#al/an works

[alans-snz]

Enjoy this C/el/ls A/t W/or/k drabble short fic inspired by @dsnzfb 's wonderful snzario from the other day. I initially wrote a bit of it and wanted to turn it into a drabble, but it turned instead into a mini fic, so here ya go!! Enjoy!! And I am going to bed now since it's after 4 am. But this man put in this scenario was living rent free in my brain so much I had to write this before going to sleep!!!

Snz'er: Wh/i/te Bl/o/od C/el/l U/-1/14/6 (my beloved, shown here)

Minor spoilers for C/el/ls A/t W/or/k season 1. Continued below the cut.

Giving a gentle sigh, U-1146 finished his usual patrol around the body. Although things had been peaceful lately, being a part of the first line of defense meant he always had to stay alert. Regardless of how "normal" things might seem, he could never be too wary of any antigens possibly invading the area, whether it was through a breakage in the vascular endothelial cells, a viral infection, or anything foreign that dared cross paths with him, for that matter.

Today, everything seemed almost...too peaceful. When he experiences such a quiet day like this, especially when it comes to such a sensitive place like the epidermis, he always is extra careful and pays more attention to his receptor. After all, its job is—

"Da-ding!"

46 spun on his heel and frantically looked around. Complete silence except for the occasional hustle and bustle of red blood cells. Hm...how odd...

Speaking of, as he searched for the culprit his receptor was detecting, he noticed AE3803 taking a break on a bench nearby to stock up on more glucose. She looked up from her ice cream, smiled, and waved to him, before slowly lowering her hand, looking confused at his sudden search. He decided it would be good to head over there while he tried to sort out the current situation. Besides, it's possible she may have seen something he missed. No harm in asking! On his way over to her, he subconsciously rubbed his nose lightly.

"Snf! Red Blood Cell. Good to see you again," he stated with a nod, carefully holding his hat as he softly nodded as a gentle greeting.

"White Blood Cell! Same to you!" 03 piped up and smiled once more, but it didn't last long, as her expression and tone turned concerned quite quickly. "You seemed to be searching for something, and I noticed your receptor is up. Is everything okay?"

46 carefully nodded and turned slightly. "It seems an antigen is hiding somewhere nearby. Actually, that's why I came over here." He turned back to her, his expression determined, yet still sweet and calm. "I wanted to ask you if you'd seen anything odd." He stood there patiently while Red Blood Cell thought for a moment. However, after a short silence, she only ended up slowly shaking her head. "I see," 46 continued simply. The two of them stood there quietly while 46 eyed the surrounding area once more.

Eventually, 03 narrowed her eyes and looked down at her ice cream as if in deep thought before eventually breaking the silence, "You know, I've been meaning to ask...How do you go searching for hidden antigens anyway?"

46 couldn't help but crack a smile. Seeing he always expressed interest in Red Blood Cell's job, it was always fun to explain his own tasks to her as well. "Well, it's all in this," he said simply, pointing at his receptor. "Any time something is hiding, it's often easier to detect by taking into account when it does and doesn't react." He paused and sniffled softly.

03 gently nodded. "That's so fascinating. I'd love to hear more about how it works!"

"Sure! So when it stops reacting, I...I..." Suddenly, 46's train of thought became occupied elsewhere. He could feel a prickling sensation swiftly building in his sinuses, feathering so quickly through them that he automatically scrunched his nose, his mouth fell slightly agape, and his brow furrowed.

"...You...?" 03 asked in confusion, seeming very intrigued on how this worked and very confused on why 46 suddenly stopped speaking. Little did she know, this reason would become obvious very quickly.

"...I...hh-have t-to...sne—hehh!—sneeze!" He quickly brought his wrist to his nose as his eyelids fluttered and he inhaled sharply. "Heehh...! Hiht'TSSschyuu! Hah'AS—shuu!" His shoulders shook with the force, and although they didn't sound too intense, he struggled to keep himself from bending forward slightly from the intensity. He paused, shook his head, opened his eyes, and sniffled harshly from behind his wrist, seeming to consider whether any more sneezes were lurking in his sinuses before daring to bring his wrist down from his face.

