#wait know i know how this happened

[galaxywhump]

A Day of Revelations

[SV-240 masterlist]

Timeline: post-captivity, set after Another Arrival.

contents: recovery from slavery whump and forced relationship, hospital setting, past human trafficking, referenced branding and torture.

~~~

"People know that you're alive."

The car is getting closer and closer to the hospital, and Wren digs his fingers into his thighs, not too hard so Nathaniel doesn’t notice. At the dock it was just the two of them, on the ship it was him and the crew, but now there will be so many people surrounding him, and he tries to keep his breathing steady.

"Do the hospital staff know I'm going to be there?" he asks, his throat squeezed tight.

"Yes." Nathaniel nods. "I was told they would do their best to keep your arrival secret for now. We won't walk in through the main entrance."

"Okay. That's good." Wren bounces his leg, but stops himself, not wanting his anxiety to show too much. "But it's not gonna stay a secret forever."

"No." Nathaniel takes a slow, deep breath. "But your return isn't the only thing people are focusing on right now. You've exposed the trade, and that was a shock to everyone. Myself included." He looks at Wren with an almost apologetic smile. "I had no idea that had been going on. It makes sense, a lot of the… slavers worked pretty high in the League so they could manipulate data, but still…" He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter right now. The point still stands: people are being rescued, people are being arrested, really influential ones at that, so the focus won't be entirely on you."

Wren's not sure how comforted he feels after this answer, but at least he's sufficiently distracted by questions forming in his mind.

"How many people have been arrested?"

"A lot." Nathaniel shakes his head. "Hard to say right now. It's weird. It's good that so many people involved have been arrested, but mortifying that there even were that many people. But thanks to you they'll all be brought to justice."

It's an overwhelming thought that makes Wren choke a bit, so he desperately tries to focus on something smaller.

"And the people who kidnapped me? Have they been arrested?"

“Yes. They were among the first ones, in fact. That… division of the trade led us to the others, it was our starting point.”

“So Berkeley… Peter Berkeley, I mean…”

“Arrested. Yes.”

Daniel is dead, and Berkeley is locked up. Wren nods slowly and forces himself to breathe. Too stunned to talk, he doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Nathaniel for the remainder of the drive.

~~~

When the car stops behind the towering building of the hospital, Wren feels his heart skip a beat. He's going to have to leave the car. He's going to have to walk through the corridors of the hospital, see people who are going to see him, and it's way harder than he thought it would be. He's shivering, looking down at his shaking hands, his knuckles white as a sheet. 

"Wren?"

He jerks his head up to look at his father, who's left the car and is now leaning down to look inside with a slight frown. Wren nods, opens the door on his side, and gets out, even though he feels like his legs are going to give out under him.

“Are you feeling okay? Can you walk?”

His jumpiness surprises him, but he can’t help it when all his senses are assaulted by sights and smells and sounds he hasn’t experienced in so long, unfamiliar voices being one of them. People. He looks at the source of the voice, a doctor, and forces himself to nod, averting his gaze pretty quickly when he realizes that there are a few other people standing near the door.

“Yeah,” he says as he looks back at his father, the only familiar person around. “Are you going too?”

To his relief, Nathaniel nods, and the two of them follow the doctor inside, Wren trying not to sway on his feet too much, his body both tense and weak. It didn’t quite hit him back at the dock, but now that he’s still struggling, realization strikes him, so powerful that it makes his ears ring.

The gravity was slightly different on SV-240, and he was used to it.

The difference isn’t even that stark; he must have felt it for the first few days after arriving, but he was usually tied up, dragged from place to place or forced to his knees, so it wasn’t that noticeable. He’s nervous now, and it’s affecting his walk, and he’d spent a few days on a spaceship, but he can swear there’s more to it, that there’s something about Earth that he has to get used to again, something other than the people and the sights and the other stimuli.

It’s not the first time and he’s hardly the only one who has to deal with the readjustment period, but it’s still unsettling.

“Mhm.” He winces when he steps off his ship to join the rest of his squad. “Never pleasant, but it will pass.”

“Sure hope so,” Private Berkeley grimaces, stretching his arms, struggling to readjust after his first longer space travel.

