#but i want to prove to myself that i *can* get there if i put in the effort

[shartletswritings]

Prove to me

Non-Canon one shot set within the You've Dug Your Own Grave story

TW: Smutttt and not much else Happy holidays!! I wanted to make you all a little, sinful, christmas present. I do hope you enjoy!! I wrote this like… immediately after writing the first chapter of YDYOG because I needed a break from all the angst I was about to write (and because I’m a whore). Thank you all for the endless support, I know I say it every time and I sound like a broken record, but it genuinely baffles me how many of y’all read my stories and engage with my content. All my love and enjoy!!

            You stand with your back to the kitchen door; your full attention is on the jars of tea in front of you. You’re beginning to believe that this is the hardest decision you have ever had to make: mint and licorice or chamomile? Absentmindedly you pull on your bottom lip with your fingers as you deliberate. Would a combination be bad? It can’t be that bad.

            It takes a few minutes of rummaging through various drawers to locate a steeper among the mess of utensils. “Found you, fucker,” you whisper to the ball of metal. You decide a scoop of each is appropriate for one mug. After pouring the water into your mug you plop the steeper unceremoniously into the water, a small splash lapping over the rim.

            You spin on your heels to look for a snack to take back with you to your room when you notice that the lights on the far end of the kitchen have been switched off. Another black out? We just had one the other night. You sigh, you’ll be out in a few minutes anyways and you have plenty of candles waiting in your room if the power does go out. You fill a small bowl with some corn-puffed snack sitting on a far corner and put it on a tray next to the mug. You smile at the paint on the side which had been done by Aster a few weeks back. The memory of her chubby little hands smudging greens and purples onto the previously gray surface.

            Another noise catches your attention; something slams close behind you and you whip around but only see the door to the mess hall hanging open slightly. It must be the wind. You chide yourself for being so nervous. Just as you are about to pick the tray up and leave when the hair on the back of your neck stands up. This time you are certain someone is behind you, which is odd because you don’t remember hearing someone come in.

            You start to turn slowly when a low, harsh voice bites out, “Don’t.”

            You let out the anxious breath you were holding, a smile spreading on your face, “Scar, you scared the sh-”

            You are cut off by a hand clapping down on your mouth. He shifts slightly behind you, and you suddenly feel his breath, hot and deep in your ear, “You’re lucky it’s me here, Kir,” the bite in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, “what have I told you about letting your guard down?”

            He releases his hand just enough for you to speak, “I can handle myself. We’ve talked about this,” you put your hands down on the counter in front of you, bristling at his need to protect you.

            ���We have,” his breath still tickles your ear, “and yet I was able to get all the to you before you even realized I was in the building.”

            “That’s not fair, you’re quieter than most people. And besides, I’d sense their… aura or something; I’d know if there was someone out to get me.”

            “You aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are,” Scar sounds unamused and you can’t really blame him, it wasn’t the smartest thing to say.

            You go to turn towards him again but his hand clamps down on your jaw to keep your head forward, claws pressing into the soft skin of your cheeks. “If you don’t want me to coddle you, prove to me you can handle yourself,” he all but growls, “I’ll give you a two-minute head start… now run.”

            It takes you a few seconds to process what he says before it clicks. It takes you a few more seconds to decide whether or not to indulge him; on the one hand you don’t need his damn oversight on your safety, you sure as hell aren’t weak or incapable. But on the other hand… it is really fucking hot.

            The pressure that had been gradually building in the pit of your belly finally snaps and you feel electric. As if sensing the change in your chemistry, Scar releases your jaw and takes a step back, giving you the room needed to bolt.

            The darkness filling the empty kitchen makes your escape more difficult than it should be, but something inherent in your blood directs you back out into the courtyard of the hideout. Dust kicks up under your boots and the only light available to you comes from windows with half-drawn blinds. Figuring out where to go is the hardest part; you know that the first spots to pop into your mind are undoubtedly what Scar will also think of. Any place shrouded in complete darkness is marked off immediately on your imaginary list due to his godsdamned eyes which eliminates about half of the places you could reasonably get to in the constricting two minutes he’s given you. Your hoverboard is also inaccessible from where it sits back in your quarters which means you’ll need to find somewhere to hide in the base and fast.

            You turn towards the tree, scrambling up the scaffolding of the mural and onto the balcony of Ekko’s workshop. Mercifully, it is both empty and unlocked. You slip inside, crouch under one of the tables, and wait. It’s dark in here, sure, but there is enough of a glow from the courtyard that you can make out everything in the room with some sense of clarity; at least he won’t be able to sneak up on you.

