ļ¼ ė°ģ±ķ ļ¼finding a fully furnished apartment with a river view for half the usual price is a bit sketchy . . . but anything to live in this economy!
š®š¹šš²šæš»š®šš¶šš²š¹šļ¼unbeknownst to you, your landlord is a vampire and you are exactly his ( blood ) type.
I need us as fandom to use the fact Damian has a sweet tooth so much more.
Like this kid is genuinely out here having poptarts and hot chocolate for breakfast in canon.
( DC vs Vampires #2 and Adventures of Superman: Jon Kent #4)
We need this energy in fandom.
Damian drinking tea 24/7. Boring, sad, he doesn't even like it.
Damian seeing his siblings take protein shakes and electrolytes when training, and deciding to imitate them by making himself chocolate milk and putting it in a sports bottle. Innovative, funny, could happen.
Imagine.
Jason, sweating: Ah, damn. Ran out of water. Can I have some of yours?
Dick: Sorry, man. Finished mine too.
Damian, offering a huge hydro flask: You can have some of mine, Todd.
Jason: Oh, thanks
Jason: *taking a sip and immediately spitting out*
Dick: Woah! Are you oā
Jason, looking at Damian horrified: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS??
Mom. It's a three letter word, a painful word for most of the Bats but they reclaim it and use it where it can serve the most purpose. Annoying and comforting Bruce.
"Mom," and it's Dick rolling his eyes at Bruce who tells him to put a sweater over his going out outfit because it's cold.
"MOM," and it's Tim wailing because somebody used his towel and left it on the floor.
"Mom," and it's Steph, with her hand out for the chocolates that he keeps in the utility belt.
"Mooooooom?" and it's Duke, because sonething fucking weird is going on and he's wants away from it or answers.
"Mom," and it's Damian being serious as he can be with all his 4ft 6" and he can do whatever it is himself.
"Mom," and it's when Cass thinks Bruce is thinking too hard and he's getting those frown lines.
"Mom," and it's Jason who tries to say it with disgust or flippancy and can't manage quite it.
"Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom," and it's all his little birds, pulling at his cape, his sleeve, crawling all over him, letting him get so peace.
Bruce goes on a mission in another dimension for a little bit and finds a small dragon cub. The mother had already, unfortunately, been slain by the people Bruce was hunting.
It was just a baby; could Bruce really leave the little thing all alone?
Besides, Damian was first in his class, and Bruce still didnāt have a present for such a wonderful achievement. He had to miss the award ceremony to go on this mission, and he just felt awful about it.
Bruce bent down and gently clicked his tongue, barely containing a smile as the little cub warily came toward him before jumping into his arms and huffing a breath of smoke in contentment.
Coming back to the cave after a long debrief and being extra stubborn about keeping the dragon, he found his baby pouting up a storm and training extra hard with his sword.
Damian had feigned nonchalance when Bruce broke the news to his baby that he wouldn't be able to make the ceremony, but he could tell that his youngest was truly upset by it.
"Habibi," Bruce called out, pulling down his cowl and pushing his sweat-slick hair out of his face. "Can you stop training for a second? I have something to show you."
"I hadn't noticed you were back, Father-" Damian turned around, mouth dropping in time with his sword dropping to the ground. "... who is that?" He asked quietly, creeping closer.
Bruce chuckled softly as he showed Damian the sleeping dragon in his arms. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of naming her," Bruce murmured softly. "This is Qamar, a little cub from the moon dragon species. Her mother was unfortunately too far gone to save, but I knew someone loving and smart to take care of her."
Damian watched her breathe in awe, hesitantly reaching out before gently petting her black, smooth, glistening scales. "She is beautiful."
"They say, once a moon dragon grows up, their scales hold the night sky within them." Bruce gently shifted the sleeping dragon into Damian's arms, watching his eyes sparkle as he held her oh so gently.
"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your award ceremony, Habibi. I would've done anything to go." Bruce wrapped an arm around Damian's shoulder and pulled him close. "I'm so proud of you." Bruce pressed a long kiss to his son's temple.
A small smile crept onto Damian's face, and he leaned further into Bruce's side. "I know, Baba. I was just... acting childish."
