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corkinavoid · 4 months ago

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DPxDC Summoning Failed Successfully

Imagine a warehouse. Imagine a bunch of cultists in dark robes with all the candles, daggers, ancient books, and chanting. Now add Danny.

Only not as the summoned being, no. As a sacrifice.

He is sitting down, tied to a chair, in the middle of the summoning circle, looking as bored and deadpan as he can possibly be. The cultists are chanting, and he frowns, listening to their chants for a moment.

"Hey, is that Latin?" He questions, but to no avail, "You know you're not actually using those words correctly, right?"

"Keep quiet, child!" One of the cultists snaps. Danny leans back in his chair and shrugs.

"I'm just saying, you ain't summoning shit with wrong grammar," he huffs, seemingly absolutely nonchalant about the whole thing. Oracle, who is watching the whole ordeal through the surveillance cameras, raises her eyebrows. Red Robin and Robin are already en route to the building the cultists chose for their extracurricular activities, but now she almost wants to watch this a bit longer.

Gothamites are pretty used to all kinds of shitshows, but this boy is from out of town. She checked him through facial recognition. Daniel Fenton, a transfer student from Amity Park, Illinois.

A few more cultists stop chanting and turn to Danny.

"Do you know Latin?" One of them asks, and the boy makes a half-nod, making a thoughtful face.

"Not fluently, but, like, it's a dead language, I felt kinda obligated to learn it. Just for the meme, you know?" He chuckles.

The cultists, judging by their confused silence, don't know. Barbara doesn't know what he's talking about, either. But she is almost curious now, so she taps Robin's and RR's comm lines:

"RR, Robin, when you arrive, don't jump into the scene," she asks.

"Understood," Tim answers immediately, but Damian, of course, demands explanations:

"Is there an obstacle?"

"Not really," Barbara humms, "The sacrifice is in the process of de-escalating the situation."

She can almost hear the questioning silence over the comm, but, thankfully, no one argues. Meanwhile, one of the cultists pipes up, voice full of doubt:

"So, you can... like, proofread our incantation?"

"Yeah, sure," Danny nods, apparently fine with being sacrificed, "Who you're trying to summon anyway?"

"Satan," that same cultist answers, and Danny laughs approvingly.

"Classic," he nods and smiles, "I'll give you this. The circle is mostly alright, so you don't need an incantation to summon the fucker, I have him on speed dial." And with that, he leans forward, screaming towards the floor: "Ey, Satan!"

Barbara must say the act was actually convincing, but he went a little overboard with it now. She reaches to tell both Robins to get in, but suddenly, a loud, booming voice reverberates through the building.

"The fuck do you want, kid?"

Cultists fall to their knees - it doesn't seem like an act of worship, more like their knees bucking. The whole circle dimly lights up in red, smoke raising from it.

"Do you see this shit, Oracle?" Red Robin questions, and she mhm's at him, not sure what else to say. If this is still an act or a trick, she must say it's a very good one. Although somehow she suspects it's not a trick. She's seen enough magic in her life to tell the difference.

"Do you want to come to Earth, be gay and do crimes?" Danny asks, almost mockingly.

"Fuck off."

The red light flickers and disappears, and Danny looks back up to cultists, grinning cheerfully.

"Welp, looks like he doesn't wanna," the kid concludes and stands up from his chair. Barbara hadn't seen when or how he got out of his bindings.

The cultists just watch him walk out of the circle in bewilderment.

"Pursue?" Robin's voice comes over the comms, and Barbara thinks for a moment.

"I get a feeling like that's a bad idea," Tim mutters over his line.

Barbara agrees.

#danny phantom #oracle #dc x dp #dpxdc #batfam #tim drake #damian wayne #red robin #robin #barbara gordon #i dunno its probably already been written more times than i can think of #i just enjoy the 'he doesnt wanna' bit #summoning #cork prompts #cork writes

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bruciemilf · 4 months ago

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Normal regular people should slowly plant themselves into the Wayne clan.

