Bruh.. Went To School At 10am And Then I Got Home At 8pm 🤙

I 'hate' Cats

──► a random stray cat adopts our precious boy .

Jason leans against the cafe wall as he he blows on his coffee before he takes a sip. It's a normal day today - that's funny considering there's always something to do like maybe cleaning his guns or sharpening his knife, but today he just feels lazy.

Jason watches the bustling streets of Gotham go by with a poker face on until he felt something brush up on his leg. Jason screeches , his coffee spilling all over himself before he looks down to see a small fluffy ginger kitty rub against his leg.

Jason scowls . He hates cats because they're so much work to take care of and so bloody hard to bond with . Jason shoots the cat a glare as he begins walking away furious , his slow afternoon ruined by some feline .

The kitty eagerly follows after him through the busy crowd , their little ears perked at him. Jason groans at the sight . " Look, I don't have any treats," Jason says dismissively. The kitty meows in response as they rub against his leg.

Jason groans in annoyance, but he can't argue with the fact that the kitty was cute . Before he could even do anything , someone from the crowd accidentally kicked the feline while they were walking past, causing the cat to whimper in pain.

Jason saw red and literally scooped the kitty in his hands and kissed them all over . " It's okay baby , daddy's got you," Jason coos at the cat. The kitty purs and rub their furry face on Jason's cheek. Jason smiles . Okay, he still hates cats it's just that this one is cute and lovable .

I wrote this bcz I miss my cats sm shout out to oreo , ranni and Bubba my beloved cats.

Also yes Jason is a cat dad .

Nursing school is killing me 😭 (slept for 2hrs)

- 👻anon

I'm convinced we share the same schedule ( fellow I.T major)

I'm sorry noonie

I WILL SURVIVE BUT NEVER RECOVER

summary :batfam enjoy each other's presence while Alfred and Bruce silently mourns your death.

part 1 of die young

before you read !!

AWARNESS - info

- since 2015 , school shootings in the U.S has significantly skyrocketed in comparison to every other decade .

- according to the NCES (National Centre for Education Statistics) during 2020 - 21, there was 93 school shootings , resulting in 43 deaths & 50 injuries.

- there was 332 shooting incidents that occurred in k-12 schools in 2024 , this incident resulted in 267 injuries & fatalities.

- active school shootings typically occur in high-school - about 61.8% .

- many parents grieve the lost of their child , many never recover and end up living their life miserably . This is encouragement to help stop school shootings to prevent innocent children from dying.

Bruce stands in the manor's foyer , his face is maimed with bruises and has grime stuck on it . One hand clutches his bat mask tightly as he stared into the darkness encompassing the long hallway before him. His chest plate is battered , its bat symbol is no longer recognizable , his once pristine cape is now tattered with bullet holes .

He looks so dead - and he feels it , he feels the emptiness. He alone went on patrol tonight , his children did argue - offered to join him tonight, but he declined, and some stubbornly disregarded his declination and attempted to go anyways, but Lord thank Alfred stopping them. Only the two of them understood why he had to go tonight.

They shouldn't have to see how brutal he was tonight - none of them should - none of them should have to witness how he practically almost brutalized some goon for pointing a gun at him - that the sight of that oh so familiar gun brought back memories of him cradling your mutilated body that dreaded day. Or the way he threw rational to the wind as he chased after two face like a mad man for an hour only to dump him in front of blackgate like the scum he was.

He trudges through the darkness of the manor - embraces the quietness and darkness as he slums his tired body against the dining table where his cold dinner sat. He feels bile rising in his throat when he realizes it was placed in front of the same chair you used to always eat in.

He falls to his knees - tears brimming as the memory of your happy small self feeding your plushy a cookie in that same seat. He can practically hear your giggles and the familiar sound of the chair wobbling as you swung your little feet back and forth.

He blinks - and the memory is gone - you are gone - no longer in front of him. He shuffles back on his feet frantically, and like a scared man, he runs away because that was too real - it felt too real - it felt like you were there - like you were home again.

He stumbles up the stairs, and his feet carry him down a familiar route . Even now - when his body is in overdrive - in a panic state - his body still takes him back to you . He stands in front of a familiar door . Yours.

It's lower half is covered in sparkly stickers and a doodled portrait of three stick figures holding hands sticks out. His hands practically shake violently as he pushes open your door .

You stand in front of him , you're wearing the same dress from that day , your hair is styled in the same pig tails he put them and your pink backpack is slung on your shoulders the same way Alfred dropped you off in. You look at him and beamed, " Hello daddy !!" You exclaimed as you embraced his legs - too short to reach his waist.

Bruce doesn't hesitate to crouch down and hug you back , arms encasing you like the precious jewel you were . He feels you snuggling into him like you always did . He pulls you in tighter, and the feel of your familiar warmth and the scent of vanilla perfume fills him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute as he savors everything , " Sweetheart, you're okay !" He exclaims happily as he observes you . He has to force his head to crane back to look at your snuggled up form. Your cute little self turns to him confused , " Why won't I be okay, Daddy ?" You questioned with a tilt of a head as you looked at him.

Bruce blinks and you were gone . He looks down at himself to only reveal his exhausted body slumped to the floor - the same way he did that night when he grieved that night and it's then he starts to choke on his sobs.

How cruel- how dare life torture him like this ? He chokes on his tears even more as he looks around your room - frantically as if to prove to himself you're still here and that was just a nightmare .

