#part 4!!
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#legend of zelda#legend of zelda link#loz#loz link#minish cap#majora's mask#the adventure of link#Lost Woods AU#links meet au#part 4!!#I actually have the next few drawn out#and the style shifts around a little bit between them#I'm trying to figure out how exactly I want to go about putting this together#so I thank you all greatly for staying with me while I do#Again this doesn't really follow a continual story - so much as it's snippets into things that happen#once I get through the introductions I'd like to show off - only a few more I think - I have some ideas for shenanigans they might get into#I make no guarantees though#I dunno - feedback would be much appreciated#LW comic
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lets make a new legends episode together!!
vote in these 6 polls to write a legends episode with me!! the previous poll will be linked at the end :)
one: what time period are they in
two: what location are they in
three: who's the villain
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FNAF nightmare foxy is a huge fan of Roxanne Wolf,,
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanart#roxanne wolf#nightmare foxy#security breach#fnaf 4#this is based off images from pax#where the Roxy performer met a nightmare foxy cosplayer#super cute had to draw a lil something for it!#trust me all foxys love Roxy#it’s by law my source is trust me#I wanna believe foxy would see Roxy as part of their group#almost like the collective daughter of them#not to mention I think Michael Afton likes Roxy#and to me nightmare foxy is just a reflection of Michael#SO CHECKS out he’d like her too#she’s the IT girl she’s the greatest
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I made a whole a** animation in order to make this illustration look like the DiU opening. Hope it was worth it 💎⭐️
#jjba#jjba part 4#josuke higashikata#fanart#anime art#artists on tumblr#jjba fanart#illustrationart#animation#2d animation#digital art
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SENTATE - The Sunset Collection
Blending beach days with date nights; The Sunset Collection is fresh set of romantic dresses that can be kept casual for the day or glammed up for the evening. Whether its a cheeky sheer mini dress or a showstopping silk gown, your sims are guaranteed to be sizzling by sunset!
This 8 item set comes in my 30 swatch colour palette plus 15 new print swatches.
8 Items Total / 30 Plain Swatches (+15 prints)
DOWNLOAD - Free on Patreon
MORE DOWNLOADS | TERMS OF USE | LINK TREE
#sims 4#sims 4 cc#ts4#ts4cc#sims 4 custom content#the sims 4#the sims 4 cc#the sims 4 custom content#ts4mm#sims 4 maxis match#maxis match cc#s4mm#what are the hashtags people use now ive been on tumblr too long#sims 1 hot date bombshells unite#also writing the little caption is the hardest part of making cc now i sound so pretentious im sorry
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ghoul of the week
#not that Hancock wouldn’t bite your ass but maybe he’d ask first#working on part iv (related) and this popped into my mind#fallout 4#fallout#fallout prime#john hancock#hancock fo4#Hancock#the ghoul#cooper howard#fallout show
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Vanlife Ways Pack Part 2
Heeeeeey! Finaaaaaally part 2 of vanlife is here! An interior pack for your sims motorhomes, including 31 new items! I tried to make a full functional home with this set, so there are RV based bathroom items, kitchen items, and bedding! I was kind overwelmed when I started this part 2, I could have taken so many different options and layouts for motorhomes. I ended up using these as inpirations: inspo 1, inspo 2, inspo 3, inspo 4.
I also tried to make this as modular as possible, so the pieces snatch when possible BUT I do recommend using moveobjects to be sure you can always place things correctly!
Huuuuge shoutout to Ravasheen that made fridges and stoves possible to snatch to counters!I All credits for this goes to her, and her original files are required.
OMG guys, this was a looong way, so sorry for being so late this month!
Anyway I hope you like it, I made it with much love 💛
You can see more info on my patreon here!
If you wish, you can get early acess here! --- available for everyone 10/20/2024
You can also check part 1 here for "the car" items! Already free for everyone 😊
#sims 4#ts4#ts4cc#s4cc#ts4 custom content#the sims 4#ts4 maxis match#simblr#heybrine#vanlife ways pack#vanlife ways pack part 2#motorhome#mycc
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GLORY TO THE RISEN GODS
#everyone is obsessing over the new companions meanwhile me:#and yeah i drew these based off 3 dimly lit screenshots so they're probably inaccurate. do i care? no!<3#my art#dragon age#dragon age 4#dragon age the veilguard#da:tv#what is the correct tag. idk#evanuris#ghilan'nain#elgar'nan#<- i hope :)#alongside the egg on this game's roster of antagonists we have: eldritch horror lesbian and evil divorced father#absolutely obsessed with them#man they scene where they come out of the fade from behind solas has been replaying in my head nonstop since i saw it#also just wanted to point out that they said on the q&a that all ancient elves eventually go bald. but elgar'nan actually has hair in the#closeup. therefore i honestly think it's a skill issue on solas' part#also no one pay attention to the fact that i haven't posted art in like 5 months lol <3
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So Come One, Come All - Five Hargreeves X GN! Reader
Summary: After you find out that your husband of 40 years cheated on you with his own brother’s wife, you give up on figuring out how to fix the apocalypse and run off. That’s when you’re lead to a suspicious deli full of the exact face you never wanted to see again.
Word count: 1647
Genre: Angst/Fluff
Warnings: Cheating, Heartbreak, Happy Ending, rushed writing, not beta read we die like men
Disclaimer: Five is canonically in the body of an 18 year old in this season. Not to mention he aged like 7 more years with Lila. Also, obvious Season 4 spoilers. This season was awful and Five was done so dirty and he’s still ooc in this fic (or at least a version of him is)
———————————————————————
You had no idea how long you had been walking for. All you knew was that you were tired.
Tired of everything. Of the constant apocalypses, the fighting, the stress, …the lying, the heartache. Everything.
You had to get away from that place. You couldn’t stand to be around anyone from that family anymore. Around…him.
You and Five have been married for forty years. You both met in the first apocalypse as teens. You weren’t special like him or his siblings but you were both grateful to have someone else around.
You slowly fell in love over the years as you grew older together. You had a makeshift marriage with a ring Five had made for you out of random bits of metal he had found.
You had both been recruited into the Commission together and quickly became the most badass couple in the entire organization. You were always put on missions together for your efficiency and speed.
You had followed Five back in time to see his family, consequently getting stuck in your younger body as well. You followed him everywhere. You would’ve given your life for him.
So, how could he do this to you?
Forty years, thrown away all because he supposedly got stuck for seven fucking years in a stupid timeline traveling subway station with another woman.
You wanted to kill him. He knew that you didn’t like how comfortable Lila was with him since the beginning and he had assured you he wasn’t interested in her at all and that you were all he wanted. What a load of bullshit that was.
You had left after their explanation. You saw the way he looked at her. The exact same way he used to look at you. For him at had been years since he last saw you. For you, it had only been a few hours since he last looked at you like you were the world.
You had slipped off the wedding ring and threw it at his face before leaving. You could hear him trying to get you to stay and try to follow you but he was stopped by Diego.
You were so lost in thought before you found yourself in front of the entrance to a subway station. This must be the one they were talking about. You looked behind you, making sure no one had followed you but also as a way to look back on this life.
If they were telling the truth about the timelines…then you weren’t going to be coming back to this one. Maybe there is a timeline where you’re happy. One where you and Five don’t meet. Or maybe one where none of this happens. Where you’re both a normal married couple.
You took a deep breath as you gazed down the steps. Once you took your first step down, you knew there was no going back.
As you descended the steps, the eerie silence unnerved you. You could hear only your footsteps on the ground and the squeaking of the turnstile as you pushed through it.
You were startled by the sound of the speakers playing some sort of announcement. It was impossible to understand considering it was all backwards.
Soon, the subway entered the station and came to a halt. The doors opened and you stood still, you were still a little creeped out. Five always made you feel more comfortable in situations like this…but he wasn’t here anymore.
You swallowed your unease and entered the subway car. You slowly took a seat and looked around before the doors closed and the subway started moving. You looked out the window as flashes of colour went by.
