#a paragraph for u

[boasamishipper]

🌹🌹🌹 (I'm tryna get a paragraph)

Dan looks flabbergasted. It’s not a word Harry has ever had cause to use, mostly because he’s never seen anyone look it. He’s seen astounded, stunned, shocked, even incredulous—all expressions directed at him on a regular basis—but never flabbergasted. Not until now. “You like me?”

[inkskinned]

she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[horribluh]

im so so obsessed with mbj spoiling sqh after the airplane extras, like i keep thinking of that one moshang post that was like wwyd if u kept ur hamster in a tiny shitty cage and ur thinking everything is fine but then ur hamster runs away and when u finally find ur hamster again u upgrade its living situation bc u love ur hamster and u didnt realize it was that bad :((( treat ur hamsters right guys

i just want pathetic simp mbj who will do anything to prevent sqh from running off again, brick wall of a man who is soft to 1 (one) pathetic little guy. presenting him with over the top courting gifts and rare warm furs, and putting him in his adjoining spousal chambers before even getting married (so scandalous!), and learning to cook noodles even tho ur a king and having fireplaces built in ur literal ice palace so ur weak little human can stay warm. all while refusing to say the words "i love you" and therefore forcing the two of u to exist in an agonizing situationship (shang "overthinker final boss" qinghua vs mo "0 communication skills" bei jun)

and ofc sqh does not understand his intentions at all but he sure is happy to be spoiled! see! his king DOES appreciate him! hey ill do more work so this can keep happening! im ur loyal servant my king!!! (sqh is fully decked out like hes his wife, tales r told throughout the land abt sqh playing ultimate hard to get and mbj being the worlds most desperate simp)

theyre so stupid i love them sm

[sophietheghost]

I could feel how lonely you trurly are

[vamp-bites]

Wrote a wolfwood-centric fic recently and doodled this before i even finished writing the chapter its from

I just think they’re silly. And that they should’ve talked more at the end of volume 8, for my entertainment personally

[rochenn]

Compound words with triple consonants my fucking BELOVED

[juicerca]

“make me dizzy,, ₍^. .^₎⟆

sylus x reader ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

a/n : i got a fever too. me and xavier synched up like we on our periods together (WHICH IM ON </3) or some shit. my nose is stuffy and my body is burning 😭 !!!!! sylus fever fluff written to comfort my pain. just a short lil thing <3 SUPER SHORT </3333 cus my brain is broken and ill and i have an exam in two days WAAAA

synopsis : f!reader gets sylus to cool her down when her fever gets too unbearably hot by calling him over

content : pure fluff/comfort fic. i can't bring myself to write sylus angst (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) also sorry i keep writing MC in pathetic situations. i love girlboss MC as much as the next girlie i SWEAR, mc is cat-like/a little spoiled AGAIN (sylusMC is SOOO CATTY TO ME)

pet-names : kitten, sweetie, cutie, princess,

word count : 642

₍^. .^₎⟆ ⋆ 🐾 °

you lay in his (basically yours at this point) black silk sheets, tossing and turning, kicking your feet in nothing but a small black vest and your underwear. no matter how much you shimmied around, your feet felt hot, your entire body burned with a heat that made your sweat feel unbearably lukewarm and sticky on your skin.

the sheets were most definitely damp from all the cold (now room temperature) towels that you had used to try to cool your body. but to no avail. nothing was making it more bearable. 5 cool towels around your neck just didn't cut it.

and so, you crawl across the endless expanse of bedding to grab your phone (with some difficulty). there was only one person you wanted to see you like this.

you spam him with this sticker about 10 times before the three dots finally appear. you wait for two seconds...five...ten...god why is this message taking so long? you grumble, huffing with his pillow tucked under your chin and contemplating throwing your phone against the plush back of his bed.

he calls you before you manage to hurl your device,

"kitten? do you need something? i'm at the store now."

"huh? i thought you said you'd be at an auction?"

he chuckles,

"i was at one. but you only text when you want something... or if you miss me... and considering how you're in my room and i saw you this morning, i assume it's the former. though i'd be very flattered if it was the latter."

"i also text when i see something that reminds me of you."

"that fits into the latter." he smile through the phone. you can faintly hear the bustle of the convenience store as well.

"...i feel a fever coming on. can you get me some ice cream?"

"got it. what else?"

"i want you..." you mumble into his pillow, feeling sluggish.

"..."

