#Deep Blue Scars.

[yb-cringe]

kind of obsessed with the third person perspective of all this. imagine the purgatory arc from the census bureau perspective told like a report. a dark shadowy virus takes over your vacation island. your residents go missing while on their way to evacuate somewhere better. and when they come back they are not the same. not even close.

they never fully explain what happened but their teeth are sharper and bonds have changed and their breath smells like blood and viscera and you dont know if its their own or someone elses. they all look incredibly hungry, scarred from poison or beasts or lava, and they refuse to drink tea because it makes them sick to their stomachs.

how do you write a report about that. how do even begin to explain what happened.

[swordmaid]

shri’iia in the unnamed nyc ayla dress bc i was thinking abt the concept of drows glowing when they’re down in the underdark like some bioluminescent mushroom the other day

[hello-galad]

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

Medical log, stardate 18935.15. Once more have I seen the tailor go out in his lizard fashion—

[plushbunbun-blog]

Buck

This is Buck. Buck doesn't work like an addison should. He does the dirsty work for his boss, removing pests. Collar is something Excel gives to his favorite workers btw. Buck takes it off only to shower or to put it on his wrist when working outside of the base. To not draw attention to himself too much. He's calm and quiet to the point his coworkers see any emotion in him only when he's taking care of his target. He's really excited when doing so.

[undefeatablesin]

Me: I finished all these ref sheets for my hunter how fortunate for m-

Also me: but.....what if I made them...more outfits :)

[freebooter4ever]

So im still exhausted. I keep making dumb mistakes and doing stupid shit like leaving charging cords at work or at home. My coordination is gone, im tripping and knocking into things. My eyes feel sore??? All i want to do anymore is lie down and try to sleep. :/

I think i was running on pure adrenaline last week...and now that 'panic' mode is done my body is paying me back for all the stress. :( i barely slept the entire time i was traveling, i regularly drove for like 10+ hrs on next to no sleep which...yeah. I know. Dangerous. The constant tension of whether or not snow was going to make my next route passable, and worry over keeping other people's schedules. And then to get to my grandparents house and to find out they're not moving till may and the 'end of march' deadline was an arbitrary schedule that didnt actually matter. Im not mad, i cant be mad at them they're moving which is stress enough, im just...mourning my exhaustion and inability to function lol. Had they let me wait even one more month the snow and the insane storms would have been gone.

Anyway, just thinking about that feeling of 'safety' or 'comfort' and how precious a thing it is for me (and my sleep) . After my anxiety started growing worse it takes a LOT for me to feel 'safe' with someone or somewhere. My italian grandparent's house would be one, nick's sister's house would be another. And then my friends house in the mountains of oregon, who are just the kindest, most generous people. The two nights i spent there were literally the only times i slept last week.

Back in the fall of 2018, six months after grandpa died and still unemployed, i helped grandma travel by train to ohio, flew back to seattle, stayed with sanjeev for a week ish, and then started south to los angeles because i literally couldnt think of anywhere else to go. And these friends in oregon - they were off traveling at the time - let me stay in their house for over a week. I was so scared about the future, i was still grieving and feeling like a total ghost, still processing my dad's very friendly comment (when i asked him why he hadn't offered to let me stay in his house after i flew back from ohio) about how if i couldn't afford to house myself i deserved to be homeless.

(honestly that wasn't even the part that bothered me - i knew that about my dad from the time when i was a kid and he would point out homeless people to me and jokingly say 'that will be you as an artist!'. Instead of instilling fear in me though this backfired and all my charity work in high school dealt with homeless shelters lol. But no, the part that bothered me was how he tacked another comment onto the end - that life 'couldn't go back to how it was'. THAT was when i broke down crying in front of him because i think stupid me still genuinely believed that if i moved back to seattle my dad would go back to being my best friend and it'd be us against the world again.)(i saw him for five minutes in sac last week - he refused to even have lunch with us)

Instead in 2018 i was anchorless, emotionally disconnected from reality, and instead of comdemning me like everybody else in my family, my friends were like 'dont worry about it, the house is empty, please use it.' And i did! I was nervous at first. But then i started exploring the area - went to a bunch of state parks out in the middle of nowhere hidden in the high desert. Ended up LOVING one of them and collected those tacky tourist maps and just scribbled all my observations and tips on the best roads to drive/things to do/see onto the margins. And i collected all the brochures and compiled a kind of guide, and left it on the counter just in case my friends hadn't found that particular area to explore yet. And sure enough, they hadn't! To this day they still talk about how happy they were to have all these suggestions and things to see, and how that particular area is now one of their favorite places to visit. So what im saying is that's the only place i got any rest last week. Also those pancakes. I need to make those pancakes.