"You are a child, you can act any way you wish." Bruce squeezed his baby again, getting in one more kiss to the forehead before Damian ultimately pushed him away, embarrassed.
"Thank you, Baba... I love you." Damian mumbled under his breath, hiding his face behind Qamar, who was starting to wake up and wiggle around.
"Why don't we go upstairs and brag to your brothers?" Bruce suggested, saving Damian from further embarrassment and vulnerability. Damian wasted no time. Qamar was already loving Damian and letting out little happy chirps as he ran toward the Batcave's elevator.
Bruce knew he would hear the indignant screams of his children later, but for now, he just needed a hot shower. Everything else could come later.
"slut era" i say as i rot and decay in my bedroom and watch the years pass me by as i miss out on core experiences other people my age are having while i think about the past
in another universe as soon as i finished uni i left my hometown and found a job as far away as possible
in another universe i find a job in a big city with tall buildings and always full of light. i come home to a small apartment furnished by me and me alone and it smells like my favorite candle
in another universe im not always trying to live up to my familyās expectations, but im free to do whatever i feel like doing and to go wherever i please
in another universe i dont feel difficult to love and i dont run as soon as a romantic opportunity presents itself
As a farmer you have to deal with critters trying to grab your produce. When you catch a Possum taking one of your tomatoes you jokingly say āI hope you were planning on paying for that.ā Not only does the possum pay for the tomato, but now creatures of all kinds show up to buy from your farm.
Bruce has been living alone in a house he had built for him and his family for way too long. For the first time in forever, Bruce is the one to voluntarily leave his loved ones behind.
Featuring Clark's pinning and necessary conversations.
Fair warning. I love to shit on Alfred Pennyworth, and I made Dick look really bad here.
Chapter 1
<< Part 2 >>
Bruce woke up to Damian practically taking the door out of its hinges with the desperation he threw it open.
With the athleticism only a Robin could acquire, he jumped, falling straight into his father's chest. "Move on, father! The Kents will arrive shortly and you NEED a shower" he screamed before jumping down, allowing the air to return to Bruce's lungs.
"Good morning to you too, son" Bruce sat up, a hand on his back to diminish the pain from the lovable assault.
"No time for that!" The boy answered from inside Bruce's walking-closet. His small face reappeared on the corner as he frowned towards his dad. "What are you doing, go in the shower! I got your outfit!"
Bruce chuckled and walked beside him, softly petting his head before entering the bathroom. Delighted by the short-lived instances that his son allowed himself to behave as a regular teen.
In less than 15 minutes (by the grace of an incredibly anxious Damian practically hand feeding Bruce and dragging their bags outside), they were ready to depart.
Bruce was going through the last details with Oliver over the phone, while double checking the locks on every door, when he heard Damian's call from outside. "The Kents are hEere, baba!!" He bit his lips to keep the laugh inside at his son's voice break. A small reminder that he was indeed, still a growing boy.
He came outside to see a jumping Jon clinging from his kid's neck, Damian with a fond expression, pretending to be annoyed.
Clark stood behind them, with a blinding smile, proudly watching them. He looked up towards him, and Bruce could swear he saw his smile falter for a second, before waving at him. "Bruce, hi." He got close, pressing a hand over Bruce's shoulder, before closing the space in a hug. "Hope you don't mind, but we took the liberty to put your bags inside the trunk"
Bruce smiled back, pressing himself on Clark's chest as he returned the greeting. "Not at all, thank you." He let go of the man, still smiling and looked at him. He couldn't help the smirk when he saw how Clark was consciously looking everywhere BUT him. The Kryptonian quickly turned away, red on his neck, fingers fumbling with the car's door to sit on the passenger seat.
"Hey!!" Came the indignant voice of his youngest when he realized the copilot spot was taken under his nose. Bruce chuckled, pressing a hand against the brown hair. "Son, why won't you sit with Jon?" He smiled at the soft grumble "If you want to, you can change seats with Clark when we get to a gas station".
Damian's complaints were cut short when Jon grabbed his hand, pulling him inside while babbling about random facts of the animals in the farm. Bruce closed the door, and made a mental note to remind himself to not allow his baby to dress him up again as he saw his reflection on the window. Clearly Damian's idea of "comfortable clothes" was closest to an Italian beach outfit than a traditional jeans and t-shirt.