"respond..." you whine close to tearing up.

but before you can pick up more of a fuss, he's already next to the bed with a grocery bag in one hand and his phone in the other and his evol swirling around him.

not really thinking, you immediately go to nuzzle your heated face into his tummy. it's not really that comfortable, and you brush against the cold metal of his zippers that scratch at your face. but, nonetheless, it's just what you needed. he always is.

he puts away his phone and the bag onto the floor, gently carding through your hair and his voice a soft rumble,

"hi sweetie... want your ice cream now?"

"later..." you take his hands, putting them on your face in a happy mewl, "so cool..."

"aren't you just a cutie? does my princess want me to cool her down?" he smiles, sliding one hand down to your sweltering neck. you exhale in satisfaction, it's a little congested and you look like a sticky mess...but he thinks you're adorable. he always will.

spoiling you was irreplaceable to him. there was nothing in the world more special than the feeling of being your one and only prince, dictated by his only princess. you could have anything you wanted, be as bratty and as demanding as you wanted, surrounded by luxuries and comfort and you chose him to be your supplier and partner in it all. it was undeniably his favourite feeling in the world.

you nod, settling like putty into his large hands. gently but surely bringing you back to a comfortable temperature. as you drift off, you hear him softly humming to you a lullaby. something familiar but yet not quite. he might not have ever experienced the song in his own childhood, but everything he found beautiful and comforting was something he would share with you.

your life adorned in joy and comfort would always be his priority.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[stump-not-found]

dude it's just like the tv show ....

[robiinurheart33]

“It didn’t take him long to find Earth 138’s Stone and Robotnik; their severe loathing of each other had prompted Stone to become a supervillain in his own right. He and Robotnik 138 were locked in an epic battle that was razing most of New York City in its wake. Drone fought drone; robot battled robot; civilians fled for their lives; and, in the middle of the destruction, Stone and Robotnik traded blows and scathing, silver-tongued insults.

Stone mockingly spat the phrase ‘ My Ivo ’ through bloodied teeth. Robotnik didn’t wait to see who won.”

Ever since I’ve read this one paragraph I haven’t stopped thinking about it since actually no im not normal @vonlipwig ‘s Have We Met Before? Made me so ill when i first read it pls go check it out i was like biting my fist while reading it if ur the author hi i hope u like it !!1!

Without the blood and filters below⏬⏬

[seaworthee]

fire and blood was not good enough for people to be riding alyssa targaryen’s dick like this

[woman-respecter]

LMAO they keep doubling down on these being real and making excuses for the spam bots.

part of me thinks it is just pure gullibility but it could be beyond that. i think deep down they KNOW they are wrong and have been scammed but are lashing out because accepting the truth would feel awful and humiliating so they are just clinging onto their percieved moral superiority and getting mad at the people who are less stupid in order to feel better about themself.

[vardapilled]

yikes. u wanna be oppressed so bad.

adding, “i’m proud of my skin color” in the same post and thinking it’s a brave statement when historically you’ve had next to zero push back for that. this isn’t the radical hot take you think it is. Screencaps of ​this post (even in excerpts) and these tags are heinous:

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

oh jason grace they could never make me hate you

[catgrandpa]

I started this post with the intention of asking for fic recs where Bruce gets his kids early, but then I ended up just writing some ficlets

_(:3 」∠)_

I still really just want recs I swear but I wrote these anyway and am incapable of doing more with them so here

☆彡

Dick Grayson is 8 years old when he watches his parents die. Bruce is 24 years old when he sees a young boy’s life fall to pieces. He’s far too young to be a single father. But he sees too much of himself in the child, and he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to walk away from him.

He talks to Alfred about his fears of only furthering Dick’s trauma by failing him as a guardian. It takes some time, but Alfred is able to convince Bruce to find a therapist and take some discreet parenting classes. He’s still Batman, and I don’t think he’s capable of Gentle Parenting™ but he does do better. Plus, Dick is young enough to learn to read Bruce before the teenage hormones kick in so they manage to communicate much more effectively with each other.

☆彡

Bruce meets Catherine Todd by chance because there was a cool park Dick wanted to stop at. She’s trying to deal with her hungry and fussy 3 year old step son, but she’s young and stressed out and hungry herself and she just doesn’t know what to do. Bruce offers to take them out for lunch. He asks Dick to take Jason to the play area in the corner while they talk.

She breaks down and tells him of her struggles with addiction. She does her best to keep Jason fed, but it’s so hard. Feeding him means she goes hungry most of the time because she can’t quit using. Jason wouldn’t survive if she had to go through withdrawals with him.

