#(well sort of)

[lemon-wedges]

Kabru's first cooking lesson

[serbianazula]

We got TIMEBOMB but at what cost?

[pinkytoothlesso11]

It's really interesting seeing people mostly interpret Sky and Viktor's relationship as romantic or her presence in the astral plane as literal.

To me, it's always been clear that Sky's connection to Viktor was one-sided and a sort of a crush or just genuinely her fangirling over Viktor. Even in the flashback scene, we see the curious way child Sky looks at Viktor, and then Viktor goes to chase his invention rather than go say hi. There's definitely something to be said about how Viktor's pursuit of his science and inventions leaves people he can build connections with behind or how the only meaningful, touch based relationship he has, either platonically or romantically, is with Jayce, but I digress.

Viktor's guilt about Sky is stronger than any feelings he might have had about her. When he fuses with the hexcore and Sky is in the astral plane and guiding him I see it not as literally Sky's spirit but more a subconscious part of Viktor's psyche itself and maybe the hexcore manipulating Viktor...

But at the end scene with Sky, when Viktor tells her he will miss their conversations, she says, 'No, you won't.' Now this is also correlating to Viktor giving up on humanity and his own humanity. So Sky might have been the metaphysical representation of Viktor's humanity. That's the shape and form of his humanity, manifesting through his guilt about Sky. When he loses her, he is physically losing his connection to humanity. It's only Jayce connecting to him as a person that's able to bring him out of his destructive view of humanity not being redeemed.

I have nothing against Sky, I think she was a important character for Viktor's development, but I don't see any romantic connection there and also believe that her presence with Viktor was more a manifestation of Viktor's humanity.

[ditzyredrobin]

Tim Drake is a mermaid.

Well, sort of, kinda, unbeknownst to him or his parents.

It all comes to light when he’s going through some of his mother’s belongings that had been packed away after her death, trying to find something that would remind him of her. He was beginning to forgot her face, her voice, the way the said his name, or even if she said, “I love you.”

His mother is dead. His father is dead. He just needed something tangible to prove she was there.

Carefully packed away he find a ruby necklace it’s a simple golden chain and pendant the he recognizes from one of the Wayne’s galas, the way it refracted the light and made her eyes glow.

He takes it out of the box and it’s almost unnaturally cool to the touch which isn’t even the weirdest part. When he takes it in his palm, something just sort of shifts in him, like the pieces of a puzzle slipped into place and he just feels whole. If he didn’t know any better, he would say there was a flash of golden light, but that just had to be a trick of the light… right?

That night, on patrol, Tim is shot and takes a plunge into the harbor.

There wasn’t enough time to slip in his rebreather and the floatation device in his utility belt won’t inflate and he’s drowning.

Down and down and he can’t breathe until he just… can…?

This time there really is a flash of gold and tattoos cover his skin, curling and swirling down his arms and chest.

Scales replace skin, he grows webbed fingers, and honest to god gills. And that’s not even the weirdest part. Not, there’s a tail. He. Has. A. Tail. His legs fuse into a deep red, almost black tail.

That’s when Dick, as Nightwing, swoops in and drags him to the surface. Tim too deep in shock to fight it.

When they get to the surface and all parties involved realize what’s happened Tim is like: “Wtf?”

And Dick is like: “Wtf?”

And Batman just shakes his head because now he has to call Arthur.

In true H2O: Just Add Water fashion, when he dries, the tail and gills go away leaving him with the tattoos that fade into what looks like regular ink.

As it turns out the necklace is an Atlantean artifact that ignited some long-lost Atlantean heritage in Tim thought to be long since died out.

Arthur is smug, Bruce wants to punch him, and Tim has garnered the nickname Fishboy (a la Jason Todd).

[vanya-evergreen]

How to remember.(Chapter 1)

Masterlist

<Prev Next>

Relationship: BatFam x reader (platonic)

Summary: At the age of 11, you woke up in an other world without any guidance and all the money you once lacked. You were left with only your memeories and your other memories.

You tired to remember, their life, but it seemed like they didn't want you too. So when trying to navigate the intricate sides of an elite schoo, but you always got in trouble when it came to faces and names.

