yourcutelittlegayfriend

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

id: a tweet from pop tingz. "max announces the release of the 'luigi mangione: the ceo killer' documentary on february 17th."

hey! just a reminder this alleged "ceo killer" hasn't been convicted of anything, hasn't even gone to trial, was taken into custody without being dna tested or fingerprinted (what fingerprints they did find near the scene were entirely circumstantial), didn't have any contact with legal rep before his extradition hearing, and wasn't identified as a facial match by the fbi's top notch ai software. just don't watch this doc, it's bound to be full of bullshit just like tmz.

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

brennan, brennan not now please

why would you do this to me

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Uy wlang bukingan na wlang diet kunwari lng meron🤣

Anyways happy valentine's day to you and to me, to us na mga single na nipunggol😭

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Pack u sa mga may gowa! wag kayo mag kiss sa harapan ko baka tadyakan ko kayo!

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Mga buwisit kayo ang dami nyo pala dto tumatago lng pala kayo

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Gurl thanks for the damian and filipino yn qoute

Sincerely

Nagugutom na gremlin na gusto ng pancit tuloy(ikaw kasi diet ako😭 pero pancit canton!)

Hahahaha No problem! got that stupid video running around my tiktok fyp again so I had to.

Pancit Canton is almost my everyday meal because that's the only thing I can afford HAHAHA

Goods lng yan boi kahit paminsan minsan lng mag pancit canton sus walang tayong diet diet anu ba yan HAHAHAHA

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Damian and a filipino YN in Valentine's day

Damian: What do you want for Valentine's day beloved?

YN: I want Pancit Canton!

Damian: Tt, that's unhealthy for you......

YN: *Whines* eeeeeeehhhhh gusto ko nga pancit canton! (I said I want Pancit canton!)

Damian: Fine, Lulutuan kita, gusto mo dalawa? (I'll cook for you, you want two?)

YN: *whiny* Oo (yes)

Damian: Ubusin mo? (You'll finish it?)

YN: mm..mm! Hati tayo mahal ko~ (Let's share my love)

On the other side of the Living room where Jason and Tim watches.

Jason (who for some reason knows how to speak and understand tagalog): *mockingly* Gusto mo Pancit Canton? (You want some Pancit Canton?)

Tim (Who also knows and still is sleep deprived): Uu~ (Yes~)

Jason: Ubusin mo? (You gonna finish it?)

Tim: Hati tayu~ (Let's share~)

Both: *Breaks down in hysterical laughter*

[This is the only thing I can squeeze out of my brain for this month too busy with stuff sowwyyy]

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Happy Valentine's day girlies

I ain't updating for abit because there's some sh8 I gotta settle in my personal life but I'll be back by what July? HAHAHAHAHA

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

[Un] Fair — Chapter II: Grow in the Dark.

⸺ SINOPSIS ⦂ Once upon a time, there was a lovely porcelain doll who preferred to be seen, not touched…

✿⁠ ⸺ Platonic! Yandere! Batfam × Neglenced! Meta! Reader.

✿⁠ ⸺ Chapters Guide! ; Prologue ; Chapter I, Prt 1 ; Chapter I, Prt 2 ; Chapter I, Prt 3 ; Chapter II;

✿⁠ ⸺ Previous ; Next!

⸺ WARNINGS ⦂ Fem Reader ; Use of Y/N ; Suicidal themes ; Use of Weapons ; Platonic Yandere ; English is not my first language ; Suggestive themes ; Mention of suicide ; Mention of murder ; Age gap ; Angst ; Dark themes ; Yandere themes ; Drugs ; Reader smokes ; Girl x Girl.

✿⁠ ⸺ MDNI !! I'm serious.

✿⁠ ⸺ Words Count ⦂ 9.453

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ This chapter was mainly translated by Google Translate, so if something doesn’t make sense, you know who to blame.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Honestly, most of this chapter didn’t turn out the way I originally planned, especially the last parts. But I think I’m pretty satisfied with how it ended, and I hope you guys like it too! <3

Gotham City, 07:03 PM – 11/13/17

Your breathing was ragged, and you were pretty sure you didn’t look your best right now. But hey, you’d like to see someone look put together after running nearly 30 kilometers.

The paranoia and exhaustion had been a constant for you over the past few hours, though you counted on Gotham’s bustling city life to make things harder for whoever was after you.

Once you blended into a crowd, you slowed your pace, moving in sync with the hurried, restless flow of pedestrians. It wasn’t until you reached the busier streets that you realized just how much you had grown unaccustomed to the city’s scorching neon lights, the motion, the noise… You weren’t sure you could keep up anymore, and honestly, you weren’t sure you wanted to. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn’t want anything at all.

You had no idea how long it took you to reach Gotham’s abandoned port district—minutes, hours? Time had slipped away, lost in the paranoia of being chased.

You let your body move on instinct, pulling yourself up to the rooftop of an abandoned building. Debris and broken objects were scattered everywhere, but you ignored them as you stepped inside.

Your fingers brushed against the hallway’s peeling wallpaper—wrinkled, rotting, and covered in mold. Ha, just like Ra’s… You chuckled to yourself, but not even a hint of a smile formed on your lips. Maybe it was too soon for jokes.

You entered the first room you found, one with a broken window, but you didn’t think much of it. Stepping closer, you sat on the edge of the frame, breathing in the salty scent of the tide and listening to the distant hum of civilization mixing with the water’s ebb and flow. And for the first time in a while, your body began to relax, the exhaustion of everything that had happened finally settling in.

With the few shards of glass still clinging to the window, you caught a glimpse of your reflection—your features now sharper, more mature with time. At seventeen, even you could admit that if you compared yourself to your ten-year-old self, you’d hardly recognize a resemblance.

Puberty had worked its magic on you, but you weren’t exactly thrilled about it. Every feature that someone else might call “beautiful” made you sick because it was just another reminder of the people who created you. A broken woman and a washed-up whore.

Where others saw beauty, you saw a reason to avoid mirrors—or anything that could reflect your image back at you. The nightmares were enough; you didn’t need reminders haunting you in the daylight too.

You tore your gaze away, letting your eyes wander around the room, once again running from the ghosts of your childhood.

Something caught your attention among the filth and heavily deteriorated objects. It didn’t take long for your eyes to settle on the gleaming gold chain of the window blinds—worn out now, no doubt.

Exhaustion took over, and the last thing you saw was that golden chain.

Gotham City, 01:25 AM – 06/06/10

Even though you were in one of Ra’s many scattered hideouts, your mind kept replaying the recent events—part of you trying to process them, while another clung to the hope that this was all just a bad dream.

They were tending to your wounds, yet you felt no sting from the alcohol, nor could you pinpoint exactly when they had wrapped the bandages around your missing arm or placed the patch over the eye you no longer had.

Of course, Ra’s had noticed your absence while they bandaged you up. He knew you needed it—knew that if you didn’t detach, you might spiral into a psychotic break. But he wouldn’t allow you to sink deep enough to fall into despair.

He started by ordering everyone else out of the room. Then, without much ceremony, he continued treating your minor cuts and scrapes, giving them little importance.

Lifting his gaze, he studied you, waiting for any sort of reaction that never came. So he spoke again.

"You are aware that they never truly loved you, aren’t you?"

His words dragged you back to the surface. When you didn’t respond, he continued.

"I’m talking about all of them. You devoted yourself to them, and in return, they gave you nothing but neglect and mistreatment—even while living their double lives."

You listened, but something in his words caught your attention.

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Very little escapes my sight," he began. "Bruce Wayne is influential, but Batman… Batman is a force. And, of course, he’s the father of my grandson. Anything concerning him concerns me." He held your gaze. "That includes you."

His answer, while somewhat reassuring, left you feeling… disappointed.

"I thought my skills had impressed you in some way…"

How foolish of you to believe that after everything, you could ever escape the shadow of your family. Your entire childhood had been defined by one label: the daughter of…

"I wasn’t finished," he cut you off. "I only told you how I first became aware of you. If you think I’d let just anyone into my ranks simply because of their bloodline, that would be—at the very least—insulting."

Your heart stirred at the recognition, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He might not have explicitly acknowledged your abilities, but you understood the implications behind his words. The fact that he had taken you in had to mean something, right?

Silence settled between you for a moment, but strangely, it wasn’t the kind of suffocating silence you were used to—the one that always loomed over conversations with your family, or even your father. With Ra’s, it felt natural… familiar.

Even his scent, somehow, made you feel nostalgic.

"Once we reach the East, we’ll begin planning your training schedule," he announced, giving you a moment to process his words.

Everything still felt so surreal. Tim’s death, the loss of your limbs, your family abandoning you, and now… Ra’s taking you in.

Hah. Just when you thought your life couldn’t get any worse.

You studied Ra’s imposing figure, and now you fully understood where Damian had inherited his lethal elegance. From the little you had seen of Talia before she left, she was no exception either. It seemed to be in their blood.

You wondered if you would take on the same presence after spending enough time with them. And as your eyes traced the intricate golden (or at least what you assumed was gold) jewelry adorning Ra’s, the thought didn’t seem all that bad…

The faint light filtering through the cracks in the window was just annoying enough to pull you out of your daze, yanking you back from your memories.

With sluggish movements, you slowly pushed yourself up, now bathed in the soft natural light that seeped into the abandoned room.

Now that you could see more clearly, you took a good look at the decaying wood around you—furniture blackened by dust and moisture. You figured the place probably had leaks everywhere.

You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

Soon, you became aware of yourself again. The chase had drained you, and while exhaustion normally wouldn’t be an issue, you didn’t have much water left in your system. If this went on any longer, you’d stop photosynthesizing altogether…

Before you could dwell on whether that was for the best or not, you forced yourself to straighten up and step out of the building.