You were there for a couple minutes before you stopped. The doors opened but you didn’t get up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get off yet. You wanted to be sure you were as far from the timeline you were just in as possible.
You felt something pull inside of you though. Something wanted you to get off and explore. So you did.
You let yourself be guided by this feeling deep inside. It was like your heart was pulling you somewhere.
It isn’t long until you end up in front of a building of some kind. Could you even call it that? You never left the station and it’s the only other place in here. Is it more of a building in a building? You didn’t want to think about it too much.
The words “Max’s Delicatessen” were shining brightly in your face. You were a little amused. Maybe you were hungry and it was actually your stomach bringing you here rather than your heart.
You sighed and decided to check it out.
But when you entered, you were horrified at what you saw.
The entire deli was full of copies of your (now ex) husband. This was the last thing you wanted to see and you internally cursed at your conscious for bringing you here.
You could feel your heartbeat pick up and your breathing become heavy as tears pricked at your eyes.
Finally, one of the Five’s had looked up and noticed you stuck in place at the door.
“Darling!” He shot up out of his seat, audibly hitting his knee on the table but he didn’t flinch.
Suddenly, every single Five in the place had his eyes on you, each with various emotions displayed on their face.
The Five that spotted you quickly made his way over to you. He lifted his shaking hands and held them over your cheeks, too scared to make contact in case you fade away.
You could see the disbelief and love in his eyes. This snapped you out of your confusion and slapped his hands away from you and backed yourself up into the door.
The Five in front of you looked confused and hurt before sighing and lowering his hands.
“Sorry…I forgot that you’re not the same one.” He apologized.
“What the FUCK is going on?” You exclaimed as you looked around to be met with all the Five’s still staring at you. “How did you get here? Why are there multiples of you? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”
“Woah, woah, slow down. Breathe. You’re okay. Everything’s fine.” The Five in front of you tried to calm you down. “You took the subway right? This is a different timeline. We’re all the same person from different timelines. Usually the only new people that enter here are a version of me…or…us I guess. You’re the only…well…you, that has shown up here.” He explained.
“What?” You looked at him like he was crazy.
“They should sit down.” Another Five had said.
“Come on, hun. Come sit down and we can talk.” He had reached out towards you, careful not to touch you while he guided you towards the opposite end of the booth he was previously at.
You sat down, still in shock. It felt weird being surrounded by so many Five’s. Especially when you were trying to get away from him.
“I guess I’ll start.” Five had sat down across from you and sighed.
“In my timeline, you and I had been together for years. We met at the Commission. At first we hated each other but we were always put on missions together. Over time…I had fallen for you, and luckily for me, you reciprocated those feelings. We were together romantically for years. We were on our last mission before our contract with the Commission ended. We were planning on getting married after and retiring somewhere nice. But…it went wrong…and I lost you. You died in my arms.” He looked off to the side and tried to play off wiping away his tears.
“I haven’t seen you in years. You’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He reached a hand across the table and gently placed it on yours.
You teared up as you saw the pure love in his eyes. Your Five used to look at you like that and it still hurt knowing he no longer felt that way.
“If you’re here…then something must’ve happened to the Five in your timeline.” He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.
You stilled and took your hand back, making the Five in front of you frown.
You hugged your torso for comfort and curled in on yourself slightly as you looked down at the table.
“We were married for forty years…but he got stuck in the subway with Lila and…I guess forty years didn’t mean anything because in seven years he threw it all away for…her.” You hiccuped as you tried to hold back your tears.
There were multiple grumbles and scoffs around the deli.
The Five across from you reached across the table and held your shoulder gaining your attention.
“Everyone here had a version of you in their timeline. We all lost you in one way or another. I think I speak for all of us when I say…having you here is the best thing to happen to us, and he’s a complete idiot for throwing you away like that.” He smiled as he lightly caressed your cheek.
You smiled slightly at his words.
“Aww there’s that beautiful smile.” Five said as he lightly pinched your cheek.
You giggled and batted his hand away and wiped your tears away.
A sandwich and drink was placed in front of you and you looked up to another Five holding a now empty tray.
“Your favourite, just the way you like it.” He said as he gently grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it with a wink.
You blushed at the action and thanked him.
Even though you got on that train in order to get away from him…you don’t think you’ll be getting back on any time soon.
#ngl I kinda wanna make a smutty part two of this#both the character and actor are whole adults in this so don’t get pissy with me#five hargreeves#number five#tua#tua s4#tua season 4#tua spoilers#the umbrella academy#umbrella acedmy#five hargreaves x reader#five Hargreaves#five hargreeves x reader
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my fav girlies !! 💗
#hot pants jjba#yasuho hirose#jolyne kujo#jolyne cujoh#dragona joestar#jjba fanart#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#not tagging parts bc like. 4 of them. help#art#i think they should be allowed to meet it'd be awesome
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I have great news. You make it to the first floor way before Angwyn does.
#fantasy high#dimension 20#kristen applebees#fhsy#d20 fhsy#this part killlllled me#2024 4/366#soooo excited for junior year
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he did it! 🐍 and it only took...uhhh...well, there probably could've been less punches, but why hold back!
PUNCHES FOR EVERYONE
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 part 9 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 part 9 spoilers#snakes#ONE MORE DOWN#oh my god happy jamil was SO scary and yet adorable all at once#i want real jamil to see him and just be utterly disgusted#and yet he got nothing on the return of everyone's favorite twst character: WEIRD RHYTHMIC ELEPHANT#oh weird rhythmic elephant what would we do without you#me kicking my stupid little feet as jamil wakes up through sheer force of kalim though#he was SO happy for jamil and SO ready to just go along with everything. my sweet boy.#jamil getting so flustered by him that he's just shocked back into reality#and the SLAPFIGHT#silver being like 'they need this' and doing his one smile animation as kalim and jamil are pulling on each other's hair and going YOU SMEL#mmm yes delicious#also this is probably nothing but#but...they brought up the whole thing with azul having dirt on crowley again#the thing that was briefly alluded to in episode 4 and never mentioned ever again?!#i had JUST finally convinced myself that i was reading too much into it and it was just azul playing along with jamil's plan#but now they've mentioned it again and i'm going to be all BUT WHAT DOES IT MEEEEEAAAAN for another three years about it#is it a meaningless reference to that one scene?! is it absolutely ridiculous foreshadowing?! am i ever going to be validated?!#I HAVE TO KNOW
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New normal 📻 🍎
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FNAF Michael refuses to be gaslit on “THE BITE OF 83”
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#michael afton#vanessa fnaf#fnaf vanny#fredbear#fnaf 4#security breach#fazbear entertainment#fnaf fanart#literally like what is fazbear entertainments damage BAHA#IDK if you guys know this#In the pizzaplex era the in universe cover up for the bite of 83#is literally Fredbear eating burgers#it’s on arcade cabinets and even irl merch#they’ve just made Fredbear a ‘hungry’ guy#which is so crazy what a way to spin Michael’s most traumatic moment#Michael here was just joking around he didn’t expect a legit answer back#Vanessa feels bad too she knows this is in poor taste..#honestly no joke I think ‘Fazbear entertainment’ is like#one of my favourite parts of the new fnaf era#you learn sm about them in subtle ways what lengths they’ll take for a quick buck#truly their only evil is their capitalism it’s great#sorry to Michael Afton again though they love to profit off your misery
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ch.3: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four
read until the end for an author's note.
tw: allusions to sexual assault, prostitution, and alcohol abuse.
"hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!"
please stop.
"i know that we haven't been talking for quite a long time—"
no, you have never once had a solid conversation with him.
and you wish it stays that way between the two of you.
"—so let's catch up over coffee, yeah? i'll be staying at the manor for a week!"
you don't want to, you don't want to see his face at all, his dismissive eyes. don't want to hear his voice, how it only sings praises for everyone but you.
"(name)??? it says you have seen the messages :( are you asleep? you shouldn't sleep with your phone on, baby bird, that's dangerous!"
he doesn't have the right to scold you, he's not your older brother anymore. and you're not asleep, fuck, you regret not dozing off this afternoon. hell, you're more than awake and aware of the messages he's sending you, eyes scanning over the train of spam that clutters what was once an empty one-sided conversation.
