#i feel like the bubble popped
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green-mountain-goose · 2 months ago
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no but like i'm too stubborn to live without things being right
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deadsetobsessions · 5 months ago
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Pt. 4
Sorry this took so long. In the hospital still. Out of the hospital now!
For @unadulteratedsoulsweets
——
It had been early in the morning when she’d stepped foot in the manor. It was closer to noon, now, that found the reincarnation attentively sitting in one of the (if she remembered correctly from the blue prints) three massive kitchens located in Wayne manor.
She sat atop one of the island stools Damian had ushered her into, spaced a comfortable distance from the man that was her biological father in this life. Her mask dangled at her hip, a comfort she indulged in after unpacking her things. In truth, she’s had cookies before, but it had been so long since she’s tasted it that she might as well have never tried it before. Damian and Alfred Pennyworth worked with maximum efficiency, measuring out flour and sugar and chocolate like there were no tasks more important than this.
Alfred Pennyworth also avoided a specific cabinet that smelled slightly of metal polish and gun powder. It was kept away from the perishables.
Perhaps the manor was smaller and much more homely than the palace, but the reincarnate could see the sense in and approved of the various well-hidden caches of weapons around. Meant for non-lethal take downs, of course, but anything can be lethal if you tried hard enough. Or, considering the vigilante filled manor she had agreed to vacation in, anything could be lethal if one did not try hard enough to keep it non lethal.
The scrape of a spoon drew her attention back to Damian, waving away the off topic musings her mind had wandered into now that a large portion of her brain power was freed from the duty of fear.
She tracked how Damian existed within this space he had so clearly made for himself. He was… happier. Kinder. More. More at ease, more settled into his skin instead of where he stretched it to fit the cast of the Demon’s Heir. Simply, more. He was more Damian than he had been in the league.
When Damian was locked within the walls of the palace, his shoulders were always held straight. There’d been a- not quite darkness- cruelty in his eyes and gait that their grandfather had eagerly nurtured. His chin had remained lifted, his actions closed and callous. She’d feared, for while, that Damian would follow their grandfather’s footsteps. Until the day she saw him sneak a bird into his room to heal, her heart had trembled and grieved to see someone she loved imitate the worst parts of her abuser. It didn’t change the fact that she loved him, but it changed how she taught him.
But experience is a better teacher than she will ever be, and Damian had little chance to experience true kindness in the pits of the league.
Here, Damian is light. Perhaps less aware than he normally would have been, on the look out for fatal attacks as she had trained him to be within the league, but here he is free and safe and relaxed. It feels like she’s sitting in a haze, the chirps of birds and the clouded noon sun casting everything into an unreal light.
“Ukhti, assistance is requested.” Her brother holds out a bowl of dough. Her heart hurt with how happy it was. She squished the dough between her fingers like a child rediscovering her childhood. In some ways, she was.
——
As she watched Damian, in turn the others observed her. Bruce sat beside her, cataloguing every minuscule expression of his child, the first and the eldest, in an attempt to make up for lost time. And truly, it was minuscule. For all Bruce trained in micro-expressions and movements, his eldest- god, he had another daughter, the eldest- daughter remained a mystery from which he gleaned little of. Her face never lifted from that trained neutrality, having resettled back into it after first bite of b’stilla. He cradled the mug of coffee in his hands, the tang of grief and guilt roiling in his stomach as his daughter hesitantly but skillfully rolled a ball of dough.
“Pennyworth has divulged his secrets to me.” Damian plucked the ball from his sister’s hand, who allowed it with traces of… bemusement, perhaps? His eldest daughter flicked her eyes up in question, perhaps mildly amused. Even if she had more than two decades worth of training, Bruce was frustrated that he could not read her. She was his daughter.
Already he fails her. For too long, he had failed her.
“He chills the dough for a chewier cookie. I, and some of the others with adequate taste, prefer this texture. But which would you find adequate?”
His daughter flickered through that sign language again, the one he had no knowledge of. Considering he knew multiple from each continent, that was saying a lot. He was catching a few repeated signs, but nothing concrete.
Alfred waited patiently as they had their conversation, paying sharp attention to their motions. Bruce… felt like he was sitting next to Cassandra. He supposed they were the same, except his eldest daughter hadn’t gotten free.
“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.” Damian grumbled, resting his hands on the counter, making sure to keep it away from his meticulously clean clothes. “We’ll cook them immediately.”
Bruce, in a fit of inspired parenting, offered a compromise.
“We could do two batches. One for right now and save a batch for later.”
Unspoken were the words ‘so she can try the cookies now.’ Despite the silent nature of his intent, Bruce thought that Alfred and Damian understood anyways.
“A fine suggestion, Master Bruce.”
“Thanks, Alfred.”
——
She sensed them before she saw them. Her father had slipped out after his suggestion, no doubt intercepting his flock of traumatized orphans before they could pile in.
Perhaps she had inherited something from Bruce Wayne after, considering how many of them she’d taken under her wing. She rolled the ball of dough between oiled fingers in a haze. Faint memories, impressions of a life long faded, guided her hands as she smooshed the cookies to her preference.
“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Al-Ghul?”Alfred Pennyworth asked her.
‘A Pennyworth for my thoughts?’ She swapped sign language, eyes slyly watching for Damian’s reaction.
Damian, right on cue, clicked his tongue, looking defeated. Alfred, on the other hand, smiled wider.
“A Pennyworth for your thoughts indeed.”
Her humor faded into something softer. Longing. Melancholy.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve made dessert for myself.’
She glanced at Damian, who was trying his best to pretend like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation lest he caught another stray pun. ‘Or used it to inoculate poisons.’