"Snrf! O-oh no, hhiih!..." That sniffle instantly riled his sinuses up even more, and he quickly found himself gasping behind his wrist and snapping his eyes shut yet again. "Haaah'YTsSchhyuu! Hih!...iht'KSSs—chuu!—uungh..." This time, both sneezes made his whole body quiver violently, and he let out a soft groan after the final one. He rubbed his nose vigorously with the back of his wrist before letting out another sniffle. "Snf! Urgh, 'scuse me."

"...Is that usually a part of your process?" Red Blood Cell asked in confusion. White Blood Cell chuckled in response and gently shook his head as he lowered his hand. He also took a mental note that his receptor had gone down afterwards, similarly to that other day when he first learned his receptor will react shortly before he sneezes.

"Not usually, but sometimes, yes." He disconnected his receptor and held it in his hand. "I always have to take my receptor's reactions very seriously and jump into action, regardless of what I'm doing at the time. Since it also tends to detect when something is bothering my nose though, it can be frustrating to start searching for an antigen, then find out I just had to sneeze." He couldn't help but laugh a bit at the idea. "Though silly, it's a welcome change of pace to realize everything is still peaceful in this body, and my receptor just wanted to alert me to my body's irritants too." He smiled softly.

While incredibly odd and unusual, it was in fact relieving for White Blood Cell to experience this situation again. While peace in the body is refreshing, having false alarms from his receptor being affected by his own body as well is one of the unusual trade-offs he would happily take if it meant he could keep this body and all his fellow cells safe!

[inkpotsprite]

This was after he blew up all of the Leagues tech.

[adyophene]

The days after an extermination are prime time for certain go-getters!

[batbabydamian]

an attempt at brotherly bonding

[hyolks]

al's the kinda guy to wear sweater vests and oxfords <3

[melonlthawne]

POV: you’re being stomped to death by robin in his boys size 3 bright green combat boots that have cat toe beans on the bottom.

[artbyavasan]

Al Ghul genes right

[qweenofurheart]

timothy’s jokes don’t always land

[mellosdrawings]

Would Jamil be angry again since both Leona and Vil went to Playful Land without him.

He was livid.

But not because he was the only one not to go.

[suntails]

light magic

[batfamhastwitter]

Part 19! Behold, Tim and Kon's first forays into babysitting! for people in charge of saving the world every other weekend they were way too unprepared for taking care of Lian lol

Prev ~ Beginning ~ Next

[alans-snz]

Here it comes. The long-awaited part two to my Ka/veh/th/am fic from a while ago. Featuring a fun little scenario inspired by Gen/shin snzcord last night. Enjoyyy! I'm still having so much fun with this, so I hope you all do as well

Part 1

About Time (Pt. 2/?)

(Gen/shin Im/pact, Al/hai/th/am & Ka/veh)

CW: Light mess

When Alhaitham awoke the next morning, he felt anything but better. His sinuses were filled with congestion, his throat was scratchy, and there was already the persistent tickle of a threatening sneeze in the back of his nose. His eyes still shut, he gave a groggy groan as the tickle feathered through his strong nose. He lazily raised one hand to his nose as he hitched, "Heh'hh, h'hhuh!—"

Teetering on a sneeze, he startled as he felt a soft cloth practically forced into his hand. His breath caught in his throat out of surprise, and he forced his eyes open. In front of him was a familiar blonde figure, sitting directly next to his bed with his long hair neatly tied behind him. His red eyes seemed to show...concern? Sympathy? Alhaitham was too tired to tell.