There’s this busboy that works with uncle TJ. Dick learns his name is Mikey when he stops by the restaurant. He hasn’t been since Bruce took him when he was 10.

the Bat has no idea the prodigal son returned to the nest. So Mikey’s suddenly babysitting a strange vigilante with the horsepower of 4 drunk girls in an Uber.

“It’s just so fucking frustrating because I WANT to be here but he doesn’t TELL me he wants me here! I want him to want me! I want him to say ‘hey, by the way, you’re my son, you’re always welcome here, I know you get lonely!’ But he doesn’t! He doesn’t! I miss Jason. This sandwich is so good. Thanks cousin.”

Mikey, who’s been working there for about a week, stares at the 300 dollar tip for a straight 30 minutes, wondering who Jason is.

From then on, the flock multiplies.

POV you’re cousin Mikey and Red Hood just walks in while you’re closing, covered in blood, and Spoiler’s leg is broken but she really wants a meatball sub, Signal asks why they upped the prices on the pizza, Orphan stares and nods her head and oh my god that’s an 8 year old with a sword:

#I REALLY NEED TO HIGHLIGHT THE BAT KIDS ADORE THEIR COUSIN SM????#but Mikey’s just like who ARE you mfs #which is so funny. truly made to be in the bat clan #dc of #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #batkids #dc #dc comics #text #batman #writing #stephanie brown #duke thomas #damian wayne

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vespertilionis · 3 months ago

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Has a skincare routine: Dick, Jason, Duke, Bruce, Babs, Steph

“I just use water”: Cass, Tim

“Stop trying to force me into a skincare routine I’m 10”: Damian

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multiverseworm · 5 months ago

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No because, I can totally picture Damian getting unsolicited advice from each of the batkids when they hear he’s going on a date. All of them having a completely different idea of what that entails😭

Steph: Remember to always offer your hoodie, even if she’s taller than you. We girls like that.

Damian: we’re in the middle of June, Brown. In what world do you think is appropriate to bring a piece of clothing designed for cold weather when it’s 90° degrees outside?

…

Duke: Everyone loves a good joke, it’s a good way to break the ice as well.

Damian: Thank you, Thomas. That also works as a great way to defeat Mr. Freeze if he ever decides to escape Arkham.

…

Cass: *explaining in full detail how to look for signs that his date is not interested anymore through body language*

Damian: *taking extensive notes about it*

…

Tim: Don’t forget to find out everything about her and her background.

Damian: *visibly offended* Who do you think I am, Drake? An Amateur? I obviously already did that. Full report is in the batcomputer files.

…

Babs: Just don’t do anything Dick tells you.

Damian: …

…

Dick: Did Babs actually say that? Whatever, just remember to be polite, make her laugh, pay for the meal and walk her home.

*makes a pause*

Dick: Bruce already gave you “the talk”, right? If not, this is about to get veeery awkward…

Damian: *mutters curses in Arabic*

…

Damian: Todd, do you have a minute? I need your assistance in getting intel for a mission.

Jason: Does this mission involve the date everyone else has been so eagerly talking about? *smirks devilish*

Damian: …

Jason: …

Damian: You read Austen, you have the greatest intel of them all to fill me in on this assignment.

Jason: Sit down and listen close, little spawn. Here’s what you’re gonna do if you want that girl to have the best date she’s ever gonna get.

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ukdamo · 1 month ago

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Housedogs from the Elsewhere

Damian Entwistle

Jesus said; “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Mt 15:26

the elsewhere - referred to in ‘A Brief History of Time’ (Stephen Hawking) as “the region of space-time which does not lie in the future or past light cones of (an event) P. Events in the elsewhere cannot affect or be affected by events at P”.

Much of what the mainstream institutional Christian churches have to say about those who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, non-binary, or transgender, bears as much likeness to the gospel proclamation of Good News as crumbs do to the feast on the banquet table. We are curs in the household of faith (or so those at table would have us believe).