            Your skin feels electric and every sound has you jumping. The fear is primal, something innate within your core. You’re not scared of Scar of course, but right now you’re fucking terrified and it’s exhilarating. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been waiting. Five minutes? Ten? Time passes strangely.

            The door opens slowly and for a moment you don’t think it’s Scar with how gentle the nob turns, but the second you see the toe of his boot your heart leaps into your throat. You stick a hand over your mouth to try and muffle your breathing as you press yourself further back into the shadows under the table. He takes a few more steps into the room, turning his head, searching for you.

            You let loose the breath you had been holding as he turns, thinking he’s finally leaving, when he whips his head back around at the sound. “I know you’re in here, Kirranari.” Damn it all. You realistically have about five seconds before he pinpoints your location under the table. It takes you three to make a decision. Sure, you could run again, but where’s the fun in that?

            You rocket out from your hiding spot and rush him, slamming your weight into his chest. He stumbles back and into a wall, thankfully missing the shelf of Ekko’s glass scientific instruments. He lets out a low oof and looks down at you and your forearm pressed into his chest, almost impressed and you feel a rush of pride despite yourself.

            The moment is ruined by his clawed hands wrapping around your wrist and twisting you around to slam you into the wall. His chest presses against your back and your face smushes into the wooden wall. “Not good enough, Kir,” his voice rumbles deeply against your body and a new wave of heat flushes through you. He must know what he’s doing. From the way his breath puffs hot against your ear, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing. Asshole.

            With a huff, you drop low despite the wall scraping against your face and push yourself back under his legs. Before he can react, you jump up behind him and clammer onto his back. He bucks like a wild animal, but the bruising grip of your arms around his neck and legs around his chest keeps him from throwing you off. A knife slips down from your sleeve, and you allow the glint of the metal to catch in the faint light from the window. The blade is pointed away from him, but he can see that you weren’t unarmed, even in the relative safety of the hideout.

            You bring your mouth down to his ear, “Still think I can’t handle myself?” He stills for a moment, a snarl forming on his face, and you fight the urge to smile. With a quick nip to his ear you drop back to the ground, leaving him motionless for another second before he spins back towards you, his face a mix of lust and aggravation.

            “You got lucky,” he looks down at you, and you have to fight the urge to cower under his gaze. You aren’t afraid of him, of course, but you haven’t gotten this far in the undercity without a healthy amount of innate caution.

            “Right. Cuz it’d kill you to say that I did something correctly.” He opens his mouth to protest but before he can say anything, you sweep a leg towards his knees. Not expecting the blow, his knees buckle, and he crashes to the ground under his own weight.

            Unfortunately, before you can get a healthy amount of gloating out, you feel an arm wrap around your wrist to pull you down on top of him. He pins your arms to the ground, forcing you to lean over his head. You pant as you stare down at his blown-out pupils, “I only let you do that cuz you’re hot. Just so ya know. If you were anyone else, it’d be a different story.”

            He looks up at you in silence, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Suddenly, claws make their way into your hair and pull, bringing your face up to his. Your lips only meet for a moment before his tongue presses its way into your mouth. He pulls back for a moment, “Would you let anyone else do this?” His voice is slightly hoarse, thick with lust.

            You hum thoughtfully, “Who’s to say really. I have such a hard time making up my mind, but I can think of a few I’d let kiss me.” You’re taunting him, you’re absolutely aware of that. But the dark, fierce eyes he looks at you with twinge something deep in your gut and you find yourself unable to stop. “Maybe if Ekko or Jordyn asked me nicel-”

            He growls and flips your bodies to cut you off, pinning you under his weight. “Sounds like I’m not doing enough to keep you around, then.” You grin mischievously, “It sounds like I need to remind you how much you mean to me.” He grabs one of your hands and reaches it down to cup the growing bulge in his pants and your breath catches in your throat. It’s his turn to grin as he lowers his mouth to your neck, assaulting it with nips kisses.

            You arch your back into his chest, a breathy moan ripping through your throat. “You think I’d be doing this for anyone else?” he asks, his lips attacking the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. He bites down when you don’t answer, “I asked you a question,” he chastises with a shockingly level voice against your pathetic cry.