It was like something out of your hazy memories—the only time you had ventured into the city. The day you relived the worst trauma of your life…

Now that you thought about it, the thick smog covering Gotham’s sky was much more noticeable in the daylight, blocking out the sun.

And that was not a good sign for you.

Clicking your tongue, you made your way toward a shopping mall. The more people around, the easier it was to blend into the crowd and go unnoticed. Though, of course, Ra’s had always told you that a good agent isn’t seen unless they want to be seen.

But honestly? You were kind of tired of doing everything meticulously. You didn’t have the energy or patience for that right now, so to hell with it.

In the middle of the crowd, it wasn’t hard to swipe a lighter from one of the passersby without anyone noticing.

Over the years, you had honed every skill that could be useful in both combat and espionage—especially under Talia’s guidance. She had always insisted that you be aware of your charm and learn how to use it to your advantage during infiltrations.

Growing up, you became acutely aware of yourself, and you had no shame in admitting that you were beautiful in more ways than one. But that didn’t mean it made you happy.

Seeing more and more of your parents’ features staring back at you in the mirror made you sick, while everyone else seemed delighted to look at those same traits with admiration. Even Talia and Ra’s seemed pleased with your appearance, though you were sure it was for different reasons—both tied to how useful your looks could be for seduction and manipulation in missions.

They had been meticulous with every aspect of your life. Social etiquette, different personas to leave the right impression, seduction, discreetly taking someone out, discreetly taking yourself out.

You could spend entire days listing everything you had learned under their tutelage.

As you weaved through the sea of people, your feet carried you toward the nearest Walmart. A perfect middle ground—busy enough, ordinary enough to keep you unnoticed.

From the tips of your fingers, small buds began to emerge, intertwining with each other until they formed a delicate black-petaled flower. You found it amusing how it always looked wilted.

The moment you spotted an employee going about her work absentmindedly, you wasted no time approaching her, drawing her attention with your presence.

Before she could fully register what was happening, you flicked the lighter on and let the flames lick at the petals. With a soft breath, you blew them in her direction.

The petals scattered effortlessly—too effortlessly for an expert eye. But even more surprising was how they disintegrated into fine dust, inhaled by the dazed worker before she could react.

You watched patiently as her eyes took on an unusual gleam, her cheeks slowly flushing with a faint red hue.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Are you busy?" you asked, testing the waters.

"No! I mean, no…" The young woman fumbled nervously, trying to straighten herself up, completely forgetting whatever task she had been doing seconds ago. "I… You… Uhm…"

"Could you help me with some shopping? I could use a guide," you took over the conversation, already more than sure of her answer.

People occasionally paused what they were doing to glance at the two of you. You understood why—it wasn’t every day you saw a Walmart employee following a customer around, dutifully pushing their shopping cart like a loyal pet.

You were fully aware that the girl’s eager compliance was bound to attract attention, but honestly? Who cared? This was Gotham. People could witness Riddler having a lightsaber duel with Harley Quinn, and it still wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they saw that week.

You tossed whatever you liked into the cart carelessly, like some spoiled diva. At worst, people would assume you were just another rich, bratty kid. You could live with that.

It wasn’t until she finished bagging your items that you finally took a moment to memorize her features in detail—her face, her most distinct traits… The black-framed glasses and freckles gave her a somewhat cute appearance, really.

For just a second, you felt something akin to pity. But oh well, you needed some form of sustenance until you figured out what to do with your life.

As she packed the last of your items into the bags, you let a friendly, almost flirtatious smile spread across your lips—the kind you had been trained to perfect, reserved only for making yourself look like nothing more than a pretty, clueless girl.

"Oh no, I think I forgot my wallet. Would you mind paying for this?" You leaned in slightly, just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, batting your lashes expectantly.

Any lingering doubts you had disappeared the moment you caught her eyes trying (and failing) not to wander over you. Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink, and she turned into a nervous, stammering mess. Cute…

"Oh, it’s no problem—"

"You’re an angel!" You threw yourself into her arms, squeezing her tight before planting a loud kiss on her cheek, leaving her completely stunned and tripping over her own words.

Grabbing your bags, you rushed toward the exit, making a quick scan to ensure none of the security cameras had caught your face.

With swift movements, you strapped the newly stolen watch onto your wrist and checked out the cigarette pack you’d lifted from her pocket—lighter included.

01:47 PM.

You had plenty of time to drop off your groceries at your new “apartment” and continue wandering around the city. Maybe swipe a few wallets, grab some ice cream, or—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the voice of a Gotham Gazette reporter. Normally, you would have ignored it. You knew firsthand how these news channels thrived on sensationalism just to boost their ratings.

During the worst period of your childhood, before the event that changed your entire life, you spent your days haunted by the thought that at any second—ever since the bullying began—reporters would start swarming your life, tearing apart what little stability you had left.

There were too many things in your family’s history they could dig up to stir up collective hatred toward you for things your mother had done…

You knew exactly how dirty and twisted these people could be when it came to lining their pockets. But to your surprise, this wasn’t some exposé smearing your mother’s name or singing praises about Mr. Wayne, as you would have expected.

You read the headline with wary eyes:

"Who is Gotham’s newest protégé charming the city? Meet Signal!"

The more you listened, the tighter the knot in your throat became.

A new protégé? A daytime vigilante? A meta?

You had never smoked a cigarette in your life, but you were pretty damn sure this situation called for one.

Nanda Parbat, 09:32 AM – 06/20/10

The shooting range was unusually empty today, but you knew the reason why.

Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter, Damian’s mother—Talia al Ghul—had returned.

You were well aware that she had been there the day of the “accident.” Ra’s and Talia had traveled to Gotham to oversee and finalize the serum deal with Bane, but ever since then, she had remained in the city to “take care of business,” as Ra’s had put it.

You weren’t supposed to have that information, just like you weren’t allowed to attend or participate in the meeting currently taking place to set a new course of action for the League of Assassins.

Your sour mood wasn’t something you could hide well—everyone you had passed on your way from your quarters to the range had noticed it far too easily.

Huh, maybe that’s why you were alone here now… Maybe they were giving you space…?

Who knows.

A part of you recognized these emotions as irrational. You didn’t blame yourself for feeling them—you knew they came hand in hand with memories of your past, of all the times your family had excluded you from things, important or not.

But still, you berated yourself for not having better control over them, for letting them show so blatantly. Like some kind of tantrum.

The whirlwind of contradictory emotions left you dazed and confused. Before you even realized it, your feet had carried you here, drowning out your thoughts with the cycle of pulling the trigger, hearing the shot, and missing the target.

It frustrated you—to feel the way you did, to act the way you did. That’s why you had come to a place where gunfire was louder than the self-critical voice in your head. But frustration only grew as your bullets kept missing the mark, precisely because you were too distracted, too caught up in your own emotions.

The click of an empty chamber was obvious when you ran out of ammo.

Sighing, you pulled off your earmuffs and let them rest around your neck for a few seconds. You focused only on that—unloading and reloading.

Maybe you focused too much. So much that not even Talia’s presence in the room was enough to snap you out of your self-critical haze.

"Remind me to give you lessons in staying aware of your surroundings."

A startled yelp escaped your throat, and the magazine slipped from your fingers, clattering loudly against the metal cart beside you.

"And also on emotional management…" she added in a tone that suggested a joke, something you honestly hadn’t expected from her.

Even without the noise-canceling earmuffs, you could hear the rapid pounding of your heart, the buzzing in your ears.

"I-I… Uhm…"

"Actually, scratch that. The lesson starts now."

Talia moved faster than you could process. In one swift motion, she slipped the earmuffs from your neck and placed the freshly loaded gun back into your hands.

"Shoot like you normally would," she instructed.

You took a breath, barely thinking before you aimed and pulled the trigger three times. All shots landed near the target, but none hit the vital points you were supposed to aim for.

"Alright, stop," she ordered.

She crouched to be at your eye level, and your mind reminded you that you were barely half her height.

"You have the same problem as Damian. Neither of you knows how to clear your mind, or at least, channel your emotions properly."

Being compared to Damian yet again didn’t do much for your already sour mood, but you decided not to comment on it.

Those thoughts were quickly shoved into the back of your mind when Talia started adjusting your posture with a level of expertise any assassin or agent would envy.

Far from being uncomfortable, as you had initially expected, it intrigued you how easy it was to let her guide you.

Was this something natural, or had she trained herself to have this effect on people?

She parted your legs, adjusted your shoulders, repositioned your arms, corrected your grip, and finally, lifted your chin.

There was something about Talia—something in her touch—that made you want to reach for more, both consciously and unconsciously. The way she guided you, firm yet considerate, authoritative yet affectionate, left you confused. The feeling seeped into you like an uninvited guest.

And as if it were muscle memory, your guard began to lower, your heartbeat settling as if it finally felt safe.

Why…? Why did something you were sure you'd never experienced before feel so familiar?

Unbeknownst to you, Talia remained behind you, failing to hide the growing smile on her lips. She had noticed it—that shift in your demeanor, the way you became more receptive to her touch without her having to do much. Your body had started to relax, surrendering completely to her guidance.

That was fine. This was the intended result.

This—this was the fruit of years of restraint.

Years in which she had held herself back from pulling you to her side.

Years in which she had no choice but to remain a mere spectator in your life, unable to be there for you when she wanted to the most.

But it was okay.

"When you shoot, hold your breath. It will steady your aim," she instructed in a low voice.

You didn’t take your eyes off the target. And she didn’t take hers off you.

All those times she stopped herself from comforting you.

From burning your school to the ground in your name.

From keeping you away from the people who hurt you.

And from the ones who made you happy.