“I see.” The butler patted his hands dry onto a towel, a sharp eye on Damian’s efforts at covering the dough meant for freezing. “I assure you that these cookies will remain poison free, have no worries about that. Now, would you like some tea?”
She shook her head. ‘I’ll make it myself later. Thank you.’
“Very well, Miss-”
“Hi, Alfred. Making cookies?”
Her hands continued to work on her tray, placing cookie dough on the tray with military precision. Damian remained relaxed, though watchful of her reaction.
“That’s correct, Master Tim.”
Tim shuffled over to her, and she turned. Ah, her partial benefactor.
“Little photographer.” She smiled, slightly. Her eyes, however, were warm. Alfred stilled for a brief second at her voice.
“Hi. It’s been a while.” Tim plopped down on the seat next to her. His whole body screamed of nostalgia. It’s odd to see the little scrawny Bristol boy grow into a full fledged vigilante. It seemed like yesterday she was keeping him from slipping on Gotham’s manifestations of its rot and plummeting down on its stone heart.
She hummed. ‘Not too long.’
“What is that supposed to mean? When had you met Drake, recently?”
She glanced at the little- not so little- photographer.
“She helped me bring B back.” Tim lied. She didn’t like how easily he lied to Damian… but on account of her fondness for him, she let it slide.
“Did you, Miss Al-Ghul?” Alfred wiped his hands on the hand towel he carried. “Then I suppose we owe you our sincere thanks.”
She blinked slowly.
‘I didn’t do much. I kept him alive just the once.’
“That is a harder task than one might think, Miss Al-Ghul. Master Tim has, arguably, the worst self preservation instincts out of the life risking vigilantes I have known.” And he has known many, Alfred seemed to imply.
She tilted her head in acknowledgement.
“Hey! What is this? Gang up on Tim day?”
“I would participate in that even if it wasn’t,” Damian stated, packing the frozen cookies away in the corner. “Come and help, Drake. My ukht is about to have her first cookies and we will bake it to perfection. Bring the tray.”
Tim scoffed but slid the tray away from her, Alfred seamlessly dropping a napkin for her to wipe off the dough from her fingertips.
“Thanks, by the way. For saving Z and Owens.”
‘They were my assassins. Even if you did manage to sway them to your cause.’ She tapped the marble island, before opening her mouth. “Thank you. For destroying his pit options. It helped me kill Ra’s.”
In her peripherals, Damian settled back, disgruntled but willing to rest his curiosity as gratitude towards Tim’s part in her freedom overrode his need for answers.
Tim stilled. “…What are friends for, right?”
‘Of course, little photographer.’ She relaxed as her, arguably first, friend and now brother popped the tray into the oven.
“Anyways, they sent me in here to see if you’re ready to meet the rest of them.”
“And they said that?” Damian scoffed, coming around the island to stand beside her as she slipped off the stool.
“Nah, they actually wanted me to subtly vibe check her, but it’s not like she wouldn’t catch me doing it.”
“Ukhti’s ‘vibes’ are perfectly fine,” Damian said crabbily, crossing his arms defensively. She tapped the back of Damian’s neck and he relaxed.
‘Thank you for the… assessment of my character and general disposition.’ She signed dryly.
“Ugh, I should’ve made the connection. Your syntax is exactly like Damian’s.” Tim joked, dodging the punch Damian aimed at his nonexistent spleen.
The reincarnation huffed. ‘I spoke perhaps three words to you.’
“And how many people use disposition on a regular basis?”
“I do, Drake!”
“I know, Damian. That was the point, you little walking thesaurus.”
——
They left Alfred in the kitchen, the man all but shooing them away so he could get working on lunch, and made their way to a sitting room. The floor was covered in a plush blue carpet, a fact that made itself vividly present to the reincarnation when she placed her foot on it, the fabric brushing the back of her heels. She was too trained to allow the slip to visible, but for a microsecond, the memories of kneeling and choking clawed their way past her defenses. She made note of the trigger and moved on, compartmentalizing that fact for later.
“It’s you,” Nightwing breathed out, tensing. The others behind him freeze, even more alert than their regular state. Bruce whipped his head towards him, sharp and searching.
“Nightwing.” She greeted. She felt a kinship with this vigilante turned brother. She watched him soar and fall alongside the little photographer. She watched him grow new wings and watched them get tainted with blood and fear and grim hope. She lived vicariously through him, he who flew when she was chained. In some ways, she had ended up watching his back for a long time, both in yearning for the ease he was allowed at her father’s side and to protect the vulnerable back that knew not of its openness. Bruce inhaled deeply at her voice.
Dick stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She does not disembowel him for it. Instead, she allowed the giant octopus hug her new oldest little brother gave her. There was no aggression in his countenance. Only relief and gratitude.
“You know Dick?” The little, ah, no, she doesn’t want to sound like Ra’s, Tim asked. Dick tensed, clearly unwilling to speak about it. She stepped in.
“I met him once. Eliminated a spider for him on a rooftop. I did not think he would remember.”
“Is that why you were so adamant on knowing who ukhti was?” Damian demanded, scowling. She immediately freed an arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. Damian ducked away with a rather petulant scowl. "Not because of my safety but because she crushed an arachnid for you?"
Dick nodded at him before looking up at her. “I really hated that spider. It was super scary. Thank you for getting rid of it.”
In lieu of an answer, she gently hugged him back.
“I get the feeling.” She said solemnly, voice coming out soft and borne of an implicit understanding. ‘Talk later,’ she signed to him.
“I was not aware you were afraid of spiders, ukht,” Damian muttered. “Though, Richard, I would believe.”
“Hey!”