"K-Kaveh?" Alhaitham asked in shock. His voice was gravelly yet filled with congestion, and speaking was a bit of a chore itself. It took all his might to avoid coughing right then and there. Kaveh had just handed him a handkerchief? Surely, he was dreaming and hadn't actually awoken yet...

"Morning, sunshine," Kaveh teased. "Well don't you look dreamy?" As Alhaitham prepared to snap back at this incessant remark, the buzzing tickle in his reddened nose returned with full force. He clutched the handkerchief to his nose.

"Hh'h...hn'gXt, h'KngXt–chuh...hnKT'chuhh!" Sneeze after sneeze escaped Alhaitham's nose, sending him pitching forward so he was forced to sit up in the bed. The more he stifled them, the more the tickle seemed to build. But Archons forbid he were to embarrass himself even more than he already had this morning with Kaveh directly next to him. He felt a gentle hand on his back. Kaveh was...comforting him? Or maybe he was just supporting his weight. Alhaitham shivered. Although gentle, the hand felt cold after a night of sleeping under the warm covers.

Alhaitham took a quick quivering breath and tightly pinched his nose with the handkerchief once more, "H'hh, h'hheh...hn'Xt, hn'GkT!—chuhh...H'gSxt-uhh, hKgt–uhh!" The stifles were growing progressively more desperate and powerful and continued to give him no relief. Alhaitham's eyes were beginning to tear up, and his nose was slowly beginning to rebel against his stubborn refusal to sneeze freely.

"Haitham..." Kaveh stated calmly, a hint of gentleness and concern in his tone, "Please, let yourself sneeze. You'll feel better."

"I c-can't—" Alhaitham began quickly, "I can't let y-heh-you..." His teary eyes narrowed, and before he could pinch his nose again, Kaveh grasped ahold of the man's wrists. Alhaitham couldn't even process it very well, he was so focused on fighting the sensation to sneeze. But oh Archons, he needed to sneeze, and he needed to sneeze now.

Unable to pinch his nose with Kaveh tightly holding his wrists, Alhaitham clenched his teeth. "Hn'GSs-chhn!" A gentle spray misted the covers. While it wasn't as satisfying as a full sneeze, it was better than the stifles from previously. As a result of this slight release, his nose did not seem ready to stop. "Hn'GnKt—chnn, hn'GsS—chihn! Hh'huuhh!" A desperate gasp escaped Alhaitham's lips, the following sneezes avoiding restraint.

"Heh'GSSchuu, h'YISs–chyuu!" Alhaitham's body convulsed forward with the powerful double. He shivered and took another sharp breath. His nose was far from done. "Hih'hh...heh'AS'shyuu, hah'TIS'schhih! YISs'Shhuhh! Ung...snrfk..." The final sneeze in the small fit was punctuated with a soft groan and a congested sniffle. Kaveh let go of his wrists, and Alhaitham brought the handkerchief up, blowing his nose wetly.

"Bless you," Kaveh said simply and continued to gently rub the scholar's back. As much as he longed to tease the man, that would be saved for another time. As for now, Kaveh was sure to keep Alhaitham company throughout his illness. Alhaitham began to move as if to get out of bed. His movements were clearly groggy and much slower than normal. Kaveh pushed him back down into the bed. "Oh, no you don't."

"I need to work..." Alhaitham stated through congestion and sniffled again. "I have so much to do."

Kaveh sighed and pinched the bridge of his own nose in annoyance. Even while sick, Alhaitham was so focused on his work. He swore even Alhaitham's breaks consisted of working. "Fucking pissant shithead," he grumbled under his breath.

"What did you call me?" Alhaitham had been blowing his nose once more and had his eyes shut tightly, but he opened them and glared at his roommate behind his handkerchief.

Right. Despite his soundproof earpieces, it seemed Alhaitham could always recognize when Kaveh mumbled an insult, even if he was across the room. He'd known Kaveh for long enough to be able to tell without even seeing his face. But well, this slightly snarky remark assured Kaveh Alhaitham was at least somewhat fine despite his continual sneezing and congestion.