"baby bird? c'mon, i miss you!!!"
lies, lies, lies. all he ever says are lies and you wouldn't fall for it, not anymore.
yet you're simply frozen in shock, seated up in bed as you simply watch dick's messages stack upon each other.
you watch, and wait. it's like you have lost autonomy over your body's actions.
five minutes pass.
your phone rings.
it was the only sound that fills the room other than the wringing in your ears.
it continues ringing, reverberating throughout the room, but all you do is stare, stare until the it ends, for everything to end and for all of this to be a sick hallucination your brain played on you.
there's nothing else you could focus on, your heartbeats spike the longer the call sound continues. you didn't even have the strength to decline the call, let alone move as you fear you might end up pressing the accept button.
so you wait, you wait until it stops.
and once it does cease, your sweaty thumb immediately pressed the block button on dick's profile, even going as far to delete all the past chats you had sent him. then, without moments hesitation, hastily scrolled all the way to the bottom of the list, where their other contacts lay barren of messages.
you have only used enough effort to message dick. that's what probably triggered his sudden intent on spending time with you, no? or was this all for his sick pleasure?
fortunately, all your other contacts with your past family are empty.
it will remain empty.
so you immediately blocked them, all of them. the thumps in your heart are erratic, so much so that you had to remind yourself to breath. through your nose, and out your mouth.
that's it, right? he'll get the message, definitely. that you don't want him to talk to you, to get rid of the false pretenses between the two of you, you don't want to "catch up" over coffee, or over anything.
it's all over, you tell yourself.
'calm down, relax...' you're in the safety of your own apartment, you should feel safe right now, he wouldn't bother you anymore.
not anymore would you be led to believe that they care for you.
— so why is it that you can feel that familiar rise of bile? taste it, even? why is it that your body is shaking so uncontrollably?
what the fuck.
seriously, just what the absolute fuck is wrong with you?
you never take yourself as an overdramatic person, especially not now, at the age of eighteen where you had finally learned to live for yourself, to never yearn what you knew was unattainable. your past tantrums were no more, no more you say but you wish so badly to carve a knife into your very heart.
why is it that now— now that you were out of your comfort zone, out of their empty presences and their overwhelming absences; why is it now that he just suddenly decided to appear? why is it just now that you feel your skin scorching uncomfortably at just a single message.
shit, your heart hurts so much. you want to take the beating organ out of your chest, just to make the pain stop.
your momma always told you, she said it herself that you are a brave child, her pride and joy despite the hellish living conditions you both were subjected to.
why is it so hard to believe her now?
just, why are you so weak?
when your mother hid you inside that closet - one too small for even a malnourished child like you to fit - telling you to hush for her, and that it's just a game of hide and seek with the 'bad guys', to not make a single sound at all or even come out if you hear screaming— you did what you were told, obediently, covering your mouth, trying your hardest to ignore your sore joints and heavy breathing.
"woah, mommy! is this really me?! you always make me look so nice." a young voice squeals, the sound echoing throughout the hollow room.
"yes, it's you, baby. you who are so strong, unlike me. momma will always love you." scarred hand, littered with gashes and soiled bandages run brush through your messy hair as your small form sat on the dirty bathroom sink. your eyes are drifted towards a mirror, checking out the new shirt your mother had bought for you.
"i love you too..."
you never cried that loud when light suddenly hits the cramped interiors of the closet, when you were caught and shoved outside of your hiding space by strange men, your mother nowhere to be found. when you felt the same men ripping your clothes apart, knives branding your skin like a searing hot pan; you never fought back because that's what your mother taught you. even when they pinned you down and injected you with a strange substance, head suddenly numbing and vision darkening; you still woke up alive, no?
... you woke up alive and conscious in a police station, where you had questiomed to the kind officer about your mother's disappearance, where she had bared the news that you would be taken in to a new family; a new home where your father resides in. one way cleaner, way safer she says.
yet for the next 15 years you were neglectef of the love your mother had given you. you were only raised by a butler too busy to fully focus on you. you had compared yourself to your siblings, siblings who had achieved so much in so little time.
and you?
you are only a wayne by name, but a (last name) by heart.
but you are brave, you are strong— you came from the lowest of the low, yet you pushed through and through to be a better person, and look where you are now...!
... just look at yourself now.
your phone lays untouched on the bed sheets. it tempts you, mocks your panicked state, and you want to rip that rectangular piece of metal apart. yet all you do is stare at it, sitting upright as one hands supports your weight. your fingers clench the mattress, it does nothing as your vision darkens from your lack of breathing.
breathing.
oh, breath in, breath out. do what alfred has taught you years ago, the- the one he uses whenever you would run alone in the desolate halls of the manor to alfred's room, just because you were anxious of the monsters in the corner of your eyes, where he would help you return to your senses and play you a lullaby from an old music box right after. the one he uses after you two would watch horror movies and you were too scared of any sounds that engulf your surroundings.
your throat tightens, and you want to vomit out the contents of what you have eaten— but you have to try.
five things you can see.
your eyes, although frozen wide and stinging with tears, darts around the room. everything is darker now, it's cold and you feel so small. your apartment was small. unlike the place you had lived before, it lacks of furniture, of life, of personality. the only things in your tiny apartment were basic necessities, but even food was scarce for someone like you who had juggle working multiple jobs and college just to pay for rent.
you can see your phone, the candy wrappers you had forgotten to throw, the overflowing trash bin, an empty bottle of prescription pills, alfred's gifts on the shelves counts, right? you laugh sarcastically at yourself; even a trashcan has more contents in your shitty apartment.
fuck, your chest throbs, you remind yourself to breath a little deeper.
four things you can feel.
the mattress is too hot for you, sweat already running down your forehead as if you had ran a marathon. you can feel the tears well up your eyes, overflowing with bitterness that you thought you had already buried deep down, and your hands gripping the sheets so uncomfortably tight. the weather is too cold, winter's nearing but the blood pumping through your veins scorches your very being.
that's four, three more to go and you hope this would all be over. you hope that this would all be a dream, a hallucination, anything.
three things you can hear.
does your choked sounds count? or does it need to be anything else? fuck, why doesn't it work as well as when alfred helps you through? you told yourself that you could take on anything in life, but is it all just a lie—?
focus. focus on your surroundings. you can hear your sniffling, heavy intakes of air, and a repeat of the phone ringing with dick's name as the contact.
shit, shit, shit. don't remind yourself of that. move on, just get onto the next thing.
two things you can smell or... taste? you don't remember, why can't you remember? your thoughts keep running back in circles to the messages, that stupid '<3', the way his desperation could be felt through the phone.
it reminds you of yourself.
before you knew it, your fist brought itself to punch your chest.
thump, beat, thump.
every time your heart beats too loudly, you strike your chest as hard as you can, uncaring for the pain it inflicts you, uncaring for the way you beat the air out of yourself. as long as it distracts you from the bile rising up your throat and the unsated nausea from sitting in the same position— it'll be fine if you hurt yourself. you've already done so a million times, no?