Cw: brief description of gore

No use of Y/n

Wc: 5k+

A/n- Woo first post! Exciting but so nerve racking, honestly have never posted my fanfic before. So, sorry if its kinda rough, had no one to beta, bare with me please. The characters are probably OOC, since I only recently got back into DC after seeing the "do the butts match post?" from the ai voice reddit post on tik tok. But you what that's more fun anyways, right? anyway please enjoy a really really random idea

Tick tick tick tick

The room was quiet, with only a few scribbles of pens or pencils to fill the void. You resided at your desk, hunched over, while resting your face on your hand. Your eyes lazily review the assignment in front of you for the 7th time. You had finished the assignments for the day, with each answer being correct that  left you with only your thoughts. Your eye twitched, turning your head slowly toward the window, while slowly moving your head from your hand to the desk. You went through your day just to try and remember, waking up, first 2 classes, all fine. Until, on your way to your current period, you ran into a younger student, probably a sophomore, maybe a junior. 

You cringed silently, you were just in your mind, really your memories from both this world and your original world. When you ran into a younger student, you both fell and could only manage a quick sorry before moving on. He was barely getting to his feet when you turned away, you were so stuck in your mind that you couldn’t even offer a proper apology, let alone your hand. You can't help but think back to the faint whisper you heard as you walked away. You made a mental note to find and properly apologize to him during lunch, if you could remember what he looked like, seeing as you only really saw his keychains on his backpack as they jingled when he got up.

Your head started throbbing as you thought too much, you shut your eyes tightly, wiping your mind clean, then opening them again .You stared out the window, trying not to think much, just trying to learn to just exist. Why is existing one of the hardest things to learn? You watch the clouds clash into each other slowly creating an ocean of a scale of whites and grays. You slowly let your mind blank, even just for a moment, it was nice. 

You could slowly feel your drifting off, almost like you were disconnecting from your physical body. Until the sound of mindless chatter started up in the back of the room, pencils still wrote, notably faster than before. This means the period was almost up, so that means lunch and trying to find that one guy. You sat up, collected the assignments from your desk, then got up and turned them in. You got back to your seat right as the bell rang. 

You picked up your stuff and got out of there as quickly as you could, just to round the corner to be surprised by an underclassman. He had green eyes that made very uncomfortable eye contact with yours. You almost immediately looked away from his very intense glare. You side eye him and see his bag. The keychains. 

“Shit” you let out under your breath as you released your present problem. Your eye drifted back to his face, he didn't look all that happy to see you. ‘definitely him’. “Hey man, listen…” you started. You felt genuinely bad about earlier, you could only imagine how big of an asshole it made you seem like.

“Who are you?” his tone was blunt, with a twinge of annoyance. 

Your mind stalled, that's not what you expected him to say. You thought he would threaten you or maybe pull the ‘do you know who i am card?’ or ‘I am going to ruin your life’. You felt the hostility he emulated, you felt uneasy. You furrowed your eyebrows, opening and closing your mouth a couple of times. The almost seemingly endless stream of words in your mind were stuck in your throat. “ ___ ___” you choked out with your last bit of brain cells.

“ Where are you from?” His voice shot straight through you. He gave you no time to collect your thoughts from the initial question. Your mind was scattered from how fast questions came at you. The unease in your stomach grew. 

“Uh, gotham, like everyone here.” Confusion clouded your already foggy mind , ‘what did this have to do with me running into him earlier?’ “ I am sorry about earlier by the way.” you added quickly with a sorrowful expression, the cloudiness didn’t consume your intention to apologize.

“Gotha, hm, how come I have never seen any event?” he ignored your apology. ‘Okay, that's rude.’ You tried to grasp at whatever you could to respond.

“What events?” was all you could get. You felt like you were going to faint from the speed of his questions. Why did he care so much about what you did, you were just a stranger to him. 

“Galas, business meetings…” he listed off different types of high end events, but you didn’t really listen after the first two. Your head was spinning, you had to try and collect the scattered pieces of your mind. 

You rushed your recovery, you went from being up in your head for the last 20 minutes to being pulled down, through the earth’s crust, into a cave being interrogated by someone you have never talked to before this. ‘Who the hell is this guy?’

“I am sorry, but who are you?” You interrupted him midway through his next question, ‘that was a great idea’. “Am I meant to know you or something?” Ah yes, your most infamous line. You put your hand on your forehead, trying to rationalize this interaction. His mouth was open, he looked almost offended by your question.

“you’re joking?” he exclaimed agitated, he creased his eyebrows. You had to get out of there.

“No.“ You turn your head to the side, throwing your hands up in the air while turning your upper body away.

“ Well okay then, have you ever heard of the Waynes?” You do remember hearing about Wayne enterprise last time you went to the doctors, like when you first woke up in this world, which was like, 6 years ago, maybe. That doesn’t really matter. You had heard of it.

 “The company?” you questioned. He groaned, if in relief or annoyance, that was beyond you. 