Kaveh turned toward Alhaitham with a scowl, returning to his normal demeanor. "Fine, you fucking pisshead, I'll bring you your damn things," he snapped, sighed, and wheeled around.

"That's what I thought," Alhaitham stated, leaned back, and finished blowing his nose as Kaveh left the room. If the doors in their home didn't open and close on their own, Alhaitham bets Kaveh would have slammed it behind him. That is partially why he had them installed to begin with. Anyway...

Alhaitham's sneezes from earlier had surely helped loosen the congestion in his sinuses, but the tickle in his nose nonetheless continued to persist. Plus, he'd likely need a box of tissues, as this handkerchief was proceeding to grow useless. Though knowing Kaveh, despite his expressed annoyance, he'd likely caught on with this before Alhaitham even noticed, so he didn't bother to say anything else. Instead, he closed his eyes and inhaled softly, hoping to get these other sneezes out before Kaveh returned.

"Huhh'hh..." The first sharp hitch followed quickly, and Alhaitham threw the handkerchief to the bedside, pulling up the blanket just in time to catch the first of many sneezes, "Huh'h, heh'hh—heh'ISS'schmp! Heh'TSS'schm!" A quick lull to take a shaky breath. "Hiiihh'hh...O-oh—Ahuh!—Archons...heh, h'hh! Hg'GSSchuu, h'KSS'chyuu, HA'Sschuu! Snnf! Ugh..." Alhaitham was in shock at just how unsatisfying all this sneezing felt. His nose just...still wasn't done.

"Hah'ISSchuu! Heh...h'KSSs—shyuu! H'huh...aht'GSSchuhh! Snf! A-Archons, what th-huh?—Hn'GSSchh-yuu! Fuuuck..." Alhaitham shook his head and rubbed his nose vigorously. It seemed to temporarily help the tickle, but holy shit this was more than he expected. Maybe his nose was pissed of being unable to sneeze overnight that it was making up for it in the morning. Now of all times would actually be a good time for Kaveh to walk back in. He could really use a tissue...or three. He desperately wanted to blow his nose to avoid sneezing even more.

"Bless you!" Kaveh called from the other room. Within seconds, the blonde man showed up at the door with Alhaitham's quills, ink, some parchment, and—as Alhaitham had guessed—a large box of tissues. "I thought you'd need some of these as well, with that sneezy nose of yours," he said teasingly and placed the tissues on Alhaitham's desk with the rest of his supplies.

"Wow. You shouldn't have," Alhaitham stated sarcastically. He sniffled, snatched a tissue, and blew his nose strongly. With a slight groan and a sniffle, he made his way out of bed and stood. "Now if you don't mind, I have much to do. Snrrf! I can't afford y-your..." His eyes narrowed, he paused, and his face contorted with the tickle, yet he still attempted to continue his sentence, "hih'h...dist–hh!–distra-hah-act—" He snapped to the side once more, clutching the tissue over his nose, "haht'TSSchnt, hn'TSSchnn! Hiih, ht'TSSchyuu!" He attempted to muffle them, but these sneezes were too powerful, instead coming out harsh and only half-restrained, as well as pitching him forward at his waist.

"Bless you," Kaveh stated simply as Alhaitham finished sneezing. "As you wish. Just don't spill your ink. I'd rather not have to clean that up for you." Alhaitham straightened up and glared at him behind the handkerchief. Kaveh smirked before leaving the room once again.

Alhaitham sat down at his desk with a sigh. He picked up his quill, dipped it in the ink, and started scratching away at the parchment. He was so lost in his work that he did not notice when another tickle brewed in the back of his sinuses.