Every single moment she chose not to intervene was a step—one that led to this very moment.

Head, throat, and heart—three targets, three shots, three perfect hits.

Excited by your success, you turned to her, eager for her reaction.

But that excitement was quickly swallowed by a different kind of daze—one brought on by the way Talia was looking at you.

And then—something clicked in your head.

She reminded you of your brothers.

She gave you the same sense of security, the same guidance, the same unconditional love that, until now, only they had been able to offer you.

But there was more.

You weren’t sure how to define muscle memory. But if you had to, this moment would be the perfect example.

You were too preoccupied, digging deep—deeper than ever—into your memories, searching for the exact moment you'd seen those eyes before.

The same color.

The same vulnerability.

The same maternal love.

The same person.

You hadn’t even realized when your hand reached for her cheek. Or when she leaned into your touch—a reflection of her own unspoken wish for you to keep it there.

"Excuse me… Have we met before?"

"Maybe..." she replied, not revealing anything at all.

"I know you're upset about not being able to participate in the inner matters, but it's precisely because of that immaturity that you're still not ready."

She took the gun from your hand and stepped back, beginning to put away all the equipment that had been left out.

"But-" you tried to reply, but Talia cut you off.

"Y/N, you're going to have to trust our decisions and reasons, whatever they may be. If you want to be part of the League of Assassins, you need to start acting like one."

The room fell silent, leaving you to process the weight of her words. You lowered your head, embarrassed, but unwilling to admit your childish actions.

"For an assassin, nothing is personal. It's a lifestyle you'll need to adopt. You don't have a choice."

Talia grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.

"Everything you are, everything you have, you will place at our disposal. You won't argue, you won't hesitate, and you will not disobey. Do you understand?"

She was looking for an affirmative answer, but you didn’t want to give it. You knew the implications of all this were much heavier than you could truly grasp at your young age. Giving up your freedom, offering your life to these people and their purposes…

"Do you understand?" Talia pressed.

But what other choice did you have? A stupid, defective girl like you, a freak even your own parents didn’t want… No one else would care for you like they did, no one else would offer you the safety of a roof over your head, food, shelter…

"Y/N..."

What good was freedom to a dead child?

"Yes, ma’am, I understand." A knot formed in your stomach as you resigned yourself to your fate. "My life is at your disposal, use it as you see fit..." But please don’t abandon me.

Talia didn’t seem fully convinced by your response, but it was enough for now.

"Pack your things. Tomorrow you and I are going on a trip."

Talia ended the conversation and made her way toward the door.

"Yes, ma’am."

Your mother lied to you about many things, that much you knew. But amidst her many lies, there was one half-truth...

You grow in the dark.

Your head went blank and your ears began to buzz. The city noise and the voices around you started to fade into the background.

You blinked once, twice, even three times, making sure the word "Meta" was really there and not just a figment of your imagination.

Roots began to sprout from the soles of your feet, effortlessly piercing through your shoes and soon, the pavement below.

Calm down, you scolded yourself. You couldn't jump to conclusions, not yet…

You forced yourself to push down the growing uncertainty in your mind. That feeling of displacement, indignation, anger, envy.

You gritted your teeth and took a breath. Your roots withdrew inside you, and you regained your composure.

You looked at yourself through the cracked window of an abandoned car, dented, its paint worn, and even missing a tire.

Your calm demeanor returned, pushing away the last traces of the disturbance.

They didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserve to be shaken by this. You weren’t the anxious little girl hoping to be recognized anymore, nor the one who desperately sought Talia or Ra's approval.

You were just you—the empty, faded you—who wouldn’t let anything related to the Batfamily disturb her life again, and wouldn’t turn a blind eye to what she saw.

You tightened your grip on your shopping bags and walked toward the public library.

Without a care or fanfare, you made your way to the back of the building, exuding confidence and authority to avoid contact with the staff.

Once inside, you quickly hacked into the computer system. It wasn’t really hard, but still.

In less than ten minutes, you searched and absorbed everything you needed to know about the latest news on the Waynes.

Duke Thomas. Signal.

A boy adopted by the Waynes after losing his parents in a Joker attack, one where you were sure his meta abilities were triggered.

Meta…

You didn’t want to admit the sinking feeling in your chest that this small detail brought with it.

For years, throughout your adolescence, you had convinced yourself that Bruce never recognized you as his daughter because you were different, because you weren’t fully human, because you had powers—the one thing that set you apart from his team of misfits.

It was common knowledge among Gothamites that Batman had a rule about no metahumans in Gotham. He had to be fair to everyone, and maybe that’s why he never got involved with you…

You forced yourself to believe that, convinced that it was for your own good.

And now...?

Now, over seven years later, with all that time between you and that family, you felt rejected once more. You had come to terms with the idea that Bruce didn’t hate you, but hated your inhuman side, because if that wasn’t the case, it would mean that the problem wasn’t your past, your mother, or the fact that you weren’t fully human like him. The problem, the reason he never acknowledged you, was simply because of you.

As simple as that, and as painful at the same time.

Why him and not me?

And now, more than seven years after the tragedy of your life, once again, you felt orphaned.

Dubai, United Arab Emirates. 09:20 PM – 12/10/17

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you adjusted the final touches of your uniform. Personally, you loved how the dark colors of the uniform highlighted your eyes, while the golden details blended perfectly, accentuating your skin tone.

But in the middle of your admiration, you couldn’t help but run the pads of your fingers over your now-healed but scarred eye. The scar had stayed on the cheekbone since the accident. It was small, and anyone not inches away from your face wouldn’t notice it.

Luckily for you, your genetics included regeneration; it was slow, but it was reliable. It allowed you to regenerate your eye and your mutilated arm, but that tiny, insignificant scar seemed to linger as a mockery, a constant reminder of that night.

A sign that maybe you could never escape your turbulent past.

“You look great in the uniform.” You tore your gaze away from yourself in the mirror and focused on Talia’s figure in the doorway, and just a few feet behind her, Ra’s was beginning to enter the room.

Talia took calculated and hurried steps until she reached your side. She placed her hands on your shoulders in a comforting, almost conspiratorial manner.

She grabbed the burgundy ribbon from your belongings and tied it around your waist, discreetly hiding a dagger within it.

“It’s true, you’re made for this.” Talia agreed, gently stroking your cheek with affection. You smiled and melted into her warmth.

Even with your past in your present, you were grateful for what you had now. The fruits of your effort would show tonight. It wasn’t your first mission, but it was the first time Ra’s and Talia had entrusted so much responsibility into your hands.

Tonight, you would be their guardian, leading a squad of your own. They were trusting you with the operation—and their lives. They were going to do business with a powerful mogul, but he couldn’t be trusted, and of course, Ra’s wasn’t going anywhere without his trusted assassins.

They trust.

“If you’re ready, let’s go.” Ra’s announced.

Like a switch, those words triggered your more professional side, and you mentally prepared yourself for what was coming.

“Yes, sir. I’m ready.”

“We’ll take the lead. You know what to do.” Talia said her goodbye, but not before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You quickly donned your balaclava and mask before slipping out through the window with the agility of a feline. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to be in front of your squad.

They were all in position, awaiting your orders. These were veterans, having served directly under Ra’s and Talia. Professionals who had been given direct orders to prioritize you...

With just a few hand signals, they dispersed across the perimeter, keeping a considerable distance from the armored car carrying Ra’s and Talia.

Two of your teammates had sped off on motorcycles, planning to reach the meeting spot ahead of time to scout and prepare the terrain before the Al Ghuls arrived. A common tactic for them when Ra’s or Talia weren’t the hosts of the meeting.

In your right ear, you heard the voices of your teammates confirming the area was secure. Lex Luthor’s own security had already made an appearance to welcome both sides of the elite.

While Lex Luthor’s security covered the entire ground area, you blended into the shadows and heights, making it impossible for the human eye to spot you.

From a nearby building, you monitored the interaction between the three. If you wanted to, you could hear their conversation. But you decided to stay focused on the surroundings and Lex’s guards first. Once you confirmed the area’s security on your own, you shifted your attention to the exchange happening just a few meters from your position.

With binoculars in hand, you noted the displeased expression on Ra’s face and Talia’s wariness. In contrast, Lex seemed relaxed. Holding a glass of wine, with an air of arrogance and suspicion around him, things didn’t look good.

With a signal, you indicated to the others to stay alert and prepare for the worst.

“Should we prepare the firearms?” the second-in-command asked.

“Not yet.” You answered, turning toward them. “Unpack them, but don’t aim. Pass on the order.” You commanded.

Hearing the second-in-command choke on a single syllable, and noticing the way his body tensed in an instant, you couldn’t help but feel confused.

Curious, you directed your attention to the same point as him.

Oh.

Why the hell was Lex Luthor staring at you?

Putting aside the unsettling fact that he shouldn’t have been able to see you in the shadows, and considering the distance, the more chilling part was that he seemed to know that he shouldn’t even know about your presence in this city. His sly grin betrayed his arrogant feelings.

A bad feeling started to stir in your stomach.

“Y/N.” Talia’s voice calling you through the communicator snapped you back to focus. “Our host wants to meet you.”

You had to step away from the monitor because the more you dug into Duke Thomas’s information, the more you felt the rage spreading throughout your body. You gritted your teeth and your breath quickened; if you had something in your hands, you were sure it would’ve been unrecognizable.

You stood frozen, staring at the screen but not really seeing it. A big part of you just wanted to create chaos all over this place. You imagined yourself tearing through everything that had a solid form, whether living beings or objects, and soon escalating it to the destruction of this damned city. You’d do the world a favor by getting rid of it.

And especially its so-called heroes.

Those damned hypocrites…

While the initial anger was because of Batman’s new recruit, what really pushed you over the edge were the recent headlines in Gotham Gazette.