It's empty- despite all the stuffed animals , the scattered toys strewn about , the walls filled with your favorite books to pictures and drawings. There , in the middle of your room laid an empty bed - deprived of the usual light of your nightlight you always put on before bed and most important- deprived of your sleepy figure cuddling the mountain of plushies.

Everything is still left untouched since that day they lost you . He feels a drop in the pit of his stomach as he does a once over of your room - you aren't here yet that felt too real - you sounded to real - too alive to be gone .

He forces himself to stand and close your room - he knows Alfred would have his head if he didn't - the old man considers your room as a place of sanctuary - something that had to be preserved and Bruce would never argue with him because he to believes it as sacred himself.

He forces himself to trudge up the hallway towards his own room and open his door . He looks down the hallway one more time - hoping to see you come running after him with your plushy in hand to ask him to read to you or maybe tuck you in.

He waited for a long time, and he was only greeted by cold looming darkness. He wipes away any more brimming tears before he enters his room - only once the door is shut and he collapses on his bed does he allow himself to succumb to his emptiness.

The golden rays adorned the manor angelically , everyone is wide awake and present at the table . Alfred distracts himself from the temptation to drown himself in his own misery with alcohol but chooses to fuss over the children instead.

He feels numb - he feels angry - he feels everything but nothing at the same time . He masks his irritation by choosing to focus on scrambling Bruce's eggs. He won't tell anyone - not even Bruce that the sight of cold dinner sat in front of the chair you used to sit in every morning and evening to eat irked him -

It felt like a sick cruel joke from God as he mocked - no egged him of your absence. He would never tell anyone how he stood there - eyeing that dinner and that chair as he cried his eyes out before he mustered whatever courage he had left to pick it up and throw it promptly in the trash.

He supposed one of the kids innocently placed it there for Bruce last night - something you would definitely do - because you were just that kind and sweet of a person.

Alfred forces himself to breathe when the smell of burnt toast meets his nostrils. He regains his composure and swiftly throws the toast in the bin before restarting.

Bruce enters the dining room - face a bit somber and dull. Bruce has to internally pray that none of his children questions why - he doesn't know what he'd do if he was to be subjected to another interrogation. He slips into his seat , making sure not to eye the familiar , empty seat next to him because he knows if he only does he'd simply break down.

His children immediately filled the sullen air with their happy chatter. He watches in silence, as Jason and Damian fight one another over waffles , Dick and Tim are discussing a movie they want to see , the girls are talking with Duke about some drama with a classmate they knew apparently.

Alfred stands behind him and set his breakfast , "Morning Master Bruce" he greets. " Morning Alfred," he greets back . Bruce detects the lack of 'good' in Alfred's greeting - though Bruce understands why since if it truly were a good morning you would of been here with them.

" Hey B do you want to join us in a shooting range this evening ?" Dick asks - breaking the silence. Bruce felt his world still around him - in the background - you can hear the sound of clattering utensils as Alfred drops whatever he was doing at the sudden inquiry.

Bruce feels himself hyperventilating at the thought of any of his children near that devilish thing called a gun. He's lost too damn much to it - so for the sheer audacity of Dick to suggest this - feels like a cruel joke. He feels the world consuming him as he merely glances at the empty chair next to him and there - a memory of you eating pancakes while singing replays in front of him . This one was the last morning - the last breakfast him and Alfred had with you.

You look at him and flash your innocent smile at him , " Do you want a pancake papa ?" You ask as you held up a pancake towards him. Bruce has to force his eyes to blink before he loses himself and starts to break down.

Your figure disappears once again and then Bruce turns towards Dick , face void of any emotion. Seeing you once again only finalizes his decision , " No and you aren't going there" Bruce says firmly. Everyone at the table stills and looks at him - defiantly. " What the fuck Bruce it's a shooting range it's not that serious" Jason says . " Exactly father if you don't want to join us just say so" Damian says matter of fact.

Bruce feels his blood freeze. " I said no, and not one of you is going " he says firmly - his eyes narrowing as he stares at each one of them. Everyone looks at him - an unspoken defiance and challenge.

" Fine be that way B ," Dick says - fustrated that Bruce had to shut down a family bonding moment. Alfred approaches the table , his face is void of any emotion as well, eyes distant as he pours everyone a class of marmalade .

" I advise you listen to your father young masters" he says finally. Jason practically rolls his eyes and pushes his chair back , " Not when he's being such an asshole Alfred" Jason quips before leaving. The girls and Duke follow him suit - disappointed at the outcome of this morning as they too were excited to go let off steam .

Tim rocks back in his chair before shaking his head in disappointment as he stares at Bruce, him and Dick finally got up and left, storming off elsewhere. Damian was the last to leave - ensuring he glared at his father . Bruce met his glare- equally defiant as he watches his son storm pass him - not before shoving the empty chair back into the table.

Alfred immediately launches forward to brace the chair's impact against the table . Bruce sits there , head hung low as he stared at your chair longingly.

" Oh sweet heart daddy doesn't know what to do anymore "

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thank you for reading hope you have a good day!

Taglist :@itsmossy @sugarrush-blush @shirp-collector-of-fixations @anteroz @cxcilla @shynerdtriumph @amber-content @azulesworld

Lone Warrior Pt.3

summary :reader is put into emergency foster care after a tragedy , despite living with the Wayne family for a bit , reader takes it upon herself to move away and start anew since she clearly wasn't welcomed , after many years have passed Damian finally joins the family and after a particular spat w his father he finds himself in reader's room and an interest in them has sparked.

enjoy !!

part 1 , part 2

Gotham City , North , Mercey Island , Arkham Asylum. , Year 2014

Arkham Asylum stands alone on a hill , the sky above it was a perment drab of grey that looks too similar to the flickering static screen of an old television. The trees surrounding the island were scarce and bare - it's bark a dead charcoal black - it's inhabitants long gone.