            “N-no,” you breath into the darkness of the room and you can feel him smile against your skin. How does he always manage to reduce me to an incoherent mess, you think distantly as you struggle aimlessly against his weight.

            His hand releases your wrists and pushes the hem of your shirt up to your collarbone, tugging the band around your breasts down to lay loosely around your stomach. Painfully slowly, his lips make their way towards the hardened peaks of your nipples, but he doesn’t touch them directly. Instead, he focuses his attention on the soft skin of your breasts, eliciting a cry of frustration from your lips. You can feel the bastard smile against your skin again and you begin to get impatient. Bringing your free hand to his hair you pull, forcing his head to angle towards you.

            His top lip curls into a sneer as he is ripped away from his efforts at teasing you, you smile innocently at him. In a burst of movement you slither out from under him once more and hop to your feet, pulling your shirt back down to cover your chest. He looks up at you for a moment, still kneeling on the floor. “Did you think the game was done?” you ask, sweetly.

            Before he has even brought himself to his feet, you are already halfway to Ekko’s balcony. You pause for an instant to glance back behind you to lay eyes on a very angry looking Scar. Electricity pulses through you once more as you swing down from the balcony and onto the ground of the courtyard. A few moments later, you hear the heavy thud of Scar’s boots hitting the ground behind you. A terrified laugh rips from your chest as you take off in a sprint towards the gym.

            You make it nearly the entire way there before Scar tackles you from behind, sending the two of you tumbling towards the floor of the hallway. He pants hard in your ears, “There’s the rat I know.” You pause for a moment at his use of your nickname in your own tongue and he chuckles over you. He crushes down harder on top of you as you work to wriggle out of his grasp and into the gym like you had planned. “You think I’d let you get away again?”

            His threat sends blood flow exactly where you don’t need it, and you find yourself unable to come up with a useful escape plan. Nearly his entire weight is pressing you down onto the ground below with his hands wrapped securely around your upper arms and you can feel the weight of his hardened cock against your ass.

            “You’re pressing into my arms, Scar, it hurts,” you cry out breathlessly. He lets up immediately, mumbling an apology. You push yourself up and back into a run towards the gym, yelling to him over your shoulder, “You’re too fucking gullible.”

            He tackles you again almost as soon as you burst through the door, this time on a mat, and hisses into your ear, “You’re beginning to test my patience, Kir.” Before you can even react, he is yanking your pants down below your hips, “such a fucking tease,” he mumbles, an animalistic strength coursing through his veins.

            You arch your ass closer to his face, “I’m just doing what you asked,” you reply as innocently as possible.

            He growls and yanks your underwear down to lay with your pants at your ankles, one hand still pressed firmly against the small of your back. Fingers trail down to the wet heat of your slit, “Soaked already? You like being chased?” He rubs a finger against your throbbing clit, and you press your face to the mat below you to muffle your mewls of pleasure. “Fuck… you like being hunted down, don’t you?” You feel primal. You feel terrified. You feel fucking amazing.

            Lifting your head just enough, you answer him with a pathetic sounding whimper, “mmm-yes.” You cry out again in dismay as he removes his hand from your cunt. He shifts behind you and the squelch of his hand working your slick up and down the length of his dick fills the room. You arch you ass higher, desperate to be filled, and he only laughs.

            “That needy?” He presses the tip slowly into you and you sigh. Unfortunately, the bastard has other plans and quickly pulls back out and rocks his slick covered cock between your ass cheeks. You mumble incoherently and he laughs again, “Not so funny when you’re the one being teased, is it?”

            “S’not the same,” you mutter, one cheek squished against the mat distorting your words.

            He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls, lifting your head up from the ground slightly. “I can’t understand you when you whine like that. Why don’t you tell me what you need?” If you could glare, you would probably be lighting the room on fire with the intensity of your frustration, unfortunately all you can do is cry out at the lack of stimulation where you need him most. “I can’t hear you, Kir, what is you want?”

            This asshole is gonna make me say it? “Wan’… fuck… m,’” is all you manage. Jannah I’m pathetic.

            He adjusts himself ever so slightly so he can rub his cock against your clit, coating it further in your wetness, “You gotta give me more than that,” he whispers into your ear before nipping at the cartilage. Fuck if he keeps going like that… Another yank on your hair pulls your attention back to the present.