“Yes, but what have you heard about the Wayne family?” he looked you square in the eyes, you turned away slowly not really saying anything. You looked guilty. “Nothing?” you nodded assuring his previous statement. Still not meeting his eye, not wanting to deal with that memory for the rest of the day. “How?”

“I don’t read the gossip columns?” You suggested with an awkward shrug and chuckle. You only now realized that there was a wall of students formed around you and him. You definitely had to get out there now.

“What? What do you mean” he was really pissed now, but you didn't even hear half of what he was saying you were just trying to find the quickest way out of here. You looked around looking for an opening within the students. You noticed one right behind him so you had to be quick about it.

“Listen, I am so sorry about being early, I didn't mean to make you fall, really.” you seemed less sincere than before, you were trying to make sure that you didn't seem rushed. “I really didn’t and if it had been any other time I would have made sure that I had offered my hand but I just wasn’t entirely aware. I am sorry, again.” You had made your way around him away around him as you talked, you maintained eye contact with him until you were able to slip in between the students. “Please forgive me, and I am sorry I couldn't answer your question adequately.”

 “Wait-” you heard him shout as you speed walked away, trying to blend in with a group of students that were walking down the hallway. He, of course, saw you slip into the group and approached you. You had to think quickly, thankfully there was another group of students that was going the opposite way. You quickly slipped into another group, successfully avoiding him. You could only finally breathe when you made it to the dining hall without running into him again. 

You went into the lunch line, trying to just forget whatever the hell that was. You moved through the line slowly, grabbing whatever looked appetizing today. One of the many good things about going to a rich school was that the food was edible. You were grabbing the last bit of your lunch before you felt a cold air run up your spine, you said a silent prayer in hope that it wasn’t who you thought it was. You tried not to look, Maybe if you didn’t look he would leave. You remained calm and walked with your food to the table where you sat with your friends, making sure to make yourself as unnoticeable as possible. You were able to sit down and eat most of your lunch before you felt him approach your table, you could feel a cold sweat develop on your shoulders as you took your last couple of bites.

He gradually approached, carefully looking over everyone trying to figure where you were. Your friends were having a typical conversation, what they were doing that night or where they are going to college and what they are going to study. Until one of them saw him approach. “Is that Damian Wayne approaching us, right now?” that when you realized why he was having a hard time with you early, you couldn’t recognize him or his family, but your friends, who never cared for status and the tabloid’s talk recognized him, or Damian now that you had a name to the face. You straightened up when you heard this. 

Your friends looked at you strangely until they realized you were the one he was looking for, and you did not want to be found. They acted quickly. They, as naturally as possible, started to clean up. Throwing away trash, and putting away their food. They even helped you pack up, and as a group you slipped out of the dining hall into a hallway, then out into the courtyard. You would have to thank them later with some homemade baked goods. They really came to your rescue today.

You looked at your phone, 12:45. Lunch was almost over, never would have you thought that you would be grateful for that. ‘Only 5 more minutes’. Your relief was somewhat short lived as you had to now answer their question. “So, what happened?” one of them, Leah, asked flatly.

“Well you see…” You started not really wanting to talk. You looked around trying to procrastinate this conversation.

“Stop putting this off” Another one, Warren, jabbed you in your side with a pencil causing you to flinch.

“Fine…” you sighed feeling defeated, ” So, today I may have, made him fall, but I also fell.” you signed as you talked. you looked down and then back up at Wynn hoping for their pity only to be met with a vaguely threatening look to continue. “And after 3rd period he was waiting for me in the hallway and he asked who I was. I told him my name and then asked who he was because he was asking me a lot of questions.”You smiled with fear behind your eyes. They looked at you mouth agape, no one could be as out of tune with the news as you are.

‘What the hell? Did you even apologize??’ Wynn signed, they were not happy with you.

“ The fuck you mean you didn’t know him?” Leah exclaimed, grabbing onto your shoulders and shaking you very violently, making you feel sick. You knew you fucked up bad when Warren did have anything to say. 

“Wynn, I did apologize!! Like 3 times too, and I am sorry I am too busy thinking of other things!” You continued to sign as you talked, trying to defend yourself. Warren and Leah were lecturing you about how stupid your actions were and Wynn was just shaking their head. You started to tune them out when you saw the door open and of course Damian came outside. You quickly got up and picked up your stuff.

“We need to finish our-” he started before being interrupted by the bell ring. Much to your luck.