The pastoral letter (On the Care of Homosexual Persons) which issued from the Vatican in 1986, under the aegis of the then Cardinal Ratzinger (subsequently, Pope Benedict XVI), and which was addressed to American Bishops, characterised homosexuality as “a more or less strong tendency, ordered towards an intrinsic moral evil”. It further stated that homosexuality was “an objective disorder”, meaning that homosexuals were fundamentally flawed in their personhood.

In 1992 he followed up this gem with another letter that sought to prevent the enactment of human rights legislation that would have offered to lesbians and gay men the same civil rights as those enjoyed by the rest of the population. In the 1992 letter, after intimating that we ought not to be surprised if people discriminated against us, or offered us violence because we asserted our human dignity and demanded rights, he sugared this bitter pill with a comforting coating which conceded that we were not irredeemably sinful.

In the decades since, Vatican pronouncements have, it anything, become more regressive. The present Pope, Francis, has been somewhat more subtle and accommodating – but hardly forthright in proclaiming good news for us.

The Church of England has, in its timid way, been gracious enough to offer, as healing medicine, the formula that, although homosexual relationships “fall short” of God’s ideal, they are to be tolerated (but not where one or other of the persons involved is an ordained minister).

All this passes for the universal Good News of salvation...

I do not doubt that there are persons of goodwill in the churches who earnestly want to be inclusive, to promote the human flourishing of those who identify as lesbian or gay and so forth. Difficulties arise not always because of antipathy and hostility but from a failure to recognise and value the distinctive spiritual paradigm inhabited by lesbians and gay men. The paradigm inhabited by those who comprise the mainstream Christian denominations is theologically and historically cisgendered & heterosexist. It is not possible to articulate the gospel proclamation of Good News to all from a place where the language, beliefs and concepts are founded on the premise that cisgendered heterosexuality is the God-given normative way for humans to relate.

The attempt to voice such a proclamation has led to the most bizarre, esoteric formulations and contrivances. The increasingly convoluted pronouncements from the Catholic Church, which try to promote an upbeat attitude towards, and positively value, human sexuality - whilst ensuring that same-sex sexual activity remains clearly prohibited - are a telling example.

One of the most startling illustrations is the distinction drawn between ‘sexual orientation’ and ‘behaviour’. This test-tube contrivance originates in the theological laboratory and facilitates the condemnation of homosexual ‘acts’ without inferring censure of the homosexual ‘person’. It throws a morsel of comfort to us, thus hoping to keep us in the household, but fixes us firmly in our place.

But, as a theological contrivance, it has no life outside the test-tube.

It has no relevance in the real world for the simple reason that it is impossible to separate orientation (or self-affirming identity) from behaviour: the two are united in personhood.

If you think it possible to separate the two try, next time you go out, to experience the world as a ‘human being’ but not as a particular person. Leave aside your gender, if you think it possible. Put aside your physiognomy. Step outside your corporeality. You may pass for straight – but that is not the same as being straight.

I am a cis-gendered gay man, and experience the world as a man. I cannot know what it is like to experience the world as a woman. I will refrain from touching upon the experience of those whose experience of the world is mediated through a transgender personhood. This is a perspective that transgender persons can articulate for themselves. Our job is to listen to them. As a cis-gendered man, some experiences are is closed to me; I do not know what menstruation feels like; I cannot become pregnant or carry and give birth to a child; I do not know the social dynamics of relationships from a woman’s perspective. Men and women, and those who are transgendered or identify as non-binary, have their humanity in common - but their experience of that shared humanity is particular.

Similarly, the acts of a lesbian or a gay man cannot be other than homosexual acts, being the acts of an homosexual person. A lesbian does not experience the world in the same way as a straight woman; her experience is made available to her through an homosexual personhood. A gay man is not ‘gay’ only when he does ‘gay things’; all his experiences and actions are mediated by a homosexual personhood.