He chuckled, and entered the car while trying to close the inexistent top buttons of his white shirt. He heard Clark make a low noise that clearly came from the back of his throat. "Seriously? I feel like I should hand you a daiquiri or something" Bruce just laughed, a full belly sound that had Clark blinking stupidly as the Gothamite buckled his seat belt.
"Eyes to the front, Kent!" Clark jumped on his seat when he remembered the company in the back seat. "Keep oogling at my father like that-"
"Damian-"
"Dames, check this out!"
Clark internally thought about what he would give to his boy. Sweet, sweet lifesaver Jon.
Clark swears on Krypton he did his best to keep the eyes on the road, nevermind how Bruce's shirt pressed against his muscles, or how the neckline deepened everytime he moved his arm on the gear, or how his black hair caught the light, or how-
"-Clark!!" Bruce was frowning at him. Head barely tilted, looking at him by the corner of his eye... Greyish blue irises palling against the sunlight behind brown sunglasses-. "Clark, which exist?! You have both of our phones!"
Yeah... Krypton wasn't anymore, anyway.
They arrived at the Kent's after a little less than 4 hours, taking in consideration the gas station stop - in which Damian pretended to be asleep so he wouldn't feel ashamed for not wanting to change seats with Clark -, so they made it with a pretty good window to help with lunch.
Martha greeted them as soon as they opened the car's door. She gave Clark such a tight hug, that made Bruce unconsciously smile at the interaction. He felt the sun emanate from where their smiles strained with love and something akin to regret, they always looked as if they hadn't seen each other in years. Martha broke the hug to look at her son's face. Their eyes shone with unshed emotion.
Where Clark was summer sunshine, Martha was spring breeze. He thought to himself.
She gave the two young boys a big collective hug, while Johnathan welcomed his son, and turned to face Bruce.
Bruce immediately froze and took a step back, but before he could even think about what he was doing, the petite woman, with strong and loving arms, surrounded him in a hug that carried warmth and love and the smell of spices. He just stood awkwardly in place, unable to lift his arms without disrupting her hug, and let her inhale on his shoulder.
"Bruce, dear" she exhaled and let go to trap his cheeks between her hands, forcing him to bend to her high. "It's been so long, honey. I hope you haven't forgotten about us in all this time!" He shook his head. Shyly. And lift a hand to put on top of Martha's.
He gave her his best candid smile "Never, mrs Ken- ah!" A strong slap on his shoulder and a frown from the woman shut him up.
"Nonsense! What have I told you about those horribly fake smiles of yours and the way you call me?"
"I'm... Sorry?" He blinked twice while rubbing his arm. "... Ma?" He cautiously finished. It was the blinding trademarked Kent smile that told him he did good.
Martha got hold of his arm and practically dragged him inside, while he shyly waved a greeting to Pa Kent. Clark smiling way too cheerfully, given the embarrassing situation, followed behind them.
Bruce helped in the kitchen. Since the day he proved to the world how he actually was really good at it, he became one of the few people Ma Kent allowed inside her kitchen during cooking. So they shared stories and talked about their current lifes. If Martha noticed how he blatantly avoided touching onto his children's lives, she was kind enough not to mention.
Bruce had thought the moment in the kitchen had been fun, but... Oh, dinner was the best. The way they all freely laughed, Damian included (no matter if he tried to cover his mouth to hide it). How they talked comfortably, no caring of his mannerisms or his lack of verbal responses. They just kept the conversation going, including him. Listening when he spoke. Not once did anybody take a jab at him. Not once did they raise their voices if not to laugh.
At some point during the end of the dinner Damian even came to sit next to him, dragging his chair to show him the video they were just talking about... Bruce allowed himself to smile.
Everything was delightful. Everything was so good. So... Not meant for him.
He was too used to just sit and watch. To listen. He had believed that was his place, and he thought he liked that spot. It was safe. But here. He was being included. He was part of the moment.
"Baba?" Damian looked up at him, concern in his face. Bruce shook his head and gave him a soft peck on his forehead, signaling him to continue. Damian tilted his head, doubtful, but didn't press and kept the video going. His baby boy was so smart, and he couldn't help but question if he had anything to do with that. If he deserved to have any say on the kid's raising, since he missed so much over the last years... He tried to focus on his boy's voice.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the careful nod from Martha to Clark, or how she slowly moved behind him as Damian finished his commentary.