... yet nothing works.
why doesn't anything work out in your favor?
please don't do this to me.
your fists eventually stops. everything hurts even worse.
just earlier ago, you were praising yourself for all the progress you had made. how you weren't in need of validation anymore. you try so desperately to erase any inch of evidence that you were a wayne.
it all crashes down, again and again, and again and again.
moments ago, you were laying on your bed, scrolling through social media, making plans to hangout with your small group of friends in college, trying to cling on to the good parts of your past— ignoring the empty chats of what was once family.
but even without them, even if they haven't knew that you pushed them away from your life— they're always seeping their way at the back of your mind.
you truly can not erase your past. no matter how much you shake your head to rid of the thoughts, no matter how much you try to erase any documentations, any
even talking to alfred reminds you of your stupid past. a past that eats you up every time you wake up from the nightmares, wishing that there would be someone, anyone, who would hold your body tight and tell you it's alright. your mother, your father, your brothers and your sisters— they just were never there for you for so many years. and you hate to admit it but; you still cling to the wish that one of them would...
would hug you and kiss all your wounds away. drive away the countless of dreams filled with terror and torture.
you're independent now, but at what cost? what good does it do when you still try your damn hardest to live? when you know it in your soul that you still desire for a semblence of familial love.
and now that you've pushed alfred away, you're truly alone.
alone and stuck in a loop of trying to run away from your past and failing miserably.
and all you can ever do is, well...
you cry.
the tears bursts out of your eyes like a broken faucet.
you cry because that's the only thing you know how to do. you let the waters loose, hands quickly tangling itself on your hair, ripping fragile strands apart. you cry because you've been living a such a life full of lies, of broken promises, a life where you have to constantly walk on eggshells. you cry because you want to turn back and throw away all your progress just to feel the embrace of a family who had never once held you in their arms. you let yourself heave, let your voice wail out to its deepest frustration, uncaring for the thin walls, or the sleeping neighbors next door, or the rumbling of your empty stomach.
you cry, for what seems like hours, unending like the memories of solitary isolation, like the wanting of a love that you could never quite catch. you let your eyes become all puffy and red; red like the gashes you have scratched upon your skin, like the crimson, beaded blood from your bitten lips.
you don't find any strength in yourself to stifle your sobs anymore.
not when you're so, so lonely in this world.
and when your voice dies down, when your hoarse shrieking becomes no more; you simply force yourself to stand, despite the spinning of your vision, the stumble in your steps and the lack of air in your lungs; you run to your bathroom, slamming the door shut, letting adrenaline take its course into your already tired body.
your knees, they buckle after its few wobbly steps. it's sore and lacks the circulation to be properly controlled, but you ignore it in favor of expelling the acidic bile that finally rushes itself up your tongue.
at least you find just one thing to be grateful for— that your knees slipped on the wet tiles and land coincidentally towards the toilet's rim, a loud thud vibrating through the room.
alfred says the best way to cope is to never jar your emotions.
it's painful, everything is so painful that you want to scream; you need to let it all out.
you don't care if your knees were to bruise because you couldn't help it anymore, spilling out the contents of your breakfast onto the toilet bowl. your throat constricts into itself, and all you could do is gag and force every bit of food out of your mouth.
and it tastes so bitter that you cry even more. there were some bits and chunks stuck on the sides of your tongue, you can taste the acid on the back of your throat. you feel the urge to vomit even more but there's no more to expel. all you can do is dry heave, shaking hands finding its way to cover your mouth from gagging anymore.
it's so pungent, so fucking disgusting— but all you do is force yourself to stand once more, to look away from the mess you had created and flush it away.
the tears just wouldn't stop, the throbbing in your heart could never be expelled just as easily as the contents of your stomach.
yet you chose this life, there's no more alfred to assist you on your own personal struggles. there's no more rubs on the pack, pats on the head or a warm meal that greets you every time you drown in your own emotions. it's only you who can solve your own problems. you can't depend on anyone but yourself...
if only life was as easy as it is to flush away unwanted contents from your stomach.
if only you weren't in gotham... if only dick wasn't in...
gotham.
he's in gotham right now.
shit.
shit, shit, shit.
dick is in gotham, and you know he just doesn't give up.
he can track you down, he'll find you, he might hurt you because you blocked him— you know of his temper, of his unadulterated anger; you're scared of that. just what have you done wrong? did you take something that was his? no, no, never.
you've never been in his room before. he knows yours because he had visited once, but you don't know his. you don't even know which hallway leads to it.
oh, fuck.
you stumble towards the bathroom sink, hastily twisting the faucet's valve. cold water immediately rushes down, you cup your two hands together to collect the running water.
you need to get to you bearings, prepare for the absolute worst because you know, you know the power he holds in his arms.
with the amount of times he had spammed you, called you even— there's something he wants from you, and you don't want to entertain whatever he has on his mind.
you splash your face - splotched with tears, snot and drool - clean multiple times, rub your swollen, red eyes, and wipe the bits of vomit on the sides of your mouth. you can still taste the vomit. god, it's disgusting.
so you hastily grabbed your toothbrush, pushing an insanely large amount of toothpaste on the bristles. you scrub your teeth aggressively, feeling the urge to rid of the pungent taste of stomach acid. then you gargle mouthwash, twice, and spit it all out.
your movements are too quick for your own self to catch up, but you have to do this. your brain tells you to follow through whatever it has to do.
follow through instincts, get him out of your mind.
distract yourself from dick and the cryptic messages he had sent, that you had thoroughly deleted but...
it dawns upon you that albeit all your failed attempts at bonding with him— you know nothing about dick beyond the circus incident that had killed his parents and his identity as gotham and bludhaven's vigilante, nightwing.
you know nothing about him...
and you fucking blocked him before you could ask for an explanation.
what does that message mean? what does he want to talk about all of a sudden? a person doesn't just fucking waltz in someone's life after 15 years of absence and exclaims himself as close as your friend, no?
it had been so long since you had last heard him call you baby bird, let alone even read your messages, so why spam you now?
your knuckles grip at the bathroom sink's tiles, it was the only thing that provides you balance, legs too wobbly to support the dizziness. you feel a huge lump on your throat again, but you can't just erase all the efforts you had done to get yourself together.
— but at the same time, it's too hard to ignore the panic that resurfaces on your very mind.
so what do you need exactly?
distraction, something to get your mind off of the current situation? before you run away from gotham—
you need a distraction, anything. even if it's stupid, you'll regret it later, just not now.
cigarettes? no, you don't smoke. alfred will kill you if he finds out and you can never lie to him.
drugs? you'll be shot in the head by nasty criminals scamming naive citizens for half the price before you could even purchase them.
... then what?
you look at yourself in the mirror, puffy eyes glazing with emotions you yourself couldn't comprehend.
'despite everything, it's still you, no?'
if you could describe yourself right now, you would call yourself a mess, a big loser who had let their emotions run free for too long, let themself go way too quickly, gave up too quickly, and believed too naively. you had lost so much yet gained so little. a wayne so stubborn that it was the only thing you could ever relate to your father who had estranged you without knowing it.
there was more negatives than positives, you're aware of it.
but if there's one trait that anyone could generalize off of you, it would be that you're always desperate for something.
anything.
and just one time, you tell yourself. one time and that's it, nothing more, nothing less.
once you done relaxing, you're packing your bags and making a run for it. you'll even cut alfred off of your life once and for all. no matter how much it pains you to do so, it's necessary so you could make a new identity from scratch.
it'll hurt you so deeply.
but that's why you're going to do what you wish you had done back when you were still so young—
you need a drink right now.
the wayne manor, in all its glory, is truly just an empty palace that houses buried memories.
with walls that cover the cries of one lonely child; a child who yearns for the unreciprocated love of their family. it was a cage for a child who stalks the frigid halls without any company, who sleeps in a room too small for their age, who cries for anybody to notice the pain that they had hidden with rose colored tints for so long, who yearns for a warmth that could never be provided in the spaces of harsh, black wallpaper and harsh winters.
it will always be innately lonely, and cold.
yet it's even more sullen now, an atmosphere so empty nobody could pinpoint.
no more was the voice that sings of the butler's splendid cooking. no more was the etching of ballpens on smooth paper on an intricately designed diary that stores all the rants of one's daily life. no more were the strokes on colorful canvases that paint dreams of a different life. no more was the humming of multiple tunes every morning. no more was the presence of the ghost who water the plants every afternoon. no more were the footsteps that thud in the kitchen and the hands that opens the fridge.
and most importantly—
no more were the hushed cries of the kid who resides in the smallest room of the wayne manor.
a house could be described as a building where a unit, moreover a family, lives in; but a home is what represents comfort, a place of belonging and safety.
it was a place encased with deep, historical roots.
but right now, encased in a field of damp grass - wet from heavy rain - and the overwhelming scent of petrichor— the manor is simply a house.
for it could never be complete without the presence of the very lonely child who cries for a love never to be attained.
the wayne manor, in all its worth, would never be the same without (name) wayne, a child who had always belonged, but at the same time, always wronged.
bruce wayne never considered himself the greatest father.
he could be gotham's best detective, the most feared vigilante, or the heavily beloved billionaire who donates millions on hospitals, hosts charity events, and so much more.
he could spend his entire life saving countless of other lives that do not deserve the turmoil of living on edge constantly, attend meetings, plan out his every moves, sit on cushioned seats as he broods over where the all the next criminal hideouts; he could do everything and he'll be damned great at it.