"Huh?" was the only warning he got. He couldn't even move his hands before the sneezes overcame his body, "Huh'YSSchhih! Ht'TSSchuu!" Between his sneezes, he heard a snapping sound, but he was so focused on not sneezing on the page that he couldn't discern what it was. When he opened his eyes after the sudden double, he found his quill had snapped from the force of his sneezing. He gave a frustrated sniffle, scrubbed his nose, tossed the broken quill into the trash, and grabbed a new one before pausing. He'd completely forgotten what he was writing, and the broken quill had splattered ink on the page to where he couldn't even try to get himself some context. Plus he shivered, as he just now noticed how cold it was in his room. Speaking of...

Damned cold, he thought. He couldn't do anything without it breaking his train of thought. He leaned back in his seat and sighed. Maybe work would have to wait. At least until the sneezing died down a little. Despite having only been out of bed for a few minutes, being back under those warm covers was looking more and more tempting by the second.

"Heh'ISSs—shyuu!" Another sneeze brought the scribe back to his senses. So finally, he gave in, set down his quill, threw away the trashed piece of parchment (and any others the broken quill's ink bled onto), and hoisted himself back into bed. He was hungry, but another nap was in order. Only after that could he maybe prop open a nice book and settle down with his quill in hand.

"H'hh...hn'TSSchuu!" And hopefully when he awoke once more he'd feel a little better. He sniffled again, laid his head down, and dozed off.

[skunkes]

the restrained sniffer

[acid-ixx]

〔00〕 — 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 : perfect perception

DIRECTORY: concept, chapter 00, chapter 01

it was always just you, and your family.

just you, your mother, twin brother, and grandfather. the puzzle is complete, there is no need for an extra couple of pieces to add on to your already satiated life. there is no need to work hard, or to endure painful endeavors to attain what you want; not when your family would complete it all for you.

it wasn't like you could, or should, complain, no? you have everything granted to you from when you were born. scarred hands, jagged figure, weary eyes; those aren't necessary for a person like you, who will always be sheltered, in both cozy blankets and loving arms. oblivious to the cruel world and pesting hands that claw on innocent beings like you.

a steady house life, a mother who shielded your innocence from all the bloodshed within the family's ordeals, who read to you fairytales, who had you sleep in her bed when you feared, when you foresaw what you thought were monsters under your bed. instead of inhibiting hatred for an heir who'd flinch at raising hands and the sound of clanging swords, she encouraged your meak demeanor and even spoiled tantrums. she runs her hands across your silky tresses, and kisses your forehead a thousand times if you'd even mention it in a passing moment. she dresses you in jewels, in velvety, silky clothes, and bathes you in toys and gifts you never seem to ask for. your little body sleeps on her chest, and listen the steady beat of her heart, calm and beating, all for you.

you teach her softness, and the joys of being a mother. a concept foreign in her eyes, raised opposite to you. she sees herself in you, and projects what should've been her childhood to her youngest twin child.

you have a twin brother, who, despite being born only a few minutes before you, was significantly older than you, both mentally and spiritually. from the moment he was taken into the world, his duty to take all your pain away and to become your very light was established. and like the warrior he is, he takes that daunting task and transforms it into motivation. he is your knight in shining armor, the prince who catches you when you fall, the one who braves your nightmares, the swordman to your royalty. he trains, all day and night, from such a young age to protect you from unnecessary dangers he understood even his mother fears you'd be subjected to. he does not complain, he does not find reasons to gripe; he takes the scars, the bruises, the punishments and missions all in stride. if it meant seeing you happy and unaware from all the cruelty of living; then so be it. as long as, by the end of the day, he comes back to your shared room to find your tiny form drawing a childish imagery of the little family you love and cherish.

you teach him compassion, vulnerability, and share with him the admiration for arts.