A firm hand on his shoulder, and a soft smile on her face. "Mind to help me with something on the shed, dear? Clark will take the dishwashing duty" she asked when he turned to face her. He could only nod, avoiding Clark's knowing eyes, as he moved with her outside the house.
Bruce grunted, moving the last bag and dusting his hands off. "Thank you, dear". Martha's voice came from the corner entrance, from where she was standing with a tray of lemonade.
"I think Clark would have done it faster" He smiled, taking one glass and lifting it to his lips and moving to sit in the seat next to the little table where Martha was placing the tray.
"He would have, yes" She sat down, waiting for Bruce to leave his glass to take on his hand between hers. "What's on your mind, honey?"
Bruce watched how her callous fingers traced circles on the back of his hand. He took a moment. He thought it over. And over the thousand plans his brain made to successfully avoid this conversation, he chose to open up.
"There's... A lot, actually. Maybe too much" He looked up. Martha was watching him with such deepness it made his throat hurt. "I don't know how to do..." He pointed between them with his free hand "this"
"This?"
"This" he moved his hand around, towards the house, towards the people inside it. Towards everything. "I'm not used to so much"
"Do you need us to tone it down, sweetheart?"
"What!? No! No, no, no! Please, oh god no!" He desperately lifted both hands, shaking them in the air. Martha smiled knowingly. She placed her hand in front of him, palm upwards, an invitation.
He hesitated just a second before placing his own on top, and she covered his hand with her other palm.
"Then tell me, dear. Tell me what's happening"
"I- I don't know how to..." He swallowed, opening and closing his hand between Marta's "how to be. If there's nothing expected of me. If I'm not... Good. Useful"
Martha smiled, patting his hand. "Oh dear, trust me. I know"
"... You know?" Martha's smile turned into a mischievous grin. She tilted her head towards the shed "...oh..."
Martha chuckled "We saw you getting absentee standing next to us, Bruce. We worried" She took a big breath. "Have you always been expected to be good?" She looked at Bruce's trembling eyes. And let go a shaky breath when he tilted his head, frowning in confusion. "Let me rephrase it, dear. Did your parents ask for you to be good all the time?"
Bruce took off his hand as if burned. "What? No. They never- No!" Martha tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he was already on his feet.
"I mean, there were circumstances. In public I was expected to behave, to represent the last name... But at home? They never. No. They not once criticised me, they barely corrected me. They..."
Bruce sat back, head down, looking at his feet. "I... Can't even remember if the memories of my mother's words are real or not." He sighed. "It's been so long. But I think she once told me- ...she once told there was nothi- that my only job as a kid was-" Martha moved over to hug his head, while silent tears fell to the ground. "I think she only wanted me to grow up healthy. To be happy."
They stood in silence for a while. Martha hugging him. Bruce crying in contained, quiet grief. When he finally stopped, Martha took a step back and placed a hand on his cheek.
"Then why, oh why, my silly boy. Why would you believe you HAVE to give us anything to deserve to take room next to us?" Bruce just looked at her.
He knew the moment she figured it out by the way her eyebrows dipped down and her mouth curved on a frown. "Whose words are you hearing, dear?"
Bruce opened his mouth, and quickly closed it, he tried to look away, biting the dry patch on his lip.
Martha closed her eyes with strength. With anger. She let go of Bruce to cover her face with her hands, turning around. Bruce panicked, rising to his feet, arm lifted, trying to catch her. Before he got to even touch her, she turned around, grabbing him by the neck and forcing him down in a hug, burying his face on her shoulder.
"... He was a stupid, stupid man. Blind. Stupid, STUPID. So, so, so-"
"Please" Came a mumble against her clothes "please don't hate him. He... Liked you both so much. And..." Bruce made a shaky wet sound, digging his fingers on the back of Martha's dress. "He stayed" was a whisper.
Clark steadied his breath as he listened to her mother's heartbeat slow down from her recent fury. He swallowed his own anger, drowning it with the small sobs that fell from Bruce's lips.