            Sucking in a breath, you finally say, “Fuck me, please…”

            It’s all he needs to hear to sheathe himself within you completely in one stroke. Your breath catches in your throat as you nearly choke at the complete fullness… the deliciously painful stretch of your cunt around him. Your legs are still pressed together by your pants and his weight bears down on you as he fucks you into the mat, making you tighter than normal. From the ragged breathing in your ear, you aren’t the only one affected by the position, which brings some amount of triumph to your cock-drunk brain.

            A hand wraps around your hips to pull your ass higher, crushing your head farther into the ground and rendering you almost completely immobile. All you can do is fucking take it as he bottoms out into your needy cunt, squeezing helplessly around his dick. You manage to cry his name desperately, the sound mixing with the squelch of your wetness and the clap of his hips meeting your ass.

            His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your naked skin. A distant, far away voice in your head tells you to be a bit more weary of the fact literally anyone could walk in and see the two of you, but teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck cleanses the last shreds of logical thought from your mind.

            “F-fuck you’re so tight,” he bites out in between thrusts, “you like this? You like being fucked on the ground?” All you can do is cry out and clench harder around him. “Gonna split my cock in half,” he warns into your ear, but you can’t help it.

            “M-more, please,” you murmur into the floor, praying he could hear you over the noise your bodies make.

            Scar laughs breathlessly over you, “Never satisfied, are you?”

            The hand that had been tangled into your hair travels down your back and onto your other hip, pulling you up to your knees. Your arms lay uselessly on the ground and you turn your head to see Scar as he thrusts into you from behind. Between your legs, you can make out the wet form of his cock in the darkness as it hammers into your greedy hole, pants pulled down below his waist just enough to free himself. His brows furrowed in concentration and eyes dark with lust pull your attention from the movement of his body.

            Your once wet mouth goes dry at the sight of how seriously he takes your pleasure. Almost like he loves m-. He catches your eye and smirks, bringing a hand around to press into your throbbing clit and you turn your head back to the mat to muffle the sounds of your cries.

            “You gonna cum for me? Huh?” He digs his claws into your hips, and you begin to twitch.

            “Yes!” you’re barely audible, but from the way he grips you, you can tell he heard you well enough.

            It doesn’t take long for you to finish; the pressure of his finger on your clit, the unforgiving rhythm of his hips, the sound of his barely silenced groans of pleasure, it all becomes too much. When you do shatter, it’s nearly world ending. Tearing a hand up, you desperately attempt to cover the sound of your screams as your legs shake and finally give out.

            “Just like that… T-that’s my girl.”

            You collapse down to the floor and clamp down on his cock like a vice. He stutters for a moment but resumes his thrusts to fuck you in your now prone posture through the waves of pleasure.

            His own release comes soon after and you can practically feel the pressure building deep in his gut. He presses a hand to the top of your back, anchoring you to the floor as he chases his own pleasure. The only signal he gives you is a shout that sounds almost like your name before he pulls out. You feel him spilling onto your back, painting the soft skin with ropes of thick, hot cum. His head drops back to your shoulder, and he stills, panting, arched above your still twitching form.

            After what feels like ages of comfortable silence, he finally presses a kiss to your neck, tongue smoothing the swiftly reddening marks in the unmistakable shape of his teeth.

            “You take me so well, always so good for me,” he whispers against your skin. Pulling his tank over his head, he begins to mop up the puddle of cum on your pack; pressing gentle kisses into your back as he cleans you up, murmuring your praise the whole time. Once he is satisfied that you are taken care of, he tucks himself back into his pants.

            Just as you gather the strength to pull yourself up from the floor, the door to the gym opens. Your eyes go wide as they meet with Geo’s and you squeal, hands moving to cover your chest.

            “What the fuck?” He asks, his face going red and a hand shooting up to cover his eyes. Scar whips his head around to glare at the unfortunate man. “Are you kidding me? You’re… here?” His voice is about two octaves higher than normal.

            “Get out,” Scar growls and you fight the urge to slap him. The two of you are so obviously in the wrong here it hurts. You wriggle your pants over your hips and hop to your feet.

            “Don’t. We’re leaving,” you grab Scar by the hand and march out of the room, too horrified to look Geo in the eyes. He mumbles something at the two of you but you’re already halfway down the hallway.

            “Fucking asshole,” Scar mutters, his cum-soaked shirt balled in one fist. You wheel around on your heels to glare up at him.

            “We were the problem there,” you retort, a hand going to your hip.

            “He coulda knocked.”