He’s not even her kid! Not really. Her husband is just an abusive deadbeat so she doesn’t have a choice. She does love him, but she never wanted kids, and she can’t just let a child die when she can do something.

Bruce fills their fridge and cabinets to the brim (he offers to do much more for them but that’s all she will budge on. She has too much pride to accept outright charity, but she will do what she can to keep her kid safe) and he makes it clear to her that he is willing to take care of Jason for however long is necessary when she decides to take the first step to get clean.

Two months later, Willis gets arrested and Catherine shows up at Wayne Manor and tells Bruce she signed up for inpatient, but she thinks it would be best for Jason and for herself if Bruce would be willing to take permanent custody. She stays in Jason’s life, just not as a mother figure.

☆彡

A year or so later, Bruce gifts Alfred with a vacation as an early birthday present. Things have been hectic with the sudden acquisition of two sons, and Alfred has done so much, he deserves a break. Bruce promises he’ll be able to handle two kids on his own.

Turns out, he was mostly right, but only just barely. The kids are fine, the manor not so much. He ends up hiring a few services to help out with general housekeeping. A couple of those workers also happen to be regular hires for the Drakes.

Bruce overhears them talking about how sad it is that those awful people treat their toddler more like a doll than a child. He learns that not only do they leave for long periods at a time while not hiring a proper nanny to watch over their son, just expecting the help to take care of him, but they also lock him away on his own whenever it’s ’not fashionable’ to have a 2 year old around.

Alfred comes back to the manor on August 15th, just in time to celebrate his and Master Jason’s birthdays together. He opens the door and dodged around a very excited 4 year old jumping up and down in the entry hall.

“ALFIE! ALFIE! BOOSE GOT ME A BABY BWOTHER FOR MY BIRFDAY! LOOK! LOOK! HIMS NAME IS TIMMY AND HE’S THE BESTEST!”

Alfred leans over to peak behind the boy, and sees a very quiet, very small child standing behind him.

“Oh, dear.”

☆彡

The day Bruce got the call from Talia telling him she was pregnant with his child was one of the best days of Bruce’s life. The day she called to tell him she miscarried was one of the worst.

The only blessing was that he didn’t need to explain it to his kids. Talia was going to move in once she was in her second trimester, and they planned to reveal her pregnancy together.

He got the call two weeks before her flight out. He begged her to come anyway, he loved her, they could still be a family. She refused.

Six and a half months later, he walks into his bedroom to find Talia standing by the window with a squirming bundle in her arms. With equal measures steel and sorrow in her eyes she tells Bruce she is sorry for what she put him through, but it was the only way to keep their son safe. He gathers them both in his arms and holds them tight as she explains.

Her father had planned to raise an heir to be the Demon Head. He would be kept a secret from Batman until the very end. But when Talia gave the final push to birth their son, he came out quiet. She panicked for a moment until her midwife quietly leaned down to listen to the baby’s breathing and then looked up with a soft smile, she bundled up the small thing and handed Talia her baby. Big beautiful green eyes blinked up at her. The midwife leaned closer to Talia and whispered, “Sadly, your son was stillborn. I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but surely The Great Head of the Demon would be willing to allow you some time away from your duties while you recover.” Talia allowed the woman to cover her beautiful cooing baby gently with soft linen and silk and carry him from the room. Later that night she left her home with her son and boarded the first flight to Gotham.

Tears gather on Bruce’s lashes and he tells her everything will be alright because now they can finally be together as a family. Once more, she refuses. She tells him Damian and his boys are far too precious for her to bring the danger of the league of assassins to their door. Bruce closes his eyes in sorrow, but nods his acceptance. He asks her to at least stay the night together. They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms with their baby boy safely bundled between them. Talia is gone when he wakes.

☆彡

It’s been one week since Talia left and, while still beyond upset, Bruce feels like he’s starting to have a decent handle on things. He is sitting with his boys at the breakfast table, Dick and Jason to his left, Tim to his right, Damian in his arms, and Alfred across from him. They’re finally able to have a relaxing breakfast. No babies crying, no food fights, no arguing, just the sounds of eating and gentle chatter.

He feels a small hand grab his right sleeve and give a gentle tug.

“Boo?” Tim asks, quietly. Bruce feels his heart warm at his son finally feeling like he can speak up without permission.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why isn’t Big Sister sitting with us?”

Alfred is the only person in the room other than Tim to not startle at the sudden appearance of a 5 year old girl standing next to Bruce at the dining table. He simply sighs, stands up, and grabs another place setting for her at the table.