Dick detached himself and pasted on a mostly genuine smile. “Oh! You should meet the others!”
He turned to the rest of Bruce Wayne’s wards and children to cheerfully point them out.
“This is Duke! He’s Alfred’s favorite grandkid, because he hasn’t burnt down the kitchen yet and reports when he’s injured.”
“Hey. Nice to meet you.” Duke Thomas raised a hand, smiling. “The bar was literally on the floor with you people. ‘Sides, Jason did just fine.”
The reincarnate nodded. Yes, she knew of him, though her memories were hazy. It had been over two decades, after all.
Dick steamrolled onwards. “This is Stephanie-”
“But you can call me Steph!” Stephanie Brown interjected, bouncing in her seat. Despite her bubbly demeanor, her gaze was sharp. Seeing. She liked that sharpness. It was tempered by the same rough and tumble kindness she’d seen in Grave- ah, Jason.
Spoiler, her memories reminded her. It was a soothing distraction from the anxious memories of the league. She found herself collecting little hints and information about this family. Her family, even if it were tentatively so. She caught Bruce staring at them intently, visibly anxious about this meeting.
‘A pleasure to meet you.’
“So… what do we call you?” Steph tilted her head. Hm. A tell Ra’s would have beaten out of her, had Stephanie had the misfortune of being in his presence for more than a day.
“Al Ghul will be adequate.” Damian cut in. The glance he threw her promised a discussion upon the topic of her name. Later, it promised.
“Wow. That’s kind of impersonal though.”
“Steph!”
“What?! I’m not wrong.”
“Anyways!” Dick loudly said over the two bickering kids. “That’s actually it for now.”
“The rest aren’t here as of this moment, but they’ll be around for dinner.”
A white lie. She studied Bruce for a moment before acquiescing. He meant no harm. Despite his capability to inflict harm, his willingness to do so, she could not read a single instance of ill will in him. Not, at least, towards her. She allowed the lie to slide.
‘I wish to see the grounds.’ She put a hand on Damian’s shoulder. He knew what it meant for her to retreat to the wilderness. Nature, where most things were free and where one does not often find Ra’s after he’d had a taste for luxury.
“We will go to the gardens. Ukhti wishes to explore.” Despite the rather curt way he pronounced it, Damian had stepped closer to her side in a gesture of concern. The pit inside of her stomach eased.
“Sounds good! Let’s go!” Steph bounced out of her seat.
“We could tell you stories,” Tim offered from behind her.
“Yeah, like that one time Dick face planted onto one of Poison Ivy’s flower beds because he was distracted by an ice cream truck.” Duke grinned, eyes crinkling.
“Hey! That ice cream truck was full of Scarecrow thugs!”
“And they weren’t worth an Ivy-lecture. I’m surprised she didn’t skin you and make a pot out of your bones, Dick.” Tim yawned.
“Ooo, we should tell her about the time I hit you in the face with a brick!”
“Literally what more is there to that story, Steph?” Tim grumbled.
“I would like to hear this tale,” Damian said, beginning to tug his ukht towards the garden. The rest of the group followed.
“Actually, why don’t we tell her about the time you tried getting Batcow to the barn and he just sat down? Didn’t you bargain with her for an hour, Damian?”
“Tt!”
Duke leaned back and took in the chaos he unfolded with a twinkling grin and Bruce’s sigh bolstering him. And if their newest and oldest addition to the family relaxed in his chaos, well, that was between him and her.
——
Cassandra found her in the gardens, the both of them weaving in between the foliage like light footed cats. Her contingent of Bats were behind them, watching the two former assassins approach each other.
Cassandra had frozen, mirroring the reincarnator’s stillness.
“Ukhti.” The word was torn out of Cass’ throat, filled with tears and relief.
“Cassandra,” she called, fond and kind and loving. Damian’s eyes darted between his sisters. They knew each other. How? She called his ukht, ukhti. A title he had assumed only he could use.
Cassandra scrambled and launched herself at her, silent sobs shaking her frame.
“Hello, Cass,” she caught the flying vigilante, crushing her first little sister into a tight hug. “Freedom suits you, habibti.”
Cass trembles in her arms, hands clutching at the fabric on her shoulder blades like Damian’s. Her eyes softened, and she rested her chin on Cass’s head.
“You know Cassandra too, ukhti?”
She nodded.
“Ukhti named me.” Cass said, voice wobbly. ‘Cass. Cassandra.’ Cass did her name sign. The one she had taught the slip of a girl back when Cass was stuck in a senseless prison and she was only free in terms of movement.
‘First word too.’ She smiled, proud of Cass and how far she’s come. Cassandra reads the pride in her language, the safety and kindness that she’d never forgotten even after traversing the world for years before arriving home, and she burrowed deeper into the hug.
“Oh. I see.”
“Two ukhts.” She smiled at Damian.
Cass shook her head, but before Damian could settle into his hurt at her supposed rejection, Cass explained her confusion. “Ukhti is your name? I’m Cass.”
“Ukhti means older sister.” Damian informed her.
Cass blinked and looked back at the reincarnation. Her shoulders relaxed and drew back, eyes softening and body loosened from its confusion. She smiled, bright as the sun, and deftly clambered around to perch on her older sister’s back.
“Two.” She declared. And truly, the reincarnation was weak to her younger siblings because that was that. Cass declared it so, and it shall be so. Damian grumbled but seemed like they agreed.
“How did you two meet?” Bruce piped up, intent and surprisingly considerate.
“Saved me,” Cass sighed, resting her chin on her ukht’s head. ‘From father and the league. Taught me to speak, a little. My name. Cass. Taught me..’ Cass paused. “Taught me I am not a weapon.”