Anyway i'm just so fucking tired, man. This is the second 'vacation' where i've come back more exhausted than when i left, i think i need to do something differently. (also fuck you dad, five years in LA and not homeless once)

[victorborkowski]

can riot give sova his brown eye back please and rhank you.

[dotwpod]

(352) IMS Volume 11

Disciples! Here we go the penultimate 'Independent Music Special' episode, featuring releases from November 2024. Prepare your souls, and Happy Holidays!

Disciples!Here we go the penultimate ‘Independent Music Special’ episode, featuring releases from November 2024. Prepare your souls, and Happy Holidays! \m/ BLOCK ONE: 0:00:03 Tzimani (USA) Hauntinghttps://tzimani.bandcamp.com/ 0:03:55 Jupiter Hollow (Canada) Incivilityhttps://www.jupiterhollow.ca/ 0:09:38 Reese (Italy) Long Streetshttps://reesetheband.com/ 0:13:10 Ulver (Norway)…

[hauntingblue]

Ennies Lobby 3.0. yes that's happening I have too much to yap about

Omg look at these freaks

Franky is so real.... look at him....

Omg 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I have teared up so many times just bc luffy smiles with meaning at some point. insane btw.

MY GOOOOOOOD!!!!!! AAAAAAARGGGGGHHHHH

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The neutrality of it all....

I forgor about aokiji revealing that he was friends with Saul and that he was protecting her because of it... the "live life and prove to me that ohara is still alive"... damn reminds me of garp saying to ace that he would find out if it was wrong for him to be born. "I don't know if it was right or wrong for saul to let you live" yeah that's it. But anyways all this happened because aokiji was loyal to his friend and now we know that he didn't even kill him!! So why is he with blackbeard?? I can't shake it!!!

I can't do it.... I can't.....

Luffy and franky talking about how mich they like the ship while he's chasing his speedos bottomless through the city 😭😭 it's so sweet actually... Franky only has one pair of speedos... thats why he ran thru the city to get them I get it now

"If you don't mind being a little rough I'm wiling to help" robin you freaky girl. But truly that is one of many robin and luffy's autistic communication moments they just know. Also if robin stopped crushing his balls but everyone could see the hands being there that means that she was just holding them for a while while he wept. Normal things here.

Franky blaming himself all this time... 🥺🥺

And he just takes his trunks and walks to the ship without putting them on akdjaosnso alpha moment while saying a melancholic goodbye to your family... crazy

What.... what is he doing

Luffy's fake ass laughing and saying how usopp will do great on his own.... I am seeing you cold sweat

This shit has always been so funny to me.... luffy definitely suffers from nepotism

Usopp asking if they don't know he's sniper king skdbjs no, they (luffy) don't know akdjaons

Look at these wet little beasts omg. Matching icons akdhaksjks

DADAN MENTION????? IN THE ACE VS BLACKBEARD CHAPTER????? AAAAAAAAHHHHH

Face card and pose unmatched as of yet. Look at the evidence.

I am killing myself now. Goodbye.

But I'm already dead!! Yohohoho... Anyways water seven and enies lobby is done.... I am scared (thriller bark) of what is coming you have no idea. Also!! Luffy nearly dying after hia battle with lucci starts the domino effect of luffy being barely strong enough to save everyone until it climaxes in sabaody and then culminates in marineford which is crazy to me btw. Luffy's evolution until then is about how no matter how strong he is it would never be enough. Insane. I don't know what else to say. I love you robin and franky. ACE STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. nvm it's too late already. AAAAAHHHHHH

[fellinlovewithinsanity]

You.

I know its done, gone, and over but its the scars you left behind that stay instead of you.

The ones that almost made me incapable of trusting anyone again. The ones that you gave me when I was ten. The ones that were only visible to you and me.