then there is your grandfather. a hardened leader, a monster to all those who serve, but an idol in the eyes of oblivious you. he justifies violence in the wake of achieving his goals, he doesn't tolerate mankind's treatment of nature and its animals, and takes the lives of those who dares oppose. but you are treated differently, like glass that shatters at the softest of hits. his words are sugarcoated and stripped down to the most infantine of comprehension, his eyes are soft every time he kneels to your level to gently request that you return to your room. ra's does not kneel, he does not plead, he does not stoop to those younger than him. but to you, naive and dewy-eyed, akin to a fawn hiding behind a mother's legs, he does. every week, he takes in various experts in the field of teaching to become your mentors in whatever passion you have. he is the foundation of your growth, and he prides himself in that regard.

from him, you learn your love of animals. from you, he learns of weakness, and defeat to such platonic desires.

with your little family, you are happy. you never have to find reasons to complain about food, clothes, or any luxuries their family, akin to royalty, could obtain. you have a family smothering you in affection, attention, to the point where all you have to do is smile at the slightest thing and notice how they melt to your whims.

you were never alone when you didn't want to, you were always guarded, safe, and constantly served.

as you should, as it always should be.

and it was a routine you were used to. you never complained, you never pondered beyond primitive knowledge, you had never desired for more, or wanted less. life was normal despite the strange arrangements with servants always being by your beck and call, or how your brother would always seem to come seeking you after another day of "hard work" your mother doesn't permit you to try, with gashes that litter his tan skin and usually sharp eyes, still fixed with a glare though softened once your arms come to coddle him as a reward.

he finds comfort in your hold. it never once registered within you his ever-growing strength and how his hold on you would always seem to to tighten whenever a potential friend would pass by.

yet you are loved either way, you are cared for. what more is there to ask when you have and always been the singular pearl dripping with grace, poise, and a softness beyond the brutish weapons swung within the training grounds your brother finds himself in.

you are loved by everybody: by your mother, by your brother, by your grandfather, and you're the necessary voice that calls out mercy for whenever a servant would be punished for maintaining a less than satisfactory performance when it comes to serving you. you're the light of reason beyond instictive swings of the sword and the impulsive raise of a voice demanding for battle to settle a deal; biting your lips in disappointment every time your mother attempts to punish a small mistake a servant would do right in front of you.

although certain voices in the hallways find your presence... unsavory, out of place, or they simply pity you; whispers filtering through the kind words everyone else never withdraws from you— nonetheless, they'd have no choice but to obey your childish whims, to smile at you, to be kind and diligent to your emotions.

everything is perfect.

yes, yes it is. an undeniable fact within the factions of your heart. you ignore the subtle strain within your chest, the way the emptiness becomes blatant, and the misunderstood desire for something else... something greater, far beyond the honor of your current family; and replace it with temporary joy.

a joy that softly smiles at the piling gifts, a joy that teaches itself to be good, to be grateful, and to dismiss the ever-changing spotlight you have for your family.

to ignore their hushed whispers whenever your small, eight-year old form with wide eyes, holding a toy between your chest, inquire about what they're discussing with that requires such... strained air and ridged poses.

to ignore their careful words, their gentle hands that pats your hair, that beckons you to come to a different room, and the irritation and bubbling tantrums paired with the heat that wraps your boiling thoughts and clenching hands.

you ignore, and try to neglect that growing ache that insurmountably never passes.

even if you lay in bed every night, unable to sleep, gaining consciousness slowly but surely after another day passes.

you ignore, and dismiss, and it all becomes a cycle that you ought to never break, to never rupture with childish curiosity and the thirst for wisdom.