“The Y.N. Assistance help program will soon be up and running, available to children, teenagers, and young adults under 21, metahuman or not, who suffer from abandonment, bullying, or any situation that puts their development at risk…”

How dare they? How dare they do something like this?

After the contempt? After the abandonment and abuse?! How the hell do they think they have the right to create a help program in your name when you were the first one who needed that kind of help?! How the hell do they feel entitled to do something like this when they were the ones who almost pushed you to suicide more than once?!

You knew they had messed-up brains, but they crossed a line with this one...

“Mr. Wayne, it’s a pleasure to be with you again. How about you tell our viewers what this new help foundation is all about?”

“Of course. The ‘Y.N. Assistance’ plan’s main purpose is to ensure the education, protection, and prioritize the physical and mental health of all minors under 21. In collaboration with GCPD and Social Services, we guarantee a safe space for homeless youth who need our help, while offering free counseling and significant educational training.”

Your eyes watered from all the emotions welling up inside you, with anger being the dominant one. You couldn’t hear more before lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.

“Let me mention that young people with addictions like gambling, tobacco, or anything of that sort will also receive professional help. Am I right, Mr. Wayne?”

“Hey.” You ignored the person trying to get your attention.

“That’s correct.”

“Hey!” The person raised their voice and grabbed your shoulder. “It’s forbidden to smoke here.”

Oh, poor soul who dared speak to you like that.

“I’m sure smoking weed is also prohibited, but I can smell the burnt marijuana from here.” You snapped from your spot, starting to gather your things to leave.

You froze halfway through your move to leave. You opened your eyes and your heart started pounding.

Jason shifted uncomfortably, clearly not expecting anyone to notice him. Damn it, if you wrote about it in the complaint book, Babs would crucify him. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out the best escape route, not realizing you were like a deer caught in headlights.

When he opened them, a much bigger problem appeared before his eyes.

“Are you even old enough to smoke? You know what, forget it, you clearly don’t have the legal age to smoke.”

You tensed in your place, expecting a much more exaggerated reaction; you were thrown off by the fact that all you were getting was a lecture about how bad smoking was for you.

A part of you, one you’d never admit, felt disappointed for not being even remotely recognized. But what could you expect from someone who’s only paid attention to you twice in his life?

Plus, you were just confirming what you already thought—he’s a damn hypocrite. He learned to smoke before he could walk, so why the hell was he lecturing you?

You didn’t say a word, worried that he might recognize your voice. And when Jason stopped talking, you saw it as a signal to get the hell out of there.

As you passed by him, he grabbed your arm, holding you back. He looked at the screen where the report was still playing, then looked at you again.

“You should go. I can assure you, it’s a good place if you need help. In fact, if you need any other guidance, I’m here every day at this time—”

“I don’t want help from a street rat like you. You disgust me.” You cut him off immediately, feeling repulsed by his touch on you.

You pulled your arm out of his grip and left as quickly as you could.

Your anger only grew when you took the tracker from the same arm he’d grabbed. Did he think you were stupid?

You walked over to a manhole and let the sewage water carry the tracker away with it.

“Good luck tracking that, punk.”

You started heading toward the Gotham harbor.

“Why the hell does he want to talk to me?” you asked. “He wasn’t even supposed to know I’m the leader of the squad…”

“It’s not about that.” From behind, Talia helped you with your jewelry. Lex had insisted on having you join them for the evening, so you had to prepare for the occasion. “He knows that our increase in technology and biological weapons is thanks to you, and he wants to speak with the inventor behind it all.”

Talia took a deep breath, then sighed, looking visibly stressed. “Do you still remember your seduction lessons…?”

Although you nodded in confirmation, that didn’t seem to calm Talia down.

You took her hand and gave it a soft squeeze, offering her comfort. She seemed to appreciate that.

“There’s no need to worry,” she started, perhaps more for herself than for you. “It’s something that wasn’t planned, but there’s no need to panic.” She sighed and straightened herself. “You need to convince him, at any cost.”

You couldn’t help but swallow hard at the weight of those words.

From the reflection in the mirror, you inspected your new appearance.

A wine-colored dress hugged you like a glove, giving the impression that you weren’t carrying any weapons, but in reality, just above the slit of the dress, on your thigh, you had hidden pocket daggers. Though, well, you were already a weapon yourself…

Your loose hair made you appear older than you really were, and the gold jewelry couldn’t be missing. It was like a personal seal of the Al Ghul family, but you had to admit that you loved how it made your eyes stand out in contrast.

In your whole ensemble, there was no trace left of the girl you once were, but you didn’t identify with the daring woman you saw in the mirror.

Now that you thought about it, you had never reflected on the woman you wanted to be in the future. It was strange how you never projected yourself into the future, but you figured it didn’t make much sense—after all, if Talia or Ra’s asked for your life, you’d give it to them without hesitation.

What was the point of having aspirations then?

This life stopped being yours a long time ago.

You knew that other girls would kill to be in your place. To wear dresses made of the finest fabrics, wear jewelry made of the purest gold, and attend galas with extremely powerful people. You were very fortunate.

Your gaze shifted to the bracelet shackles on your wrists, confusing their radiant golden color with a coppery, rusted hue.

But you didn’t feel fortunate.

You turned to Talia, afraid that she had noticed your discomfort. Luckily, she was distracted enough with her thoughts, surely planning multiple contingencies in case something went wrong during the evening.

What was making you so unhappy?

You were lucky that someone believed in you, gave you refuge and training, gave purpose to your empty life, and love to your withered heart. Now, it made sense that you used that life for their purposes, and that your heart would stop beating when they ordered it. Without them, what was the point of your life?

In your head, that reasoning seemed logical, but there was something making you feel unsatisfied, with a bad feeling in your stomach. What was making you doubt now? Right now, when they had placed all their trust in you tonight, showing how much you mattered to them, and you were returning the gesture by doubting your loyalty to them.

Your head started to hurt, and you felt the world beneath your feet begin to spin.

With a quick excuse to Talia, you made your way to the bathroom.

You let the water run after wetting your face a little. It was a stroke of luck that you hadn’t put on makeup yet.

Makeup would probably make you look older, and in turn, make you feel worse.

When you arrived in Nanda Parbat and now in Dubai, you were impressed by all the technology flooding every corner of wherever you went. It wasn’t so much the technology that struck you, but the lack of nature that made you feel liberated. You couldn’t look at a single leaf without associating it with your mother or the constant rejection of plants.

The giant buildings, the neon and/or fluorescent signs, the rhythm of the people who didn’t stop to look at you, judge you, it was a welcome change in your monotonous life.

But right now, those stunning buildings seemed like a dark and empty cage, made to dazzle you, lure you in, and trap you. Designed to imprison you until you suffocated in their own darkness.

You raised your gaze to see your own reflection in the mirror, drawn to the glittering clink of the necklace Talia had placed on you.

And in the same way, the people gathered in that hall seemed as empty as the buildings, with lives made to lure you in and ruin you.

Your eyes lifted to meet your own, and even stranger, meeting a girl pretending to be a woman, pretending to be a soldier.

Had your face always looked so tired…? So overwhelmed?

Ah, that’s right…

With a deep exhale, you curled up against the wall.

Weren’t you wearing red rags the first time your mother tried to prostitute you…?

Sometimes, it was easier for you to be a tool without consciousness, without emotions, than to be a girl.

A girl with tears in her eyes, who didn’t want to be abandoned again, and if she had to prostitute herself to keep her caretakers happy, she’d do it.

Your feet found the path to your new, sweet, and ruined home.

You only bothered to leave your things in the room where you had resided before heading up to the rooftop.

In truth, despite how horrible it was inside, there was something comforting about being alone. There was no being who could disturb you. Or maybe it was just you trying to romanticize your life to avoid throwing yourself off the building.

Though, in your defense, you were extremely weakened, and it was winter (not good for you), so if you didn’t commit suicide soon, the cold would eventually kill you if you didn’t find a better place to hibernate.

But right now, both alternatives seemed the same to you. Even after all these years, you had never been able to project yourself into the future, probably because a part of you never stopped wanting to disappear from the face of the Earth.

Or maybe it was also because you believed you had no future at all. You never received primary education; for Ra’s and Talia, it was more convenient to keep you ignorant of the world. They focused all your attention on training, teaching you how to grab a knife before a pen.

They made you a splendid assassin, as much as possible, of course. You never got over the disgust and guilt of killing someone.

Memories of your first death replayed in your mind. The blood of the child you held in your arms, at least a decade younger than you. His skin splattered with red and white, empty eyes, and a body beginning to freeze.

He was the heir of one of Ra’s enemies. If they had let him live, that child would have grown to kill Ra’s. That’s what they told you.

But… Even knowing that, you never got over the guilt of what you did, of his death and the deaths of others who stained your hands with crimson.

Talia and Ra’s stopped assigning you those missions after you tried to take your own life.

And now here you were, an illiterate and useless girl, with no purpose, no skills, nothing. Well, who would have thought that at the end of the day, Damian would have been right?

You sat on the edge of the building, letting yourself be carried away by the distant sounds of the tide and the cool wind on your face, and with these elements to enjoy, the sunset didn’t seem as disgusting as it had before.

You enjoyed your time here while the sun began to set because once it did, you knew it was your cue to hide.

A single breath of this air could leave your mind blank, and it almost didn’t feel like you were in Gotham.

Maybe this is what people feel when they get high? Is that why it’s so addictive?

You couldn’t say for sure; although you had been drugged before, the doses were always so strong that they knocked you unconscious for days. Maybe with a smaller dose, you would at least remember what being high was like.

The topic of drugs inevitably brought the image of Jason and his smell of marijuana to your mind.

