire was back to his full strength, able to hunt and slaughter as he pleased, then yes, Linden would be a logical kill. But the vampire would have realised that Linden meant no harm. That he had taken the vampire in to heal him, not torment him. The kill would never take place.
He let a few more seconds pass, just to be sure, but the vampire didn’t move an inch. It didn’t look like he was even breathing.
“You stopped yourself. Well d… thank you. I’m pleased. I hope you’re pleased too.”
Finally, a sliver of emotion started to surface on the vampire’s face. Deep, anguished fear. His new owner was delivering a speech before he got on with torturing his new pet to death- or something.
“Was it because I moved the bowl away? And my wrist was so near?”
Linden was surprised by the intensity with which the vampire shook his head. No? Linden had been so sure, though.
The vampire’s lip moved, not a tearful wobble, but as if he wanted to speak… just for a second.
When he had called them the night before, Linden had been told quite firmly by the vampire handlers that the thing didn’t speak. Linden had tried to press them to clarify wouldn’t or couldn’t, but they had insisted it was the same thing. Judging by the collar scars, Linden felt that it had started as a rule and turned into a permanent condition as the abuse escalated.
“Then… what? Can you show me?”
He remembered how the vampire had acted out a request for the muzzle with surprising competence. This time, there was nothing.
“You can move. You’re allowed.”
The second hand on Linden’s watch ticked by as the vampire found the courage to raise his right arm, then bring it down forcefully, palm open.
Linden nodded, and unclenched his hands from the kitchen counter, pushing them into his pockets. He felt safe again, and needed his body language to reflect that. He needed to project that safety outwards. “No, I promise, I would never hit you. I was just cleaning away the bowl. Next time, you could put it with the dirty dishes yourself?”
The vampire searched Linden’s face, then nodded.
“If I gave you a piece of paper, could you write a message, perhaps? We could use that in the future.”
The vampire glanced down at his own hands. They were particularly badly savaged, for certain, but Linden was also very aware of his vampiric healing ability. Linden had a small notepad and pen handy on the table. If someone ever wanted to take a crayon rubbing of all the indentations left behind, they would be left with a neatly written list of milk, rice, carrots, mushrooms, shampoo. And so on.
Indicating for the vampire to take it, Linden was encouraged when he did so. While he wrote, Linden went and picked up the blood bowl, taking it to the sink for a scrub.
He turned when he heard a clipped rustling noise behind him. The noise sounded as if someone had pressed pause on it too early. It contained sounds that made sense- the chair scraping as it moved, footsteps on the stairs- but they all came too fast. By the time he turned, the vampire was gone, and the notepad was covered in ink.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry your pet is so sorry Master Master I won’t do it again I never meant to I’m a good boy I’m good now I promise I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
What intrigued Linden the most was where he could just make out the words I deserve to die, obscured under layers and layers of harshly crossed lines. The vampire wanted to take it back. Did it mean he wanted to live?
. . .
Nothing would let Linden sleep that night. He didn’t try to fight it. Though the initial terror had been quickly warded off, his heart was still beating faster than usual.
Instead, he reached for his phone and stared at the last messages he’d sent to his brother.
His thumb hovered.
Should he?
Vik would fly off the handle if the vampire so much as stuck his tongue out at Linden.
Linden squinted against the unnatural light, his lip curling.
After a few minutes, he put the phone down.
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tagging: @whumpsday @whumpycries @hollowgast1 @pigeonwhumps @cupcakes-and-pain @extemporary-whump @unicornscotty @d-cs
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