Cherry🌸minor🌸she/her
Christian 🌟 Non-denominational
Fanfic Writer - Quotev/Wattpad/ao3
English/Spanish/French/Ukrainian
I will take fanfic or one-shot requests so long as I'm in the fandom :) Feel free to ask below!
Welcome to my nerdy little corner of reality, if you give me long enough I'll basically tell you my life story in fic ideas.
Apparently I'm an adult now, but I still tick the wrong box on forms etc, so I'm not convinced. I still don't interact 'adult' content though, so please don't send me it :)
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I'm a Christian (non-denominational), my favourite book of the Bible is Revelation (a touch controversial, I know) and my favourite verse is as follows
14 And the grace of our Lord was exceeding abundant with faith and love which is in Christ Jesus.
15 This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.
1 Timothy 1v15
I am also an avid fanfic writer and fanartist. I will happily write you a one-shot/draw you a sketch so long as its for a fandom I'm in and something I'm comfortable with (I reserve the right to say no).
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My fandoms (there are a lot...):
Harry Potter (all eras, but especially Marauders)
Avengers/MCU
Miraculous Ladybug (but I hate the new animation style, so I don't watch it anymore, just take part in the fandom
Hobbit/Lord of the Rings
Narnia
Star wars
Batman (specifically WFA)
Hunger Games
KOTLC
Descendents
Doctor Who
Rise of the Guardians
The Deep
Stardew Valley
KPDH
Superman (from the TV show, not the films)
Sherlock
Merlin
I think that's most of them... but there may be more (feel free to ask)
Hey guys, I'm going to create a little tag game for all my Christian and Bible-reading friends out there. I'd love to know a few more things about you! I'll go first!
Name: Cherry
How long you've been Christian (approx): 9 years
Favourite verse:
And the grace of our Lord was exceeding abundant with faith and love which is in Christ Jesus.
This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.
1 Timothy 1:14-15
Favourite book: Revelation
Currently reading: Exodus (and Hebrews, Revelation, and John in various Bible studies)
A helpful resource (if you have one): Filament Bible app - you need a QR code to get into it, but it has a bunch of really useful commentary on different verses and maps etc to help in study.
Tag List: @yahwmichael @4thouglory @problemchildiculoustheridiculous @pinestripe37 @rawrxd061
Harry Potter. Revered pirate captain. A servant of the sea as he liked to call himself.
The whole town shivered when he stepped on land, his buffed leather boots kicking up the dust as he strode through town. It was always his way - a dramatic entrance, a series of blades glinting on his belt, marking him as someone to be feared.
His crew was known for their interest in plunder, and their reputation for not leaving any lasting damage to the people they fought. They cared about treasure, not violence, a change which had only been in place since Potter had become captain. His predecessor had been a lot less subtle.
This town had become more than used to the pirates. They were there almost as much as some of the inhabitants, and always brought new conversation to the shops, even if the people had to pay for their time there. Some of the residents kept a pouch of coins ready for when they appeared, knowing it was easier that way, less likely to end in anyone hurt.
"I can smell gold on the air today," he announced as he strode down the main street, his ship's mate standing at his shoulder, a scowl on his ruddy face.
"More like silver," Weasley grumbled. "This pathetic town never has much to offer. If you weren't so smitten with that girl we'd let it rot."
Potter didn't react, simply straightening his hat, the feather flying like a banner in the breeze.
"Stand guard," he instructed. Weasley looked like he wanted to object, but he turned on his heel and drew his sword, letting it rest easily in his hand as Potter got closer to the building he always insisted on visiting himself during these visits.
The sound of a bell caught him off guard as he entered the shop. That was new; they had never had a bell before.
"Good morning. What can I do for... oh." The woman smiled hesitantly, trailing off as she caught sight of him standing in the doorway. Wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron, she shoved back the trailing strands of hair dancing over her face. "What are you doing here? We weren't expecting you."
"Is that any way to speak to your husband, darling?"
The woman frowned. "You know you're not supposed to say that, what if someone heard?"
"Well then I'd have to kill them." A loose smile flitted across his lips, his eyes dark as he took a step towards her, and then another. "That wouldn't be a problem, would it darling?"
She hummed, rolling her eyes as he rested his hands on her hips. "I suppose I'd forgive you."
"Good, because otherwise you'd have to explain to a certain someone what had happened to me." Potter grinned sharply as a head disappeared behind the door, wild black hair vanishing. "Hello, mijo."
A small boy poked his head back into the room, the rest of his body quickly following. Making his way over to them, he latched a hand on his mother's skirt as she eyed her husband. "Alejo, say hello to your father."
The boy clutched her more tightly for a second, murmuring, "Hola, papá."
"Would you like a hug?"
If anyone could have seen the pirate captain in that moment they surely wouldn't have recognised him. He scooped his son from the floor the moment the boy nodded, pulling him up onto his hip and setting his own feathered hat on the boy's head.
"Lucía, I think we'll make a pirate of this boy yet."
The woman scoffed. "A pirate, querido, you're crazy. Our son will be a baker, right mijo?"
Alejo giggled, shoving his chubby face into his father's coat and wrapping his arms around him. These moments were few and quickly passing. A visit every couple of months was all they could manage without it becoming suspicious. As far as any of the crew knew, their captain was simply enamoured with this woman, but it was a passing fancy that would die as soon as he set his eyes on a more beautiful creature. As for the town, the men despised Lucía for her son's sake, which suited her fine enough. She could very well survive being called impure if it meant she would not be approached by a man who was not her husband. It was better this way, easier. Alejo would never be able to live a normal life if the town knew they was forever bound to this pirate. It was a death sentence.
"Your people will be wondering where you are."
"They can wait."
"They won't."
Potter sighed, his bright eyes saddening for a moment before he reclaimed his hat from Alejo, pressing a kiss to the boy's forehead.
"Well, mijo, I'll see you again before you know it."