            “We were fucking in the gym! What were we thinking?” You run an exasperated hand down your face, “What the hell are you doing to me, Scar?” He looks hurt for a moment, brow furrowing in concern. You roll your eyes and press a finger into his bare chest, “I am not the kinda girl that fucks people in public, and yet you have turned me into this horny…” you search for the right word, “monster!”

            His worried expression cracks into a smug grin, “You’re the one that ran to the gym. We coulda stayed in the workshop.”

            You let out an exasperated noise, “And have Ekko walk in on us? No fucking way. Geo is one thing, but him? I’d rather die!”

            He shrugs shamelessly, “Guess we can just go back to your room then.”

            Your eyes widen as you shoot him a dubious look, “Back…more?”

            His smile is all sharp teeth as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, a hand resting on your ass, and takes off towards your quarters, “You thought we were done? I’m just gettin started, Kir.”      

Tag List: @kiannaf @awenthealchemist @calciferthelivingfire @bakugokatsuki18-blog @ariwolfsstuff @mcaats  @radflapkidsludge @honeym0chi @veggiesoupdumpling @vicki--mouse  @im-jasmine @bearinthesnow

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 3

Part 2

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1664

The next morning when Damian woke up everyone was much more prepared to deal with his inevitable attack. The restraint on his ankle and Alfred the cat still napping on him helped deal with most of the initall anger that radiated off him though. The goal right now was to convince Damian that he had been de-aged, and all he needed to do was stay with them until the magic wore off. 

The topic of Danyal would come later, for now they needed to focus on Damian. 

Everyone had also prepared an item to show Damian to prove to him that they were telling the truth about his current situation. Alfred was first and had brought him a cup of tea the exact way the young boy preferred when he had first joined them at the manor. Duke showed Damian his school yearbook, and had marked which pages had an older Damian in them. Jason rummaged through the art room and pulled out a few old sketchbooks. 

Those had done well enough to calm the baby assassin down so that Bruce was able to explain the details to the young Damian. Which only served to make him think that instead of this being a test from his grandfather it was actually a scheme to draw him away from his birthright as one of the heirs to the demon head. 

To help further convince him Tim printed out the first DNA test they had done with Damian; making sure to note that the dates on these can’t be altered. Then Dick had showed him photos of him dressed in his Robin costume. What was strange though is that Damian didn’t look pridefully at the photos, only confused. 

Finally it was Bruce’s turn and no one was surprised when it turned out to be a family photo album. It was filled with photos of everyone from the last few years. Pictures of both big and small moments that the family had gone through. What was surprising though is when Damian practically exploded with rage with every page he turned. 

“Chum, is something wro-” Bruce tries to start once he sees how affected the photo album is making him. Only for said book to be launched at his head before he can finish speaking. 

“Get out!” Damian snarls as his eyes dart to everyone around the room as he repeats his words, “Get out!” 

“I told you this wasn’t going to work.” 

“Not now, Jason.” 

Dick makes an obvious move of wanting to comfort Damian, but is clearly holding himself back knowing that his succor would only make things worse. “Dami…” 

“You do not have the right to call me that,” Damian's breath starts to speed up with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “The only one that will ever be allowed to use that name has apparently been long absent from my life. So I will repeat myself only once more; get out.” 

No one makes any move to leave at first and it isn’t until Tim clears his throat as well as putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder does the others finally move. It takes both Duke and Tim to get Bruce out of the room, and Jason ends up having to practically drag Dick out. 

“Why did you pull me away from him! He was clearly on the verge of a breakdown based around the fact that Danyal, his twin, never came here with him! Damian needs someone to be with him right now!” Dick angrily breaks out of Jason's hold on him. 

Jason, immediately matching Dick’s tone retorts, “Since when has that kid ever liked having family much less strangers comfort him? Cause newsflash Dickiebird that what we are to him right now, nothing but strangers who are trying to act way too familiar with him. The only thing your sympathy will do right now is just make things worse!” 

“I’m not going to let my currently 6 year old baby brother mourn a death by himself!”

“We don’t actually know if Danyal is dead or not right now. Just that he didn’t arrive with Damian at the manor 4 years ago.” Tim interjects before any more arguing between the two can continue. “For all we know Ra’s could have sent one twin away to here while keeping the other involved with the league.” 

“Wouldn’t have Damian said something by now if that was the case? He obviously cared a lot for Danyal.” Duke honestly doesn’t know what the right decision is right now, but he’s more inclined to agree with Jason right now. 