The asylum looms too tall - like an angry adult looming over a child ready to punish them . Young Y/N steadily walks through the rusting iron gates - the old thing practically already fell off its hinges years ago . Y/N stumbles along the muddy track , her beat-up converse drags the brown mush along with her every step , cementing her footsteps in their wake.

Y/N feels a shiver crawl up her spine as she observes the flesh orange paint practically peels off the building like a fresh wound , it does nothing but reveal the building weak infrastructure. Y/N eyes drifted up to the windows that were way above her, all were barcaded in thick iron bars . Some windows had absolutely no light , some had, but most were flickering on and off.

Y/N's hands hesitantly outstretched and knocked on the bolted up iron door - she stood there for a while - a long while, but her mother always taught her to be patient, so she continued waiting. A long while passes until the door opens, revealing a long corridor - everything was of sickening white , down to the floors , the ceilings even the doors . The hallways look like it outstretched for miles and miles never-ending . The air smelled of bleach, and it practically burned your nostrils .

" Hello ?" Came Y/N's small voice , unsure. A nurse emerges from a nearby door and approaches her , her blue eyes practically pierces through her soul, and Y/N can practically feel herself reel back. " Name and business," the nurse states gruffly as she skims through a nearby clipboard on the wall.

" Y/N L/N and I'm here to visit Nora L/N" She says- her tone going melancholy at the mention of her mother's name. The nurse just nods - her face looked bored. " Alright kid , sign this form and go down that hall there -" she says, pointing to the back of her . Y/N nods along as she held onto the forms.

Y/N took her time signing the visitor's rule form and her name in a visitor's sheet before walking down the hall. The halls feel suffocating - despite the fact it's so huge, but Y/N swears she can feel it pressing down on her lungs.

' Would mom remember me ?' , ' hell would she even want to seem me after so long?' She thinks to herself as she rounds a corner. It's been two years since her mother had been admitted here , two years and Y/N going back and forth with the asylum administrators for visitation rights.

It was tiring - so unnecessarily exhausting having to prove time and time again that her mother wasn't some looney - wasn't an abuser , wasn't a bad mother - that what happened on that day was built up stressd , that she was just overwhelmed only to get shut down with ' she's gone kid forget her ' each time.

Y/N stops in front of another metallic door - it's white just like every other door in here, but somehow she feels the air around her tighten . ' This is it - I get to see you, mom,' she thinks as she pushes open the door . The door lets out a groan as if it's been years, someone has used it .

Y/N steps inside , her nostrils immediately are met with the smell of synthetic medicine and bleach. The walls are white - too white - it's unnerving there is no color in sight . Before her lies an empty metallic chair - the ones you sat in the principals office.

Y/N hesitates as she approaches the chair and sits in it - the cold iron sends shivers up her exposed arms. Her attention turns to the vast window in front of her , practically its own wall.

Before the window lays, her mother sat on a plain plastic chair . Y/N swallows the rising bile in her throat as she observes her mother . Long gone were those colorful , polka dot sun dresses she knew her mother adorned so lovingly , now she wears a baby blue knee length garb , her once honey toned skin was sickly pale - as if she was a corpse . Her once vibrant brown eyes just stated back at her dully. Her mother's hair - her hair that was always pin back or braided so beautifully was now knotted messily and strewn about her face .

Y/N feels herself wince as she takes in how skinny her mother has become to the point you can see her hallow cheekbones and the veins in her arms and legs. Silence engulfs them for a long while - both taking in each other . " Y/N," her mother's wraspy voice calls out to her . Y/N feels herself freeze - and suddenly, she feels tears fall down her eyes . Surely, if her mentor saw her like this, she'd laugh at her patheticness.

Yet still, the tears begin to pursue down her face , landing on her hands . " Mama " Y/N calls out longingly because God knows how much she wants her mom , how much she craves for her old life, to feel her mother's warmth , to feel her dad pick her up all over again , to feel normal - to feel like a kid again.

She chokes back a sob - God doesn't love her enough to grant her that wish - doesn't have enough mercy to even grant her that even in her dreams. " Y/N , what are you doing here dear ?" Her mother's hoarse voice asks her , the straight jacket wrapped around her like a cobra restraining her from her own pathetic attempt to comfort her daughter.

Y/N chokes up at the sight . " I'm here to see you, Mama," she answers truthfully with a smile. Her mother looks at her daughter - her beautiful daughter and for the first tike since she's been admitted here she let's out a laugh. " Missed you sweetheart " she murmurs , her eyes - her eyes look warm like they used to.

Y/N just nods , " Missed you more, Mama," she says sincerely as she looks at her mom, hopefully. Her mother smiles at her while she rubs against her handcuffs ." How are you dear ?" Her mother asks as she peers at her .

Y/N smiles , ecstatic - she's internally great full her mother was strong enough to withstand going crazy being locked up in here. " I'm fine, mom - I'm in military school now." Y/N answers as she shoots her chair closer to the window. Her mother begins to anxiously rock in her chair , " Military school ? " she asks, perplexed . Y/N allows silence to pass between them.