"My birthday?"
"Of course."
Lucía frowned at him. She hated when he made promises he probably couldn't keep. There was nothing certain in his life, only them. How could he promise their son that he would even survive until the boy's birthday? It just wasn't fair.
But there was no time for that now. Their time together was short, it had to be well remembered.
"We will miss you, querido."
"It won't be long before I'm back in your arms, darling. And with the better weather coming in, perhaps you could take some sailing trips of your own."
Lucía smiled softly, knowing it could never happen. Her husband often mentioned these things, but with a full time business to keep track of, and a town full of gossips, she would never be able to disappear on the waves for a few days as she had done in her youth.
"Perhaps."
Nodding sadly, Potter straightened his hat, taking a moment to brush any residual flour from his coat before he turned, slipping a bag of coins into a pot by the door as he flashed a wink in her direction. Child support, after a manner. Alejo was a growing boy.
"When the sun sinks beneath the sea..."
"There my ship will waiting be." The poem was an old one, the words carved into the hull of Potter's boat. It was the final thing Lucía had told him the first time they met, and it had been the final ever since. Their own special sort of love, though many would not understand their ways.
The cool breeze struck Potter as he left the shop, lips tightly pressed and eyes hard. He could not raise suspicion.
"Where's the gold?" Weasley asked as they moved to the next shop, his cutlass still in hand and a scowl still on his face.
"Here." Potter thrust another bag into his mate's hand. "That's all of it."
Weasley knew better than to question. The last man who had dared had met a less than pleasant end and he still had a few pillaging days before him.
"Let's get out of here. You're right, we should let it rot."
The dust of the town stayed on his boots as he climbed aboard the ship, giving the order to leave before he could let himself think twice. These men were under his control, his protection. He could not abandon them any more easily than he could leave his family behind. He just had to keep reminding himself that this was all for the best.
"Likewise the Spirit helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered."
Name 5 things that make you happy, and then put this in the inbox of the last 10 people who have liked or reblogged something from you 🦋 no pressure:)
Reading my Bible and enjoying what different verses mean
Spending time with my friends
Learning new things (especially languages or facts about eyes)
Getting to help people at work
Writing (whether original or fanfiction)
Difficult keeping this list to only five, but I really enjoyed this. I think we sometimes don't stop to appreciate what we have as much as we should, I definitely don't!
Are you taken? If they have tumblr, tag them! - woaah i have 2 actually @xx-h0tel-c4lifornia-xx + @11-crash-test-dummy-11
Favorite book? - papergirls ‼️
Favorite movie? - ough uhhh not sure 😭
Top three fandoms? - ok so 😊 stranger things, only you ( my pfp ) , my bfs ocs ok? Ok.
Favorite music artist(s)? - conan gray, diva bleach , etc!! Ask me bout music guys
Who inspires you? - id say my adoptive parents , my friends elliot and hydra, hmmm rn thats it
If you're an OC creator, name three of your OCs! - betty, leon , parker .
TAGs, feel free not to do this i was just bored :p : @xx-h0tel-c4lifornia-xx @11-crash-test-dummy-11 @thewolfreturns @mothsupremacist uhh any moot i have who sees this hi ! :7
Are you taken? If they have tumblr, tag them! - Not romantically, but queerplatonically by @rins-batcave and @/silly-fox-and-its-stuffies
Favorite book? - The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
Favorite movie? - Serendipity
Top three fandoms? - uhm, not a very fandom person but most recent is the stuff I talk about ? so uhm, Castlevania (show), Heavenly Official's Blessing (show but I mean to read it soon) and Interview With The Vampire (books)
Favorite music artist(s)? - Lorde, Hozier, Aurora, The Crane Wives, Conan Gray, Tessa Violet, Amelie Farren, Ricky Montgomery, Mother Mother, Maneskin, AR Rahman, Sid Sriram
Who inspires you? - A lot of people; my friends, strangers, anyone really idk
If you're an OC creator, name three of your OCs! - Elijah, Artzryn, Karasu
Name: Astro/Athos/Teo (i dont mind being called any of the following, although I mostly go by Astro)
Age: High School age
Pronouns: He/they
Are you a system: Not that im aware of
Are you taken? If they have a Tumblr, tag them!: Its complicated
Favorite book: Either Fantastic Mr. Fox or Sunbeam trials
Favorite movie: Either Fantastic Mr. Fox or one of the scream or Httyd movie 2, I'm indecisive
Tope three fandoms?: Greys anatomy, Sun bearer trials and Hadestown
Favorite music artist(s)?: Alex Warren, Noah Kahn, Bella Kay, Thomas Day, and Jade Lemac
Who inspires you?: Anyone in my found family (it's the tag list I made) but mostly mama, mami, ren, bobby, pa, papa, baba, kay kay, Charlie and courpse.
If you're an OC creator, name three of your OCs!: Atlas, Nadya and Liam
Pronouns: she/her but whatever you want to refer to me as is 100% a-okay!
Are you a system? Nope!