The former assassin carrying Cass on a piggy back ride hummed in agreement.
“Oh.” The rest of the family glanced at each other. Dick had his shiny teary eyes on, the ones he got when Jason initiated a hang out.
“Not a weapon,” Cass repeated, pressing firmly on her ukht’s head.
A less sure hum. Cass scowled.
“No. Bad,” Cass scolded. “Not a weapon.”
An acquiescing hum, full of fondness and exasperation.
Cassandra Cain will take that answer. For now.
“You named Cass?” Duke asked. Bruce looked at them with gentle eyes.
“After a heroine I knew.” She replied, shifting. Cass hugged her tighter, intently listening. “She was strong. Lethal if need be. But… kind. She had an inherently kind heart. Full of love. Like Cass.”
“Oh, that’s really.. that’s really sweet.”
Cass hugged her ukht closer, touched. She had never known why she had been given the name, but finding out that it was after a heroine her sister looked up to made the day that much brighter. Hopeful. Honored.
“You have not told me this story,” Damian said.
‘I will. One day.’
——
Jason found her at the lunch table. Along with the rest of the brood. Except for, jarringly, an alien named Jarro.
“He’s our alien brother!” Duke said. He smiled, and it was a smile of unassuming harmlessness. A well crafted mask that she knew better than to be fooled by.
She offered three long blinks that had Cassandra, stuck like a limpet on the reincarnator’s back, muffling a laugh.
“Telling truth,” Cass whispered, sentences punctuated by giggles.
She hummed, shifting to more securely carry Cass on her back. Damian sighed and dutifully carried Cassandra’s pack. She smiled at her little brother, who straightened. Adorable. All of her siblings were adorable. She would kill for them. Ah, right. They frown upon murder here. So had she, once. Before Ra’s broke that part of her heart and forced her hands to commit evils that grew gnarled vines through her very soul.
“Oh.” She blinked.
“Hm?”
“Killing is… a choice.” The conversations around them fell silent. Cass’ arms tightened around her shoulders.
“We don’t have to do it, anymore,” Damian agreed. Yes, he understood what it was like, to be raised to kill and suddenly having the option not to.
“Did you not want to kill, before?” Bruce asked, suddenly a bit closer. Her mind was slipping, she realized. It felt… safe, to slip.
‘If I did not,’ she admitted, like throwing stones off of a lock-laden bridge. ‘Damian would bear the consequences.’
She sounded… young. Afraid. Two things she had always been and were never allowed to be.
Bruce Wayne looked at her like his heart was breaking, like he wished he could shoulder her pain on top of the weight of the world he willingly carried since his parents died. This, she is reminded, was why she swore Damian to secrecy regarding her existence. She wondered if he had ever taken the burden of more grief than he could bear.
‘And I could not say no, regardless,” she told them, absent and tired.
She wondered if she would be the one to break him, should she allow him a glimpse of the scars on her back.
“I could have taken it.” Damian grabbed her arm, clutching at her sleeve once more.
“No,” she whispered, haunted. ‘Not while I drew breath, habibi.’
“You don’t have to kill here. We’re all very good with no murder.” Tim reminded her firmly.
“Unless it’s the Joker.” Steph chimed in, bubbly smile gentled into something kinder.
“Unless it’s him.” Duke agreed. His eyes were more serious now.
“No,” Bruce replied, tired. Heavier, in a way that made sour tang of guilt scratch the back of her tongue. She hadn’t meant to give him the weight of knowledge, but she had inadvertently done so with the things she had and hadn’t said. He wasn’t the world’s- she glanced at Tim, who quirked a smile at her- second best detective for no reason.
“Yes, but you’re not ready for that conversation.” Dick snapped, lightheartedly.
Ah. That’s what was off.
They’re kind. They choose to be and they inherently are kind.
It showed. And she wasn’t used to that.
“Lunch.” Cassandra reminded them. She was a solid, grounding presence at the reincarnator’s back.
“Oh, Jason said he’s on the way.” Duke commented, nodding when she quickly did a subtle thank you sign.
“Why does he text you and not me?” Dick whined.
“Wow, man. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of the emoji wall you send?”
“They’re nice! How else are you supposed to know what I’m feeling, right, Cass?”
Cass nodded and gave a thumbs up from her place on ukhti’s back.
“See?!”
“I love you Cass, but you also use a wall of understandable emojis. Dick just spams them.” Steph retorted.
The reincarnator turned to Damian, a silent question in her eyes. He sighed. “Yes, the imbeciles argue all of the time.”
She nodded and the group made their way to the green house for lunch, bickering all the while.
When they get there, Jason Todd, along with Alfred Pennyworth were already at the table.
“Grave.” She greeted as Cass slipped off her back.
“Ain’t no fucking way, Trainer?” Jason leapt to his feet. It was odd, seeing him in casual clothes. Ra’s had kept him in armor most of the time.
“You know each other?”
“At this point, who doesn’t ukht know would be an easier question.” Damian grumbled. She tapped him on the head twice, a light reprimand.
‘Grave was part of your guard,’ she told him. ‘He protected you well.’
“You’re the demon brat’s older sister? That makes so much fucking sense.”
She felt her eyes go cold, lifting to stare at Grave’s rapidly paling face. He visibly backtracks.
“Uh- I mean, you’re Damian’s older sister?”
She regarded him for a beat longer before blinking, ice melting away at the change. The nickname chafed at her neck, too close from a fate she gave everything to save Damian from.
Her head dipped into a small nod.
“Wild.” Jason sat back down. “So, uh, how are you handling the pit?”