Unsure how to answer her , her mother meanwhile begins bouncing her foot anxiously. " They - they're turning you into a monster - my daughter, my precious daughter, how - how dare they -" she begins to rambling. Y/N perks up and places her hands against the glass ," No mama, no one is turning me into anything - I'm gonna make the world better, Mama, that's all promise -"

Y/N tries to persuade her but it was no use her mother was in too deep , " No - NO ! I WILL NOT LET THAT MAN TURN YOU INTO A MONSTER - THAT DEVILISH MAN HOW DARR HE TAKE MY DAUGHTER FROM ME AND TURN HER INTO A DEMONIC WRENCH LIKE HIMSELF - HOW DARE HE - HOW DARE HE !!!" She begins screaming and viciously pulling at her chains.

Y/N bangs against the window , " Mother, please ! I am not a monster mama please I'm still your little girl !!" Y/N practically pleads with her , her voice drowning in desperation as she banged against the glass hoping to get through to her.

Blood begins to spill from her mother's arms , and she begins to scream and curse violently as the blood gets everywhere on her clothes. " SHUT IT YOU DEMON, YOU TOOK AWAY MY DAUGHTER - YOU WICKED WRENCH I WILL KILL YOU!!," She declared as she violently launched herself to the glass . Her bloodied hands begin the bang against the glass.

Y/N begins to back away from the window , tears now spilling from her eyes - not even noticing the way her body collides with the chair. " Mama please clam down -" she tries again , pleading like a little child all over again -

Again, she's that 10 year old girl looking at her mom and dad fight all over again, and it makes her feel sick . Again, she's that helpless child that hides behind the sofa cushion as their screaming match gets more violent, and the sound of plates and glass cups being broken practically echo off her eardrums Her mother doesn't even stop - just starts bashing her head against the glass even more violently .

A door behind her mother's room opens and in walks in two heavily guards and a nurse. " GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME " her mother yells as she frantically tries to pry the guards hold off her . One guard looks to another and simply nods. " What are you doing ? WAIT LEAVE HER ALONE " Y/N yells as a guard practically shoves her mother face first into the floor and kept his whole body weight on her.

Y/N immediately starts banging against the glass hopelessly, " LEAVE MY MOM ALONE PLEASE " but no one paid her any heed. The nurse simply flicks at the barrel of a syringe and begins to approach her mother. " BACK AWAY FROM ME YOU WICKED BITCH" her mother shouts , her legs , frantically kicks at the air.

The nurse does nothing. she just calmly approaches her mother and sticks a slightly yellow liquid into her mother's neck. Y/N watches in utter horror as her mother's body begins to go limp before her. " WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HER ?" Y/N shouts as she violently bangs against the glass. She watches as the guards drag her mother's body away without any care . The nurse turns to face her , face bored, " We injected her with benzodiazepine " she says , tone laced in sarcasm.

Y/N feels her eye twitch in anger. " English " she demanded . The nurse looks her up and down , " Basically, we sedated your mother kid now go home," she says before turning around . Y/N growls as she banged on the glass one last time , " MY MOTHER WAS NOT CRAZY YOU MADE HER THIS WAY".

Rostov-on-Don , Rostov Oblast , Russia , 2025

Y/N practically jolts up - like a madman being risen back from the dead. That memory of her mother will always haunt her even now when it's been years and years. Y/N wipes away at the stray tears on her face and sniffles .

She always go through with this - every night she is forced to relive that haunting memory of her mother - reliving how she's failed her time and time again - relive the anger of wanting to burn everyone in that stupid asylum to the floor .

Her hands tighten around the wool blanket laid on top of her - she gets angry every time she thinks of that place - that place that does nothing but destroy people lives. Another tear falls onto her palms as she states into the darkness of her room.

Her mom would of been normal if they hadn't dragged her there - if those wicked people hadn't taken her away. Her hand unconsciously reaches under her pillow and withdraws a small revolver . She plays with the cylinder , tracing over the five bullets within it . Her eyes drift over to her alarm clock - it displays 4 : 00 am.

Y/N pursues her lips - 'no use sleeping anyways ' she thinks to herself as she slips off her bed and hurriedly puts on her sneakers. Y/N grabs her phone , the revolver and her keys , shoving them in her hoodies'a pocket before slipping out her front door - fully intending to go for a run . Maybe - just maybe she can clear up her mind and pretend everything is fine .

Y/N finds herself jogging along the coast , the dock is lined with ships from all sizes galore - all docking in for the day to offload their goods . The water is crystal clear , practically a shimmering mirror as it reflects the faint light in the sky. It glistens and glided along like a ribbon dancing in the wind.

The sky itself - a beautiful tapestry of dark violet mixing in with pink and yellow hues - a tell tale sign that morning was about to dawn upon the country. Birds begin to flock onto the nearby seashore while the fishermen below on the docks set out to catch their early catch.

Y/N inhales the crisp sea air - practically greedily filling her lungs . Russia was so beautiful - so warm just like her mother was - no wonder why she always felt homesick when she spent too long away from home. Y/N crosses the empty road , making sure to wipe away her sweat. She begins a slow jog as she acends the hill in front of her - she is sure Dedushka (grandpa) Micheal is already busy brewing coffee in his small parlor, and she fully intends to get herself a cup. Efore the morning rush.

Just as she makes it to the top , she spots a kid in front of her crossing the road while an incoming truck comes barreling towards them , full speed. She immediately makes a bolt for it practically grabs the kid by the collar and yanks him back towards her . " Kid, look out !" She exclaimed as she shoved the kid back , causing him to collide with the ground.