Are you taken? No
Favorite book: The Book Censor's Library (but if comic books count... Hawkeye: My Life as a Weapon by Matt Fraction)
Favorite movie: it's a tie between the Hunger Games, Iron Man 3, and Spider-Man: Homecoming
Top three fandoms: MCU, the Hunger Games, and Percy Jackson
Favorite music artist(s): Hozier, Florence and the Machine, Noah Kahan, Abe Parker, Kasey Musgraves, Neon Trees, Luke Combs, Fall Out Boy, Olivia Dean, Ron Pope, Cody Johnson, Late Night Thoughts
Who inspires you: my lovely spectacular moots <3 + any interesting person I happen to come upon
I'm not an oc creator 😞 I've got an au guy who I torture instead
MOOTS!!! (I'm sure I'm going to forget some, there's a lot): @livelove-fangirl @irnspdr @antwriterr @evaiswritingg @marveldateme @masterofdumbassery @ara-by-the-lake @aninsomniacstar-offical @spiderboi-parker @hurtspideyparker @belong-in-the-wilds @b0y-pr1nc3ss @calumthedestroyer @coquette-corpsie @eeveeberry @effortlesslysweet @fizzi-izzi @fotibrit @g1bbzpullman @gracieparkerr @ironspider-hobbit @littlemissfantasy @oliveoli-offical @proper-louiseian @potatogunson @rarsathemoodreader @sarah-sandwich @the-eroine @winter-soldier-vibes @witch-oftheflowers @yourwrong (that is... A lot of people. Sorry if you don't like being tagged, I'm filling a quota I guess lmao)
Are you taken? - nope only hopelessly in love (especially with fictional characters…)
Favorite book? - Girl in Pieces
Favorite movie? - i have too many, probably Iron Man 1 tho
Top three fandoms? - MCU, Stranger Things, LotR
Favorite music artist(s)? - Radiohead, Gracie Abrams
Who inspires you? - my bestie and some of my fav celebrities
If you're an OC creator, name three of your OCs! - i‘m just gonna list some names: Riley Stark (Ik i‘m sooooo creative hahaha, yes she‘s my MCU OC), Lys Carter, Raven Louise Evans (both non-fandom OCs but not from the same universe)
@like-dandelions-in-the-wind @vontreangedelamusique @bwsdjc @livelove-fangirl @aliensatemysocks + open tags!!
Are you a system? I am unsure what the meaning is of this question, so I cannot answer.
Are you taken? I tell myself I am taken, though alas, the man I love who is Erik (The Phantom), is not real.
Favourite book- “The Phantom of the Opera”, though I also love a few of Edgar Allen Poe’s stories.
Favourite movie- “The Phantom of Opera” movie from 2004
Top three fandoms- Well, I am unsure if I really consider myself a part of any fandoms. Though, some media I enjoy such as Tolkien, Leroux, or Wuthering Heights have fandoms.
Favourite music artists- Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, and a few of the stage performers who played Erik in POTO.
Who inspires you? The Virgin Mary, first. And of course, Erik inspires me greatly. I also take inspiration from Edgar Allen Poe and Catherine Earnshaw, who is my favourite “Wuthering Heights” character.
If you are an OC creator, name three of your OC’s- I used to create OC’s. I do not remember three of them, but the main one a friend helped me create and the character’s name was Hecate. She was a Lord of the Rings OC, and the daughter of Sauron.
@northernhealer @angel-of-lucidity @sunflowerrosy @rosesandtheatre4 @the-monotone-angel @celestialtreespirit @nightmaresghost and open tags 🤍
Thank you for the tag @vontreangedelamusique & @sunflowerrosy ~
Name: North
Age range: Late 20's~
Pronouns: She/Her
Are you a system?: No, I'm not.
Are you taken?: happily married to the best man in the world ❤️
Favourite book: The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien
Favourite movie: The 1977 Rankin/Bass cartoon of The Hobbit.
Top three fandoms- I'm not really in fandoms anymore. But definitely would say Destiny, Elder Scrolls and Tolkien.
Favourite music artists: Third Day, Holyname, Borknagar, Nickelback, Ceremonial Castings, Uada, TOOL, Creed, Type O Negative. And there are so many more. But I'd be here all night.
Who inspires you?: My husband inspires me a lot. Especially in his faith and in his general disposition. He is just an awesome human being and I'm so glad I am his wife.
If you are an OC creator, name three of your OC’s: Lina Graylock, Claire McRaye, Garvey Doucet
Tagging: @thewritingautisticat @tildeathiwillwrite @the-ellia-west @alonelywaywardsheep @aurynne @sparklingcurepeace @homelessnerd +open tags (I'm sorry I can't remember more off the rip >.<)
are you taken?: nah, i guess God’s got me in my single era rn 😌
fave book: the ballad of never after by stephanie garber. it’s hard to pick a fave here
fave movie: maybe interstellar or zootopia 2. again it’s rly hard for me to pick a fave lol
top 3 fandoms: nowadays it’s prob the amazing digital circus, twisted wonderland, and anime in general
fave music artists: oh gosh there’s TOO MANY!!!! a few would be twice, exo, luis miguel, red velvet, bts, forrest frank, boy pablo, fujii kaze, newjeans, phantom siita, suiet, kyary pamyu pamyu, bruno mars, mitchie m, claris, aftrthght, hulvey, aaron cole….i could genuinely go on forever. i listen to too many genres and diff languages
who inspires you?: my friends, the ones that have their lives together lol
Pronouns: she/her like it was since the beginning of time.
Are you a system?: What even is that?
Are you taken?: By the Lord yes, but no otherwise.
Favourite book: The Bible cause I don't cling to books outside of my faith too much, mostly.
Favourite movie: Can't think of anything rn.
Top 3 fandoms: Er, Mha, Demon Slayer, Dr. Stone? I'm not too attached to any fandom but I like the shows, does that make me part of the fandom? Idk how it works.
Favourite music artist: Sondae.
Who inspires you: Jesus. Friends. Nature, and music.
If you are an OC creator name 3 OC's you've made: Kiyomi Fujihana, Kaori Bakugou, and Nellie James. (Regarding character building I don't go deep, there are none, just made these characters up for a short story or fic as I wrote).
@imjustanobody2024 @evukzsstiff @z1lyl1ly @christianfics @anemoia-blue @athiria @hobbiefroggie @z1nni4 @coolpokerfox @rockellex + open tags cause I can't remember more usernames!
Little Bat 🦇
Characters: Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson
Tags: family, fluff, de-aged, brotherly love, faith crisis, fear, identity issues.
Damian Wayne was not afraid.
He had been turned into a child—by Gotham's witch, Poison Ivy. The meta-human had made a potent floral de-aging serum—and in the heat of battle, one misstep had led to it. He was exposed to the toxin, but not enough to turn him into a literal baby. No, he was in the small body of a preschooler.