Wren blinks back to reality, and it makes him shiver. He can feel eyes on him - his father looking at him from time to time, the doctor shooting him reassuring glances, but also other people, patients and doctors who can’t stop themselves from staring when they no doubt recognize him. He manages a weak smile, his heartbeat deafening, even though he’s just walking, and he knows nothing scary is going to happen to him.

By the time they stop at one of the doors, Wren can barely breathe.

“Wren.”

“Hm?” His head jerks up and a shiver runs up his spine.

“Do you want me to wait here?” Nathaniel asks, nodding in the direction of a sitting area further down the hallway. “You need to go through an examination, so I can wait until that’s finished or visit you later.”

“Oh, you… you can come back later, I think. You must be busy.”

“A little bit.” He shrugs. “But I could also bring you some things from home. Clothes, food, whatever you need.”

“Okay,” Wren says with a pale smile. Everything he does seems to require inhuman effort.

Nathaniel nods, and he seems to be struggling too, fighting with his thoughts. Eventually he sighs and manages to get more words out.

“Well, after you’re discharged, you’ll need to stay somewhere. Unfortunately your apartment had to be sold.”

“Mhm.” It’s only logical, but it still hurts. He loved that apartment, it was only his, and all his things were there, which means…

He might have nothing to his name now.

It’s clearly a day of overwhelming realizations, and Wren has to try not to sway on his feet.

“I can look for a new place for you,” Nathaniel offers, “or… you can stay with me, if you want.” As Wren stares at him confused, he averts his gaze, looking almost embarrassed. “Your bedroom is still there, and… your things, too.”

“You kept them?” Wren frowns. It’s been over two years, and he assumed everything had been sold or thrown away, that his old bedroom had been repurposed after his staged death. The thought of his father of all people being this sentimental seems absurd, especially when he sees the look of embarrassment on his face.

“I never had time to look through them. I suppose it was for the best. I washed some of your clothes when I found out, so I can bring them to you later.”

“Alright.” Wren cracks another smile. “So, uh, see you?”

“See you later.” Nathaniel mirrors his smile, and for the briefest of moments he looks like he’s considering giving Wren a hug, but in the end he just nods and walks away, followed by Wren’s gaze until he disappears behind a corner. 

He’s not starting with nothing, then. Earth remembers him after all. 

The door is cracked open, and he can hear footsteps inside. The doctor must have gone in earlier, giving Wren and Nathaniel some privacy, which he’s grateful for, and he’s sure his father is too, considering how strange his behavior was, so unlike him.

Knowing Nathaniel, and wallowing in the feeling of being forgotten, Wren had assumed that his father’s reaction to his death had been… nothing. A nod, a sigh, dealing with the funeral and selling his apartment, and then moving on. Maybe that was still the case, but him keeping Wren’s old bedroom unchanged and not giving away or selling his things doesn’t fit into that, and now he seems to care, as stilted and unnatural it is for him.

Nevermind, Wren thinks as he enters the room, closing the door behind him. Maybe it won’t last long.

Now he has to deal with a stranger and let them find out about what he had gone through; confusion swiftly gives way to anxiety.

At first glance he’s fine. The doctor, who introduces themself as Diaz Sandoval, nods with a slight frown every time they write something down and put a checkmark next to it to indicate that the results of the examination are nothing out of the ordinary. It’s as if Wren had never gone through a prolonged captivity - physically, at least.

Then, of course, Sandoval sees the brand.

“Yeah, he was kinda full of himself,” Wren says in as lighthearted a tone as he can muster, which is still overshadowed by tension. “So, um, he left his signature.”

“I see,” Sandoval says, noting it down diligently, immortalizing the burned words. “Do you have any other scars? Wounds?”

“None that I’m aware of.”

And there it is, a feeling of shame and a fear of being belittled. He’s healthy. There are no reminders of the torture he’d gone through other than the brand, and Sandoval knows it now.

“Oh, but…” Wren perks up, almost relieved to remember something else, something that had happened to him, of which there is still undeniable proof. It’s not much, but it’s all he has to paint a picture of his captivity that’s at least a fraction of the nightmare it was for him. “There’s also a chip in my shoulder. Left, I… think. A tracker. So I couldn’t escape.”