The kid landed with a loud " oomph" behind her while his phone that he was previously so occupied with went flying out of his hand elsewhere. Y/N runs towards him and sits him up against the nearby building. The boy groans as he holds onto his head . " Hey, are you okay ?" Y/N aks as she brushes his raven hair back. The boy groans and sends her a glare - his green eyes literally looks at her in utter fury, " Listen lady I knew what I was doing- " he starts arguing but immediately stops when he gets a good look at her.

" Y/N ?!!" He exclaims and immediately embraces her.

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Taglist :

@ellethesleepypotato @1abi @pix-stuff @shadowytravelerlover @cxcilla @vanessa-boo @not-your-average-url @sirenetheblogger @fennecspage @cj-theyoungling @jsprien213 @lonelyladyghost @type-ink @ryuusho @twismare @crazycaoticsimp @bunnyharp @narmothewraith @leelovesmadly @geminis93 @introvertedreader @jellystarjam @glowinthedarkjellyfish @not-a @seemee3 @radomperson2010 @delusiontown-exe @queenofdumbfuckery @bunniotomia @k-homosapien @khalinda-ev @lexi-username-1 @amber-content @yourhornysister @redkarma @scoutyyy @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @anonymoustext @tin-foil @yl90 @cat-lover2000 @nightwinggrayson12 @bigteefsmallbrain @hon3y-l3m0n05 @sbrewer21 @yumeravenclaw

Notes :

(Also sorry if this was short I was anxious writting this - might edit later because I still don't like it but ty for reading !!!)

(Also I'm not sure why some @ aren't working ? If any experienced author knows why please let me know)

(Also, to any Russian readers, please correct me in any mistakes or misrepresentation - all Russian came from Google, so I apologize in advance)

You know what? I give up.. This would probably be sent tomorrow morning (for me) I'm sending this at 12am.

Im gonna go to sleep now.. I still have pe class 😮‍💨

That socks noonie

summary : the forgotten wayne child realizes why she's so forgotten.

Dark trees lined the horizon , their luscious leaves obscure the sight of the steady rising sun in the distance . You stand by yourself alone , eyes drooping ever so slightly as you your hands steadily move across the canvas before you.

You feel so lost - maybe because you are - lost and scared as your hands slightly trembled - the grip on your paint brush loosening. The paintbrush looks dull at first - just a sleek white wood, but the bristles were of the finest quality, of course - any gift from Damian Wayne would be .

You vividly recall the morning he had shoved a small rectangular box in your hands - face holds a small scowl . You recall opening it and was met with the paintbrush.

"Damian, you didn't have to," you murmur slightly as your hands glided across the smooth wood with utter care. Damian looks at you impassivly, " I made it , carved the wood and thined out the brush myself - I just happened to think of you that's all " he says before turning around and disappeared behind the halls.

You held your tongue - Damian was never expressive, but he tried - tried more than anyone else had in your life to care for you . That morning, you sat the box on your desk and swore to use it on a good painting.

It's been a couple of years since that swore, and now , you find yourself finally using it. You sat up straight in your wooden stool , one hand glides across the French canvas before you , it stands proudly upon the Korean easle- the wood was sourced from the finest wood the could offer.

Your left hand props up the Japanese paints in a wooden palette , around the rim sits the purest shade of white , a molten golden yellow, little dabs of sea blue , rosey pink and earthy browns .

Your hands seize as you stop , you gently rest the paint brush onto the rim of the easle as you look at your painting. It looks beautiful to the eye- how could it not?

The woman before her has beautiful golden hair - hear that shines so brightly it could rival the sun - her face , ethereally so smooth its as if God personally carved her out the finest poreclin.

Her stunning blue eyes state right back at her- captivating - so dazzling, in fact that a mere glance at it can overthrow any captain off course.

You stare back at her but can't help but find fault in it - in the faintest corner of her collar bone, you mark a single lone bristle that stuck on with the paint . Your jaw tightens, but it doesn't match the way you clutch onto the paintbrush in fury as your eyes peek the faint outline of the littlest pink escaping the outline of her beautiful dress.

Anger boils in you, and suddenly, the girl stating back at you suddenly looks imperfect - she looks uglier now that you've seen her flaws, and suddenly, this is deeper than just some stupid painting.

You glance at the canvas once more - it's your reflection stating right back and suddenly you feel your lungs constrict on itself - denying your body of any more oxygen.

Your reflection looks so hideous- why must there be so many acne scars ? Why must your nose look so distorted ? Why is it that one eye slightly looks bigger than the other? Why is it that you aren't perfect ?

You felt tears stream down your face - body still as it a war enrages within you . You fight the urge to reach out to your reflection and tear apart your body - to rearrange it , to mold it into something better , something perfect.

Why can't you be perfect ? Why must you look like this ? Is this a cruel mockery bestowed upon you ? Your mind traces back through all your memories - memories of watching Cassandra , Stephanie, and Barbra putting in makeup one night for some gala - your sister look so happy with one another as they carefully smack their lipsticks together - their reflection looked unreal- too beautiful for the eye to comprehend.

Bruce had invited them - not you but them and a few other of your brothers . You feel bile rising in your throat as the memory replays before you - why hadn't Father asked you ? Does he know how much you wish to go to a gala?

To live every girl's dream of dressing up and dancing under the prettiest lights with a handsome boy ? What a naive thought- a truly naive thought as your memory flashes to you running back into your own room .

Your sobs echo through the room as you desperately slap makeup onto yourself - a pathetic attempt to look beautiful. You memory zooms in on your past self finally looking into your old mirror - the reflection is utter repulsive - a literal pig stands before you , makeup smeared.