—but he will never be the greatest at being a father.
he had long accepted that fact, embraced it even, facing countless of criticism from both alfred and media alike, but it would never be an excuse to neglect or mistreat any one of his children, just like how it would never be right to just ignore a kid's cry for comfort in the barren halls of a manor.
bruce was never outright cruel towards anyone, every action of his baring significance to his moral code.
which was why bruce feels a pit of neverending regret now.
in all the years that he had spent trying to raise his children, children who, in a way, are trouble. who all differ from each other from ideals, to pasts, to habits, to preferences— he wouldn't lie and say that he never had difficulty helping each and every one of them grow to be who they are now.
living through his decisions are never easy, especially if the outcomes were unpredictable; raising a child, let alone children, could go so many ways.
the lives that he had to juggle, alongside his identity as bruce wayne and as batman, they were all an endeavor that he had chose to balance. he had come so far and stumbled so often. but at least by the end of it, he would be proud to say that he truly will never regret having them by his side when he was at the lowest points of his life.
he had his flaws and his mistakes, he had done irreversible actions that he wishes he could reverse, and most importantly, he had failed each and every one of his children indubitably.
but he really tried.
he tried his best to be there for every single one of them. he was there for dick when he had witnessed the death of his mom and dad, adopting the boy who was overflowing with rage towards the killer of his parents and utilizing his gymnastic skills for good. he was there to pick jason up when he had stolen the batmobile's tires, helping the child unlearn the past abuse he had fallen victim to (and although he had died, then resurrected, and turned cold-blooded towards criminals, murdering without hesitation— he still cares for jason deeply). he was there when tim had lost his parents. there for damian who had only been raised as an assassin since he was born. for cass, for duke, for everyone.
he really tried to be active in their lives, supporting them through their blood, sweat, and tears.
... but he had never tried to be there for you.
his forgotten third child, the biological firstborn, child of a well-known prostitute, (name) (last name), whose identity has long been erased off of the face of the internet; the scandal of a century that took the shared efforts of him and barbara to decimate whatever information the late (or missing?) (last name) has in the underground.
(name), his child he has never once bat an eye on, too preoccupied with tim, aversing his attention away from you to train the other kid; ultimately ignoring the immense trauma you must have dealt with from being raised by a mother targeted by most criminal organizations from extorting their cash. it was sickening for him to think of just how cruel were the conditions the two of you were forced to live through.
it was sickening for bruce to imagine the even lonelier years you had to suffer through after your mother's disappearance— years where your father's presence was elsewhere, years that a child has to suffer through alone without any figure to look up to.
it was your name that he had hesitated to even say, in fear of butchering the pronunciation and earning more of alfred's judgemental looks.
(name) wayne.
not even a face can be associated with you, not your voice, your hobbies, nothing.
he couldn't recall a memory where he had taken you to a fancy gala, or one-on-one father-child dates, or any occasions that requires bonding with each other.
he wasn't the man who welcomed you through the doors of the manor, nor was he the father who should've picked you up at the police station.
bruce wayne knows nothing of his third child.
if alfred hadn't confronted him about your terrible living conditions as of now, living in debt whilst trying to push through college, then how long would he have ignored your presence inside the manor? how long would the years pass without him acknowledging any important milestones that you would reach?
until your untimely demise perhaps?
he couldn't even remember a time he had at least given you a gift during christmas or new year or any time of the day.
not even the name of your elementary and high school, or your college university. he doesn't know of your friends, your teachers or what subject you excel in.
you had already graduated highschool, and he wasn't even there for your ceremony. he wasn't there to walk you up the stage, wasn't there to shield you from the thousands of photographers who would've attended should they know that a wayne would attend, wasn't there to offer you a pat on the shoulders for a job well done.
then who had to walk you up the stage?
"alfred..." he stops walking, clearing his throat as alfred turns back at bruce, offering a raised eyebrow at the sudden pause and bruce's rigid pose.
"yes, master?"
"when... (name) graduated," he hesitated on saying your name again, catching on alfred's sudden squint of the eyes. "who walked them up the stage?"
he hopes you didn't have to go up there alone, that a teacher at least accompanied you or—
"i was the one who attended in your stead, master bruce." the butler replies without hesitation, as if it was a normal occurrence. he sighs again, too tired to scold bruce's surprise for absolutely dismissing all the important dates that include you and instead turns back to continue on his treck to guiding bruce to your room.
alfred's look of condescension makes him sink deeper into the void of regret. for being unable to
fuck, how many important events had bruce missed? from school plays, to parent-teacher conferences, to talent shows— was there ever a "bring your father to school" day?
oh... he really hopes there wasn't.
his hands find itself scratching his head, fingers tangling itself onto his hair in hopes of providing distraction— but his thoughts all circulate towards you, a faceless entity, an itch that he could never reach unless he sees you for himself.
the further he walks through frigid halls, the smaller the space seems to get.
how many birthdays had he missed?
when even is your birthday?
you are eighteen now, five when you were taken in which means... almost fourteen years of missed birthdays...
he didn't even give you a single gift card out of pity. not even money for allowance, or a birthday cake.
bruce was never there for you, and he has a feeling that that may have been one of the reasons of you moving out.
he needs to make up for it at least, once he contacts you he'll apologize for everything—
but first, he needs to see the state of your room. to at least have a first impression of you, of what your life was in the manor; any clues that pertains to just who his child is, as humiliating as that sounds for a father.
which was why he didn't hesitate to let alfred lead him straight to your room, albeit the shame he feels for not even knowing where his own child's room is located.
back when he had taken damian in, it was him who introduced the boy to his own room, whom had promptly thrown a tantrum and demanded someplace bigger before ultimately accepting his fate.
... how would you have reacted to your own? he wishes to at least picture your face, probably opposite to damian's, as you get to live in an entirely different space from what you're used to.
would you be pleased? would you look at him with sparkling eyes and thank him? or would you maintain a neutral stance? an overwhelmed one?
he really wants to see you, your expressions, just a sliver of your presence.
but nothing comes up in his mind. not the length or color of your hair, not your height, not anything. he could picture a vague imagery of your mother, but not you.
it makes him wonder; does any of your siblings know what you look like? were you at least any closer to them that you are to him?
he hates just how much desperately the darkness in the pit of his chest is crawling in need to hasten his steps towards wherever your room was.
the rain outside had already ceased, but a newer thunderstorm was brewing inside bruce's heart.
he needs to see you.
as he walks behind alfred through the halls of the manor, he had just noticed how barren the other side of the manor truly is.
cob webs and dust particles litter through the corners of the untouched furniture, the wallpaper peeling off itself and revealing untreated mold and even more cocoons of baby spiders that would soon crawl out, and even most of the ceramic vases they had passed by houses no flowers, instead being covered in a thin sheen of dust.
it was obvious just how neglected this corner of the house is.
just like you.
alfred was always meticulous in his duty as a butler, but bruce had advised the old man to leave unexplored parts of the manor be, seeing as how nobody would stroll by; and to only clean it whenever he would host an expensive gala in the manor with spare rooms as guest rooms.
it made bruce wonder if these halls are the path that leads directly to your room, which it actually does, and he feels even more guilty at just how... different your living condition is compared to your siblings.
it was no wonder why the butler would always excuse himself early, seemingly always making a treck towards a forgotten chamber that he rarely visited.
he'll make a note of relocating you to a room closer than his if you ever were to decide to come visit during holidays or vacations.