Clicking your tongue, you felt your good mood evaporate, and your peace of mind was compromised.

Knowing that the moment had already been ruined, you moved to plan B. You lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Due to your inexperience, you ended up coughing loudly, but after a couple of short, paused drags, you found the rhythm.

While it was hard for a regular person to get used to smoking, for you, the difficulty tripled. With your semi-plant condition, you were much more sensitive to gases than the average human. While for them a drag was barely irritating to the throat, for you, it felt like a full invasion and obstruction of your senses, not to mention your lungs.

In terms of destruction, this was like your cocaine.

By your calculations, with a single pack a day, you would be dead in less than two weeks.

A hollow smile spread across your lips, silently laughing at how pathetic you were. At least a seven-years-younger version of yourself would have had the guts to end it all right away, not in an indirect way like you were doing now.

Now you didn’t even have that, guts.

Another one to the list.

Another laugh escaped your lips, and you glanced down, perhaps one that lasted a long time...

Your smile vanished suddenly, and panic set in when you sensed the presence of someone else. You whipped your head around furiously, finding yourself face-to-face with the silent intruder.

"Relax, I come in peace."

With his lively, almost joking tone and the vibrant colors of his suit, you didn’t need to be Batman to recognize that it was Duke Thomas. Signal.

An unfamiliar sensation, perhaps confusion, began to spread like embers, burning stupidly slow.

Although this new (and unpleasant) visit wasn’t planned, maybe you could have a bit of fun with the new guy...

With a radiant smile and sly comments here and there, you managed to get through the evening without much trouble.

You did well blending into this world, but you could admit that if you squinted at Lex’s cynicism, he was even pleasant company.

"Have you ever played pool?" Lex asked, halfway between a question and an offer.

"In the assassin league, we don’t play much." You replied vaguely, but still grabbed one of the cues and leaned over the table, measuring your shot.

You knew more than one person was watching you right now, since you intentionally left your leg exposed, leaving little to the imagination.

With a precise strike, you sank three striped balls into the pockets.

Smiling, you turned to Lex. "But I’m a quick learner."

Lex raised an eyebrow, amused. "I can see that." On his turn, he managed to sink two in the left corner effortlessly. "So... Poison Ivy’s daughter?" He asked, testing the waters.

Although the mention of her disturbed you more than you’d like to admit, you didn’t let it show. You didn’t let your smile falter, and you struck back.

"Please, Lex, don’t tell me you want to meet my parents so soon. At least invite me for coffee." You joked, but with your suggestive tone, more than one person wouldn’t have hesitated to offer you that coffee. Meanwhile, Lex seemed entertained by your cleverness. "I don’t know how it is in Metropolis, but in Gotham, talking about parents on the first meeting is not considered... exciting."

"Let’s talk about what matters." You continued. "What can I do to convince you to choose me to carry out what you have…"

You leaned in again, but this time, much closer to Lex, your hips swaying dangerously close to his crotch, and if he noticed your play, he didn’t bother moving an inch.

One of the balls you were supposed to sink was on the edge of a pocket, just a few centimeters from two other balls. One was destined for Lex, and the other was the 8-ball. You aimed down, and measuring your strength, struck with just enough force to make the cue ball propel toward your ball, dodging the other two and sinking the target into the pocket.

Pum!

"... In mind?"

You slowly stood up, deliberately brushing your side against Lex’s chest, leaving almost no space between you. You slightly turned your head to the left, maintaining eye contact with Lex, who, whether to analyze or intimidate you, didn’t say a word and simply watched you.

He raised a hand to your neck, slipping a finger under your collar, giving it special attention as if admiring its beauty. Then, with his thumb and index finger, he gently took your chin, marking soft caresses on it with his thumb.

His eyes and attention to you said more than words, and in his head, it seemed like he was weighing the consequences of his next actions.

You didn’t want to admit that Lex seemed to rekindle some of your nerves with his actions, making your heart beat faster, and damn, is this what they call sexual tension?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stepped away from you, leaning toward the table moments later.

"It’s not your skills that don’t convince me." He resumed speaking. "I know full well that you could accomplish anything you set your mind to…" He shot you a side glance.

"It’s them that don’t convince me." He quickly glanced at Talia and Ra’s, who seemed to be each lost in their own matters.

You almost furrowed your brow in confusion, but quickly composed yourself.

"You’re going to have to elaborate on that, dear Lex." After such close proximity, you had to distance yourself from him, a classic tactic to leave the other wanting more closeness.

You placed yourself in front of him, stopping your admiration of the view when you leaned in.

"No doubt their commitment to their work is considerable." He began.

"But…?" You encouraged.

"But... That commitment is fleeting. The same hand that helped me can be the one that stabs me a few seconds later."

"It's no mystery that I want to rid the world of Superman, and one of his main allies is Batman..." At the mention of him, your body shuddered in rage. "Ra’s' relationship with him isn’t clear, and don’t even get me started on Talia."

"The relationship they may have with him won’t be a problem at all." You assured him. "Please, Lex, we have professionalism." You leaned in once more. "Besides, the League of Assassins hasn’t had dealings with Batman in over a decade."

Lex's shoulders shook with a laugh louder than the others he’d made during the night, and something told you that it didn’t bode well.

"Are you sure about that?" He questioned. "I understand Ra’s received a great favor from the Bat in exchange for allowing him to use the Lazarus Pit. And it wasn’t as long ago as you think, dear."

Lex smiled sarcastically, clearly enjoying your bewilderment.

Business with Batman? The pit? Why...?

Step by step, he got closer to you. He leaned on the table, relishing in the clear fact that he had touched a sensitive nerve.

Pit, resurrection...

Lex's delicate fingers cleared your neck, moving your hair aside, tracing your collarbones, sternum, throat, admiring the luxurious piece of jewelry adorning you, until they reached your jaw.

His index finger caressed it with reverence, and his thumb lingered on your lips a little longer than necessary.

...

His face neared yours, placing a kiss on your cheek.

..

The next kiss was placed at the corner of your lips.

.

... Tim?

You snapped out of your trance to look at him for a moment before closing the distance between you with a kiss.

He exhaled contentedly and pulled you by the waist, bringing you into a nearly lustful closeness. His free hand covered most of the left side of your face.

You, on the other hand, let your right hand move to his chest, confirming that his heart beat regularly.

He’s not lying…

Your left hand rested on his other hand, the one that had captured your face, gently holding it between his wrist and palm, almost instinctively...

However, that didn’t stop you when he suddenly broke the kiss and pulled your face in such a way that his mouth was at your ear.

“Tell me, what do you think they get in return if I agree to let you fulfill my request?”

Funding, weapons, satellites—the list was endless. They could get everything a president could offer, but...

“It doesn’t matter what answer I give you, I’ll be wrong, won’t I?”

Oh, Lex could fall for your suspicion...

A silent laugh escaped him. “They asked me for underground architecture in Finland, at least 40 meters underground, in the middle of nowhere.”

Lex pulled back slightly from you, his thumb reverently brushing your cheekbones. The softness of your skin could almost seduce him. With his other hand, he began playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers.

“But the most striking thing is that it seems to be some sort of greenhouse.”

What?

“In the center of that underground fortress, there’s a massive bulletproof glass habitat, reinforced and equipped for either a person or a large plant, if you ask me.”

...

“And in the surrounding area’s blueprints, there are at least a hundred underground bombs with pesticide, almost like mines.”

As soon as Lex leaned closer, he completely moved away from you. He grabbed the pool cue again, preparing to strike.

“You should leave, darling. Clearly, you have more important things to attend to.” He aimed at his target, but before striking, he straightened up. “Oh, and here.” He passed you a tiny device from his pocket. “Don’t thank me.”

You quickly recognized it as one of your micro communicators, but what...?

<< From behind, Talia helped you with your jewelry. >>

<< He raised a hand to your neck, slipping a finger beneath your collar, giving it special attention as if admiring its beauty. >>

Of course...

“Find me when all your family drama is over, darling.” With prodigious accuracy, the white ball avoided several obstacles until it hit the 8 ball, ending the game in Lex's favor. “I promise that next time I won’t be so gentle.”

Something told you he wasn’t talking about pool.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ I can't believe it's been more than two months since I last updated UnFair, to me it feels like only a week has passed. 😭.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Anyway— Hey! How's it going? How was your Christmas? New Year? God, so much time really passed…

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ After a couple of stressful months, I can finally bring you updates for the series. I think it was delayed this much because I got stuck somewhere in the plot, but I managed to get through it.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ As I mentioned at the beginning, most of the chapter wasn’t really planned like this in my notes, I didn’t even expect a cameo from Lex! It happened out of nowhere, and one thing led to another... In my defense, I blame Michael Rosenbaum for his amazing portrayal of Lex Luthor in Smallville (I thought of him throughout the process) and Arctic Monkeys for their incredible music.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ As for news, if you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know the UnFair Masterlist is in the works! I’m really proud of the aesthetic it has, hehe ;w;.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Speaking of aesthetics— If by the time I post this, my profile theme hasn’t changed, I’ll probably change it very soon. But don’t worry, my username will stay the same.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Once I do, I’ll start answering my askbox! By the way, if you’ve sent an ask with a ‘What if…?’ scene, don’t worry, I’ll eventually get to it but only once I finish this series so that the ideas don’t get mixed up.（。＾▽＾）

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Anyway, I think that’s everything. Remember that any ‘likes,’ reblogs, and/or comments are highly encouraged and appreciated! Especially the comments, I love being able to interact with you all (❁´◡`❁). And also, thank you so much to everyone who has been interacting with the story in all possible ways! I’m always paying attention to you all, I love being able to read your messages (it makes me especially happy to see returning people on my profile <3).