You choked as you blinked away , staring back at the canvas - again, the beautiful woman's portrait morphs into one of a pig with makeup smeared on . You let out a scream - shoving the portrait back, causing it to collide with the wet grass , mud trickles onto it , covering the portraits beautiful face.

You covered your face with your hands desperately as you began sobbing hard- is this what it's come to ? You being so ugly , so imperfect that it's the reason why no one in this God forsaken family loves you ?

Why you're so utterly replaceable because your surrounded by beautiful and talented people . Why Bruce always introduces Cassandra so proudly as his daughter because she's so utterly beautiful and graceful unlike you.

Why Dick and Tim snares at you whenever you're in the same vicinity . Why Alfred always shoots you a pitiful look whenever Jason and yourself quarrel - always saying "he's younger than you and had a hard life you have to foguve him" .

Us this why your mother unceremoniously dumped you 9n a cold winter night at the Wayne's manor , nothing to your name , just a simple rag that covered you?

You feel your body tremble manically - not even your own flesh wants you - just simply wants to reject your entire being . You feel yourself collapsed onto the muddy floor - maybe this is where you belong- a pig is always found in the mud - counting down the days till it meets the demise of a blade.

Maybe that's what's happening - your body is just waiting for you to die, so a better person can host it. You throw up bile upon yourself - you look even more pathetic- you look like a mess - an unwanted mess that everyone purposely walks pass because it's utterly too much .

You hiccuped again when you hear the mansions backdoor slide open.

"Name just what do you think you're doing ?"

thank you for reading !!

BRO?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY "sAmE hEre MAn" YOU'RE LITERALLY SO GOOD AT WRITING!!?

TY for the compliment, but I'm just a silky person writing silly imagines like both die young and lone warrior was silky imagines in my head that I decided to write

Dang it.. The other author/write just closed their inbox.. 😔

I want more anon siblings here 😔

-👻anon

the more anonymous the merrier

'Cause It Was Always You | Azriel x Reader

summary: After eavesdropping on multiple conversations, Azriel finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, thinking he's on the verge of losing you.

word count: 1,741

warnings: I guess angst at the beginning? But I promise it ends with fluff!

a/n: Billie Eilish's Birds of a Feather has been on repeat in my head and it prompted this cute little idea. Also shoutout to @nocasdatsgay for helping me with a codename for Az.

“I fear I’ll love Lapis until the day that I die…until the light leaves my eyes…until I’m in the grave, rotting awa–”

“y/n, you’re drunk,” Feyre had giggled.

“Drunk in love,” you sang in response with a giggle of your own.

And when one of Azriel’s shadows reported the silly little smile on your face, the silly little sparkle in your eyes, he shrunk back into the ones that had remained. His heart sank to his stomach, a cold, heavy weight settling there. 

Because you were in love. 

With someone that wasn’t him.

Azriel told himself that was the last time he’d eavesdrop. And perhaps, that wouldn’t have been a lie, if it wasn’t for the pesky little shadow that followed you around. It enjoyed dancing and flitting around you. Sometimes, it’d make its presence known by weaving through your hair or slithering up your arm. Most times, it’d trail behind you, like a little duckling.

Azriel tried to call the shadow back home but it was unwavering, choosing to linger in your presence instead. The same way he wished to linger by your side. And recently, the inky traitor had gotten into the habit of summoning more of his shadows to your side, weaving an invisible bond between you and him.

Every time a shadow returned to him, it brought whispers of your laughter, the sparkle in your eyes, and the softness in your voice when you spoke of Lapis. Each word you uttered about that male tore him apart, every confession cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

“If you don’t ask Lapis out, Jasper will do it for you and believe me when I say you do not want that to happen.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll ask him out. Tomorrow.”

That was a snippet of a conversation his shadows had reported to him earlier, cutting his morning training short. It lingered with him, haunting him throughout the day. And now, he found himself unable to sleep, constantly turning in his bed.

Azriel’s stomach twists into a tight knot, the storm raging outside echoing his inner turmoil. Tomorrow. He was running out of time.  Fear and perhaps, even pride, kept him from telling you how he truly felt about you. But now, he found himself fearing something even worse. Losing you before he even had a chance to say it…

He didn’t want to wake up one day and regret his silence, regret not telling you how he felt because of pride or fear. He needed to do this for himself, to break free from the shadows of his past. He had failed to confess his love twice before, and the thought of a third failure was unbearable. This time, he couldn’t let fear hold him back. The risk of losing you to someone else was a pain he couldn't endure.

With a deep breath, Azriel steeled himself. He needed to find you, to tell you the truth about his feelings. Before anything between you and Lapis could blossom. He couldn’t let another moment pass without you knowing how deeply he loved you.

Which is how he found himself at your doorstep, in the middle of the night, clothes sticking to him like a second skin as the rain pours relentlessly down on him. His shadows stir in excitement, whispering anxiously as they hear your approaching footsteps. His heart is pounding, so fast and hard that he fears it’s going to explode.

“Azriel?” 

Your voice is still marred by sleep as you blink up at him. That traitorous shadow hovers behind you, peering at him over your shoulder. He glares at it, and it quickly hides behind your hair. You don’t seem to notice it, either unfazed or truly oblivious to the shadow that had been following you around for so long.

“Did something happen?” You speak again, brows furrowing in concern. You step back into your apartment, a silent gesture for him to follow after you and come inside. 

“I–” Azriel begins but he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. He can’t even bring himself to move as his eyes catch the movement of your arms wrapping around yourself to ward off the chill of the downpour. The nightgown you’re wearing is thin and short. A  glimpse of your exposed skin has a warmth rushing to his face and he’s blushing.