Peering incredulously at the perversely heterosexist paradigm of the Church, lesbians and gay men, bisexuals, trans persons and those who are identify as non-binary, might be said to inhabit the elsewhere of ‘theological’ space-time.

The theological concepts and language of the institutional churches are those of straight male world. They begin from a premise which values relationships which are heterosexual and discounts any other possibilities of relating. This premise is ancient: rooted in Genesis and the straight male psyche. It has developed and been refined over centuries as the living tradition of the churches.

I would argue that Genesis need not be taken as legitimising the primacy of male: female relationships, and that this perspective is simply a ‘straight’ take on the narrative. The line “It is not good for the man to be alone” (Gen 2:18) need not be taken to infer that his partner ought to be a woman (even though the text later identifies the helpmate as female, Gen 2:22). In a straight male paradigm, who else might it be except a woman’?

Whichever came first, the Genesis egg or the heterosexist chicken, the fact is that the theological perspective adopted by the churches appears fixed. Nor is there any indication that the churches perceive the partiality of that paradigm. It is taken to be objective reality: there is no scope for pluriformity.

Metaphorically-speaking, my personal philosophical hen has hatched the belief that the fundamental basis of human relationships is not male: female at all but person: person.

From this perspective, it does not matter what prefix one appends to sexuality: none is normative.

The churches, however, have all their eggs in the heterosexual basket.

The social and sexual teachings of the mainstream churches have been extrapolated from this heterosexual premise. Present difficulties (now that the sciences and social sciences are recognising the richness and diversity of the human condition) stem from the impossible task that the churches have set themselves. Namely, to incorporate these developments without sacrificing the integrity of the paradigm they have constructed so painstakingly. And to do this without acknowledging that there can be other, equally valid, perspectives.

The churches are predisposed to disallow any lesbian, gay, or other dialogue with God; to deny the validity of the revelation entrusted to us; to form a moue of disgust at the distinctive flavour of lesbian and gay spirituality. To do otherwise would be to acknowledge that their (supposedly) exclusive possession of the Truth is, in fact, partial and incomplete.

Richard Dawkins, writer on evolution and genetics, makes use of an analogy which is helpful in understanding why this has happened. In the Royal Institution Lectures (Christmas 1992) he presented a model of evolution which likened it to a mountain, surrounded by smaller peaks, promontories, and hills.

Given a particular evolutionary problem eg. developing light sensitive cells that would enable and organism to see prey to eat, or to improve the odds of not being eaten, several solutions offer themselves. The catch is that once you have started down a particular evolutionary pathway, you cannot reverse and go back if, after a time, a different solution seems to be more promising. You may only refine the solution you originally chose.

Thus, the problem of seeing prompted a range of solutions: the compound eyes of insects, the arrangement of lens and light sensitive cells in mammals, birds, reptiles etc... The mammalian solution is more efficient but insects are not permitted to go back to the bottom of the mountain and try a different route.

In the theological terms of our debate, the churches opted early for an heterosexual solution and now find themselves on a promontory which is not the summit. The shortcomings and inadequacies of that paradigm are increasingly apparent: the churches can only wriggle and squirm, trying to make the best of a bad job, casting about for compromises or for a form of words which alienates no-one, convinces no-one, inspires no-one.

Others, pursuing different routes, have passed them by and have access to sunlit uplands and new horizons.

So, if the churches are up a mount sermonising on heterosexuality, how are lesbians, gay men, transexuals, persons who are non-binary, to press onward?

One possible way forward for us is indicated in the quotations which preface this piece.

The quotation from Matthew’s gospel is taken from the story of the Canaanite woman (Mt 15:26).Scholars suggest that the inclusion of the story the gospel is intended to demonstrate to the early church (riven by arguments about whether Christianity was open only to Jews or whether Gentiles could also receive the gospel) that Jesus was inclusive in his ministry.