[luna-azzurra]

Describe your Main Character sheet

Skin

Tone: Pale, Rosy, Olive, Dark, Tanned, Alabaster, Ebony, Bronze, Golden, Fair

Texture: Smooth, Rough, Silky, Coarse, Flaky, Supple, Wrinkled, Calloused, Bumpy

Condition: Moles, Acne, Dry, Greasy, Freckled, Scars, Birthmarks, Bruised, Sunburned, Flawless

Complexion: Clear, Ruddy, Sallow, Glowing, Dull, Even-toned, Blotchy

Eyes

Size: Small, Large, Average, Tiny, Bulging, Narrow

Color: Grey, Brown, Blue, Violet, Pink, Green, Gold, Hazel, Crimson, Amber, Turquoise, Sapphire, Onyx

Shape: Doe-eyed, Almond, Close-set, Wide-set, Round, Oval, Hooded, Monolid

Expression: Deep-set, Squinty, Monolid, Heavy eyelids, Upturned, Downturned, Piercing, Gentle, Sparkling, Steely

Other: Glassy, Bloodshot, Tear-filled, Clear, Glinting, Shiny

Hair

Thickness: Thin, Thick, Fine, Normal

Texture: Greasy, Dry, Soft, Shiny, Curly, Frizzy, Wild, Unruly, Straight, Smooth, Wavy, Floppy

Length: Cropped, Pixie-cut, Afro, Shoulder length, Back length, Waist length, Past hip-length, Buzz cut, Bald

Styles: Weave, Hair extensions, Jaw length, Layered, Mohawk, Dreadlocks, Box braids, Faux locks, Braid, Ponytail, Bun, Updo

Color: White, Salt and pepper, Platinum blonde, Golden blonde, Dirty blonde, Blonde, Strawberry blonde, Ash brown, Mouse brown, Chestnut brown, Golden brown, Chocolate brown, Dark brown, Jet black, Ginger, Red, Auburn, Dyed, Highlights, Low-lights, Ombre

Eyebrows: Thin eyebrows, Average eyebrows, Thick eyebrows, Plucked eyebrows, Bushy eyebrows, Arched eyebrows, Straight eyebrows

Lips

Shape: Full, Thin, Heart-shaped, Bow-shaped, Wide, Small

Texture: Chapped, Smooth, Cracked, Soft, Rough

Color: Pale, Pink, Red, Crimson, Brown, Purple, Nude

Expression: Smiling, Frowning, Pursed, Pouting, Curved, Neutral, Tight-lipped, Parted

Nose

Shape: Button, Roman, Hooked, Aquiline, Flat, Pointed, Wide, Narrow, Crooked, Upturned, Snub

Size: Small, Large, Average, Long, Short

Condition: Freckled, Sunburned, Smooth, Bumpy

Build

Frame: Petite, Slim, Athletic, Muscular, Average, Stocky, Large, Lean, Stout, Bony, Broad-shouldered, Narrow-shouldered

Height: Short, Tall, Average, Petite, Giant

Posture: Upright, Slouched, Rigid, Relaxed, Graceful, Awkward, Stiff, Hunched

Hands

Size: Small, Large, Average, Delicate, Strong

Texture: Smooth, Rough, Calloused, Soft, Firm

Condition: Clean, Dirty, Manicured, Scarred, Wrinkled

Nails: Short, Long, Polished, Chipped, Clean, Dirty, Painted, Natural

Voice

Tone: Deep, High, Soft, Loud, Raspy, Melodic, Monotonous, Hoarse, Clear, Gentle

Volume: Loud, Soft, Whispery, Booming, Muted

Pace: Fast, Slow, Steady, Hasty, Measured

Expression: Cheerful, Sad, Angry, Calm, Anxious, Confident, Nervous, Excited, Bored

[rosiereveries]

Thinking about John Price at the Christmas party, that was organised at the base for the soldiers and their families. He didn’t want to go but Laswell made him and now he is listening to some boring stories his higher ups are telling him.

You’re there as your brother’s date. He joined the military last year and you didn’t have enough chances to spend time with him since then. You thought he wanted to spend some quality family time with you, but you quickly realised that you’re there just so his friends can hit on you. You really want to go home, but your brother drove you there and your driving abilities are not the best. So now you’re stuck with bunch of young recruits, who are competing to see, who can get you into bed first.

That’s how John finds you. Looking uncomfortably sitting between two soldiers who tell you stories about how it is to be in military. They think that you will be impressed with their stories about fighting, guns and blood. When you see John coming your way you’re amazed. He is the exact type of man you’re into. Older, with broad shoulders and greying beard. His eyes were piercing blue and the faint scars on his face only added to his undeniable allure. There was a raw beauty that only a few men had. He wasn’t just attractive; he was a captivating force, a man who had many experiences, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to him.