"I—" He tries again but when his eyes meet yours, his heart leaps into his throat, choking off his words. Oh gods, he can’t do this. He’s grateful for the rain as it masks the tears beginning to sting at his eyes. He thinks he’s going to be sick and–

“Are you okay?”

His shadows push him forward, wings shuddering in response. It’s now or never. He can do this. He takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I love you.” 

The words spill out in a rush, raw and unguarded. He watches you with bated breath, his shadows whispering every nuance in your expression—from the way your eyebrows raise and your mouth parts as a gasp escapes, to the way your eyes glisten with something he’s too scared to discern.

You’re rendered speechless, the silence that follows feeling like an eternity. Azriel’s wings slump, growing heavy. He clears his throat, averting his gaze. The need to retreat is overpowering what little courage he had gathered moments ago. 

“That’s all I had to say. I should, um–I’ll be leaving now,” he stammers, so unsure and so unlike himself.

“Az–” you start, reaching out to him, but he’s already stepping back into the rain. He doesn’t think he can face your rejection, much less witness the look on your face if you don’t feel the same.

“Goodnight.”

His shadows are like a wall of resistance, fighting against him as he turns to make his leave. He asks them—begs them, even– to swallow him whole. To winnow him away and save him from further mortification. But they refuse. Stay, they insist, tugging and weighing his wings down. 

It leaves him with no choice but to walk away. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rain soaking him to the bone. Listen, his shadows urge as they continue to tug relentlessly at his wings for him to turn back around and face you. 

But he can’t. Not when the Mother has seemed to have cursed him with loving those who could never love him back.

“Azriel!”

His mind screams at him to keep going, to keep walking away. However, the plea echoed in your voice has his chest tightening. His heart overrides his mind, shadows only encouraging him further. He turns around just in time to catch you as you leap into his arms.

Your legs wrap around his waist, arms encircling his neck in a desperate effort to keep him from leaving. His own arms respond immediately, securing you to him. 

“Don’t go.”

Your breath is warm against his neck as you tighten your embrace, and his wings curl around your smaller form in response, wanting to shield you from the relentless rain. He feels you shift in his arms, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. One hand reaches out, tenderly brushing the dark fringe from his forehead. His breath catches, and you must sense his inner turmoil because you gently smooth away the furrow of his brow with your thumb.

“I love you,” you say, your hand caressing his cheek. Despite the cold, harsh downpour, your touch is warm and soft. A balm to his frayed nerves.

His heart swells with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. He had prepared himself for rejection, for the familiar sting of unrequited love. But here you were, confessing your love to him with the same vulnerability he had shown you.

“Really?” he whispers, voice thick with emotion, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“Really.”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with relief. “I thought I’d never have the chance to tell you.”

“Lose me? Azriel, you’ve always had me.”

“But you said you loved Lapis? You were going to ask him out–”

“So you were spying on me!”

Azriel’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing all over again and he’s glad it’s dark enough to conceal it. “No–I–not intentionally…my shadows, they…,” he trails off, realizing how ridiculous he must sound.

Yes, his shadow refused to come back to him. But he didn’t stop the others from reporting back to him so with a defeated sigh, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Azriel,” you giggle and he’s frowning at you, not finding the humor in the situation. “You are Lapis.”

“What?”

“You’re Lapis. Cas is Jasper and Rhys is Amethyst.” You explain, lips curling into an amused smile at the sigh of relief that comes from Azriel. How had he not realized that all those names shared one thing in common? And more importantly, that they were color coded to his and Cassian’s siphons?

“I needed a codename for you so I can gush about my feelings for you without, you know,” you tilt your head toward that nosey, barely visible shadow that had been following you around. Sensing the attention, the shadow dips and hides again, curling around the back of your neck. 

“I fear it’s yours now,” Azriel replies, almost sheepishly.

“Good,” you smile at him. “I’ve grown rather fond of it. Just as I have over its master.”

His shadows take your words as a welcome invitation, swirling and dancing around you both. Azriel’s arms hook underneath your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. Your arms find their place around his neck again.

Then, you're closing the small distance between you and kissing him. Warmth spreads throughout him, reveling in the sweet sensation of your lips against his. The rain continues to pour, but neither of you care. 

When you finally pull away, he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as if in fear that this is all just a dream. You gently kiss his nose, your soft voice reminding him that this moment is real.

“I love you.”

Azriel’s eyes open, looking right into yours. “Until the day that I die,” he tells you, echoing your devotion.

There’s a knowing spark in your eyes as they search his own for answers. It has his lips lifting into a smile that mirrors yours, confirming that he had been eavesdropping on your drunken confession weeks ago.  Your smile widens. 

 “Until the light leaves my eyes.”

This was a better idea in my head but hey, at least I finished it. I also don't know the logistics of having a conversation in the rain but that's the beauty of fanfic, I guess?lol Anyway, I could not get these lyrics out of my head. They were so Azriel coded for me:

I'll love you 'til the day that I die 'Til the day that I die 'Til the light leaves my eyes 'Til the day that I die I want you to see, hm How you look to me, hm You wouldn't believe if I told ya You would keep the compliments I throw ya

the way I keep fixing these lyrics but I think tumblr is glitching or something uggghh, pls ignore the random mismatched sizing

Also just wanted to point out that if Az hasn’t confessed, reader would’ve done it the next day anyway 💀

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

HELP YOURSELF

summary : in a family filled with intriguing members of their own right , duke has a particular interest in a certain vigilante in the family that everyone seems to overlook . this interest leads to the family to spiral into obsession .