... alfred said it had been six or seven months since you had left, just how many occasions have he missed?
counting only fills the dread in his the growing hole of the pit of his heart.
yeah... he will get you a new room, one preferably closer to his; just so he could greet you every morning by knocking on your door and at least escorting you to the kitchen for breakfast. he'll try to make small talk, invite you over and... bond with you.
that'll be a good habit he could incorporate into his daily life.
a small part of him wishes you wouldn't look at him in disdain if he had to forcibly visit your apartment.
he swears it's in all the good of his heard; he just needs to check for himself if you were doing okay.
as him and alfred nearly arrives at your bedroom, the two had already noticed the light peaking from outside the doors and what seems to be two voices ensuing an argument.
even alfred, who had ceased his steps, looked surprised at the presence of the people who seemed to be there before them.
bruce doesn't even hesitate jogging towards the room, unaware of alfred's immediate shift to a calculating gaze, as bruce immediately opens polished, mahogany doors, inviting himself in.
... it smells of bleach and fabric refresher.
his heart clenches at the implication.
"father...? why are you here?" damian's voice cuts through the tension, bruce merely dismisses youngest child as his eyes takes in the space, ignoring how the other presence in the room - dick, with wide, feral eyes - quips about an ongoing "family" reunion.
bruce analyzes every detail, heart thumping loudly in his chest.
small... your room is way too small, and lacks of any design or life whatsoever. a tiny bed is shoved in the corner, the closet too miniscule to even contain clothes for someone your age (just where do you store them, then?), the windows barely welcome any ventilation nor sunlight, even your bedside table was too small to be considered one; the lampshade on top of it could be easily toppled over by a single sway of a hand.
everything is clean, too clean and orderly.
his eyebrows furrow at its state. even a model's walk-in closet is significantly bigger than the cramped space he calls your bedroom.
no proper ventilation, not even any space is provided for... your hobbies. hobbies that he wasn't even aware of.
is this how you had been living for almost eighteen years of your life?
how do you live like this?
just how much has he neglected you?
"bruce...?" it was dick's voice that he had now registered. it sounds out of breath, way too abnormally distraught and out of character.
he slowly looks at dick, equally befuddled at the presence of his eldest and youngest sons.
he seems disheveled, stressed even. the athlete's blue eyes were wide and dilated, seemingly unfocused as his stance was rigid. he was breathing too deep, hand clenching his phone too tight, veins popping through muscles, and he holds a... notebook in the other, this time like it was a delicate piece or artifact.
"... why are you here?" dick tries to cover his current state with an awkward laugh, but he could never hide the furrow of his brows, the flickering in his eyes, nor the anxious stomping of the his feet. sweat runs down dick's forehead; it looks like he's been inside the room the longest.
and dick refuses to get out of it. he won't, not until he finds out just why were you pushing him always all of a sudden.
he's afraid of forgetting his baby bird once more and neglecting your needs. if you were just as self-depracating as he is then... just how well would you be coping all by yourself?
does bruce share the same intentions as him? he doesn't know, his thoughts all leading to a path of thinking about, well, you.
you and your wide eyes looking at him like he was the world.
"i'm just here to visit... (name)'s room." bruce replies, a deep tremor in his parched throat, threading even further into the cramped space as his eyes seem to lock into the multitudes of messily stacked notebooks in the center of the bed.
they were all captioned '(name)'s diary', each having different fonts for every notebook and a date plastered on the very bottom.
"and you both are...?" he stares at them, demanding an answer as he sits on your too small bed (—it creaks, he hates that it does so he promises to get you a new one, a bigger one even, with enough space to fit in at least four people just as you deserve), picking up one of the diaries in his hand; it sports messy calligraphy and peeling stickers, reminiscent of just how old it was.
the hold he has on the diary is delicate as he flips through the first page the same way the eldest child had done. the papers were stained gray from the lead of the pencil, doodles littering every page, from flowers to animals and even faces that bruce couldn't recognize.
at least it provides the void in his heart food for thought, taking in every small detail about you and your hobbies.
you like documenting your life through diaries, that was the first thing he noted about you. the entries all date far from back when you were five or younger, the earlier pages highlighting, well, you and your mother's life. though the handwriting wasn't all that eligible, bruce finds himself becoming fond of the common topics you often rant about from "momma's burnt stack of pancakes" (paired with a drawing on the side, colored with dried markers and glitter gel pens), to the fairytales your mother loves to read you.
as much as it was entertaining for him to read through your mind, it's sad how aged the papers were and how some pages were crumpled to the point some contents were incomprehensible.
he'll get you even more high quality ones, rather than the cheap paper the one he's currently holding has. and he'll buy you designer pens, or do you prefer the more functional ones? would you like fountain pens or glass dip ones just to enjoy the experience?
bruce notices a pattern of the pen's strokes, an array of thinner lines were preferred in most of your entries compared to the thick pencils you sometimes force yourself to use, as there was an entry you had mentioned where if you use thicker lines then you'll run out of pages quicker, and "my mom doesn't have enough money to buy me one right now."
even the doodles in pencil had prefered line widths. finer quality for even finer details, thicker lines to emphasize and exaggerate your art on the side of the papers.
would you prefer mechanical or charcoal pencils? charcoal is messy and smudges, bruce knows as he sees small drawings of a tiny sprite that point towards a smeared sketch of a flower, a look of disdain on its furrowed brows.
he couldn't contain the upward quirk of his lips, blocking out dick's shadow that seems to get closer to bruce.
unfortunately, there were no ballpens of your preference on your bedside table for him to take for himself. he'll find out himself sooner enough though; what materials you like to utilize for your diaries and sketches. hell, it seems you like using a mix of normal and puffy stickers alongside a mix medium to obtain different colors.
journaling supplies, you'll find a lot of them in your arsenal soon.
he'll make sure of that once he finds out where you live.
he looks at damian flipping through what seems to be one of your sketchbooks.
art is, undoubtedly, one of your hobbies too— that's the second thing he notes, picking up what seems to be your second diary right after he flips through the first one, wasting no time to learn more about you.
this time, your second diary talks about your early life into the gotham manor. your anxious yet earger energy to meet your father, how the dick grayson (presumably your idol, with how you mention him as the) is now your brother, and how you almost got lost just wondering in the manor; they all highlight your innocence and curiousity about the world. you write so effortlessly, unafraid of writing down what you truly feel.
though you barely mention the incident regarding your mother, you have stated multiple times about how you miss her beautiful smile and her captivating laughter.
he's grateful that you're fond of writing diaries, exposing bruce to the deeper, more personal parts of your life. he doesn't need to pinpoint any lies or truth. all your secrets, your endeavors, your dreams and your passions are buried deep into the crevices of your diaries, etched in thousands of words and drawings that tell bruce just who you are.
and truly, you are his child.
bruce craves to know more about you in person the more he reads through your entries.
fortunately, it wasn't only him that feels an intense need to take you in, as the presence of his eldest cuts him off of the his train of thoughts.
"y'know, before you forget we're even here, bruce," dick quips with a fond smile as he looks at his bruce's unkempt state, taking a seat next to his father who seems to be in his own world just like damian. the bed creaks against their weight, both cringing at the sound before bruce returns to his own world of... analyzing you, just like he did hours ago.
but he knows that his father knows how to multitask, so he doesn't hesitate to answer.
"i'm also here for (name), i promised to take them out for dinner month's ago." that seems to actually catch bruce's attention, as he looks up from reading your second diary, gazing at dick as if to urge him to continue.
dick proceeds with a sigh, a smitten smile plastered on his face as he recalls the only memory he has of you.
"(name) really has a knack for writing and all, right? i love them for it. when i first met them, they were just so adorable. my baby bird tried to ask me for an autograph!" dick couldn't help himself from yapping, chuckling lightly as he remembers the deathly grip you had on alfred's cuffs, how you were hiding behind the butler's legs and looked at dick so enamored. he couldn't contain his unhinged smile, the goosebumps on his skin made shivers ripple throughout his entire body.
bruce (and even damian, who had all his attention on your sketches) had listened in on his monologue.