When he tells the soldiers to leave, they immediately stand up and they’re gone. He sits next to you, too close but you don’t mind it. He is so close that you can smell his cologne, the smell of him alone makes you so horny. You think that he will ignore you. But then he starts to apologize. He tells you that he didn’t have enough time with the boys to make them good soldiers and gentlemen.

He asks if you’re there with your boyfriend and when you tell him no, he promises that he will not leave your side, so he can be sure that no other soldiers will bother you. You can see the playfulness in his eyes, like he wants to be the only soldier who will bother you tonight. You talk and you start to finally enjoy the party. You learn that he is a captain and he’s been in the military for a long time. You also learn that he is single which is far more important information.

When he asks you if you want a private tour of the base, you agree. He shows you the training rooms, the rooms with guns and then he takes you to his office. When you are finally alone you ask him if he’s going to kiss you now. You don’t have to tell him twice. He is immediately on you. He kisses like a hungry man, passionate and he is the one who takes the charge. He pins you against the door and lifts you so your legs are wrapped around his waist. He grabs you ass, and he slowly starts to grind into you. You can feel him getting harder. Even through his pants you can feel how long and thick he is.

He lays you on his desk, pulling your dress up and your panties down. He picks them up from the floor and he puts them in his pocket saying that he needs a souvenir, so he won’t forget about you when he leaves for a mission.  He unzips his pants and when he takes his dick out you know that you will be sore tomorrow. John is gentle, pushing into you, he knows that he is big, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

Then he starts to really fuck you. You can hear the desk moving with every thrust he makes, and you feel like he is reorganizing your organs. You never felt so full. He takes good care of you, he plays with your clit, your nipples and you can feel your orgasm approaching. You can feel that he is also close and when he squeezes your neck telling you to come for your captain you come. He thrusts so deep into you and he also cums.

You can feel his hot seed in your womb, and your grateful for your birth control pills. When he pulls out, he fingers the leaking cum back into you. John helps you to pull down your dress and he calls you his good girl who will now walk around the base with his cum leaking out of your pussy. But don’t worry, he will make sure that he will add another load into you before the party is over.

Masterlist

[mo-am-engaza]

Give me your attention please✋

Give me your attention please💔

Is everything going to be okay guys?

My once peaceful life was turned upside down when war tore my hometown apart, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. Our home, our possessions, and the sense of security we once knew were gone. The physical and emotional scars of the conflict run deep, but my determination to start over is unwavering. It dreams of a safe place to live, access to medical care, opportunities to learn new skills, and the basic necessities that so many of us take for granted.

Your generosity, no matter how small, can make a huge difference in my life. By donating, you are giving me the opportunity to rebuild my life. By sharing this campaign with your friends, family, and social media networks, you are amplifying his story and bringing hope to his heart. Your words of encouragement and support show Moamen that he is not alone in this journey, and that a community of compassionate people is standing by him

@buttercuparry @beserkerjewel @90-ghost @a-shade-of-blue @riding-with-the-wild-hunt

@thatsonehellofabird @ibtisams @irhabiya @imjustheretotrytohelp @omegaversereloaded

@opencommunion @palms-upturned @postpunks @palestinianstatemedia

@appsa @acepumpkinpatrick @sayruq @determinate-negation @dlxxv-vetted-donations

@feluka @gothhabiba @girlinafairytale @ot3 @heritageposts @heliopixels @jezior0 @komsomolka @khanger @lesbianmaxevans @lonniemachin @labutansa @lun4rc0w

@xinakwans @commissions4aid-international @vetted-gaza-funds @blackfashion @malcriada

[arpicityandneed]

You, Me, and the King

18+ f!reader. King bucky. Knight Steve. Queen reader. Dirty talk. polyship. light choking. creampie. Cuckolding. Voyeur!Steve.

~

If anyone noticed the visible bulge in the Steve's breeches they knew better than to say anything. The hefty sword he carried on his hip mixed with the deadly glare he gave everyone that passed by helped. They also knew better than to comment on the high pitched wails coming from the door Steve was guarding with his life. The new King and Queen were still on their honeymoon, locked away for days on end as they worked to fulfill their duty to the kingdom.