“Hey, well see you guys later, I need to get to class” you waved goodbye to your friend and signed ‘please don't kill me’ to Wynn, before you ran past Damian to your 4th class, They all exchanged looks with each other before you friends quickly walked away to their own classes. You made it to your 4th period without much trouble, besides a few stares the class went perfectly, boring but fine. The next 2 classes were a mix and repeat of your 4th period, only with increasing whispers every time you walked in a class.

 It was finally your 8th class, study hall, you were able to get to your normal spot without much trouble. You were even able to put in your headphones and start working on a rough draft to a machine that you were designing. You sat most of the day up until this point, so your arms always felt stiff. So you stretched your arms, only to hit something. Quickly retracting your arms back to your side, you turned around. ‘FUUUUUU-’ It was Damian. “Heyyyy.” you slowly turned back to your computer in front of you, taking off your headphones.

“Are you gonna avoid me again?” He was looming over you, you could feel the burning on top of your head from the way he glared at you. You shut your laptop and braced yourself for all the questions he was going to ask. 

“No.” You shook your head, he sat down across from you. You looked anywhere but at him.

“The events, why have I never seen you?” He went straight to it.

“I don't think I am famous enough to go.” You shrugged, he raised an eyebrow at you suggesting that you were lying. You were ticked off by this. “ Listen, If I have gotten an invite, I have never seen it.” You folded your arms. 

“ How did you get into this school?” You didn't really have a clear answer to this one, “I have heard about how you could never recognize people who are from well known families in Gotham, and some that were even famous by themselves.”

“A trust fund.” That was your typical go to answer, but in all honesty you didn't know. While you had some memories, a very limited amount, of this body's life, they were almost all blurry. None of them were really clear, but you could feel what they, the other you, were feeling. You could make really rough assumptions. Like you knew you had a mother (or a female figure) that you loved, and somewhere along the way she got remarried and you had step-parent up until she died. You could feel the way the memories would cause a physical reaction so you tried not to think about it too much. “And I just have never really had the mental space to pay attention to that, plus faces and names aren’t my thing.”

He wasn’t satisfied with your answers “So what? You just don't know anything about the world?”

“No, of course I pay attention to the crimes in Gotham, and the people that handle them.” This wasn’t a lie, you did pay attention to that, you even knew their names, a big honor to have, in your mind at least. You were a huge fan of them, even before- you know. 

“Hm.” He slouched as he contemplated your answers, while resting his hands intertwined together maintaining eye contact with you. There was silence between you two, it was too long. You restlessly tapped your fingers on the table while resting your head on the other hand, watching him. Waiting for whatever comes next of his seeming never ended questions, but he seemed to be stumped.

“Is that it?” You broke the silence “You have everything you need to know. Right?” You straighten your back, now sitting up right. He only continued to stare. Internally you rolled your eyes before you put one of your headphones on. 

You opened your laptop, quickly glancing over the blueprint for the machine. You were getting bored of this. you looked blankly at your computer screen. ‘I wonder what I can find about Damian's family.’  What a dangerous thought to have. You, with a renewed vigor, quickly opened a new search window and started simple. ‘Wayne family’ you were overwhelmed with the number of results. 2 billion. 2 billion. You understood why Damian was so shocked now. That was just for the family too; you count the profiles, 9. 

First, you clicked on ‘Thomas Wayne’, you were somewhat familiar with the name. You read about the tragedy of how he died, you knew this story, you watched a true crime video on it a couple of years back. You felt it was only appropriate to make your way down the family tree so you clicked on ‘Bruce Wayne’. Of course you could assume he was Damian's father. There were links to articles about some scandal of his or how his business was doing. You read a bit further only to find out that the man adopted a lot. Like, you had wondered how he had 6 children but guess that was your answer. You were about to click on Damian's profile only to stop.

“What exactly are you doing?” So he didn’t lose his vocal cords. You snapped out of your trance by his voice.you realized how funky what you just did was.You felt a bit like a creep now, searching up his family in front of him was not the best idea.

You coughed clearing your throat “Why do you care?” You tried to keep an even voice. 

“You were staring so intently at your computer that it almost looked like you were planning something.” He leaned back with his arms folded. 

“Well,” You closed your search tab later, planning on continuing to research (basically stalk) them later. “I am working on a machine.” You ignored the underlying implication that you were possibly evil. You pulled up the blue prints and math for the machine and turned it around to show him. 

“What does it do?” His glare intensified.

“It’s meant to be a multi-dimensional portal, of sorts.” This was the truth. “It's more of a concept than anything.” This was a lie. “I have to make this for my engineering class, we have an assignment where we make up a theoretical invention and try to come up with a way to make them real” Another truth.