Tim runs a hand through his hair in thought, “14 year old Damian, maybe. The Damian that first arrived at the manor four years ago, no way. Especially if he was told explicitly not to say anything. That little brat was still deep in the league mindset, and would have done anything Talia or Ra’s said.”

“Wouldn’t have Ra’s already used Danyal against Bruce though? He’s had plenty of opportunities to use the knowledge of a second child to get B to do practically anything for him. What possible scenario would he be saving that information for?” Dick at this point seems to have calmed down. He’s still obviously wanting to be with Damian, but also knows that Jason is right about how his presence wouldn’t be appreciated at the moment. 

Jason instead of offering any answers to Dick’s questions turns to direct his lingering anger at Bruce, “You’re being awfully fucking quiet right now B, what do you have to say about all this?”

“... I think it’s time to call Talia. I wanted to wait and give Damian the chance to explain himself before doing so, but if the league does still have Danyal we need to start planning his rescue as soon as possible.” 

After asking the boys to keep an eye on Damian, and to check in on him every once in a while without distressing him more Bruce headed upstairs towards his office. Once there he silently stares at the phone in his hand. 

It had been devastating to learn that he had a son, and missed out on so much of his life. Bruce had been angry at Talia, furious even, especially when she had raised Damian to be a child assassin. To learn that she had done this not once but twice shattered him. Even more so when he thinks about how his second son might still be a part of that life when he could have been living here with him instead. 

The alternative to that thought though, the unfortunate more likely option, is that Danyal is dead. 

That he had failed yet another child. 

Bruce presses the number and puts the phone to ear. With each unanswered ring he sees flashes of what could have been if both boys had arrived that day. What was Danyal even like? Was he similar to Damian, or was he the complete opposite? 

“Beloved, what a pleasant surprise hearing from you.”

“I know about Danyal.” Bruce leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Today has already been exhausting, and he knows that it’s not going to get any better anytime soon. “What happened to him?” 

The amount of silence that follows tells him that for maybe the first time he has truly shocked Talia with his words. Eventually though she answered, sorrow clear as day in her voice, “How much do you know?” 

“I’d rather you tell me what you know right now.” 

“Danyal died two weeks before Damian was sent to live with you.”

There it was, the hard truth. A child that he was never given the chance to hold, to meet, and to love was dead. Bruce had nothing to hold onto from a child that died way too young. 

“My Father and Damian are the only ones that truly know what happened in that room; I didn’t even know at the time that he had pulled the two of them from their afternoon studies.” She continues softly, “By the time I reached them Danyal was gone. I imagine Ra’s wanted to make an example out of him because he had put his body into the pits … only he never came back out. The pits had even taken his body with them.” 

“Did you never question what happened to him?” 

“Ra’s told me it was none of my concern when I questioned him, and he forbade Damian from telling me himself. He had all evidence of Danyal erased after that; he only exists now in the memory of those who knew him.” 

“Would you have ever told me about him?”

“No.” 

“Hm.” Bruce doesn’t do anything more than acknowledging her response before hanging up, and putting the phone down. He wasn’t going to get any more information out of her, and he had more important things to focus on right than interrogating Talia. It seems they’re all just going to have to wait for Damian to learn what happened to Danyal anyway. 

For now though he needs to go back downstairs and make sure they haven’t exploded into chaos due to his absence, but as he exits his office he makes a quiet promise to himself and Danyal. “Even in death you will be a part of this family; I’m so sorry you will never get the chance to know just how much they already love you.” 

Once he reaches the batcave once more he sees Tim and Duke at the computer, Jason laid back with his feet on the center table, and Dick leaning by the med bay door. All of them though stop what they’re doing and look towards him as he enters; waiting for him to tell them what has become of the brother they’ve never met. 

“Danyal is dead.” It hurts to watch his sons lose what little hope they had that maybe by the end of this their brother would be coming home. 

[heleizition]

this is my naruto oc age 12 and age like 15 lmao she goes through it

[rabbithaver]

every so often i will see a post from a leftist on this website that is so egregiously ableist that i remember that like. oh yeah the userbase of leftists on this website is violently anti-disabled people and will jump at any chance to demonize any of us for any reason. i just forget that fact because i'm extremely dedicated to curating my space

i'm paraphrasing here but i saw a post that said, "every time i see an American [disabled person] mention being scared about the election because they're afraid of losing their benefits i have to laugh. anybody who wants blood-soaked money from the US government deserves to starve" which. like. goodness that's a lot to unpack. i think we should burn the whole suitcase instead !