His words sound so desperate, a plea for his experience to be taken seriously, and his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He clears his throat and fixes his eyes on Sandoval’s stylus as they write down this new information.

“I can schedule a procedure to have it removed. As for the… scar, it can’t just be removed. It would require a more complicated procedure and a transplant.”

“Oh.” So there is a way, but the revelation is too sudden for him to decide. “Well, I- I’ll think about it. I’d like to have the tracker removed, but I’d also like to get out of the hospital soon, so…” He shrugs with a smile. “But maybe on a later date.”

“Of course.” Sandoval mirrors his smile. “There is no rush. For now I think you should rest, I know how overwhelming this must be.”

Rest. He’s been resting plenty, but it’s true that he’s still tired, constantly assaulted by stimuli he hasn’t experienced in so long, fighting his memories and having to put a tremendous amount of effort into forming his answers to questions, overthinking, concealing facts.

Once he’s left alone, he lies down on the hospital bed and exhales.

I’m on Earth. He doesn’t know when it’s going to stop being a startling realization every single time. And I won’t be hurt anymore.

He won’t be whipped, cut, tortured. After two years of considering pain just part of the routine it’s a thought he can’t quite wrap his head around, but it’s true. The events leading up to his rescue and Daniel’s death, his broken ribs, the knife slipping into his abdomen, the wound reopening, his ears ringing when his head was bashed against the wall… nothing like that will happen again. 

It’s a thought both relieving and intimidating - here he is, a former plaything and pretend partner to a sadist, his mind still somewhat stuck in his old routine, and now that he’s free, he has to learn how to cut himself off from it.

No matter how hard it will be, he can’t wait to get started.

~~~

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[idliketobeatree]

i'm living the dream, in the dream, i'm buried alive two bed grave, one bath, car in the drive mirrored covered windows block the light feeding back reflection distorts life cut connection — jesca hoop

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thanks for listening to my sad backstory. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lucabyte]

Yeah, that about sums it up.

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[art-by-fate]

HUGE congrats to sir Skizzleman for hitting that big shiny 100k!!!!

[ipusingularitae]

also, i think it's very interesting how that friend of vi who she met on the streets of piltover immediately gets out when he sees caitlyn is accepting what ambessa is proposing. he gets that it's not about saving people, that what ambessa wants (and caitlyn is going to do) is targeted violence, on top of a structural system that created this mess in the first place. she's now only seeking revenge.

and can we talk about how Vi and Caitlyn on the lore were always Vi punching and asking later, and Caitlyn being the most "careful" one, and now in Arcane we're seeing the absolute opposite? i think that's so fascinating to watch because, especially with the little lore we have, when making headcanons, a lot of ppl put vi in this position of carelessness and caitlyn reasoning her. but right now we're seeing the complete opposite because Vi had years to put her anger out in prison (bc of very unfortunate situations), but caitlyn not only is a person that is out in world while in her anger phase of grief, but also is on an authority position and has free access to weapons and is being manipulated by someone who is exploiting her anger to the extent of using outside army

[lygma-nygma]

Being a batfam fan is funny because people will make a post like “here’s my headcanon-“ and it’s just something that’s directly canon to the story then post about major canon events and get everything wrong.

[egophiliac]

GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY, THE NEXT BOOK 7 UPDATE FOR THE JP SERVER IS SET FOR MARCH 1ST.

HOW WE FEELIN LADS!?!?!

AHHHHHHHH NOOO I'M NOT READY, I thought we'd be getting the fourth anniversary first and then Sebek's birthday and then maybe some more episode 7, I didn't -- I didn't think it'd be Friday --

oh god and they're rerunning the story cards, they didn't say this was the final part but it feels like...maybe the penultimate chapter? could the end of episode 7 finally be looming in the distance?! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO

[heartorbit]

CONGRATS EMUKASA ON THE MARRIAGE

[endlesslytired]

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[lazylittledragon]

hi i'm unw el l

[narikill]

aughdhshfjjsjcjdjfjsbgsknfjs <- leshy in this art probably

[a2zillustration]

Gale and I had the exact same reaction when we opened that door.

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[ethosiab]

Spent most of my hiking trip drawing