Various elements of the story underline this point.

Firstly, Jesus leaves Palestine and chooses to travel to the Gentile towns. Secondly, the woman he meets there recognises him as ‘Lord’, using explicitly messianic language and phrases suggestive of the Christian liturgy. To make the point more forcefully, the narrator has the disciples argue that the woman should be sent away.

The dialogue between Jesus and the woman serves to make her faith, determination, and astuteness explicit: she is presented as a strong character who merits inclusion in the household of faith on her own terms.

So it is with us. The institutional churches (read disciples) would like us to be excluded from full recognition and participation in the household of faith.

Our task, if we wish to assert our rights to membership, is to be as wily, combative and insistent as the sassy Canaanite woman, who ignored the disciples’ hostility and fought her corner with great tenacity and panache.

(Might she have been a drag queen?)

The vexed question is, what is ‘our corner’?

I feel that Stephen Hawking, though he could not have intended it in a book about the macro- and micro- physics of the universe, has something to contribute.

His writing provides an alternative take on the theology of sexuality and the churches’ pronouncements on it.

I have suggested that the churches’ point of origin, in this debate, is the assumption that God ordained cisgendered heterosexuality as the normative mode of expression in human relationships. From then on, all their future discussions and pronouncements derive from this premise. No matter how accommodating, sympathetic and inclusive the churches try to be, this principle is not disavowed. It is scarcely conceivable that it might ever be, since, to coin a watery metaphor, the fish supposes the lake it swims in to be the cosmos, and resents the frog’s attempt to alert it to the fact there is a world outside.

Using Hawking’s illustration as an analogy, the churches’ heterosexist perspective is event P. As dwellers in the elsewhere we are unaffected by the event P and subsequent developments in the heterosexual universe.

We do not have to conduct the debate on someone else’s terms, in someone else’s language, in someone else’s paradigm.

We do not have to make a leap of imagination and try to surmise what is going on in that cisgendered & heterosexual theological / spiritual world.

We have our own take on spiritual realities, as valid and authentic as anyone else’s. The challenge for us is to explore this elsewhereto the full, to discover new ways to flourish, new ways to promote and celebrate our giftedness, to share with others the privileged insights the experience of our distinctive spirituality affords us.

We can assert ourselves and, with compelling force, insist our dignity and rights be respected. We don't have to yap for scraps.

We can take our rightful place at the table. The enterprise will not be easily or swiftly accomplished but we have the means to achieve that end.

In our enthusiasm to celebrate our distinctive gift, we must be wary of the one fateful and blasphemous error, namely that of supposing that our experiences and insights are the only valid ones.

Surely we can avoid that pitfall, which has swallowed so many?

After all, why would we want to follow the straight and narrow?

#damian's writing #sexuality #gender #theology #normativity #catholicism #pluriformity #gay #personhood

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disastrousdamian · 2 years ago

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Here, you all can have this snippet of my (WIP) Henralph fic, my treat.

Words like "I'm sorry", "I forgive you", sometimes even “Thank you”, and overall, heaven forbid: "I love you" seem to be overwhelmingly grand feelings to so simply throw around, especially on a Sunday afternoon, where they're only watching a marathon of Laugh 'Till It Hurts and Silly Gooses because they're the only shows airing at the time which are not… Yuck. Romantic novels.

Come to think about it… This is not romantic at all! He's safe from all that gross, horribly (which he will stress until his face turns purple; is not the same as horridly) staged and sappy, 'Delicate as a flower petal' or whatever grown ups like to say -stuff! He can rest easy now!

#Horrid Henry #gay people #henralph #Damian's writing #writing WIP

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writerfromthestars · 29 days ago

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DPXDC PROMPT : ALFRED IS IMMORTAL

Alright. Don't get me wrong, I love au's where John Constantine is like "soul tax evader supreme", but hear me out.

Alfred.