“Interesting,” he became more vigilant, yet interested because of  your words. “And have you figured it out?” 

“No, and if I did it probably wouldn’t work,” much to your dismay. “This assignment is more about how well we can explain our logic than the actual realism of it.”

“Oh,” You couldn’t tell if he was more relieved or disappointed. “Well you must enjoy the class if you are putting this much work into it.”

“Yep ,” you said through slightly gritted teeth. You didn’t mind the class, in fact you would’ve loved it, if you were still in your original word. “I guess.” You smiled tightly, turning your laptop back around. “So what about you? Do you have a favorite class?” Your smile shifted from tight and sharp to curved and soft, this was classic. You did this when you were trying to shift the attention away from something you didn’t want to discuss. You could almost see him relax, ever so slightly, but still he’s coming around. Maybe.

“Art” his arms were still folded, but his eyes didn’t seem so analytical or hostile. While it wasn’t a lot it was better than what you had gotten out of him from most of the conversation. 

“Really, would you be willing to show me some of your pieces?” you asked ever so politely. 

“Why would I show you?” And there is the defensiveness.

“Because I showed you my blueprints.” your smile faltered for a moment only to return within a second, you looked back to your laptop.

“Right,” his arms were more loosely folded. “Still I don't have too.” his arms tighten back up again.

“That is true,” you nodded in agreement, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing them, but that's your choice.”  You weren’t going to force him to do anything, it wasn’t your job. He was quiet. You peered over your laptop to see what was going on. He looked at you, eyes wide, arms barely folded. He looked like a cat after finding something interesting. “What?”

“Nothing.” He returned to his vigilante mood. You shrugged it off and continued to work on your draft. He continued to observe you, you continued to work. You both stayed this way for a while’ it was like you were in a mental battle with him, a really one-sided one. You didn’t really have any intention of resuming the conversation. 

The silence was very welcomed. It allowed you to get your work done, you would’ve been done in 30 minutes if he didn’t show up. The silence was interrupted but the sound of a zipper opening. You didn’t look up from your laptop; slowly a sketch book came into your peripheral. You glanced at it, with a bit of hesitation you reached for it. Closing and sliding your laptop to the side, replacing it with the sketch book. you opened the cover and started going through the sketch book carefully. While had only shifted the conversation to get the heat off of you, you were nicely surprised with his talent.

The sketches in the beginning were good, in quality. They were all of different gorey situations, from a man having his head torn apart, to a woman with her skin falling off, it said something about his childhood, but that was his therapist's job to decide what this said. The theme changed after a few more pages of graphics images, which had become much less violent. There were first a few of just some plants, they were nice but not as nice as the first bug you saw, you could deduct that he had real references to base them off of. You flipped through the page, seeing pages full of multiple individual sketches, to pages of only one, fully detailed, landscapes. WIth some gore but it was far fewer than before . 

You could see his improvement. They were good to begin with but they were too focused on the bigger image, they were missing something. You felt like he figured whatever he was missing, this was shown in the recurring dog, Titus, or that's what he labeled the drawing. You flipped  through a few more pages, mostly animals and plants, until you saw the first human sketch that wasn’t a subject of a horrific act. You had seen the face only 20 minutes prior, it was Bruce Wayne, but he wasn’t wearing his playboy smile, he wasn’t even smiling. It was only a headshot but you could tell he wasn’t present in his mind. He was wearing a thoughtful look, a distant look. 

You looked over the page more carefully now, there was still an overall theme of live studies of plants and animals, with some small landscapes, but there was new addition with people now, they were all labeled with their names, you roughly could recalled some of them from early search on his family, they were greatly detail, they all seem to show some sort of part of their personality, their real personalities. Not the public image they upheld but who they really were. You felt like you shouldn’t be looking at this, but you think he would’ve stopped you if he didnt want you seeing this. You turned more pages, he had improved a lot, he had not only found what he was missing, but more. Every drawing and sketch, you left no drawing unseen.

You stopped at one page, it was a full page dedicated to a  family portrait, or a sketch of one. The portrait was the formal ones you were used to. They were casual clothes, no one was looking straight forward. No poses, no one sitting, nor was their hair combed neatly. It looked like just a family out and about. They all seemed so close, it seemed to be more of a wish than a reality but you were not close to him so maybe it was his reality. You looked over the page a final time before turning to the page. The rest of the sketchbook was architecture and landscapes with sprinkles of animals that you assumed were his pets. The talent he had was special, you would honestly tell him that he should pursue art, even if just on the side.

You slid it to Damian. “You have some real talent.” You expressed with a calm tone.