... because everything is perfect.

everything is perfect. like the candlelight beams of the moon dancing through victorian styled windows, fluttering past the curtains to kiss your resting body every night you lay sleeping on a king-sized mattress, surrounded by soft, cotton plushies and silky, cool blankets as your brother coddles you; your head laying on his chest like routine.

it is perfect like the gardens of flowers all planted with your favorites, an array of colors harmoniously dancing to the sway of traversing winds and bumbling pollinators.

it is perfect like the daily hustle and bustle of your servants, buzzing through wide spans of hallways with their voices mingling through busy air and the wafting scent of a new delicacy your mother ornately chose for you to try.

everything was perfect, until it wasn't.

until the illusion of completeness, of unity and satisfaction were shattered like the bones of your brother's opponents, powderized to mere dust.

until you take notice of the hollow piece in your heart, until your servant mentions a father (a word so foreign, so similar to mother... but different all the same) in mere passing when you two had conversed whilst they were tying your shoes.

at first, you didn't pay a mind, proposing to yourself that you'd ask your mother instead after you've finished your daily assignments.

but then, unlike every other time where you dismissed, ignored and forgot— you began to ponder.

the word, the meaning, its possible etymology and every historical relationship it might've contained; a lesson your brilliant mentor taught you, one that served as a paveway for curious, little you, to investigate.

a trait you're sure nobody really tackled within your family.

if that is so, then where does your stubbornness, your drive to seek answers, come from?

you try to solve the puzzle pieces, ones you thought were never present in your life, your mind wracking through stored memories of a young, prying individual like you; until you came to a conclusion.

does it possibly come from a... father?

father...?

father?

father.

... your brother, too, said the same word.

when he was tired and beat from his training, when all he wanted was a singular hug, whose hands were stained with dripping ichor and knees bruised from hitting upon rocky ground. his emerald eyes were seeking your presence, and you find how his delirious state, itching for calm after another stormy trial of missions, was abnormal; unlike you who flinched at the dizzying scent of blood.

too mature, now you've noticed. a presence that exudes superiority, that takes the lives of those who rebel, that punishes anything less than perfect; that only softens, whose shoulders only sag when he takes in your presence within the same room as him— traits too foreign in the midst of a brother the same age as you.

so when you denied him of oasis, when your young brain was too scared, too worried and all the more wishing for answers on why he always comes back bleeding and injured, rejecting his offer for you to come closer— he all but seethes, and instead sighs; watching your quivering lips and the igniting fight in your eyes, a shaded mixture of your mother's and his.

"you're exactly like what mother told me. stubborn like our father when inconsolable... but i love you too much, akhi/akhti, to care for your lesser."

he muttered under his breath, emerald eyes gleaming under moonlit glow as he looks at you, emotions too miscellaneous beyond the swirling pools of green that always keeps a watch on you.

sometimes, he feels less like a brother and more of a knight. sometimes, you wish to rebel and instead dig deep into what's been happening to your brother these past few years, shaped by experience you never once caught yourself transpiring through. sometimes, you wish he doesn't treat you like a glass ornament.

sometimes, you wish you had a normal family.

as much as his words were sweet, as much as you would've felt warmth at the mere affection and exception he holds you in regard to his heart, even if he takes your body in his arms prior to your previous rejection, all but melting and rocking your body to sleep; a common method he utilizes to make you feel drowsy, and to eventually forget the blood on his sheathed sword and sinful hands once your eyes drift to a close—

you still reflect upon his words even if weeks had already passed by after that incident, even if he must've thought your somnolence was enough to dismiss whatever was the 'grammatical' mistake he'd mumbled that night was a product of fatigue after a long day of work.

... because despite being the perfect family, despite the love and care they foster within your heart; washing off the beating emptiness in your chest was harder than any injuries you've obtained after momentary clumsiness.

at least you knew when those scars were incurred, at least you had people to comfort you through the tears that escaped through your eyes.

but this immaterial emptiness has long since festered within the confines of your caged soul.

it beckons you to choose rebellion, it traps your thumping heart and tightens its hold on it, snaring it in a pit you couldn't crawl yourself out of.

desire drives you further away from delusion, from the foundations of weaved lies and rose-tinted picturesque perfection.

and you began to crave satiation to at least mend the missing puzzle piece in your heart; piece by piece, stitch by stitch.

who is your father? what is a father? why did dami told me i'm like... our father?

as you sit alone in your bed, toys long forgotten, alone with only the cool breeze fluttering by your window to accompany you. the questions begin to grate at your mind, yet all you do is bring your knees closer to your chest, lips dry at the forgone isolation you put yourself through after a cycle of endless thinking.