‘I am not.’ She informed him, settling down in her seat. Damian claimed the spot next to her and Cass quickly took the other, much to Bruce’s chagrin. Tim plopped down to the seat next to Cass, eyes zeroing onto the chamomile tea Alfred had set out for him.
Duke smiled at Bruce before sitting next to Jason, Steph skipping over and sitting next Dick and Jason at the same time.
“Ukhti managed to get rid of the side effects,” Damian informed the table at large.
Her little bat had the worst ability to make sure attention focused on her, the reincarnation groused. She sighed.
“How?” Clearly, Grave had forgotten how much she beat him into the sparring mat because he leaned forward to glare at her. Well, she hadn’t wanted him too afraid of her.
‘Magic.’
His face fell at the assumed non answer, but Damian’s nod had the entire table once more expectant.
She sighed and began weaving her magic.
——
She stalked through the shadows of the manor, at ease. Bruce and the others had left on patrol, hours ago. She was clad in her sleeping clothes, one of her less favored clothes. Her hands would get dirty again tonight but she was long past the point of lingering on those regrets.
“Miss al-Ghul,” Alfred turned as she stepped towards him, having made sure she made adequate noise as a forewarning. “Having a good night?”
She tilted her head, eyes inquisitively peering at the spotless china display behind the butler.
“Ah, you must be curious about the fine ceramics we have currently displayed,” Alfred smiled. “Would you be so kind as to indulge an old butler on this topic?”
She had an idea about the kind of gift Alfred Pennyworth would appreciate.
——
“Uh, whatcha got there?”
She blinked, pulling bloodied hands away from her clothes where she had been inspecting them. The assassin that caused the damage on her clothes laid beneath her feet, still and lifeless. She blinked again.
Nightwing, Dick, stood in front of her, freshly showered from his patrol.
Some form of long forgotten instinct rose from the dry rotted fabric of her faded memories had her responding, ‘A smoothie.’
“…That’s… not a smoothie,” Dick said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I’m pretty sure that’s an assassin?”
She shrugged. “He was after Damian. To force him into being the Demon’s head.” She paused. ‘I am tying up loose ends.’
Dick considered her. And the he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, okay. I’ll help you get rid of the evidence.”
She waved him off, clicking her fingers and looking over the room with critical eyes as the body and traces of the fight disappeared.
“Woah, handy.”
‘Very,’ she agreed. ‘Did you need something?’
He made a face. “That’s weird. It’s usually me asking that,” he muttered. “Uh, yeah. I just… wanted to thank you again. And uh, let you know that the others don’t know so if you could not tell them, that would be great?”
With a huff, she reached over and up to gently ruffle his hair. ‘Of course. Damian did not know either.’
“Right,” he breathed. “You get it.”
She gave him a knowing look. “Been avoiding thinking about it?”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
She looked at him, silent. Offering a space to listen, and a quiet promise to offer no judgement.
“I don’t- it- I could have stopped her,” he told her, guilt and shame and the lingering whispering voice Catalina burrowing into his ears and heart.
And when he started, it seemed to him like he couldn’t stop. Dick told her of the things he felt as she got on top of him, of how numb and far away things were. How, if it rained, he couldn’t be in the quiet because it made him relive it.
“But… but you stopped her so I shouldn’t even be like this!”
‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She told him, the first thing she’s said since he’s started talking. ‘The only one at fault was her. You trusted her to stop. She did not. Her crimes were not yours to bear.’
She paused, taking in the refusal she could read on his face. “If someone beats another person, would you blame the person who was beaten?”
“No!”
‘Then you are kind. But you are so kind to others, why not yourself?’
Dick fell silent.
“I killed Ra’s,” she reminded him. “He allowed many others to partake in my body without my agreement.”
She leaned towards him, the admittance of something she had not even told Damian ringing painfully in her heart but made all the easier to say by the fact that one of her little brothers (the free, first Robin, the son who stood by Bruce’s side when she could not) needed her. “He himself partook in me. And yet,” she added, when Dick looked up. ‘It is difficult to forget. I am still afraid when I step onto the carpet on the sitting room.’
“The carpet? The rug? The fluffy one?” He asked, confused.
“It is like… your rain and silence,” she crossed her arms. ‘That and the sound of rustling silk reminds me of his chambers.’
“Oh.”
‘I killed him and it will not go away. Would you blame me for that?’
“No, that’s how healing is- oh.”
“Be kind, to yourself.”
His chin trembled. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Ukhti.”
“Ukhti,” he parroted, aiming a watery and small smile her way.
She held out her arms and, with Dick’s tacit understanding, tucked him beneath her wings like she did with Damian. “Thank you for offering to get rid of the body, habibi. But I would not want you to get in trouble.”
“Eh, I’ve helped Jason deal with worse.”
‘Comforting.”
“I know, right?”
——
“Why the hell do you keep calling me Grave?” Jason asked her, grumbling as he tried to wire his new helmet after the last one got damaged.
She leaned back, basking in the sun on the new rugs. After their conversation, Dick had set fire to every fluffy rug in the house-
“What the hell, dude?!” Duke gaped as he watched Dick cheerfully toss an expensive rug into the impressive bonfire they had going on.
“Ukhti doesn’t like fluffy rugs,” Dick said with a straight face. Damian dragged another roll to the bonfire with a scowl. “Alfred Approved project, if you want to join~!”
Duke stared at him… and picked up a roll to toss into the fire.
- and bought new ones using Bruce’s credit cards.
“You got some of your memories back, in the league.” She hummed. “You liked reading. Poems.”
“What does that even have to do with Grave?”
“I remembered one. A line. Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep…”
Jason twisted around. “Are you kidding me?”
She continued. “Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.”
“But I did die.”