“I know.” He stated as if it was a known fact.  You choked on the air in your throat trying to hold back your laughter. He held a blank expression, he wasn’t cocky, if he was he would be smiling. 

“I am glad that you see it,” You look at your phone, 5 minutes before school ends, “I always get annoyed when people try to deflect praise.” You closed your laptop and put it into your bag. “I think it's a waste of time, it's just an attempt to seem humble”  you secured your bag to your back, “but that’s kinda hypocritical of me to say, don't you think?” The bell rings.

“Yes it is.” he agrees, nodding his head.

“By the way, what class did you skip to talk to me?” There was no way he had study hall this period.

“Well,” he paused. He just stood there not really wanting to answer you, you chuckled. He wasn’t happy that you laughed at him.

“Alright, good to know. Anyways, have a good day.” You walk away, still chuckling. before leaving through the door, you turned back, looking at him “Feel free to show me more art if you ever choose to.” You gave him a wide grin as you span around on your heel and continued to walk away with the typical bounce in your step. You didn't see his reaction, but it didn’t matter. You were able to get away from him without him asking you anymore questions you wouldn’t have been able to answer. 

The hallway was crowded, a sea of students were either trying to head home or back to their dorms. You got through it quickly as you had taken to the window method, where if you see an opening in between students, you take it. Something seemed off today, well more off than normal.  You didn’t pay attention to that. You made it to the front of the school and found your driver waiting for you, you waved and smiled before getting in and heading home.

Damian wasn’t sure how to feel about this, or he couldn’t pinpoint how he felt. You were so nice but he was suspicious of you. I mean, wouldn’t you be too? You were rich enough to go to Gotham academy. Which was known for being a school for the elite, yet he couldn’t connect you to any of the elite families. You also didn’t know any other elite family, especially the Wayne's. A founding family of Gotham, and always had something going around on the news. It's like you just dropped on to the face of the earth randomly when you were 11. 

He had already pulled your file from both cityhall and the school. Your school record was almost squeaky clean, only one instant of a fight that was deemed not your fault and bullying targeted towards you. Your city record only showed that you were an orphan with no listed legal guardian and that you have lived in the same penthouse for almost 7 years, near old Gotham. “No named father and mother is dead” he read his notes out loud. “What the fu-”

“Master Damian.” Alfred was standing in the doorway with a steamed suit for this weekend's gala. “Excuse the intrusion, I just came to put your formal suit away and say that Master Bruce is ready for patrol.”

“Thank you Alfred,” Damian gathered the pages, straightened them, and put everything into a file. He placed it to the side for later.

“Also,” Alfred continued to speak as he hung Damians suit in his closet. “I got a call from the school” Damian stopped and looked at him. Damian’s eyes followed Alfred as he walked towards the door. “Master bruce doesn’t know, yet, but I wouldn't recommend doing that again” Alfred warned him as he shut the door. Damian was glad Alfred would keep his secret, even if just for this once.

Damian heads down to the Batcave. He was still annoyed, he hated how easily he could let his guard falter so easily around you. You were too nice to a practical stranger. He thought, no, he knew that there was something up with you. There is no one still this decent in Gotham, not in the city where they needed a rich family to handle their criminal problem, or where there seems to be a S-level threat every couple of months. You simply could not exist in a city like this.

He passed many large frames with paintings, he never really paid attention to them, like he would be now. There were points where there were smaller frames with photos and he looked over at just the right time to see a very familiar face. He stared for a moment before continuing to walk but much faster now. After he was suited up, he met his father as he was sitting at the computer.

“Damian.” Bruce greeted him, still reading over files pulled up on the screen. Damian to a quick read over the files, it was a missing boy’s case. Probably kidnapped and being held for ransom or maybe because her parents did know something they shouldn’t.

“Father.” Damian replied. He eyed his father, he wanted to ask straight up but he knew his father would easily hide his reaction if he did so directly. So he waited for the question he typically hated disliked answering.

“How was school today?” Bruce was never the most attentive father but he tried, this was one of his few ways of trying to stay in tune with his children's lives. Damian would always say mostly the same thing ‘unchallenging’ or something along those lines. But tonight was different.

“Fine, but I met this person today,” Damian said.

“Oh really” Bruce raised an eyebrow and turned his chair around to face him, Damian has never mentioned meeting someone before. “Who are they?”

“___ ___, they are a senior.” Bruce tensed for a second at the mention of your name. That was all Damian needed to see from him. Bruce, of course, regained his composure within milliseconds.