When he was first introduce to the Wayne family , Duke was overwhelmed , everyone was so talented , so special and unique and came from such - complex backgrounds , it was hard to ever find something or anyone dull in the family . Duke had his highs with the family - from patrol , to movie nights every Saturday , food fights on Monday mornings because of course Jason had to rile up Damian but he had his lows - particularly the fact that he was the only sole meta in the family .

Something so minute shouldn't affect him , I mean come on isn't badass that he's in a family that can accomplish so much with sheer willpower without powers ? Though , it hurts every time he sees Conner teach Jon how to use his super strength without hurting himself in the process . He seethes in envy every time he witnesses it because he swears it ensnares him in a painful grasp - reminding him that he's the bystander in this family and that he's the only odd one out.

He shakes away the chill that runs up his spine and returns his focus back to the scene in front of him , a young woman is desperately trying to yank her purse away from some lacky burglar. ' Easy' Duke thinks to himself as he effortlessly swoops down from the rooftop he is perched on and landed on the thug . " Leave this poor woman alone " Duke commands as he pressed his legs onto the burglar's back. The burglar growls and pushes himself off the floor - practically making the woman scream . Duke immediately goes to jump away and reassess the situation when the burglar spins around inhumanely fast mid air to face the vigilante .

Bewilderment and confusion was all Duke felt but regardless he goes to land a sucker punch to the burglar's mask face when suddenly the burglar takes out a bomb from his inner pocket and throws it at the woman behind them. The woman screams as the bomb makes a beeline towards her and Duke wants to scream in frustration at how utterly stupid she's being and the fact that the burglar has outplayed him.

Suddenly , a figure clad in black with red accents jumps in front of the lady and catches the bomb effortlessly and throws it aside like it was nothing. Duke takes this time to sucker punch the burglar into the floor while he was distracted with the bomb's dentation , causing the man to groan in pain . While Duke is handcuffing the burglar , he eyes the figure in the corner of his eye handing the woman her purse before approaching him.

" Thank you ..... " Duke trails off as he watches the figure properly . He notes that they adorn a black body suit but has a red spider symbol in front near their chest . They adorn black helmet that covers the entirety of their face , only showing the user's dark brown eyes.

"Widow "the figure answers before leaping away from Duke . " Wait ! Who are you , I've never met you before !" exclaims as he extends his hand in attempt to reach out to them . " Just stay safe kid you don't know what you're doing " the figure says , directing a glare at him before they vanish.

That afternoon , Duke returns back to the mansion , he slumps against the kitchen table , the weight of patrolling all day and the situation of meeting a strange entity named ' Widow'. Alfred gently pats him on the back and serves him a plate of snadwhiches.

" I take it that today's patrol was exhausting Master Duke" , Alfred asks him as he begins to wash up wares in the kitchen. " You have no idea , met some weirdo who called me a kid like what the hell " , Duke complains as he takes a bite of the sandwich . " Weirdo ?" Alfred questions as he dries a plate. " Yeah some named Widow " Duke replies . Alfred drops the plate.

He feels every muscle on his body tense at the mention of her name , a name that may have been a bygone memory to many but not to him never him . Duke scrambles out of his chair and approaches Alfred . " Hey are you okay ?" Duke asks as he holds the elderly man by the hands. Alfred tries - he tries to talk but is too shocked to say anything - he fears this is a dream , a cruel dream that god bestowed upon him as a punishment - a reminder of his failure .

"Widow - are you sure they said Widow ?" Alfred asks the boy frantically , panic old eyes watching Duke's intently. Duke stumbles back but answers , " Yeah that's what they said why does it matter ?" . Pin drop silence fills the manor as Alfred registers Duke's words. Alfred crouches to the ground , his hands run along the jargoned edges of the broken plate - the rough feeling grounds him , reminding him that all of this is real .

" It matters because that is your sister young master " Alfred forces out. Silence consumes them again . " What ?" Duke questions as he holds onto Alfred tighter. For the five years he has lived with the Waynes - no one never mentioned a Widow or a sister not ever so why is it now that he finds out that he has a sister and one that he has not heard or known about.

Alfred can feel warm hot tears running down his worn cheeks as nostalgic memories of him making a younger you a hot chocolate in the afternoon as you sit in the same chair as Duke had , coloring whilst simply blabbering about your day. He recalls how every night , he can feel your tiny figure sneaking into his bed to hug him with your stuffed bunny You were practically his daughter .

He also remembers that you weren't particularly liked by the Wayne family , at the time only consisted of himself and Bruce - a younger much fragile Bruce that had no idea how to raise a kid - a kid that was just put into his custody because their parents got too drugged up and k*lled themselves in the living room.

The situation wasn't ideal , Bruce was immature , till learning how to navigate his own feelings , his own anger , his own loss and so were you , a small , fragile thing that didn't quite yet understand why mommy and daddy were being put in a box .

He also remembers that tragic day - the day he lost you - . It was like any ordinary day , he dropped you off at kindergarten and watched you run to your teacher , excitedly showing her a drawing you made. He watches you smile and wave him goodbye as the teacher escorts you to your classroom. Alfred does what he usually does , returns back home and begin his preparations when he receives a call from your teacher . He remembers the dread , the sheer panic , the bone chilling anxiety that consumed him when he picked up that call to hear your teacher utter the words

" two government officials barged in class around recess and they took ( name ) I'm so sorry I tried to stop them - tried to grab the tiny thing but they had her really tight and - and they left "