"momma will be here soon," you mutter to yourself. your voice, meek and highly pitched, young and cradling childish curiosity; it breaks at the seams when your fingers bring itself to touch and wipe away at wet cheeks and tender, aching eyes.

dami was right; you are stubborn like your father.

because even if they try all necessary means to shroud your life in seclusion from reality— you don't easily back out of a losing fight.

even if the tears you shed from the lack of progress were insurmountable, even if you knew you were at a physical disadvantage shall push come to shove where you'd have to fight your dearest brother, even if it means struggling against the invisible shackle your beloved family locked you in.

because your perfect perception of your fucked up family has long since dissipated from the moment your servant and your brother mentioned a foreign word.

a simple word, a small mistake, yet acting as a newer path of life that long since diverged from the only way you knew how to live.

and you still wish to solve the mystery of your forlorn emptiness.

will you give up just so easily? would the tears you shed all become mere depression?

no, not even as you sit in your too-huge bed, with no clue on where or how to start a hopeless journey; too young to plan, too little to fight, too tenderhearted in the views of your family.

even then, your red, rubbed raw eyes seek to look back on your first hint from within the room

a dictionary was sprawled across the opposite end of the bed, thrown haphazardly, opened to a certain page that highlights words closest to 'father'.

you crawl, with sore arms and wobbly legs, to retrieve the heavy, hard-bound and gold-encased dictionary, lounging on your bed with a damaged spine.

your fingers return to traverse multiple pages yet again—

stubborn, impatient and impulsive.

earlier, it came to you in the form of realization that the dictionary your mentor assigned you to read had a missing word cut precisely with a blade and replaced with an unintelligible one.

earlier, you realized just how much your perfect family was only perfect because they've hidden the truth from you.

earlier should've been years ago, earlier should've never been swept off the rug so easily. but what could an eight year old like you do? you've none of damian's talents to quickly learn, you're raised differently. it is only now you wish you weren't so gullible.

and as your fingers strum against pages, near to ripping out expensive paper, tears unceasing, lips bitten 'til bleeding— you learn, and you grow beyond simple comprehension.

motivation, and the drive to uncover all things unsaid, even if the end would result in something negative.

through them, you'll soon learn of spite, of anguish, and bitter contempt.

but for now, you're merely left alone, with only a mantra of words all circling back to dami's words; so many questions left unanswered.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: honestly don't know half of what i wrote + i don't like this as much as i wanted it to come out. this went through multiple revisions with an added fact of me trying to discern why my writing style keeps fluctuating 😭 guys please comment about what you think of this. if this flops, i'm gonna quit writing LMAO. this is a bit more formal than my usual style (re: again & again) because i wanted to capture the regality of the al ghul's family partly told through the perspective of a child.

taglist: @th0rn118, @obsessedwithromance @rogueofbullshit @ch1cky-093, @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd, @confused-they @biiibs01, @ghostdoodlen, @earlqurl, @chericia, @herebyaccident0, @ilovemyhusbandnanami, @mintynilla, @lilyalone, @anonymousdisco, @plsfckmedxddy, @maria-figueiredo, @143637-hrrm, @neerathebrightstar, @jsprien213, @realifezompire, @sammytheotakunerd, @sh4rk-k1d, @confused-they, @peptox, @lillian-morningstar.

[tiger-grace]

Damian standing outside of the police precinct because Jason (notorious crime lord) got caught for busting an illegal poaching and harvesting scheme

Damian: free my man he ain’t do anything wrong

Commissioner Gordon: he cut off their hands-

Damian, slowly pulling a batarang out of his pocket: I said, free my man. He ain’t do anything wrong.

[broh3m3]

merry chrysler