“Hm, good to hear” Bruce almost mumbled. “I hope they are nice.” He turned back to the computer. Damian was a bit smug about getting that reaction from his father, what a long night it was going to be for Bruce.

[duchess-doodles]

Have a wip because I'm going fucking insane

[sorenphelps]

i have many bad habits and one of them is spamming @diamondmeadow with random fanarts on discord, mostly but not always related to her fanfics… so now it’s your turn, enjoy

[helios-two]

whether heavy is *actually* a communist or not is kind of irrelevant, because this implies that 1) soldier at least believes that heavy is a communist and 2) he doesn't seem to care. which is kind of fascinating

[aurora-boreas-borealis]

Mer Four doodles

[heretherebedork]

So Tonkla has always been in the real world. Same with Win. Great couldn't bring them into his redo and so every scene they've had has been real. They are the original timeline. Great doesn't know either of them or who they are and so he couldn't change anything for them, so the timeline couldn't be changed for them. That timeline is Tonkla's timeline and he's the anchor of it all.

Korn walks the line. When he's with Tonkla, that's the real world and the original timeline. But when he's with Great, he's in Great's recreated timeline of events. So he goes back and forth and it shows in his personality and in those moments. To Great, he's a good brother going through something rough. To Tonkla, he's the one who abandoned him in his worst moment.

Pretty much everything we saw of Great's parents were in the recreated timeline because most of when we saw them was through Great's eyes and Great's experiences. Definitely some bits of reality in there but not a lot.

Tyme existed solely in Great's recreated timeline. Because one of the reasons Great wanted to recreate that timeline so badly was to fix his relationship with Tyme. They ended on the worst possible note and that was one of Great's regrets and greatest fears. He wants to be loved just as deeply as he fears that he can't be loved.

(There is a deep irony in that one of the biggest things he wanted to change was saving Dome but that saving Dome in his alternative timeline still didn't really change anything for the person who lost him because Great never knew who he was, even when he shot him. And isn't that depressing?)

Most of the other characters we saw existed in Great's recreated timeline because we saw them through Great's eyes and life. Because Great wanted to live of the life of being the best, the better, finest version of himself that he wished he was. The braver version, the stronger version, the kinder version, the person that would be able to be loved by Tyme and be able to love him in return.

[ithrilyann]

Thorin in blue and gold  by Miruna-Lavinia on DeviantArt

[whumblr]

hii, can you please write about a whumpee that can’t sleep alone without caretaker, but the caretaker has an urgent business trip thus leaving whumpee alone at night?

Whumpee turned over again, eyes blank, staring at Caretaker's empty side of the bed. A soft sigh, almost a huff, brushed past their lips.

They'd meant it, when they'd said they'd be fine.

Or at least, they thought it would be fine. Just two days. They could certainly manage that, they had assured Caretaker. And they did. Everything went absolutely fine - not great, just fine like they'd said. Until night fell.

They never fully realised it, but just having Caretaker next to them made them feel safe. Even when he was completely conked out, snoring, far from this world. Just watching him, breathing softly, it was comforting. Knowing they weren't alone, knowing they weren't waking up in that cell--

They let their arm fall down, stretched out over the flat duvet.

Yesterday they didn't sleep at all. Just tossed and turned, hoping sleep would finally come. You can't sleep with enemies nearby. There weren't any nearby. Or so Whumpee hoped. But unfortunately, they carried their enemy with them. All the time.

The mocking voice in their head wasn't the only thing keeping them awake, but it certainly made things most difficult.

"I bet Caretaker is having a blast, finally having a day to himself."

Whumpee punched their pillow in frustration and almost threw themself on it, pulling up the blankets. Caretaker wasn't like that.

"I don't know. Maybe he grew tired of you. Scared little mouse to comfort at every little bit."

Deep breaths. Don't think. Don't engage those thoughts-- Okay, yeah, they were a scared little mouse. Even now, willfully ignoring every little sound in the house that made them want to snap up and scour every room every time something creaked. But they didn't. They had to prove that they could do this. That they didn't need Caretaker for everything.

Maybe that's why they had been so adamant in getting Caretaker to accept this business trip. Maybe they just wanted to show him - and themself - that they could do this. Could perfectly stay alone for a weekend and be absolutely fine.

"Are you sure it's a business trip?" the voice crooned and Whumpee's eyes snapped open. "Would make total sense if he just desperately needed a break from you."

No, that--. No, they'd seen the pictures he sent yesterday evening. Large podium. Nice snacks. Meeting room with some Zzz emoji's from Caretaker. It was a business trip. It definitely was!

"He probably volunteered, then. Needing some time away. Awful, really. He knows you can't be alone yet he still went."