His father, Bruce, was working on an antidote alongside Alfred.
Damian was no snot-nosed brat.
“Wichard?” the little boy squeaked out, then cleared his throat, cringing. His older brother, ever the ray of sunshine, perked up like a dog. “Richard, how long till Father has the antidote?”
It had been three days since he’d been like this.
Damian's mind was fuzzy, his tongue heavy, and for some reason he craved comfort.
Maybe it was the storm.
Maybe it was the dark.
Maybe it was because his bed was too big and his sheets were cold.
The loud, thundering downpour never scared him; if anything, he had embraced it. But with his new senses, it suddenly frightened him to go to bed alone. To be alone. Unable to sleep, even after counting sheep, he came in search of his brother—the idiot would glean at the chance of mothering him.
“He's gonna have it a few days, buddy,” Dick said, smiling gently. He looked at the boy as if he were something precious. He was not. “Can't sleep?”
Damian suppressed a yawn at the question, fiddling with the hem of his slightly oversized Batman pajama top.
“I came to get a glass of milk,” Damian replied, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. “And don’t call me buddy.”
“Sure thing, Dami,” the older man said, getting up and patting the couch he sat on. Damian sighed—it was better than ‘Bat baby,’ which was what his teenage brother Tim had called him when he saw him. “I'll be right back.”
Small feet pattered toward the couch. It was much more effort to sit on or get onto anything in his shape. His feet couldn’t touch the ground when he sat.
The little boy hooked one leg over the other and hummed when he caught sight of a black book on the armrest. Intrigued, he opened it, and to his surprise, he couldn’t read.
He traced the inscription on the hardcover; the words felt familiar. Leaning back, he wondered—if Richard—if he could ask his brother to sleep in his room, or to stay by his side until it felt as if there truly was no monster lurking under his bed.
Damian Wayne was not afraid.
But he was a boy.
“I've got your milk,” Dick said, voice light and cheerful like home. “And a snack. Your favorite.”
“Tt,” Damian blinked. “Brother, I might have the body of a child, but even I know better than to bring someone ice cream for a bedtime snack. How is that helpful?”
“It isn’t, but it’s your favorite, right?” the dark-haired man smiled, putting the tray down: milk, strawberry ice cream with whipped cream, and Alfred's chocolate chip cookies. “Besides, you don’t have to eat it. There are cookies if you want.”
Damian knew Richard was trying to comfort him.
“I'll take some cookies then,” the boy said, taking the tall glass of milk almost clumsily. “What is this book you’re reading, Richard?”
Dick's eyes darkened, but his lips didn’t falter. “The Bible.”
He perfected his mask—yet his eyes held the weight of years of sorrow and trauma. Clouded with grief, a broken shell, shattered, hidden within—he yearned for more, for anything, for God. Or so he thought. Maybe… that was what he was missing. He had tried everything, he had wealth. He tried women, alcohol, parties, isolation, drowning himself in his work—being a hero.
It was all meaningless.
It felt like his whole life he had been digging a pit for himself.
“–ichard? Richard,” Damian called out, milk mustache on his mouth making Dick's heart squeeze. The green-eyed boy dusted the crumbs off his bat themed pajama pants. “The ice cream is going to melt. Eat.”
The boy was cute when he wasn’t acting like a brat.
Little Bat, he kept that one for himself. Though he was still young—fifteen years old—Damian had tough walls to crack, his heart that needed time and care to soften the hard edges.
Dick scoffed, taking the small bowl, and shoved a spoonful of strawberry ice cream down his throat. Sitting across from his baby brother, he didn’t miss how Damian’s shoulders tensed when the thunder clapped.
The fireplace cracked pleasantly as he watched his younger sibling cosy himself further into the couch. Mindlessly, Damian flipped the pages of the Bible until a bookmark fell out.
“Do you actually read this? I didn’t know you were religious.”
“I’m not,” Dick replied quickly, as if offended, and almost choked on the sugary treat. Then he added, “I just read it sometimes. Just the Psalms. I relate to David… especially to that one author in Ecclesiastes. But it’s just literature to me.”
Dick noticed how Damian kept blinking; the boy was fighting sleep.
“Hn,” the youngest hummed but said nothing.
Dick believed in a higher being.
How could he not, when gods like Superman and Wonder Woman existed?
There had to be someone looking out for him all these years. He may have been broken, but he was not utterly consumed—and that counted for something. So maybe, just maybe, there was someone greater than an alien god out there.
Someone who cared, he thought somberly.
“Dami?” he called out, but the four-year old had drifted away, curled on the couch. Dick couldn’t help but coo. He wanted to take a picture. “Where’s my phone?”
He searched in his jean pocket but couldn’t find it, and deflated. “Bummer. Guess I’ll capture it with my brain.”
Dick set the ice cream aside without a thud, but Damian woke, sensing his movement. Blinking owlishly, the child slowly sat up and thought, screw it. “Richard, I need your assistance.”
“Sure, kiddo,” Dick said, all too happy to oblige. “Want me to carry you to your room?”
Damian desired nothing more than to be held for some reason. The side effects of the drug were getting stronger by the day, and he felt like he had less control over himself as time ticked. “No, I want to sleep in your room.”
Dick was taken aback.
He had to hold himself back from crying or picking the kid up—it was a mixture of cuteness-aggression, and his fatigue. “Of course.”
“Tt,” the preschooler said, smelling the emotion oozing from his older brother. He saw the way his blue eyes glossed over. Damian was the mature one of the two, he concluded. “Let's go, Richard.”
Damian Wayne was not afraid.
But he currently felt the safest in the hands of his older brother—longer than he had in a while. There was something vulnerable in allowing yourself to be cared for. It was like trusting your soul to the other person. And in Richard's hands, the boy felt the warmest.
But that was just his four-year-old mind talking.