She shrugged. ‘People still remembered you. Gotham and Bruce cried at your loss. I saw it.’
She straightened and smiled a small smile at him. ‘Besides. You got better.’
Jason snorted. “You too, I guess.”
She hummed an agreement, eyes slipping closed in the warm light of the sun, relief after a long second life of cowering in the shadows of a man more like a demon than he was a grandfather.
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lunior-art · 3 months ago
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Eye of the Beholder
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i’m…actually happy with how this came out? YAYYY
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daily-crabbys · 11 months ago
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Today's crab is: pop rocks
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fisheito · 7 months ago
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collab #2 with @xenole i was given a chibi yakumo and i.. i...... turned it into thiS
#I AM SO SORRY I DREW YAKUMO AGAIN ADFSJEIADKS LOOK OK so xenole gives me the tiny crying yakumo.#says DO WHATEVER YOU WANT and THUS i get to thinking#my immediate thought was#i'm going to make oli breast boobily while comforting him#bc i was determined to draw xenole's fave this time. i swore it to myself. i WILL stop being so self indulgent#but the chibi on chibi comforting scene didn't sit right with me. it was too straightforward. not something i would draw normally#it was hhhh as u say.... not on brand.? it did not inspire me. idea benched....#so days pass and i'm still pondering ideas on what to do to the sad spaghetti.#configurations of clan members danced in my head. some defending yaku. some comforting. some bullying#the ideas usually involved at least oli or kuya bc once again. xenole bias#then while i'm in the shower i got frustrated with my lack of ideas and thought#i'll jujst eat.him. just. chew on him. i'm tired of him#AND THE IMAGE OF KUYA EATING YAKUMO FOR BREAKFAST POPPED INTO MY MIND#originally it was going to be kuya eating yakuflakes and oli giving him serious side eye but then the brain went#WHAT IF IT'S YAKUMO WATCHING KUYA EAT YAKUMO. THAT IS FUNNY. IT MUMST HAPPEEN#BUT I REFUSED at first. i was angry at myself. this is not a competition to see how you can STILL sHOVE YAKUMO into a drawing.#plus the composition would shrink xenole's chibi down! i would take over so much space by comparison! THE DISRESPECT! TO THE COLLAB PROCESS#but once i get fixated on smth...well. i ended up doing the idea and just praying xenole wouldnt eviscerate me for it#i'm sorry my liege. my grip on the reins was weak. the goofy clown horses went stampeding#so idk now it's the two of em having a peaceful breakfast in kuya's cabin but only kuya is at peace and yakumo's this close to a breakdown#i feel like there should be something in the space between them. a speech bubble or something . something mean is being said#yakuya#nu carnival yakumo#nu carnival kuya
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r0semultiverse · 1 year ago
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Digital Circus AMA Notes
Digital Circus is getting a season 1 at some point!!!!
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#webcore aesthetic board for the series design
Pomni was going to be a frog originally. 🐸
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90s toys Zooble inspo
Caine is an antagonist, but not by active choice, he doesn't know he's not helping. He doesn't feel a whole spectrum of human emotions (he's an AI).
"Caine canonically just lets things happen if he thinks it's funny."
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Characters eat like Chao in Chao garden in Sonic. The characters can eat the food, but they can't digest it.
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Jax's favorite food is spaghetti.
Pomni likes salmon.
Q "Was the ending a 'Last Supper' reference?" A "in a very superficial kinda way yeah." Religious stuff is sometimes just used for the funny.
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Gooseworx tumblr sketches MAY or MAY NOT be canon to the series, so it's up in the air for every single one.
People can abstract from feeling too much pain if it breaks their mind from it being too much. Characters feel pain from things, but not as intensely as they would in real life.
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Zooble is gonna swap parts every episode (implying they have spare parts) except their body & head.
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Jax chose his own name & gooseworx likes to think he chose Gangle's name.
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Ragatha was named "Emmy" originally.
They (the cast of characters trapped in the circus) can't change their clothes but Caine can. It's part of their skin sorta kinda.
There's empty space under Pomni's hat because video game model physics.
Spamton was partially inspo for Caine, Caine's VA did Spamton dubs.
Gangle only has 2 masks. Why's it (her hapiness mask) break all the time? Mental state, but the "real her" is "harder to break."
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Kaumfo was gonna be part of the main cast originally before Jax.
Kaufmo's model has nothing below the waist at this time, but was made for that promotional image on twitter.
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Q "What kinda person was Kaufmo?" A "He was the same as Ragatha in a sense, goofy & cheery, sometimes toxic levels of positivity."
I'm paraphrasing for the sake of note taking in real time, go watch the stream playback for more context & details if you want.
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drunkonduty · 1 month ago
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Its 4:45 am rn rewatching ew
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Transgender real
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thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago
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Reader that can emit sounds from their memory(like as an aura)
Walk into a room? Why do I hear boss music
Comedic timing? Fuck yeah.
Bored? Jumpscare noise.
Zhongli talking? Jeopardy theme.
Someone is annoying? Earrape.
Think about it!
Hello! I’m the 12th Harbinger, aka as CHIL- bitch shut the fuck up, WHATS UP ITS YA BOY AQUARIUSSS- /ref
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lmao imagine you walking into a room like this in teyvat, with like that audio I SAVE BY GIVING IT CPR- TIGHT AS VIRGIN BOY DONT GET NERVOUS-
(also ill stop apologizing for the late replies to these, bc as we all know by now that im slow and u will get answered eventually i promise tumblr most likely didnt delete u guys asks im just hoarding them LMAO)
I’ve been super busy running in circles so sorry about ghosting! I still very much enjoy and love u guys and love seeing you guys enjoy my stuff :’) 
Still cant believe that, but thank you!