"That's not true," Whumpee said out loud. Great, now they actually were arguing with just the darkness in their room. They knew that wasn't true. And they knew that horrible voice only echoed their own horrible thoughts pushed back to the back of their mind. The only one awful here was themself.

"It's okay, darling. You're just uncomfortable. You know why? Because you're doing something that would get you punished. That's why you're all jitters..."

"I'm not--"

"Your shirt. You know I don't like it when you cover your scars."

A chill went through them. The cotton of their oversized shirt snagged around them from all the twisting and turning, uncomfortably pulling at them. That's not it. That's not the reason why they couldn't sleep. No one could punish them anym--

"Take it off."

This is ridiculous, they huffed to themself. They flipped to their side, forced their eyes shut. But the brewing anxiety in their stomach only turned more heavy. And the shirt tangled around them started to feel constricting.

With a snap they sat up. Ripped their shirt over their head. And threw it across the room.

-

General whump tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan

[the-clumsywitch]

Witch Math

If you buy crystals but they're for prosperity, you technically don't spend money, you're actually making money.

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

That Baldur's Gate 3 cover art with Astarion. But it's Sebille.

[superbellsubways]

Can I see a picture of Flavio

wasnt sure whether you wanted an ingame screenshot or a drawing .i gave him a big ice cream cone

[balrogballs]

A bittersweet little Glorfindel & Elrond friendship story for you this Monday 🥰

The Worst Horse in Imladris

Celebrían’s very favourite horse was a small grey filly with an unmanageable mane and pure hatred in her eyes. It was neither abused nor traumatised, runty nor powerful. It was just a somewhat shit horse, but she adored it regardless.

The only one she would trust to look after her in her absence was Glorfindel, and so it was him — curator of bites and acceptor of kicks — who found it groaning with colic and thought well, about damn time. Colic was often fatal in horses; and this one was 29 years old, having outlived its mistress by 17.

He mentioned it to Elrond, who had neither a great love for horses nor particular patience for this rather awful specimen, and so was surprised when the lord rushed with him into the stables and began walking it to and fro, a stopgap for colic, and hastily bid Glorfindel to bring in the stable master.

“Elrond, she’s very old — there won’t be much he can do.”

“Do as you’re told,” Elrond snapped, pulling rank uncharacteristically.

He spent the night walking the horse in ten-minute bursts, refusing to sleep nor listen to the stablemaster’s protests that it was not worth working on a horse certain to die in the next few months regardless, and that this particular horse was both rather useless and tended to be somewhat aggressive in its reaction to treatment.

Five hours in, both Glorfindel and the stablemaster gave up, looking at each other in confusion. Elves are immortal, animals are not. This was a lesson learned by most elflings, one drilled into them for good by the time most were waist-high. Still, Elrond kept walking it to and fro repeatedly, a frantic cadence to his footsteps.

It was only when the next day dawned and Erestor almost bodily dragged him to council, that Elrond left the horse’s side, firmly instructing Glorfindel and the stablemaster to keep walking it. But when Glorfindel returned from a quick bath, the stablemaster was looking up at him from the floor, shrugging.

“It was about time,” he said, and then grimaced at his bleeding wrist. “Got a last good bite in too.”

Glorfindel nodded. “All right then, get it out of here before the lord gets back.”

“Certainly, but where are you off to?”

“The cavalry stables,” he said shortly, and refused to explain himself. And when Elrond returned after council to check on the creature, he found a remarkable grey warhorse in its place, a proud Rhûn stallion with utter obedience glittering in its clear eyes.

“What is this?” he asked, frowning.

“Asfaloth,” shrugged Glorfindel, looking at Elrond as if he were mad. “That awful beast. She got better.”

Elrond raised his eyebrows, blinked, and looked at his captain for a very long time.

“Is that so?” was all he said, a small smile playing at the very edge of his lips. He nodded, looking rather overwhelmed, and departed quietly. Glorfindel sighed, resigning himself to five hundred years and eighteen generations of identical grey warhorses.

As Elrond’s engagements with loss went, this horse would have only been a quiet, lukewarm loss. Only the closest would have even noticed any impact on him. After all, mortality lingered in Elrond’s life like an old friend, recurring like ice-crusted winter and the bloom of spring, woven into the very fabric of half-elvenness, too familiar to be questioned.

The day the worst horse in Imladris died of colic was like any other day. It would change nothing, and death would continue to slip in and out of view of Imladris as always. Elves are immortal, animals are not. Except for Asfaloth. Asfaloth never dies.