After that Damian fell asleep snuggled close to Dick, almost becoming one with his skin.
“Night little bat,” he whispered to no one.
Dick was in awe. He couldn’t rest now; he wanted to savor this moment he’d never have again. Plus, with his nightmares, he didn’t want to disturb the child by accident.
His fingers stroked Damian’s dark curls.
Dick couldn’t make out the boy’s features in the dark, but he remembered how flushed his cheeks were earlier from exhaustion. The little knitted brows were relaxed, and his lips slightly parted. Dick wondered how he could snooze so soundly.
Albeit, he was using the man as a heater—it warmed his heart that Damian found security in him.
Thank God.
Psalms 27:10 Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.
A/N: Already out on Ao3! (@ 4thouglory)
Not me having to do research cause I want to write a batfamfic but don't know the characters well enough. I don't go in great detail btw just searched basic stuff I wanted to know. Like favourite foods, or if Damain says, please and thank you etc. This is low-key from how I read about them in fics, so fanon?
I tried. I was super into teen titans as a kid but like yea that's all. Been reading kidfics of Batfam lately and I wanna make it Christian themed. I low-key didn't want to stop! I had to write the cuddle scene cause they're so cute!
“My guy went from where are you Lord? to You are worthy of all praise!” » Psalm 13.
Let's dive in to these rollercoaster emotions of our psalmis, David.
I was reading psalm 13 and wow, it starts with such a depressing, hopeless note. The palmist, David cries out do God, “Did you forget me? Did you turn your back on me? I've been hurting so long. I've been tormented. I've been stuck like this—it been days! Weeks! Months! Nothing's changed... Where are you Lord?”
“Do you see me?” How many times was that you? Or me.
Feeling forgotten. Stuck. But God comes through. He does. Honestly, and it's usually when you don't expect it—at the brink of loosing hope—he shows up—giving you strength to carry on.
We can get so caught up in the motions of how we feel or what's going on around us and not actually—truly look for God.
We can ask where he is but are we looking? > Jeremiah 29:13 🫶🏼
Sometimes our feelings can blind us, but I love that even though David is feeling miserable, he knows God's character. Like he knows God. That what he's feeling isn't who God is—its not the absence of God's presence, but it's still heavy.
So he prays—he doesn't stop at the complaint no—he is persistent—and he's like, “Lord, enlighten me! Make me see you, restore me. Hear me. Help me.”
An outcry for help.
We see how his mood shifts from dispair to hopeful; like that spark of life has returned, and maybe his body may feel weak or tired—but there's this inner strength David gets as he opens up to God, and he says, “Psalms 13:6 I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.”
The psalmist goes from “do you see me?” > to “I see you Lord.”
How remarkable. How encouraging.
Let's reach out even when we feel like we're in the dark, and no one's listening because surely God will reach out his hand and touch our broken hearts.
Psalm 13 read it! Only 6 verses.
How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death, and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.
I just thought I'd share a verse I was reading yesterday which relates to this.
...lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.
Matthew 28v20
This is the final verse in Matthew's gospel, and I just think it's such a beautiful note to end on. The previous verses speak about the doubts of the disciples, the worries they were facing, but as Jesus gives them the great task of sharing the gospel, he also gives them the ultimate reassurance.
"[insert thing] is allowed in the Bible, it's just an error in translation!"
How interesting that a thing that ALWAYS stayed consistent in ALL of translations of the Bible and no one who translated the Bible EVER had any doubts about it is found to be translated wrong COINCIDENTALLY in a time when that thing is accepted.
And how interesting that the people who say that it was badly translated are people who never studied the original language of the Bible, don't have any experience, are NOT qualified to translate the Bible and don't know what the process of translating the Bible looks like (it's much different than the process of translating a normal book).
And how interesting that these people NEVER credit their sources and NEVER bring up anyone who has the qualifications who said that there is an error in the translation. Surely, if it's such a widely known and believed thing, there must've been someone qualified who said that there's an error in the translation.
SURELY it's not just spreading misinformation about the Christian religion to fit today's standards and attack anyone who doesn't agree with these standards. Surely.
Note: Obviously platonic we do not support batfam shipping on this blog
Summary: While on patrol one night, you get injured, and Bruce is reminded of why he protects in the first place. Just when things take a turn for the worst, family comes together when it matters most
TW: Injury, Bruce has PTSD, mentions of Jason's Death, blood, angst, reader is a menace to society
"Hey, fam!" you threw up a peace sign into the air, smiling into the camera of the live stream, "Tonight we're on patrol in Gotham-"
"I told you to stop live-streaming patrol missions," a voice grumbled out of camera's frame, trying to reach for the phone, "Turn that off!"
Rolling your eyes, you shifted the camera so that Batman's annoyed scowl was front and center for at least 3k viewers.
"Look, everyone, he's even broodier than usual," you commented, "Comment below a few more ways I can ragebait him-"
He shot you another signature glare. "Ohhhh...MistaJ37 asks what it's like to be under 6ft!" you teased, waving the phone in his face, "So, what is it like, shortie?"
"I'm 6'4", if to be exact," he corrected in a matter-of-fact tone, growing even more annoyed, "Now turn that off." We have to get back to patrolling."
"I'm sharing the important work we do with the world," you huffed, "Now Kit-Kat 97 wants to know if you got bit by a radioactive bat-"
"Turn. It. Off. Now," Batman said in that tone that dad tone instead of his Batman tone. If any criminals thought Batman was scary, they had never seen Bruce ground someone before. At least getting grounded was better than suffering through one of his long lectures about safety and responsibility.
"Fine," you rolled your eyes again before turning to the camera with an apologetic look, "Bat is being a buzzkill as usual. See you later, Batcrew!"
Shutting off the livestream, you crossed your arms, leaning back against the brick wall of the alleyway with an exaggerated sigh. "Happy now?"