JEOPARDY THEME MUSIC WHEN ZHONGLI TALKS
HE’D BE SO CONFUSED
THINKIN HE GOT AN ANCIENT CURSE HE DOESNT KNOW ABT PUT ON HIM OR SMTH BC HE’S ALWAYS BEING STALKED BY THIS SONG-
(tbh unless the person is super observant I dont think most ppl would get that it’s YOU causing this chaos lmao)
Like I can see Zhongli eventually getting it lol, other ppl I could see after the first few weeks of interacting with you (esp bc you mix it up, honestly it was only bc u kept playing the jeopardy theme over and over when Zhongli ranted on too long that he got it was you 💀):
Heizou (he’s the best detective on all of Inazuma’s islands, ofc he got it! no he will not acknowledge that he totally thought you were hiding a very musical tanuki somewhere on your person at all times lol)
Alhaitham and Cyno (haitham took like, two hours of walking around town with you and knew, bc he’s a little know-it-all lazy bastard like that, and Cyno is actually just really aware, despite what most ppl think, he’s the General Mahamatra and not just a regular Mahamatra for a reason after all)
Tighnari (i stg he can like, smell when bullshittery is happening in his vicinity …or... hear?)
Venti (unsurpringly, he’s totally in love with this power of yours, i mean he definitely loves you cares about you a lot he says, but you’re starting to think he’s just lying to butter you up into pranking Diluc, Barbara, Jean, and really the entirety of Mondstadt more often  including Zhongli just so he can laugh until he’s on the ground again, also he definitely once asked you to make a dragon sound that’s the equivalent of shouting FUCK at Dvalin when he was flying overhead one day)
Hmm
Hm hm hmmmm
Who elseee, i need a characcctterrr lisstttt…
Albedo (duh, he’s albedo, you think he has an entirely too thick folder dedicated to your recent obsessions, you rant a lot about it while playing and also he can access your browsing history 👀, and he somehow doesn't know that about you?? You’re like, literally one of his long-term, there-for-life, has-bought-a-house-for-free-in-his-head-you- arent-even-on-rent-anymore, hyperfixations or special interests. Autistic!Albedo is autistic, Because I Am Your God, And I Say It Is So.)
Dehya (always knows when its you walking around near her bc you like to listen to your old world’s songs too often when you arent pranking bitches, she actually rlly likes it and your music tastes…)
HOLY FUCK SPEED RUN BC GOD THERE’S TOO MANY BITCHES WANNA BE YOUR BABY, RIDING AROUND IN A DAMN MERCEDES-
OKAY-
SO not all in the same way or at the same time, or even the same length of time did they realize you literally change background music or some shit so I’ll let you just- you know okay- like you get it- you get it.
Xiao, Kazuha, Kaeya, Diluc, Ayato, Yae Miko, Keqing, Qiqi, Klee, Sara, Kuki, Nahida, Ningguang, Rosaria, Scaramouche/Babygirl, Dainsleif, Kokomi, Xinyan, Yun Jin, Yelan. 
Jfc got the whole damn pride flag up here
Anyway everybody else outta luck, at least takes em a month or longer to get it lol
Sorry abt the end there i didnt feel like writing out all those bitches bc the few I did before were already longer than I thought they’d be…
Also, I am posting these spam of drafts (and that old follower 100+ event possession headcanons in prep for the next 2 weeks bc I will be really busy, again :/
Got spring break shenanigans this week, then I’ll be running around like a cat with zoomies bc im getting ready to install/actually submit my artworks for the gallery exhibition! 
…wish me luck or prayers or anything good from any god you believe in, I need the strength. 
With love, safe travels,
💀♒️
♡the beloveds♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist
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hyunpic · 1 year ago
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spotforme · 5 months ago
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i think they could achieve piece on Red Dwarf, for a day at least, if they had some soap bubbles to blow
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may8elle · 10 months ago
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sweet as sugar, lethal as poison
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playshrp · 3 months ago
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I’m hoping to be on more often soon ❤️ I haven’t super felt up to writing or being extensively social & though I’m not sorry for taking the space I need, I do hope to be able to rectify that in the next few days
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gothicprep · 8 months ago
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I’ve seen a few people argue that sydney sweeney’s popularity with straight men rn is a bellwether for the “age of the butt” being over. boobs are so back, etc. I mean, maybe? but i think there are two other things going on with her specifically.
her appearance, non-boob wise, has a very 90s-early 00s feel. and i don’t know what the polite way to say this is but… she doesn’t look like 14 people died mining the silicone that’s in her face, is the blunt way of saying it. she has frown lines. her eyes are asymmetrical. I’m not insulting her – this is good. that and her demeanor in interviews etc comes off as warm, bubbly, bordering on ditzy tbh but I’m not here to judge. when you put those two things together, you get “hot but approachable”.
so what do I mean? I think it’s probably also indicative that we’ve collectively burnt out on Instagram face. heavily filtered and heavily augmented is out! the people have spoken, and they demand sydney sweeney.
and even looping this back around to the boobs – half of the appeal to her simps is that she doesn’t have implants. pay attention!
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silentexplorer18 · 2 years ago
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If you'd like to know how to break your own heart, it's watching A Silent Voice, A Whisker Away, Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop, and Bubble back to back in four days. My heart has been through a wood chipper but it was beautiful and I'm so emotional
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sinistergooseberries · 1 year ago
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This Melodious Rain(it's all you)
This is a re-release because my chapter has finally been edited by the darlingest of betas @the-life-support-system
shoutout to jamie everyone
***
Chapter 1
Meera's POV
You might ask me how the fuck did it come to be like this.