"i was the one who helped lead them to their room," he continued confidently, tapping his phone with his fingers, "they clung really close to me when we climbed up the steps, even tried to hide under my jacket..."
looking back, dick wishes he had carried you up the steps. thing was, you were incredibly small back then, and the manor's staircase is particularly hard to transverse through when ascending, so you must've felt exhausted and leaned onto him for support. your tiny legs must've been sore once you two had arrived by your room.
oh, he should've noticed. dick swears he won't make that mistake again once he gets you back in his arms, he promises to carry you the moment you even show the slightest bit of fatigue.
he swears he will, and he'll make sure to spoil you rotten with all the affection you deserve.
oh, dick really wants to see his baby bird again.
"yeah, that's, uh, the only time we had only ever talked." he admits shamefully, opening his phone for what seems like the thousandth time, looking at your profile over and over again, one that had him blocked.
he bites his lips, nibbling his skin in anticipation, in hopes that in the good of your heart that you just, unblock him.
it was just so unbelievable, despite you having all the reasons to push them away from your life, he just doesn't want to accept it. doesn't want to think of the worst outcome; of you hating him.
his baby bird blocked him and he just couldn't comprehend the amount of hurt he's feeling right now. what's wrong with checking up on his baby sibling? on someone he hasn't talked to for a long time already?
scrolling up through your previous messages fills him with both dread, and another emotion he doesn't want to admit— the slightest bit of pride he feels that you chose him over everybody else. you chose dick grayson as your idol, as someone to look up to and eagerly wanted as your older brother.
he was the favorite.
yet he feels terrible at the same time for taking it for granted, for forgetting your his own younger sibling. and bruce? bruce feels terrible just looking at how much your disappearance - an existence he didn't even know existed not until a few hours ago - impacted the atmosphere of the house.
is your absence the reason why the manor had felt too empty, then...?
even alfred seemed to sulk more often, always having his phone around and... talking to someone?
does alfred know where you are? or at least maintain communication with you?
it seems like the family was equally keen to find out just who you were.
whilst the two engross themselves in their own personal matters, damian continues to stand near the middle where the light hits the brightest, analyzing all the pages of your sketchbook. the youngest couldn't even afford to miss a single detail, green eyes mulling over the poses of your human sketches; the anatomy, the composition. all the progress, the mistakes, the erasures... his mind seems to eat up every drawing as if it was a piece of art hung in a museum.
which it should've been— but he wouldn't even let worthless critiques lay their eyes on any one of your sketches. they wouldn't understand you as much as he does.
it's his to look upon, nobody else could understand the meaning of your art, the meaning of his older sibling's art.
the older sibling who he used to threaten with his sword, who he called vile names — a bastard child, he told you one day. he was unable to ignore the glare you sent him, how he felt a pang in his heart after — the older sibling who he ridiculed endlessly in front of his best friend, whose actions he criticized without end; who had started to avoid him like the plague after all of his incessant bullying.
his older sibling who he had used as a punching bag for all his negative emotions, who he was incredibly jealous of, who he felt the need to fight, to compete with, all for the sake of grabbing your attention without seeming frail in his intentions.
his weak and incapable older sibling, who he knew hated him with all their gut.
the unwanted and undeserved treatment he had subjected you to was gruesome.
it was just exactly like your drawings... gruesome and brutal, to say the least. as if it was a medium of releasing all your unparalleled anger. charcoal strokes violently covers the entirety of your pages, it was unpredictable where the lines meet and end, whenever there is color, they blotch each other without harmony, all the subjects of your art either human or anything else within your vicinity.
if someone else with inexperienced, undeserving eyes were to witness your sketches, they would not understand and dare say, criticize your art pieces for being too contemporary, for letting your emotions run free through cheap quality paper without any ounce of care for the rips and tears of the pages.
but damian likes it... he likes the rawness of your pieces, likes it when you incidentally find a way to express tragedy, grief, and all the antagonistic traits a human could bare. he likes just how all thr subjects you paint were muddled with dull colors, sometimes too vibrant, sometimes too neon, sometimes a mix of all— your hectic personality bleeds through the pages.
you should've... shared your talents with him. albeit the jealousy he feels towards you, the sense of competitiveness— a small part of him admits his desire to bond with his only blood sibling... he doesn't even know why he treated you like trash, yet felt so incredibly heartbroken whenever you would retaliate with a blank, soulless stare.
he doesn't know why he felt so compelled to melt into your embrace, despite never once being physically close to you. your warmth always emanates off of your body; he hates that he wanted your validation, your praise and your attention.
he'll apologize to you sooner, damian will drag you back even if he has to, he needs to, actually.
needs to get you to forgive him, to look at him fondly, and to love him without bounds. he's on his path to redemption, he acknowledges his wrongs, all the wrongs he had done to you, he couldn't list it all out but he knows just much it affected your views on him.
damian knows he should've dismissed your reactions— he was raised by assassins for gods sake! he should not be so perceptive of every micro expression of yours, but the connection he feels towards his blood sibling is stronger than any bond, a bond that he himself chose to sever and came to regret afterwards.
he remembers one specific expression of yours after he had criticized your anger issues when he had heard news of you being transferred into another school. it was a glare that lacked any fight or bite, you had long since given up on him and allowed him him harass you whenever he felt like so. but that day was the same day you had snapped, nearly choking on his
he told himself to ignore it, that you were merely throwing a tantrum (despite how hypocritical he seemed)
yet he didn't expect to be overcome with regret.
with hurt.
with empathy at the tears that welled on your eyes.
damian doesn't want to admit it but, that was one of the first times he had hesitated to retaliate with an even crueler comeback to your glare. he wanted to so badly run to you and bond with you and your unadulterated anger, to comfort you and provide you the affection you had so desperately needed— but in the bitterness and the jealousy of his heart, he had forced himself to leave you be; a decision even until now he regrets because... you had no longer seen him as a younger brother, let alone treat him as one, as he desired to.
after that incident, you tend to avoid him more and more, not even eating in the same room as him, let alone ditching whatever you were doing in favor of keeping to yourself.
he should've held himself back from hurting his older sibling, the one who, despite doning no skills or talent in combat whatsoever, who knew that he was more of a threat than a younger brother; was brave enough to approach him with a tray of alfred's baked cookies and a hesitant yet welcoming grin.
and yet he had replied with a sword to your neck and an insult to your origin, calling you a bastard child; the product of a whore and his father's terrible decisions.
he had simply watched as you had left the hallway with a knick on your neck and a wobble on your steps, nearly dropping the tray of untouched goods due to the inconsolable shivers you must've felt.
you hate him, no? he could see it in your eyes, no matter how defeated it may be, there was always a tinge of resentment towards him that he knows he couldn't undo.
you hate him, you must've hated him so much and he hates that. hates how he wants to throw a rampage over the fact that you would never consider him as a younger brother.
... if things were different, if he had never let his emotions and his past dictate his actions, would you love him?
for the first time in quite a while, he had felt tender longing and desire, his hands caressing the pages of your sketchbook as if it could bring you back to the manor.
for the first time in a while, damian allows himself to want, to dream about a fantasy where you would cherish him, allow him to melt on your chest whenever he feels the pressure of the world getting to him, let him sulk about his deepest darkest insecurities as you would run your fingers through his hair and tell him it's all alright.
for the first time in so long, he would openly admit the immense regret he feels, wishing for an opportunity to turn back time, to never unsheath his sword towards you and to never open his mouth to allow vile words to spew out of it.
time passes by oh-so quickly when you are left alone with only your thoughts to accompany you.
it had been quite awhile since the trio were left pondering about your very existence, alfred noted, watching the three scramble about through their minds. they had seemed to have forgotten the very butler who had been observing every single one of their actions.
alfred had waited so long for this moment to come, for them to realize just how crucial you are to the family, how you are the very final jigsaw puzzle the complete the picture perfect definition of a home, how much they need you if they wish to maintain even the slightest bit of sanity.
it was only right that he decides to place the final nail in the coffin.
after all, this was all to get you back to your safety, to where you rightfully belong.