Alfred, Alfred Pennyworth. Who just doesn't die. The guy's immortal. The reason for this is that Alfred is awesome, so anytime he dies, whether it be from old age or a bullet or a world-wide catastrophe, he looks Death straight in the eyes and tells them that he will die when the day comes that no one needs him anymore, and not a second before, and then he just kinda pops back to life. Because let's face it, the batfam would fall to pieces without him.

So, Alfred Pennyworth has basically just been cheating death for centuries, by this point.

Needless to say, Death is none too pleased. Finally, Death goes to Phantom, the new king, who is much more reasonable than Pariah Dark was and who agrees to actually help.

Clockwork helps Danny set up a portal and he zaps into existence in the middle of a Wayne movie night. The bats are all prepared to fight this mysterious weirdo, but Danny ignores them and turns to Alfred, who he then begins lecturing about ghostly tax evasion and how defying death isn't a good thing, so he needs to file paperwork through the proper channels to stay as an immortal almost-God.

Alfred is chill, he plays cards with Clockwork once when he dies, so he knew this was coming, but the batfamily thinks that this mysterious entity is going to kill Alfred, so they're all panicking, trying to think of ways to avoid this horrible future. Alfred calmly listens to Danny, then he interjects.

"Sir, are you aware of the fact that there is a revenant on earth? One who is most certainly under threat of more paperwork than I, seeing as he has been using the Lazarus Pits to revive himself for millennia. I, however, have only been alive for a few hundred years, so I should think that he is a bigger priority. "

Danny glances over at Jason, doubtful. "He doesn't look several millennia old, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Certainly not, seeing as Master Jason is not. Besides, his Undeath License was filed. I have a copy of it if you need to see it, your Majesty?" Alfred answers, demure as always.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, sir."

Alfred leaves and returns, moments later with a light green glowing piece of paper. he hands it over to Danny, who examines it.

"Seems legitimate. I assume you filed it during one of your many encounters with Death?"

"Indeed. I have it on good authority, however, that the other revenant, a man by the name of Ra's Al Ghul, has not renewed his License in at least the last half millennia, most likely longer."

Danny sighs. "Where can I find him."

"Nanda Parbat. The signature is impossible to miss."

"Alright, Mr. Pennyworth. I will return once he is dealt with, be it by filing his paperwork or returning him to the Infinite Realms."

"Very well. I will be ready." Alfred answers.

Danny opens a portal to the area around Nanda Parbat and then another, which plops him down right in front of the Demon's Head himself, in a strategy meeting with his daughter and several commanders.

They all raise their weapons, but he just basically grabs Ra's by the ear and tugs him through a Lazarus Green portal, lecturing him about tax evasion and paperwork and bureaucracy the whole time. The League is thrown into uproar, and Ra's is set down in a room with all his overdue paperwork from the past few thousand years. He feels a little bit like crying; if he had known immortality meant this much paperwork, he would've just died, honestly.

Meanwhile, in Wayne Manor, everyone is crying, because they think Alfred is going to die, Jason is confused about the whole revenant Undeath Certificate thing, Bruce is trying to make contingency plans, Tim is contacting the Justice League, and Alfred is planning out his defense and going through every ghostly law loophole he can think of because if he leaves these emotionally constipated crime-fighting vigilantes, he knows that the house that Martha so loved will go up in flames within a month.

Eventually, Danny comes to get Alfred for his ghostly court trial/hearing or whatever, and Alfred says goodbye to Bruce and everyone, goes to the Infinite Realms. Clockwork is on his side, and Alfred ends up winning the court case, on the condition that now that the has an Undeath License, he actually renew it every twenty years, like he's supposed to.

A week later, Alfred returns, crashes his own funeral, and explains that no, he will not be dying anytime soon.

Two weeks after Alfred's return, Constantine shows up at the manor basically begging to learn how the hell he managed to avoid death, and not only that, win a damn court case against them.

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acid-ixx · 3 months ago

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a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

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