"J-James!"

He had you on your knees, your arms long since having given out as he thrusted into you. Every plap plap plap of his balls against your swollen clit echoed by the squelching of your pussy gobbling up his cock greedily. James pulled you up until his hand was around your throat, his hips never ceasing as he forced your back to arch. It made you squeal when he hit that special spot inside you. (Outside the door Steve had to clench his jaw and readjust his erection. He knew exactly what that sound meant, he heard it often enough now.)

You were usually quiet and shy, hiding at your King's side and whispering in his ear when you did have something to say. But every single time James got his cock in you, you couldn't help yourself. And your husband loved it.

"That's it my Queen. Let them, fuck, let him hear you sing for me." James let his scarred left arm wrap around you, his massive hand finding your clit easily as he fucked himself into your slick folds. You'd long since felt your own juices run down to your knees. You were sure James' balls were sticky as well.

"Please, James, I can't-" you sobbed as you came again, milking his thick shaft and making him curse.

"But you can, my love. Just a couple more. You have to if you're to give me an heir." He cooed at you, holding up your limp body as you tried to keep up with his endless stamina.

"Steve will lick you all better if you're sore later, promise." Your pussy tightened at the mention of your husband's head knight making James groan loud and filthy in your ear.

The man had grown up with your King, and you knew James trusted him more than he trusted anyone else. He'd even entrusted you to the blond. When your King was busy and you were aching, it was Steve who used his mouth and his fingers to make you feel all better. You'd even had him in your mouth when you felt bold. You wanted to practice, get better at pleasing your new husband. Steve always taught you so kindly knowing exactly what his King liked. You suspected they were more intimate than they let on and the thought made your pussy throb. But you'd never had Steves cock inside you. It was the one rule you had to follow. So when your husband mentions Steve you can't stop the embarrassed whimper that escapes you.

"I know, I know, you want his cock too." Your face burned at the truth of his words, and he laughed feeling your pussy get impossibly tight around him. "Just gotta let my cum all the way in your pretty tummy first. Gotta give me an hier."

"I'll be g-good, give you baby. Promise!" You knew Steve could hear every single word. Knew he'd be suckling on your clit later as he fucked James' cum back into you with his thick fingers when it leaked out. The very thought made you cum again, your fluttering walls dragging James along with you. He cursed, his grip tightening around your throat as his cock throbbed inside you.

"Take it my love, take every fucking drop-" He growled as he grabbed at the fat of your hip, using the leverage to fuck every spurt of cum deeper than the last.

When you both collapsed onto the bed, he cradled you to his chest kissing you slow and deep and drugging. You expected him to let you go to help you clean up a bit like he normally did. But he made no move to separate himself from you. You felt your cheeks heat once more when you realized why.

"James-" Your husband's icy blue eyes were locked onto where your bodies were joined, of the creamy mess he'd made of your pussy, but he seemed to know what you were asking if the smirk on his plump lips was anything to go by.

"Shh, just making sure it takes."

pt. 2

[acid-ixx]

brutus: out for blood (villain au concept)

ft. neglectful yandere! bruce wayne x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: did anybody ask for this? no! did i decide to write this anyways? abso -fucking-lutely. is this a rantfic? mayybee. anyways, this is not my best piece nor will anything i write be my best piece but i just love destroying my happiness with angst and altho writing a very anxiety ridden mc is fun, i also love to dabble in sadomasochistic traits for a main character. like i said, i am not proud of this but i figured i should post something. erm... leave comments bec i love reading whatever stuff u guys have in store hehe.

you've tasted blood on your tongue far longer than you've felt the loving touch of a family.

it's metallic. it's salty. it twists every vein in your gut.

it tastes of broken metal pipes in playgrounds, destructive tantrums and broken dreams, of skipped classes and detention rooms, of ripped test papers and missed diplomas. it reminds you of your bitter past every single time; one you swore you've buried six feet deep into the ground. a burning memory with nothing more than heartaches and heartbreaks.

you taste blood whenever they reject your advances for even a single moment of bonding time. you feel it pumping slowly, steadily, painfully whenever you stumble upon a room, only to see them, smiles and all, huddled together in a group with junk food in their hands and a movie playing in that stupid flat screen tv. you know it's the only thing accompanying you whenever he misses another event in your school. it becomes the only friend you have whenever you're alone, inside your too-small room, with shatters glass scattered around and bruised knuckles.