—"it seems like the family has finally taken notice of young master (name)'s disappearance...?" alfred buts in by the door, a single eyebrow raised, crossed arms, an all-knowing look that just screams 'i told you so'.
he continues once he had their complete attention, "i would like to say that i am heavily disappointed in how it took more than a decade and a half for all of you to find out about their existence. if it wasn't for the long months of their absence and even a personal sermon towards master bruce about their financial struggles, they would've long been gone. well... they would be gone soon if they are unable to pay this month's rent for their apartment."
his tone was sullen as he nitpicks every single one of their reactions, a mixture of confusion, shame and regret a commonality between the three.
"(name) is in financial debt?" it was damian who asked first with furrowed brows and wide eyes, unbelieving of what alfred had just stated. "but father wires money to all of his children, right?
the youngest turns back to his father's seated form, expecting a nod of some sorts, but all bruce had was a tense jaw and a solid stare. it speaks of volumes, all damian could do was shut his mouth, looking back at alfred with a pout.
alfred expected this reaction. it was truly unfortunate how the family would never know just how important you were in their life.
yet all he could do was press on, further their guilt and desperation.
"young master damian, i am aware of bruce's willingness towards providing for his children, but (name), like you, had adopted your father's stubbornness to accept any financial aid on their part..."
the silence was defeaning now, tension so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. fortunately, the people alfred were with are trained combatants, formidle not only through fights but with words.
it was a shame they had never used their brains to connect the dots with just how sullen the manor was the moment you were gone.
"how do we...?" this time it was dick who talked, albeit hesitantly. "bruce could at least send a few thousands to them, then? or i could do it, you could just give us their location and—"
"unfortunately, there is nothing i could do about it, master dick," alfred interrupts dick's sudden onslaught, "for even i do not have master (name)'s address. they refuse even the slightest bit of a clue, hence why i have confronted master bruce about it."
it was like a needle had dropped on the floor, an intense, numbing feeling everyone present was subjected to feel.
... what?
it was dick who had reacted first, springing up from his seated position as he stared at alfred's defeated eyes incredulously.
"are you serious, alfred? (name) could be anywhere in gotham right now? unprotected, unsafe, and in debt?"
a long, defeated sigh was what he had merely received from the alfred.
"yes, master dick, you hear exactly what i say."
"but the world outside is too dangerous for (name)! we can't just let them loose in a street filled with criminals who can take advantage of their innocence!"
"they're eighteen, dick." all of a sudden, it was damian who cuts back with a roll of his eyes, "i'm sure they can survive on their own."
"yeah right, and have you even read their latest diary, or are you just gonna pretend like you aren't going to keep their sketchbooks all for yourself, huh?" dick retaliates with clenched teeth, letting himself be swayed by his own emotions. "or... you're planning to track their location without us so you can get a reservation to visit them first?"
"calm down, dick—" bruce stands, immediately holding dick back, gripping the athlete's tense shoulders.
"why should i, bruce?! (name) can be anywhere, we— i can't afford to bide time on anything but them!" he glared back at his father, slammimg his fist onto your bedroom walls without hesitation. cracks immediately formed on the chipped wallpaper, a testament to dick's strength; you'll be relocated to another room, a better one anyways and they'll... they'll turn this one into a bigger atelier for you.
dick just needs to let his anger out, yeah... unfortunately, his father seems to think otherwise.
bruce retaliates with a snarl, "we need a solid plan, dick. we can't just randomly search where they are—"
"look, if none of you are willing to help, then fine, i'll track (name) all by myself—"
"— i've never mentioned not coming, grayson." damian cuts him off with a glare, possessively holding all your sketchbook in one hand. "i'll be the one spending time with them first."
"yeah, right... and you, bruce? you coming with or no?"
defeated, bruce replies, "... you already know the answer, dick."
"of course, dad. glad to know we're on the same team after all," dick lets out an airy laugh, returning to his old demeanor. but bruce could easily pinpoint the sharp edge to his giggles, how calculated it is and how it's all merely a cover up to hide the unbearable itch to get you into his arms.
not like bruce could help it too, feeling the same way dick does— all he wants to do is see you for himself after all.
"then call the others into the batcave, now. tell them it's a priority mission, don't let them say otherwise, and don't settle on any excuses."
bruce is so grateful that he had his hands on your diaries, that he was given the grace to read through your entries and embrace even the slightest clue about you.
although there was no face to associate with your name, no photograph nor portrait— he at least has an idea of your personality, of what you like and prefer; something that bruce would hold dear, something that feeds the growing urge to find you.
find you to not only correct his mistakes, to make up for all the lost time, but to also get closer to you. to bond with his child, the one he should've focused on all those years ago. the one who, despite showing disinterest to vigilantism, chose to not fall deep into the pits of resentment, of committing heinous acts— you had chosen to run away from them without any intentions of badmouthing your own family even after the years of neglect.
his child, (name) wayne.
you were a symbol of what he had strived to cherish, to protect. it was your innocence through these pages, your eagerness to the world despite its cruelty, that relays the message to bruce that he should've centered his attention on both you and tim instead of just tim.
maybe then the dispair he had felt after jason's death would've been less devastating, maybe then you'd act as his source of light in the darkness he had choose to brood in. maybe then he wouldn't have acted so rash, so impulsive and tense.
after all, you had lost your mother too early, and your father was just somebody you can watch through the television and read through the newspaper.
and you? you were forced to take the short end of the stick, without any familial attention nor emotional support whatsoever— a substantial failure on bruce's part. you didn't deserve anything you were subjected to, didn't deserve to know what pain and despair felt like.
bruce should've been the father who had to shoulder all your burden. he should've been there for you as he was there for all your other siblings.
he should've been the man who would kiss your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.
but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.
there was so much things about you that he doesn't know of, so much he had missed out on. his absence was a constant in your life; what would you have felt if he suddenly barged in on it then? especially now that you've moved out on the presumption of neglect?
but could he help it if he does?
could bruce help it if he was already concocting a way to bring you back? alfred had explicitly told him that you were living off of debt
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PLEASE READ: 11,100+ words. no beta we just die. undertale reference. this is my least favorite chapter LMAO, despite it's length i had to waste blood sweat and tears for this and i hate it so much. anways guys pls comment or send as ask if u like this and what's good abt it bec this chapter literally made me question my ability as a write 😭 erm im gonna take a break after this and mostly answer asks bec istg my energy is so drained. also is it jst me or does everyone default the reader as female ^^' it's jst weird for me bec i always write them as gn/male. oh and if anyone is wondering, yes i am gonna add the batgirls too bec they r family !! the entire family (universe) is obsessed with u !! also yall i cant add anymore to the taglist, tumblr won't allow me.
taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon
#🌷... yael's works#🧁... yael's misc.#series: again & again#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere bruce wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere dick grayson x reader#yandere damian wayne#yandere damian x reader#yandere damian wayne x reader#yandere alfred pennyworth#yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere x male reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere x reader#platonic yandere#pls guys comment or at least let this blow up#if this flops im sobbing#“when wld u post part 4?” once i get my sanity back hopefully#btw alfred is such a manipulative girlboss he actually knows where u live LMAO
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SENTATE - The Christine Collection
I felt like it was about time to head back to my fantasy bridal atelier and make a fresh set of mermaid style wedding gowns for your sims! This time around I was really inspired by the idea of an alternative bride; mixing sleek modern shapes with vintage couture inspired influences to create a unique look for your sim's big day!
This set is named after my beautiful Nana, Christine. 🤍
10 Items Total / 31 Plain Swatches
DOWNLOAD -Free on Patreon
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#ts4#ts4mm#ts4cc#sims 4 cc#sims 4 custom content#sims 4 maxis match#s4cc#s4mm#the sims 4#sentate#my nana loved creepy films so i went for a creepy vibe on the previews#my models basically live in silent hill#also wasn't feeling princess style but i could always do a part 2
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