└───thanks for read!──➤

🅑🅨🅔-🅑🅨🅔

⸺ ⌈📷⌋⨾⨾ 𝑰𝒈: @_𝑟𝑢𝑏𝑦_𝑚𝑔

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[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

🎨color study note

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

this one goes out to everyone who has an M sized dog with an L sized bark.

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

The Terrible Crow

All your life you desired recognition from your father, well you got it! But not from your bio dad, things only grow worse from there. For the Bats, not for you.

All your life you have longed for one thing, you’re Father’s recognition. At first it was simple things, like getting good grades, school awards. Anything for him to tell you how good of a job you’re doing. When he brought in Dick that changed, the escalation was quick. If he could be Robin, if he could fight with your Father why couldn’t you? Eventually after years of begging he agreed, then not even a week later he took in Jason and he became the new Robin. Your Father told you it was because he was older then you, already making it safer for him to go then you. When you brought up the fact that you’re the same age as Dick when he started, your father countered that Dick already had years more training with his parents than you.

After that you reluctantly didn’t argue, scared of seeming like nothing more than a spoiled kid. Jason in you began training together, although the two of you grew a bond it never felt right. Everyone called you close and although you liked him a part of you was resentful. You’re Father was always tougher on your training then Dick or Jason, always finding a flaw no matter how long you practice. In a way it helped you perfect your skills to the last detail. But he never told you “good job” not like Dick or Jason, it was always moving right on to the next thing. After Jason’s death the training got worse, he was somehow harder and stricter than before. You went to bed sore with aching bones and bruises from training, if you went to bed at all that is. Sometimes your sleep schedule was what was being trained, he would make you stay up for days at I time, rarely doing anything more than a nap. He told you this was similar to the training he went through, that it would make you stronger.

You never got the chance to prove it though, not even a half a year since Jason died a new boy was brought in. Tim’s the same age as you, highly intelligent and good at stealth but completely untrained. “SO WHY IS HE ROBIN!” You screeched at the man you call Father, Tim stands there glaring at you. He has a red mark on his cheek from where you slapped him when you were told he would be Robin. You were instantly yelled at and reprimanded by your Father for this, which started this argument in the first place. “I HAVE TRAINED FOR MOST OF MY LIFE FOR THIS, I HAVE DONE ALMOST EVERYTHING YOU WANTED ME TO! I FOLLOWED YOUR ORDERS I DEDICATED MY LIFE TO THIS” You scream at him, tears filling your eyes and falling down your cheeks. He just stares at you, expression blank and unchanging “what made you think I’d ever make you Robin?” Is all he says. Freezing you just stare at him crushed. “You’re dismissed” you feel like he spits it out, he doesn’t but it feels like he does “don’t ever train here again, nor even think about being a vigilante” you’ve never felt so much rage and sorrow before. You turn around to leave pushing Tim to the ground as you do “you’re grounded!” He calls out. Without even looking back you flip him off “fuck you Bruce!”.

After that things were never the same, you never wanted to try at anything anymore. What was the point in constantly studying if it meant nothing? So you did whatever you wanted, there were barely any consequences. Bruce didn’t give a shit about you, he never truly did. Alfred always sided with Bruce, sure he called him out when he was in the wrong, but that rarely changed anything with you. Dick was as absent in your life as ever. Finally you and Tim’s relationship was shit, it would never recover, at least you didn’t care if it did or not.

Eventually though you stumbled across a niche that peaked your interest. It started small, quick one minute videos about animal biology you finished the nearly 10 year old channel's entire library of content in 2 days. Then it evolved into animal psychology and finally to humans, what made them tick. It was fascinating every last detail interested you, from the mating habits of raccoons to the study that showed most humans could pick out snakes in extremely pixelated and blurry images. Even the more questionable experiments that would never pass today, like the wire and cloth mothers, and the monster study. Things that would have been difficult to prove or research if it wasn’t for the unethicalness of it all. Hell, even the bullshit study with gorillas learning sign language was interesting, even if the whole thing was completely pointless and awfully mismanaged. It was just so interesting to learn about.

Then you stumbled across it, a familiar name, Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow. All his published studies were almost 2 decades old, but that didn’t stop how interesting they were. Both as a glimpse into the mind of a madman who long had his license revoked and as a study in how the mind understood fear in general. Sure you were made to memorize his habits, his usual schemes, hell you even helped reverse engineer and make a cure for several of his fear toxin strands. But you never learned about his studies, never learned about the person behind the mask. But now you wanted to, desperately, of course you couldn’t just go to Arkham. Bruce would learn about it and who knows what he would do once he learns of your little…. curiosity.

No, you didn’t want that, so you lied in wait for the perfect time. But while you did so you studied, falling back into old habits. Day and night you obsessively researched human psychology, several studies both bullshit and true. You memorized everything, dates, names, places, what effects they had, any changes or new revelations in the study, what they were studying and in some cases what they ended up actually studying. You even ended up dabbing deeper into chemistry. All of this to impress someone, but you enjoyed learning these things. All of this was fun, unlike dealing with Bruce.

Then finally the day came, Scarecrow broke out of Arkham. Using the skills Bruce ground into your brain you found him. It was pretty easy, you're shocked he didn’t find Scarecrow sooner. Of course you ended up captured, tied to a chair in one of his labs. Oh also a gun pointed at your head, neat! “What are you doing here?” Scarecrow says suspiciously, a wide grin forms on your face as you happily say “I want you to teach me!” The man just looked at you strangely. Then he laughed, “this isn’t a very funny joke kid” the man sneered at you. “But I’m not! I’ve read your work Mr. Crane! It’s absolutely fascinating! I want to learn more, especially about your newer unpublished stuff!” He just stares at you, “really?” He asks, pointing the gun down. Although he doesn’t look like he believes you, “then prove it” before you can even react the gun is back at your head and he shoots.

The bullet barely misses but you don’t move, don’t even flinch, you just smile. You know how manic you look, but you don’t care. Scarecrow just stares at you surprised, he completely lowered the gun and put it away. “Well..” he mumbles, “I guess I can give you a test” that made you feel nothing but pure glee.

The costume you were put in started out simple, a almost completely black suit with blue gloves and a mask vaguely resembling a plague doctor. You thought you looked like a rip off emperor's coven member but that’s not that important. As Crow as his apprentice you were first given grunt work, helping and leading his henchman in getting supplies for whatever project he was working on. That was when you weren’t doing homework, taking notes, organizing documents. The Bat’s were completely unaware of what you were doing, sure they knew you had something after school. The one time they asked you told them you got an internship. They didn’t even bother to verify if that was true or not. Alfred was the only one who even slightly cared and even then he was just proud that you finally found a calling away from the vigilante life. Boy was he only slightly correct.

Things started ramping up after you defeated Tim, Robin in combat. The pure smug joy you felt at that moment is indescribable. The rejected Robin, who's rusty, proving that they're stronger, faster, smarter, better than the current? You were so excited you almost went into hysterics, and the fear on his face as you brutally kicked his ass? Priceless! They didn’t even realize it was you, but Scarecrow did, he recognized how similar your fighting style are instantly. At first you were worried, scared even about what he’d do now that he knew. Truthfully he was suspicious at first, but once you told him your story, how you were rejected from being Robin in favor of the second and third. How cruel they were to you before and after, even said you would tell him the secret identities of the bat’s and everyone you know is affiliated with them. Both publicly and privately, although he rejected your offer he saw your desperation. How much you want, no needed to stay, to keep this. Scarecrow accepted your loyalty and at that moment you truly became Crow.

To commemorate this occasion you got an outfit change. It became more padded, the mask looking more like a helmet then anything, and boots that increase your height by several inches. You were also made to train in a different combat style with both the added height and change of vision it was a necessity. But also to help cover your tracks as Crow from the Bat’s. So you grow, you changed, you trained and trained and they never noticed. Not when you came back injured from work, with new bruises and scars. Not when you came home with gifts, or when you brought your assignments back with you. They were completely ignorant as Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, he became your family, your father.

Eventually though Bruce got suspicious, he never figured out who you were, not until much later. But he realized you're doing something shady, the man never put in the effort to figure out what exactly. So he sent you off to a college far from the city, of course he let you pick the field you wanted. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what to do, psychology was already your passion after all and you were being trained by the best. The only issue was Crow, how to excuse there absence. So faking an extreme injury a week before you left easily fixed that. Afterwards you packed up and went to school, a school you would never return from, not to the manor at least.

There you continued your studies, your training in all forms and your contacts with Scarecrow. The only real difficult thing was not getting caught in your less ethical studies. You spent from the age of 18 to 24 studying as much as possible in your field getting both a bachelor’s and master’s. The plan was to go for a PHD too, but sadly things were interrupted and you quickly returned home. Your dad, Scarecrow was extremely injured during a fight and was in the hospital. Someone needed to step up, that person was you.

This time your outfit changed once more, it made you look even bigger and bulkier then you were. A cloak with a feathered collar, iron gloves with clawed ends, the faceless bird helmet looking even more imposing. Everything in your power to make you look as menacing as possible, large and imposing, a night to rival the knight. As you were making your return known you discovered something interesting, a new Robin, a baby brother. Dispute your issue with your family something about this was exciting. You felt so happy and you didn’t know why, but the fact he’s a Robin? Well, the kid needed to be taught a very important lesson before he learned it the hard way.