blood, for most, is vile, utterly repulsive. it reeks in every corner of a room, its scent is overpowering, it stains, it's hard to clean. it imprints. and it will always remind you it's there, in the depths of your body, curdling and boiling and ready to burst out of the seems every time you rip at your skin with a razor sharp blade. blood has always been your only friend, like a scar that will never fade away.

yet you embrace crimson like it was the color of your soul, and accept how it's the only color you allow in your grim life. black has never provided you solace, but red allowed for a mantra of emotions to trail into your very being.

blood. it's more homely than you let it out to be.

and you're far more familiar with it than anything else. you cradle it like an unwanted child, you kiss its wounds, allow it to fester and grow into an abhorrent disease that crawls like a lump in your throat that you could never get rid of.

in moments of solace, of quaint prayers and hours of kneeling into the floor— it is the thing that slides on cold, hard tiles. it is the warmth, the numbness, the thing that seeps out of your bruised knees, your scratched neck and your thighs with fingernails buried deep into flesh.

you've come to love blood, cherish it even.

especially if it's your own.

especially if it came from the punch of none other than your father.

left, right, left, right.

his punches were cruel and his kicks can easily crush bones into powder. he demands answers with every strike he delivers, he exudes an energy far more adrenaline based than yours. batman is methodical in the way he moves, the way he acts, and you're not; you're impulsive, you had no plans to counter the towering man— no counter for the brutal hits he lay upon you. you let him, you open every doorway world to beat your body black and blue, with red painting the canvas as a finishing touch.

he's stronger than you, and every time he bashes your head into the wall, the urge to spit into his face, to piss him off, to laugh at him and his Idiocracy; it all becomes stronger.

yet all you do was allow him multiple openings, denying yourself the pleasure of attempting to even take your abandoned gun at the corner and shoot at his cranium— you want him to suffer, even if it costs you your mobility by the near future, fuck it.

up, down, to the side, then an uppercut to your jaw and you're nearly depleted of anymore moves to counter. you want to seem like you've given up; but you want him pissed off, enough to punch you 'til blood seeps into the fibers of your mask. until your face starts bruising, until your nose breaks, until he finally rips your mask off and sees your face.

and he'll come to regret.

you shift to the side, and ignore the sting of your throat, the lull of your head and the soreness of your entire body.

because if you hadn't dodged, then your head would've left an imprint on the walls. you would've preferred that now, rather than the disgusting feeling of sentimentality that creeps into your heart at the implication that his blows were slowly, but surely, weakening.

he's holding back, you hold back a sneer.

as if he actually cares about you.

maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. you know he cares far more deeply for his enemies than he does you, and you hate how glad you are at the pride that finally, just finally are you being acknowledged. at the opposite end of his side, as enemies. but for once you can feel the care he offers others, most of which were nonexistent back when you were just some... nobody.

batman never kills; but he can hurt, he can injure, and he can destroy. and right now, you feel all the air leaving your body as the cloaked vigilante delivers the last punch to your ribcage.

you fall, on your hands and knees, a loud thump resounding through the empty abandoned building. all you hear are your crackling joints, and heavy breathing. heavy, like your eyelids, about to fall, about to shut until black encompasses your vision. if not for the remaining adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would've fainted— but you won't, you wouldn't, not until you see him, see his face.

the thumping in your heart beats louder, and your hands. god, they feel like jelly, it's burning, it's one step closer on collapsing under gravelly concrete and piercing skin into rocks. yet you're forbidden any time for grace, not when he lightly shoves you out of your position, and not when you fall to your sides, hands paralyzed, tears prickling against your cheeks at the pain that burns throughout your body.

"you don't deserve peace after shooting that family in front of that child, you know it."

his voice, domineering, absolutely fucking vibrating with a tremor of sheer anger. he directs his words at you, without empathy, without mercy. he wants you to learn to never mess with him in the streets of gotham. but you'll never... not until he notices you. fuck, you just want him to notice you. and now, he is, with utter vexation that causes a lump in your throat to form.

shit, you've never felt so happy.

it's when his tussled form — heavy, pitch-black boots slathered with crimson liquid — enters your sight that you cough, violently, out of breath, and you can feel it one second, then taste it in your tongue the next.

blood.

you grin, and slowly, ever-so eminently, did you spiral into a cackle. your throat gurgles crimson liquid, and yet it only builds into a cacophony of a broken record. you move your head, look through your nearly shredded domino mask, with so little strength to accompany you, to look at the man above you, eyes glinting with a glow never so alive until now.

you're genuinely so fucking happy.

batman, he who strikes fear into the hearts of gotham villains and civilians alike. he who protects the city at night. he whose name is said with wavering uncertainty— he's looking at you, only you.