I'm sitting in one of the many pews of the most beautiful church I have ever seen. The girl I love is getting married to some guy at the altar, who waltzed into our lives without permission.
Lisa looks like she is about to cry. I wish to comfort her, but she has already denied my companionship. Why in the ever-loving hell would she want my comfort? 
She has chosen her path, and I can't do anything about it.
Why does it feel so stuffy in here? There are air conditioners but it feels like I'm about to puke.
I look at them and I hate them. I hate her. I hate the guy, I hate this love that had to blossom in my heart for the most unavailable person and I hate myself for beginning to want to be the person taking her veil off even after everything. 
Yet, I'm not able to take my eyes off her. It's like every movement of hers pulls me like a magnet. I love her and she loves me too, because I can see her watching me from the corner of her eyes. But she has made her choice.
That is us. We are better off when we don't have to face anything.
*********
The evening of her graduation and the morning after it would always be a memorable period for Meera. Not because she graduated from some godforsaken engineering college, or because she had finally got an assistant director's job under Suresh Prabhakar (though that was one of the top contenders), but something else.
She had gone to Suresh Prabhakar's set, had been introduced by Krishna, the guy with the connections who was her senior from her college and had rigorously tried to learn everything that was to be learnt.
She had come back home a few hours ago. She was lying on her bed, the little script book clutched to her chest. It was the best feeling. She’d been lying like that ever since she came back home at 9 o’clock. She couldn’t sleep at all. She checked the time using her phone. It was 4:20 a.m.
The room was too stuffy, too small for the big things she felt at that moment. She had to step out. She sat down on the wicker chair in their balcony, looking down at the quiet street of their neighbourhood. They lived on a residential street, and one could seldom see vehicles passing through this place. Sometimes you could hear the ghost of a honking car if you were lucky.
She was swept away by her dreams of making big in film, when she heard the gate open. It was 4:30 in the morning. Why would anyone be entering the house at such an ungodly hour?
She peered closer over the edge of the railing. It was...a woman.
Ah. Not a robber. It was the daughter of their tenants, the Palackals. Her father had mentioned something along the lines of someone from downstairs working a midnight shift. She had thought it was the uncle, not the daughter.
3 months ago, a Kerala family had come to rent their ground floor house. A contact of her father who was also a contact of the uncle showed the family to the house. Talks had gone down and finally the downstairs house had been rented. Most of the time, the families avoided contact with each other due to the language and culture barrier experienced throughout the first month (the interaction being just the parents), but Meera knew a few details here and there. They were a family of four - the parents and a sister and a brother - Christians and very, very fond of meat. The last one was ascertained by the fact that every time the aunty cooked, the smells wafted upwards and they had to shut their windows and doors when they cooked a particularly smelly dish. They would give a little bit of their curries every time they cooked though (not the beef, of course). Meera and Veena liked them enough, her parents did not touch them. The aunty was nice about it, so perhaps that was what made the peculiar dishes tasty. Athididevobhava: after all.
She had never seen the siblings' faces though. She wanted to say hello, but she wondered if the other woman would be startled by a rando saying hello to her in the midst of the night. In spite of that, her curiosity did not dampen even a little bit. Why would it? A normal landlord wouldn't go 3 months without knowing the face of their tenants.
Perhaps god had heard her wish, because as she peered from the railing, the woman looked up.
Oh, boy.
Her curly black hair fluttered in the light breeze that seemed to pass by just at that moment. Her dark skin shone with little beads of perspiration above her upper lip. Her beautiful, dark brown eyes twinkled in the little bit of sunlight that came through. She clutched her Bisleri water bottle as she looked up.
Their eyes met. Shrouded in the morning mist, the woman raised a subtle eyebrow.
At four-thirty in the morning on a random Tuesday, Meera had come face to face with the goddess Usha.
Meera tried to adjust the way she looked, knowing it was all in vain. She had got out straight from bed and looked as sweaty and weird as she felt.
The goddess looked radiant. She didn't know how it was possible to look flawless on a night-shift, but this woman achieved it.
Meera felt like she had to take a picture of this.
And so she did.
"What the fuck" came out of two mouths (one of them her own) in two very different tones.
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bombusbombus · 6 days ago
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They diagnosed me with liking comics disease
#i don't think ive ever thought about anything more in my entire life#genuinely it's probably right below thinking about food#I'm sick with it. there are gutters dividing the moments of my life#there are gutters dividing the weeks#it's like if i just get a little bit closer to the medium I can step inside#it's like I can understand a language but can barely speak it#my first language. I'm trying to speak it.#the panels crawl under my skin and the speech bubbles writhe in my gut and can someone die from this#can someone shed their skin and spread their wings from this#I'm heady with overexposure and waiting for a turning point that will never come where it somehow all falls away#stops being hours of my life and starts being one pure point of knowledge#no idea what's supposed to happen then. time shouldnt exist.#if I read enough comics -- *dissect* enough comics -- practice the language of scriptwriting --#if I process it all right I'll turn it into a diamond of certain knowledge. and then the perfect comic will pop fully formed out of my mind#the comic that all the others were building up to. the holotypical comic.#<- I forgot the right word for the version of something that is the best. but this is funnier#either way idk why my mental illness has decided this is actually going anywhere.#all I've got is a document titled “KILL THE FAIRY QUEEN” and 430 xmen comics in the past 3 months#and a bookshelf that's a little bit past capacity#dont even have a good grip on the language yet smh#i feel like im going to die Alien chestburster style and it'll be a speech bubble bursting out of me instead#you can spend thousands and thousands of hours on comics without even scratching the surface#and I haven't. i haven't scratched it yet
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