It wasn’t hard leading him to Wayne tower by himself. Kid had the skills but no discipline, reckless and willing to do anything to prove himself worthy. You can relate, which is way it has to be you who dose this. You approach the 10 year old boy from the shadows “you came alone hatchling?” You say in a soft voice. He jumps away and wipes his head around to face you eyes wide, he pulls out his sword and points it at you. “How-“ “a magician never reveals there secrets” you say playfully “now put the sword down baby bird” he doesn’t just glares at you. He then lunges forward aiming for your throat, but it wasn’t hard to grab the blade and rip it from his hand. He stares at you wide eyed as you throw it to the other side of the building, he quickly reorganize himself and throw a punch. But you dodge it, each kick and punch he sent was easily avoided.

As he moved to kick your head you grabbed his leg, and pulled him away. “You know” you begin walking to the edge tone not changing, “in nature Crows and Robins have an interest relationship. Crows are an omnivorous creature, they don’t just eat seeds and nuts like some people will have you believe. They’ve even been reported to peck out the eyes and tongues of lambs. Robins are no exception,” you hold him over the edge and watch as his eyes widen. He squirms and yells, “Crows will actually protect the nests of Robins, for a fee of course.” Batman should appear any minute now. “There young, they take and feast on the eggs and hatchlings. They basically farm them, it’s fascinating really. Crows are one of the smartest birds, about as intelligent as a 7 year old human. We’re watching the first signs of the evolution of a society!” You say almost giddy, “little mafias! It’s adorable and fascinating!” “We’re are you going with this” you just stare down at him, your mask making it nothing more then a dark void. You can practically feel his presence close to you, “it’s simple really! I’ve never been payed my dues! And you’re just a hatchling that doesn’t know better” and you drop him.

Batman catches him of course, but by the time he does and gets back up the tower you’re already long gone.

——————

Sorry if it takes a while for me to post things! I haven’t been feeling great both physically and mentally lately.

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

So you're telling me once I reblog my post and decided to change something or edit it

THE REBLOGGED POST STILL KEEPS THE UNEDITED ONE?!

Nah Man we redoing this sh8 my fuckn autistic(?) ass cannot it be a waste for the aesthetic sh8 I'm doing

Ain't nothing gonna get updated till we fix this I don't care if I loss some counts on notes

If I'm gonna do something, I'm gonna do it properly

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Burn the whole Manor down

I know you want to

Make them suffer!

"I bet on losing dogs"

ok this is like my first time actually writing anything EVER, and I don't know how to work tumblr or make this aesthetic so bare with me pls!! I keep seeing yandere batfam x neglected reader and I have had so many ideas so I'm giving this a shot! The reader is referred to with female pronouns but you can imagine it different if you want :) Reader is 2 years older than Damian and is 15 at the start of the story. Damian is 13. Dick is around 10 years older than reader, making him 25 right now. Jason is 8 years older than reader, making him 23. Tim is 2 years older than reader making him 17. Cass is 4 years older than reader and is 19. Stephanie is 3 years older than reader and is 18. Barbra is around 8 years older, making her 23! Bruce is around 35-40ish??? All just kinda guesses to make the plot and dynamics more clear, lmk if you have any questions!!

This is the prolouge and it kinda sucks so pls be nice. Hearts and comments are appreciated. If it's bad ignore it, english isn't my first language.

You couldn't understand it. You aren't a bad kid, so why were you treated like one? Why did your father treat you like the bane of his existence? Why did your older brothers see you as nothing more than dirt at the bottom of their shoes, a ghost in the manor, a blemish on their picture perfect family of misfits. You tried so so hard to fit in, to be part of the family. You wasted 11 YEARS of your life trying to get noticed, doing activities and hobbies you hated in the hopes of striking conversation with your "siblings". Batman, Bruce Wayne, your "father", ignored you no matter what. He ignored you like it was his job, from the day you came to the manor on your fourth birthday, your mother's death day, to today, your 15th birthday. You saved his life, his and all those other ungrateful losers who you used to call family. Yesterday, you put you life on the line for them, got bitten by that damn snake for them, and they ignored you and told you to walk it off while coddling the girl who suddenly appeared. Never again would you help them, nor would you brush off their mistreatment, not after this betrayal. Not after they took in another girl, a girl your age, the girl who took credit for your heroic act, the girl who bullied you for years at Gotham Prep, the girl who made your life living hell, and called HER family. They choose Tiffany Maverick to be their supposed savior, they would never believe you had the bravery to help them. They chose her to be Tiffany Wayne and scorned you.

You did nothing wrong, from the day you came to the manor you were perfect. Straight A's, no attitude, no complaints and no demands. All you did was try, try, try, and they never noticed.

Richard "The Dick" Grayson, as you and your friends call him, was the world's best big brother to everyone, except you of course! He was your first brother, he was the kid that Bruce Wayne actually wanted to take under his wing. You were 5 and he was 15, he was busy being Robin and then Nightwing. Alfred assured you that Dick adored you, you were his baby sister after all, he was just busy! In later years you realized he was only busy when it came to you. He made time for Damian no matter what, always attended Cassandra's ballet recitals, chatted with Tim and ruffled his hair, and he even dealt with Jason's snarky attitude and biting remarks. Yet, somehow when it came to you, he never had time. Always brushing you off with a shoulder pat and a "Maybe next time sweetheart!" and rolling his eyes when he thought you weren't looking. He's been making time for Tiffany or Tiffybear, as he loves to call her while pinching her cheeks and calling her his favorite little sister, "Don't tell Cass though!" he'll whisper to her. You don't even think he can remember your name. Or that once upon a time you were his "baby bird."

It makes you sick watching her take credit for everything, she's only been in the manor for 6 months and they've all given her more love than they have to you in the past 11 years. She took credit for all your awards, she told everyone she was top of your class, made them "homemade" cakes and muffins. It was all you. She stole everything.

Jason Todd, the red hood, was so mean to you. You used to admire him, looked up to him, and he took all your kind words and gestures for granted and spit them back in your face. Once upon a time, he was your favorite brother, you wanted to be as confident and unshakeable as him, it didn't matter how mean he was now because he was you brother and you loved him. The bond you had before his death was something you couldn't let go of, he was the only one who loved you. When he first came to the manor he was 12 and you came a couple months later. An adorable 4 year old who followed her favorite brother like a duckling. You were 7 when he died. You were 12 when he came back to haunt Bruce and Dick and Tim. You chased after him and tried to resurrect the bond you had for 3 long years. You gave up when you saw them. You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw him and Tiffany sneaking out the manor on a school night, you almost threw up when you saw him strap her on his motorcycle and leave for hours. They came back with shit-eating grins and cupcakes for everyone from a 24hr bakery, everyone except you. The bakery you asked him to take you to months ago. Tiffany saw the tears in your eyes and your clenched fists and she laughed.

Timothy Drake-Wayne, you first saw him after Jason died. Tim, in your 10 year old mind, was trying to steal your dad. Bruce ignored you even more after Jason's death and shut everyone out. Your bond with Tim was non-existent no matter how hard you tried. After you realized he wasn't trying to replace Jason, and saw how he was helping your father heal in ways you couldn't, you tried to bond with him. You attempted to play his video games and ignored his complete disintrest in you and anything that had to do with you in hopes he might come to appreciate you. You brought him coffee after long patrols, asked him about his day, asked to meet his friends, you picked up all his hobbies like hacking, cooking, reading even martial arts and yet he ignored you. You tried to find him in hallways at school, only to be treated like a stranger when you found him. He was embarrassed that you were his sister. You were chubby and awkward and didn't have many friends, he didn't want his cool kid friends to know you were his sister. For 5 long years you chased after him, for 5 years you chased a ghost, and somehow Tiffany captured his attention using one of the gadget-thingys you made in hopes to impress him. She walks the hallways of Gotham Prep with him, a perfect sibling duo, he even had her lunch moved so she could sit with him and his friends. He wasn't embarrassed of her. You watched them get closer in 6 months than you have in 5 years. And it hurt.

But perhaps what hurt most is her newfound bond with Damian. Your baby brother. You tried the hardest with Damian, almost as hard as you tried with Bruce, and yet he chose her while all you got was a sword to your neck and sneers of disgust thrown your way. Damian moved in when you were 12. You were elated, if you couldn't have good older siblings, at least you could be one! That plan went to hell when you realized Damian saw you as less than him. No matter how hard you tried, returned your love with disgust. You tried to show him around school like you wished Tim did for you and he called you " A waste of space and Wayne DNA" and said that there was no way you were of "Wayne" blood and that your "whore of a mother" had to have deceived his father, in front of your two friends and half the school. You could've handled his cruel words if he didn't begin attempting to duel you to become your father's heir. About a year ago, when you tried to hug him he threw you down the stairs and you broke your ankle, you stopped trying with him after that. He was so possessive over Bruce and now that somehow transferred to Tiffany too. You'd feel bad for her if she wasn't eating his obsession with her up.

Barbra, Cassandra, and Stephanie were the "It girls." All practically sisters, they hung out almost everyday and had sleepovers every Friday. They giggled about boys, hook-ups, missions and bonded over everything. You wanted be one of them, you tried so hard to be cool, to be pretty, and they could only see your flaws. You curled your hair and did your nails in hope you would blend with them, you even attempted to be Batgirl at one point. You were quickly denied after Stephanie pointed out that you didn't have the right 'physique' for it. Barbra quickly agreed and said you weren't cut out for it, Cassandra simply looked you up and down. Thats why it hurt extra when they welcomed Tiffany with open arms. Suddenly, she could be Batgirl. She talked to them about boys and bonded with them over girl things. She stole your sisters.