'bruce wayne: my dad— is finally looking at me.'

and you! you're laughing, the sounds that emanate from your throat are so scratchy, so utterly decimated that it sounds like vultures feeding through a dead corpse; but you don't let your chuckles die down, because you're so, so happy.

he looks at you, with contempt, with disgust, you don't know; but you're still so overjoyed.

"y-yeah... it's me, i did it. are you proud of me...?" you ask as you look up, through the tears that flow out your eyes, through the grin that couldn't die down. he looks at you like you're insane, and you know he's confused, shifting uncomfortably as he gives someone a status update through the comms, his eyes never leaving your pathetic form—

you look at him like he means the world all throughout.

"call for red robin, i have one of the culprits," he orders through the intangible device, eyes squinting as he takes you in— you whose chuckles slowly calmed down, as your breathing finally becomes heavier, as blood, yours, seem to seep into clumsily made apparel. you, who bruce realized seem too oddly familiar, too small, too childish, whose moment of spiraling insanity is too damn innocent to ignore.

you're not like the typical rogue he encounters, no. and right before you finally allow sleep to overcome you, you muster the last of your energy, to stare back at him with shining eyes, expectant, and like a child's, you ask with the meekest voice.

"hey... dad, i have a surprise." scratchy, absolutely broken, yet spilling with joy, with... your last word right before you continue, bruce's heart thumps ever the slightest faster.

"take my mask off, please?"

crimson began to overtake your entire body, and bruce should've never complied with your... request, but as he kneels and finally gets a grasp of what you truly look like, he notices the frailness, the vulnerability, as if you were never built for... combat. with just how quickly you succumb to the depths of rest, with how oblivious you are to the fact that if it were anyone else, they would've killed you.

you're not properly trained, you fight out of impulse, and he knows it with just how swift you gave up midfight.

when he pulls the domino mask (which seems oddly inspired by the shape of... his vigilante partners, the robins...) off your face, did his heart finally hastened its pace, loud thumping crawling its way to his ears, his eyes registering your face: its form, its shape, your eyes, your nose—

all similar to his, all an amalgamation of your mother's, too.

no... wait, no.

it's not...

it's not his... child?

you?

your eyes, flickering one last time stared at him, softly, like that of a child who looks at their father with pride like nothing else. your hand, it shakes, it shivers, as your fingers find its way creeping to his hand, holding your mask. fingers so dainty, now pulverized bones lay atop his shivering hand, tenderly, as if trying to comfort the very same man who has nearly killed you.

batman— no, bruce looks at you. at what he's done, and only now did he realize his greatest mistake. a child, his child, one whose innocence retained through heinous acts, now a villain, whose actions were all a testimony to merely wanting their father's attention.

he failed you, his child. he failed to protect you, who he has never held up close until now— as your body is hastily taken into his arms. so small, so easily wrapped around his body, so unbefitting of committing criminal activity. now bloodied and laid into barren ground by their very own father.

bruce wayne never felt this much terror, for nearly killing his child.

this, this day marks his sin.

and you? dearest you feel like today is your greatest day.

crimson, nearly every part of you is stained with that putrid color.

yet blood has always been your best friend, no? and right now as you bleed into the arms of your father, you find yourself grateful that it is the last thing you see before a black cloak wraps around you, before black fills your entire line of sight.

short rant ahead: another author's note??? wow. yeah this was such a hard drabble to write. plsplspls leave a comment or some sort of input. anything will do. ive been so demotivated to write lately and i feel like anything i write is just, so bad 😭 like is my pacing good? are the emotions out of place? am i even doing this right ?? i don't know, and i feel like every time i post something i always put up expectations on myself that I should've done better so yeahh. is this attention seeking behavior? probably. but i don't get how people have come to like the stuff i write when i hate whatever i write hence why im in a constant cycle of hiatuses and short breaks. and really, it's just so hard to come into terms with things and i need input lest i accidentally get into a year or two of hiatus, lmaoo.