[solradguy]

Whenever I see someone being transphobic on twt in a bridget thread i reply with three pictures of my mains: ky kiske from ac+r, ky kiske from rev 2, and ky kiske from strive.

it self selects for people who actually play the game. it’s canon that he’ll fight off transphobes with the blade. and if they actually played guilty gear they’d get the underlining messages

While it can be really funny to bully these guys back, please keep in mind that nothing you can say or do to these people will hurt them or waste as much of their time as what they say will stick with you or waste your time. It might be funny to send them a bunch of Ky pictures, but what they're doing is laughing that the only response the people they hate can give them is sending a bunch of pictures of anime boys.

The only thing that works is blocking them. They've turned being an asshole into a recreational sport and getting any sort of response in return is a victory for them.

[sorrowsaint]

im going to bed

heres a song i like goodnight

[squipdop]

sorry im a god gale truther btw i DO think he should get to usurp mystra and ascend to godhood and i do think that should be an absolutely awful thing to happen to him but also literally everyone else. sorry

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Oh my god. You know it’s getting bad when you start doing things you don’t even want to do to procrastinate on something you really do want to do.

It would be one thing if it were something like a hobby; but the thing I want to do is also extremely necessary to my life.

[mydr3aminvi0let]

i wear a lot of skirts and pink and whatnot as my style has developed with me & my personality but when one of those age regression girlies latch onto me....i do not like that

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn

[heartshattering]

Feeling like I want to give up again...

[qumiiiquinnquin]

ill never be good enough at anything

[mainfaggot]

hyper bc I had a latte and gay club music playing so I cleaned the kitchen and living room in a record time of 42 minutes

[seithr]

rl chatterin in tags, dont worry about it just feel like talking about recent stuff. for those who dont care look at this birdthang i won on xiv then. my silly big bird..

[medicasino]

ive just accepted im just never going to fit cleanly into any label or community ever

[autisticlee]

it always pisses me off when people start ghosting me and completely cut me off and think i'm annoying because I didn't ~get the hint~ all because they're too much of a coward to be straightforward and honest with me!!!!

i'll keep asking about a thing or when we are hanging out or try to converse with them, because their response is always excuses and not straight up "no" so how am I supposed to know?! either short responses of 1-5 words that I can't really respond to or things like "I'm busy this weekend/I'm too tired today/I forgot about it/we can try next time/I'll get back to you and le you know" are apparently all hints and lies to hide the truth. what they really mean when they tell me this is "no, stop asking. stop talking to me. I do not want to hang out with you or talk to you anymore"

why can't you just say that?! it will save you the annoyance of me asking you 20 times because i took your words at face value. your excuses sound temporary and you didn't get back to me so maybe you forgot. there are rare times people say these things and it's the truth or they really did forget!!!! when I say it, it's the truth. I also have a bad memory. you can't just suddenly ghost me for that! it's on you if you aren't being honest with me. it's up to you to be straightforward and tell the truth so you don't waste both our time. (what's worse is this is usually one of the first things I tell people when we meet. that I need then to be straightforward and honest. they promise they will but that's also a lie)

ghosting is so cruel (when the other person has no bad intentions/isnt causing harm). more cruel than telling me to my face you hate me and never want to speak again! i actually prefer that, so i at least know and can give up on your useless ass and stop wasting my time. don't give me false hope when i'm really excited to be friends and hang out, don't waste my time and energy and efforts, and don't lead me on with lies only to crush my entire soul when I find the truth much later. just say it and get it over with!!!! it's your fault if I annoy you by "not taking the hint" because there was no hint, lying isn't a hint. spill the truth and don't blame me for it!!!!!!

this is why i've given up with people and now only give attention to the ones who contact me first every time continuously, and I put little effort into anything anymore. I know that will end up making some people give up on me by thinking i dont care. but I'm tired of wasting my time and energy on the people who put no effort into me. you must prove yourself and keep doing it or I won't try at all. the people who ghost me and hurt me are to blame. yes, I live a very lonely existence with maybe one friend I talk to once every week or two for a total of 5 minutes at most. yes I wish I had more connections or closer ones. but i'm SO FUCKING TIRED. i'm tired of trying so much and so hard just for people to shit on my efforts and disrespect my needs and boundaries!!!!!!

why should I keep trying when it always ends bad and adds yet another layer to my trauma.