"Focus is an essential part of combat, and staying ahead of your enemies," Batman went on, "One day you're going to get hurt if you can't pay attention for more than a few seconds."
"If you ever got hurt, I could never forgive myself."
Those were the words that he wanted to say, but Bruce was never good at expressing his feelings. Keeping the words buried, kept underneath the mask, was easier than showing what lay beneath.
"What else was I supposed to do? All we're doing is waiting around for some thieves to show up." You looked away. "It's been two hours, and nobody has shown up yet! I'll die of boredom!"
"How many times have I told you not do your live streams on patrol?" he snapped, "It puts a risk at our safety, and our identities."
"And the good of the citizens of Gotham," you lowered your voice to a mocking gravel, trying to imitate his voice, "To protect justice-"
"Could you take one thing seriously for once in your life?" he asked, tone sharp, "If you keep this up one day you're going to get hurt."
Wow, he was grumpier than usual.
"I won't get hurt," you insisted, "I can move things with my mind, remember?" With a flourish, you waved your hand, sending a snowball flying before it landed on Batman's chest.
All he could do was give a long, exhausted sigh. Of all his children, you were the one who drained his energy the most, which was saying a lot, since he literally had to keep up with an assassin, a former acrobat, and a son literally risen from the dead.
From the start, he knew he was getting into possibly more than he could handle when he became aware of your powers, finding you in a lab on the outskirts of Gotham a few years ago. Those pathetic excuses of so-called parents had abandoned you, too afraid of their daughter's abilities, and had left you in the hands of scientists instead. Losing parents who would never come back, forever out of reach, was a pain Bruce knew all too well. Parents who were out there, within reach but refusing to ever get closer, were another kind of pain entirely.
So, he got you out of the lab, gave you a home, and his family name. Admittedly, the adoption had been more out of duty than any real desire to have you as a daughter. The right thing to do, as he always did. Honestly, he was frightened that he would never be able to help you manage your often out-of-control telekinetic powers. What if he wasn't the father you needed?
Most of the time, he wasn't actually sure how to go about the whole parenting thing, but he knew anyone else would have sent you straight to Arkham or even worse, use you as a weapon.
Over time, he had come to care for you as much as any of his other children, even if he struggled to express it.
Yet, he could never shake the look on your face the first time he found you, hooked up to so many machines, seconds away from death. The way, despite it all, you wanted to survive so badly, a fighter, through and through.
Luckily, he had shut down the lab's operations before any serious damage could be done.
Pushing off the wall, you stepped onto a low-lying beam and began walking across it, "I won't get hurt, see? I'm perfectly trained. Now look what Dick taught me!"
Suddenly, you flipped in the air before landing perfectly onto a crate nearby.
Batman pinched the bridge of his nose, "I should have never let Dick influence you. This is exactly what I'm talking about. Right now, you need to be listening for any movements."
"I am, okay?" You made your way to the rooftop, scanning the city of shadows below before peeking over the edge to him below, "I know what I'm doing, Bruce."
The tone in your voice stung, but he kept his face emotionless as usual. Even after all this time, you had only ever referred to him as Bruce, Batman, or the occasional "Bat-Brain" when you were angry with him, but never Dad. Sure, the others didn't often call him dad, but they at least agreed he was their father of sorts.
"You're reckless," he countered, "Recklessness can be of help at times, but it never works out in a fight."
"Last time I checked, my recklessness saved Tim and you just last week," you swung you legs over the side of the building, "So you should be thanking me for jumping out of that window and knocking the Riddler out....can we get boba after this?"
Changing the subject, as always.
"Yes, we can get boba," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "As long as you come out of this in one piece."
"If you keep refusing to listen, one day you're going to get hurt, and don't come crying to me about it." He added in a tone cold, devoid of anything.
"Fine, I won't!" you shouted, masking the hurt in your voice. Like father, like daughter, the two of you had a gift for hiding how you really felt.
Barbara's voice came through the comm system, "We've an incoming van full of the robbers we've been tracking, only three blocks down from your location. According to what I can find, there are at least six of them. They should be there in less than five minutes."
"Got it, Oracle!" you answered, "Half a dozen should be no problem for us!"
"Be careful. I'm not sure if they're armed or not."
"We will be," Batman assured before glancing up at you, "Once the van passes, I want you to try and use your powers to keep the van still and locked. I'll call the police and we'll keep them here until they arrive."
"Challenge accepted," you gave a mock salute, "Hey, if this patrol goes well, can I go ice skating this weekend?"
An utter face of bewilderment crossed his face, "Ice skating? You've never wanted to go before?"
"Well, I want to now, so can I?"
"Fine, fine, I'll take you ice skating," he agreed, "Just stay up there and don't move no matter what happens, okay?"
A few minutes later, a white van came into view below. With a deep breath, you held out your hand, colorful energy crackling around at as the van came to a sudden stop.
"What's going on here?!" a voice shouted below, trying to open the now locked doors and windows, "I told ya this van was a piece of junk!"
Emerging from the shadows, Batman made his way to the van, "You're currently under arrest."
Another typical, successful patrol. Now all you had to do was wait until Gordan arrived...
'Shot!' Followed by three more and the sound of glass shattering.
What was going on?!
No! No! No!
One of them had shot through the window, aiming right for Bruce.
Your heart felt as if it had been shot; the world became a blur and tilted.
What if he were gone?
What if you had to go back to your awful parents?
What if you were sent back to the lab?
The hold on the van weakened, the color draining from the power in your hand as you panicked.
No, now they could get out; there were at least half a dozen and Bruce didn't have any backup.
You threw any orders to stay put out of the window, leaping below into action. Your powers wouldn't do for now, so you would have to rely on your fighting skills.
The van's doors unlocked, but instead of driving away, the doors flung open, and everyone of them poured out. Clearly, they wanted to stick around for revenge.
Batman's eyes widened in panic as he held one of the thugs up by the collar, "I told you to stay put!"