You figured out Tiffany was a spy almost as soon as she came into the manor. Her apperance and ability to act like it was her who saved the Bats from the Joker and his new radioactive snake was not a coincidence, neither was her becoming a vigilante only two weeks after coming into the manor, and neither was you catching her walking out the Batcave with arms full of Batman's weapons and plans. You couldn't believe your luck and pulled out your phone to take a picture, too bad you left the flash on. Tiffany quickly noticed you and tried to explain that it was a misunderstanding when Bruce came into the hallway. You beamed at the sight of him and began to explain what you saw Tiffany doing, only Tiffany was faster. She was quick to blame you for everything, and Batman, the world's greatest detective believed her. She said that you bullied her at school and you were so jealous of her joining the family that you went to steal plans and took pictures to frame her. It was a shitty lie and somehow everyone believed it. You still remember the cold indifference on Bruce's face, the sadness on Alfred's, the look of pure delight on Damian's, the shock on Dick's, the interest on Tim's and the disappointment and disgust on Jason's. Something shifted in you that night. You didn't feel an overwhelming amount of love and longing when you looked at your family, you felt anger. Pure unadultered rage, rage at Bruce for never loving you, rage at Dick for being a liar, rage at Jason for throwing away your bond and cool indifference and disgust at the rest of them.

Maybe that's why your abilities finally formed. Maybe thats why the place the snake bit you that fateful night began to glow as you cried in your bathtub, after being scolded all night and getting body slammed by Damian for trying to "taint his dear sister's image". You had powers now, the agility of a snake, you could eject venom out of your fingertips, you could walk on walls, now you could prove them all wrong.

okayyyy yall this was the prolouge. Again this is my 1st attempt at writing so be nice. If enough people like this I'll put out part one. Hope yall enjoyed and lmk what you want to happen next in the comments!!!!!!!!!

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Damn if that kid starts speaking ilonggo Imma sh8 myself

“Kalasahan ta kaw.”

“Kalasahan tara kaw”

“YOU KNOW TAUSUG TOO?? DAMN IT—“

It started as a little competition. An accidental one. You told him I love you in your native language, and forgetting that Damian Wayne could understand at least a thousand in that wrinkly brain of his, accidentally confessed your longing, love and devotion to his face.

Thankfully it was reciprocated. But wouldn’t it have been disastrous if he didn’t also love you to death? Yikes.

Still, you didn’t like how calm and collected he always was whenever he replied to you. He was always so cool about it. As if his heart didn’t beat a million miles per second when you spoke. As if he wasn’t struggling with the thought of you contaminating his brain every moment he breathed.

You wanted to crack that shell of his. To let it all spill out in a wondrous array of colors that matched his paintings of you. (A hobby he picked up even before the two of you officially met)

And so you began finding ways to say you loved him in a way that would catch him off guard.

It started with different ways in English, but now you managed to find

“You might as well give up, beloved. I’ve familiarized myself with every single dialect in the Philippines, ever since you started. None of them can—“

But you still had one trump card under your sleeve.

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir!”

“. . .” He remains silent. Could it be . . .

“Hah, I bet you don’t know D&D Elvish!”

“ . . . “ His ears beet red.

“It means—“

“You hold my heart forever.”

“!!!”

Today’s results? A tie. Damn him and his voice.

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

I'M LOVING THIS

Rotating an idea in my head;

Imagine a neglected!Reader who did everything in an attempt to impress their family.

Who got amazing grades and got into high school at age 11.

Who was "a savant beyond their years" and "talented beyond what their age group could be taught".

Skills came easy to them. Give them a year and some encouragement and before you know it they'll have mastered whatever it was.

It wasn't like they could leave the house and hang out with friends. Bruce said that was off the table. It got quiet so often in the manor.

But it wasn't enough

Until someone saw the potential that Batman was just leaving there. Like he wanted someone to just... scoop them up and tutor them.

Their friends and allies and even a few enemies saw the potential. They all agreed to teach them their greatest skill. In a year they've mastered all of them, even surpassing some of them.

Any drug they were developing was improved beyond anything they could've imagined.

Weapons fashioned to fit them far surpassed anything, even the best on the black market.

The Rogue Gallery was beyond impressed.

And Reader was on Cloud Nine with all the attention it was earning them. Head pats, praise, treats. It was more than anything they could've asked for. And even if they didn't have a new invention at the end of the week, so many were willing to just hang out. Without prompting! No "Go bother Alfred" or "I'm busy" or "Another time, chickadee".

Harley had to be reminded that a 12 year old had no business around hyenas, even if Budsie and Louie were on their best behavior. Harley settled for watching old magical girl animes with you.

Luckily, Poison Ivy knew not to bring you around her poisonous plants. Though she did spend a concerning time teaching you exactly what plants were poisonous and how they were poisonous.

Bane taught you everything he knew, from throwing a punch, to how to scare someone off. Granted, a 12 year old, with so much of their baby fat in their cheeks, and wrists as thick as Bane's thumb, looked like a Ragdoll kitten copying a Bengal tiger. He played chess with you too, and he said that given your role in advising, a knight or a bishop would fit you best.

Bane was your favorite. He'd smush your face (gently, you were so tiny he was scared of breaking you), lift you up, even do pushups and pull ups with you on his back.

When Bane told you how he'd saved Alfred once during a collapse of Arkham Asylum, only to be incapacitated once Alfred was "done" with him, it made your blood boil.

As you learned all of their stories, learned the human in all of them, you knew that you were saved from a family with rotten blood. You'd spend your life repaying them, even if they never asked.

--------

Eventually, you decide to follow them into battle. You're kept up and away from the bulk of the battle. This time, it was Joker vs the Batfamily. Tim was unable to track what he'd been trying to do past a few errant clues. It was clear that the Rouge Gallery had a new villain.

You were given direct instructions to watch yourself; Joker wouldn't care enough to tear his eyes off Batman. You already knew that; Harley had spent 3 days trying to convince you to reschedule with someone else, but you told her you wanted Joker, not someone who'd be tempted to glance back and give away your hiding space.

Jason was the one that saw you. You were dressed in a costume that resembled a bishop chess piece with a split full face mask, perched atop a van far from the actual battle. His old scars with Joker made him hesitate, but you looked like a definite person of interest, and everyone else was indisposed.

He ran over, firing rubber bullets as you dodged, eventually tripping and falling off the van. Why were you so small? Jason picked you up, grip just loose enough so you could breathe.

You reached up, pulling your mask off. Jason blanched as he saw your face, soft around the edges and wide eyed.

Bruce told him that he'd stayed away to protect you from the vigilante life. You were the one person who hadn't pushed to join them, so he never told you about missions to avoid any ideas of joining. Jason followed suit, and so did the others. Their lives were busy enough anyways, and you had Alfred when he didn't have something more important to do.

He may have brushed you off more than absolutely necessary, but he wasn't in the right headspace then! You had already grown so much and all he'd wanted by then was vengeance on Batman. You couldn't blame him for keeping his distance at that point. He was protecting you.

But here you were, pinned by the throat by your own brother. Your protector. He released you, taking a step back. He glanced around for an opening, seeing a small alleyway. He gestured over his shoulder for you to follow. "C'mon kid. I'll get you back home and I won't even tell Bruce you snuck out, 'k?"

Suddenly, he felt a prick in his back, shortly followed by a burning itch and ice cold pain. He fell to the ground, trying to reach the spot you pricked.

"Miss Ivy said these were dangerous. Her own home blend. It's a diluted version, so you'll be fine in a few days, Todd" said the much too calm voice above him. He was struggling to breathe around the writhing mass of pain, looking up at you between blinks of tears.

He couldn't scream, he could barely breathe. He could die here and the family wouldn't know until the dust settled.

"It won't kill you, and from the looks of it, they'll be coming to pick you up soon."

"Aren't we family?" He chokes out between gasps. He felt so lost. You were his baby sibling, the tiny thing that'd wander the halls, holding an old chess board as you asked your cool big brother to play with you. The person he kept away from to protect. How could you repay him like this?

Hadn't he done so much for you?

You look at him from the boot of the van. When had you gotten so far away? Your voice is quiet, but it's heard, if barely, over the revving of the engine as Joker's minions prepare to drive away, and the screaming of his name as the rest of the family approaches.

"Were we? I never thought you wanted a baby sibling like me."

-------

The Batfamily took him home and patched him up. The new tech, like all other recent inventions brought in, were so advanced they bordered on state of the art. Even Tim was struggling to decode any of them, with all the kill-switches that seemed to recognize when it wasn't hooked up to the original computer and bricked themselves.

Jason had recovered, like you said, in a few days. Capable of breathing easily in 2 days, regularly needing to be sedated before then, and sitting up without pain by day 5.

The Batfamily had asked him by day 4 about the masked person they had seen next to him. Jason was detached from himself. That face, those eyes. They held no warmth for him, no pity for him while he was writhing in agony at their feet. Like he was less than a stranger.

Like he was less than human in their eyes.

Your name fell off his tongue like lead, slamming against the ground as everyone fell into silence.

"It was them. They gave me that injection. Their face, I-"

"Todd, did the injection give you hallucinations? There was no way that they'd accomplish something like that." Damian raised his brow, checking the chart to make sure the bulk was out of his system.

"I know what I saw. They hadn't even injected me when I saw their face."

"That's impossible, Jay! Look, I'll go to their room and get them right now. They'll probably be pretty cranky since it's, what, 4am?" Dick's footsteps disappeared down the hall.

After a few minutes, Dick came running back, looking at Jason with a mix of shock, horror, and confusion.

Two words.

Two words that finally made them look at you.

Two words that made them realized what they'd missed.

Two words that made them connect the inventions that almost got them killed to the darling child they'd convinced themselves they were protecting with cold shoulders and smothering silence.

Two words that made them refocus their sights on bringing you back.

"They're gone."

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Reblogging this every damn time

YOU DON'T GET TO FORGET NO ONE WILL EVER FORGET

Reminder for when he “saves” it. He was the one who wanted this, and now he gets to be the hero and win favour with young constituents. Don’t give him the credit for fixing his own problem.