"I couldn't leave you alone!" you shouted, throwing a punch to the jaw to one of the attackers, "It would be unfair!"
Another punch. A side kick. A twist of the arm. "It's not your job to protect me," he protested while throwing one of them to the ground, "That's my job."
Just as he was distracted, one of them managed to come up from behind, getting a clear hit to the head.
"Hey!" you shouted, grabbing the man's jacket and jerking him away, wrapping your arm around him in a headlock. "At this point, it's like you're trying to make this easy for me," you said in a confident tone before hearing a menacing sound of metal against metal.
The feel of the blood pooling registered before the pain.
Staggering, you pulled back, holding your side as the man stood there, knife dripping in blood.
"No, stop-" a tug from behind followed by a sickening crack as your back hit the cold street below. The world becomes nothing but pain and a blur, and the only thing you could register was the sound of someone shouting in a terrifying rage, followed by the sound of broken bones. Not your bones, at least.
The moment Bruce had laid his eyes on what those cowards had done to you, a rage filled him unlike any other. Not one of justice, but of a dad willing to do anything to keep his child safe.
"If I were you, I would leave," he warned all of them, a fist curled at his side that connected with the man holding the knife within seconds as he fell to the ground.
"Wait, wait, wait," he pleaded, "No! Please!"
In a flash of shadow, he was on him, hand around his throat, throwing the knife to the side. The others ran, making a break while they could.
Getting on Batman's bad side was one thing, but hurting one of his team? That was a fate nobody would ever wish to face.
"You're too much of a coward to face me so you hurt a kid?" his tone shifted to one so cold the air practically froze. "Don't ever even think about hurting her again."
"Can't you just replace her like you did the last few?"
Okay, that was enough.
"She's." One punch. "My." Another punch to the face. "Daughter." One more for good measure.
Soon enough, he was out cold on the street. Good, the police can take out the trash.
Quickly, Bruce looked only to see your lifeless form a few feet away, a pool of red at your side. Guilt washed over him from his earlier words, immediately thinking back to how all he had done was complain all patrol.
No, not again. Not this again. Was he too late?
For a moment, he swore he forgot how to breathe until his instincts took over and he rushed to your side.
The warehouse. Explosions ringing in his ear. Joker's sick laugh as if it were all some joke to him.
Looking down at your twisted form, the pain etched into your face, he forced himself to stay focused on the task at hand.
All he could see was Jason.
"I have to get up, Batman needs me," you thought over and over, "I have to get up."
A careful hand touched your side, causing you to try and shove it away.
"No, it's just me," a voice you recognized all too well assured, carefully putting pressure to the wound, "You're going to be okay, just stay with me, alright?"
Pain bloomed at your side, burning through every vein, getting worse by the minute. Everything was a blur, but you could make out Bruce's unmasked face staring down at you, as if he had taken the risk for you to see him instead of Batman.
You had been on this edge before in the lab, standing between the light and trying not to fall into the depths of darkness below - death.
"Come on, just say something to me," he demanded, face full of worry, "Let me know you're there."
Not again. He wouldn't fail one of his kids again. This couldn't be happening again.
"It hurts so bad," you choked out a sob. No, you couldn't cry on patrol. It would look pathetic, you needed to prove yourself. "Dad, please, I don't want to go, I don't want to go-"
If his heart wasn't already twisting in his chest, that there was enough to make him feel as if he had been the one stabbed, the blade turning.
Gently, he took you up in his arms as you let out a pained cry.
"I know it hurts, but I'm going to get you back home and everything is going to be okay?" he cradled your head, brushing the hair out of your face stained with blood.
There was the slightest waver in his usual steady voice, a hint of worry creeping through. He draped his cape over you as he felt you shiver- too much blood loss.
"Stay with me, okay? You can do this. You're one of the strongest fighters I know."
"Even better than Dick?" you mumbled, "And Cass?"
"Better than them...yours runs deeper than just skill," he forced a grin for your sake, "It will be our secret I said that."
The whirl of the wind in your ears made you realize he was running, before you felt the plush of the car's seat as a distant voice called, "Stay with me, please."
Then everything went dark.
Inside the Manor, Bruce paced back and forth in the Batcave, growing more worried by the minute.
"Master, Bruce, you're going to wear a hole into the rock at this rate," Alfred chided.
"Why hasn't she woken up?" he asked in a worried tone, "It's been three hours!"
"May I remind you she took a nasty hit to the head, but her vitals are stable, her stitches are finished, and we gave her a strong pain medication," the butler rested a hand on Bruce's shoulder, stopping him mid-pace, "She'll be fine."
Damian tugged at Alfred's outercoat, "When can I go see sister?"
"There are some things not suitable for such a young man to see," Alfred scolded.
Damian crossed his arms, staring up at him defiantly, "I can handle anything. There's nothing I can't face!"
"Then go fetch me some of the cookies I made earlier from the kitchens," Alfred suggested, "She'll want something to eat once she wakes up."
Damian nodded, as if it were a top secret mission before running off.
Bruce sighed, leaning against the wall, "I could have lost her today. What if I had been there too late?"
"What matters is that you weren't," Alfred picked up a nearby steaming cup of tea, stirring it calmly as if there was nothing to panic about, "She always pulls through."
A noise caught Bruce's attention, "Ugh! My head hurts!"
Relief flooded him, as if he could finally remember how to breathe. Quickly, he rushed over to where you were recovering, "You're awake- you're okay. Can you hear me? Where does it hurt?"
Everything was blurry, including thoughts, and you couldn't quite figure out that you were back in the Batcave, safe and sound.
Slowly, you tried to sit up only to feel as if you were being stabbed all over again, "Ah! Dad? Where's my dad?"
Carefully, he eased you back down onto the table, "Hey, take it easy. You're in no shape to move. Now tell me what hurts." Finally, you recognized his voice, the surroundings becoming sharp again.
"Everything," you gave a soft laugh, feeling a bit fuzzy- headed, "Don't tell Tim, but I took his favorite sweater! Shhhhh!"
Bruce gave a sigh of relief, "Clearly the pain meds are working. I'm glad you're okay."
"What happened?" you asked, unable to remember anything, "Where are the others?"
"The others are busy with their own things right now, and Damian is somewhere in the manner," Bruce clenched his jaw, "You got hurt trying to help me when I told you to stay put." His voice softened, "Look, what matters is that you're okay. If anything had happened, I would never have gotten to spend more time with you...to see you grow more."
For so long, you had pushed away the idea of having a family, a father, a home, too afraid it would all break apart like the last one. Sure, maybe he was figuring out this whole family thing as much as the rest of you, but for once, it felt as if family wasn't too far out of reach.
"You're not getting rid of me that easily," you reached out, gripping onto his cape with a weak hold, "I want to stick around some more. Plus, who would Tim have left to annoy him if I was gone?"
"Fair enough," he managed a small smile, "Now get some rest."
"Can we watch some movies?"
"Now? You're injured."
"Please," you asked again, "That's the least I could ask for."
Bruce's shoulders slumped in defeat, knowing he could rarely say no to any of his kids, but especially not you now.
"Alfred, pop us some popcorn!"
Tucked in a blanket, you were snuggly curled up on your bed, trying to ignore the lingering pain at your side. The projector's glow filled the room as Legally Blonde played, while the two of you munched on some popcorn. Bruce slumped in a beanbag chair in the corner, looking equally exhausted and relieved from the events of the day, sipping from his "World's Okay-ish Dad" mug.
"Look, about today," you began hesitantly, "Sorry I messed up on patrol and put us at risk, and for getting so emotional-"
"Don't," he cut you off, "Never apologize for showing emotion. For a long time, it was hard for me to show any. It still is sometimes, and I'm learning to do better. I'm sorry for what I said earlier." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, looking down at the floor, "Sometimes I worry so much about one of you kids getting hurt, or forgetting something important during a fight, I can be harsh. I didn't mean any of it."
"It's okay," you shrugged, "I do get distracted, and I don't always think ahead."
"It's still not your job to protect me, okay?" he looked over at you apologetically, "Next time, take care of yourself, or ask Oracle for backup, okay?" He paused a moment before giving you a small pat on the shoulder, "You're a good kid, and a good fighter."
You nodded, "I meant what I said, I mean...When I called you, Dad. Like, I know you are anyway, legally, but in the real way, you know?"
If today hadn't already been emotional whiplash, those words were enough to make Bruce feel a whole other level of emotions. There were so many words he wished to say, but they stayed stuck on his tongue. Instead, he looked back to the movie.
"I really hope Elle breaks up with that guy. He clearly doesn't have her best interest," he noted, "She deserves better."
"Wait until you see the end," you reached out, letting a cup of boba float into your hand, "He gets what he deserves." Crossing your arms, you grumbled, "Now I won't be able to go ice skating this weekend! This sucks! I've fought Scarecrow before, and a few robbers take me down?!"
Bruce gave a small, sympathetic frown. For some reason, ice skating had been important to you, even if he had no clue why.
"I'm sorry, but recovering is more important right now. As soon as you're better, I'll take you as soon as I can. If you want, I can rent out the ring just for you," he suggested.
"No, it had to be this weekend," you looked down, "A few of my classmates were going, and it was super important I go this weekend."
"Would this have anything to do with a certain someone from AP history you always talk about?" he raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his tone neutral.
"What?! No!" you looked away, too embarrassed, "Shut up!"
Great, now he would have to deal with crush drama on top of everything else. Being a father was more exhausting than he ever could have imagined, but it was worth it. Mentally, he noted to have Barbara do a thorough background check on this classmate of yours.
"How about I let you pick the next movie?" he offered, "Anything you want, I swear I won't complain."
An idea came to mind, and he immediately recognized that look on your face. The same look you had before pranking Dick.
"Could we watch the Superman movie?" you gave a teasing grin.
"Superman?!" he gasped, as if he had been betrayed, "You want to watch his movie? You know we've been competing for the new position in the League for months now."
"You promised," you insisted, knowing there was no losing this argument.
"Fine," he reluctantly agreed, "But I know you're doing this just to annoy me."
A knock at the door caught your attention as Alfred stepped in, holding a tray of cookies and steaming cups of tea.
"Chocolate chip, as you requested," Alfred rested the tray on the desk with a graceful flourish before handing the tea to Bruce, "And something to calm you, Master Bruce."
"Thanks, Alfred," he took a small sip, "Why don't you take a break? It's been a long day."
"Oh, I could never," he insisted, "There's still dishes to be washed, and I have to plan for breakfast in the morning."
"Take a break!" you motioned to another beanbag in the corner, "Just watch one movie! For me???"
"A butler's work is never done," he turned to leave before glancing to the screen, "Why are you watching Legally Blonde? I adore Miss Wood's determination!"
"You've watched Legally Blonde?" you asked in shock.
"I have taste, you know," he huffed, smoothing his coat, "Even in movies."
"Then watch it with me! Pleasseeeee!"
Alfred gave a soft smile, in sharp contrast to his usual strict expression, "I suppose taking a break won't cause too much harm." He sat down on the edge of the bed.
Everything felt warm, as if for once in your life things were as they should be.
"My, I should go get more tea, " Alfred began, before looking back to find you already asleep on the bed, with Bruce curled up in the chair, knocked out for the night. "My, the two of you must be tired."
Quietly, he rose, adjusting your blanket and tossing one over Bruce as well before closing the door behind him.
Btw this was my first ever Batfam/ Batman fic in general, so feedback would be helpful!
My sister wanted to do a natural birth, but her babies wouldn't turn. She has a C-section scheduled for the 21st of January. Prayers for her and 2 healthy babies.
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