He tried to calm himself. There was nothing to do anymore. No revenge to take. Nobody who could take the blame. The Englishman lay peacefully on his own coffin, and yet... And yet his words kept hunting his ward.
He cleaned his face with the rim of his shirt, and took a deep breath before re entering the house.
Damian woke up to the noise of his phone going off. He sat up, freeing himself under Jon's weight. He dangled his feet to the side of the sofa, and before picking up the phone from the side table, he took the remote and turned off the tv.
In complete darkness, his face was only lit by the shine of the phone screen. He took a steady breath and slid to answer. "Richard"
On the other side of the line he could hear a relieved sigh.
"Dami... God, you got me scared here, kid." A chuckle. "Imagine my fright when I came to the manor and you were nowhere to be found. If you hadn't picked up, I was to start tracking you!" A shaky laugh. Damian took off the phone to check on the time and date, frowning. He put it back next to his ear. "Are you o-"
"I don't understand, Richard" he cut him off. "It hasn't even been a day since we left the manor"
"Yes, but-"
"We saw each other two days ago, Richard. I'm confused as to why-"
"Oh! I came to check on you, to see how you were faring with Bruce and you weren't he-"
"Excuse me?" He could recognize his brother was taken aback.
"...Dames?"
"What do you mean to check on me?"
"I mean... I thought Bruce might have gotten angry. He might have reacted badly..."
"...What?" Damian felt dumbstruck against the words.
"I- uh... Damian? What's-"
"What do you think father would have done, Richard?"
"What?"
Damian felt his body go numb. Was it always like this? Did they always talk this way? Had father ever heard them?
"Has father ever done something that would make you compelled to worry about my wellbeing?"
He heard a scoff and his hand clenched the phone "Damian, we're talking about Bruce-"
"Yes. I know who we are talking about, that's the only person I refer to as my father, Richard." Silence "I must remind you I only have one father."
A beat. Damian took a deep breath to steady himself. "I have no idea what had you calling me, Richard"
"...Dami..."
"Has father ever hit me?"
"What?"
"Has he ever neglected me or punished me in ways you consider would endanger me?"
"What? No, Damian. No, that's not why I-"
"Then why, Grayson," he heard the sharp gasp on the other line "do you think this is appropriate?" Silence. "If my father isn't a horrible dangerous person... Why are you calling... Me?"
"I... I don't understand, Dames. What's ha-"
"No, you clearly don't understand. And I have to take blame on that, because I feel neither did I fully understood until recently."
"Damian..."
"Maybe we all need to start understanding. Yes. That's the main issue. Lack of understanding."
"I am... So confused, Dami"
"Mhm. I can tell. Not my place to intervene, though. So you will have to figure it out on your own" he could practically see his brother's brain shortcut. "In the meantime, baba and I will enjoy ourselves. Thank you for calling, but I don't really appreciate your meddlesome concerns"
He hung up without paying attention to the voice calling for him on the other side of the phonecall.
He turned around, and let his face fall on the soft spot of his friend's stomach, waking him up.
"Oof! Damian?!"
"Jon. Do you know where is my baba?"
Tags!
@nikiexe0 @occasionalauthoring @mylifeisfruk4ever @veythegay @floraao @ace-wuz-here If I forgot to tag someone... I'm so sorry (ā āā ā¢ā į“ā ā¢ā āā )
A spell hits Batman, and a magical letter is left to explain what is happening, but itās in a different language
All they know is that thereās a zero floating above Bruceās head
Everyone but him can see it, so they think itās best if they donāt say anything and figure it out themselves
Through some shitty translating, they are under the understanding that the note says: āthe number of people you love will show.ā
They are livid, which is, of course, just a mask for being hurt and devastated, and without explaining anything to him, they start being horrible
Bruce has no idea whatās happened, and heās trying to make up for it (which is a hard thing to do when you don't know what you're making up for), but anything he does makes them treat him even worse
They don't want to fall back into loving his kindness. Either Damian gets taken by Dick, and Bruce is beyond devastated, or Damian is aggressive to Bruce and purposely avoids him. Bruce is drowning in self-hatred and isolates himself because of the wrongful treatment
Eventually, Zatanna is able to come over and attempt fix it
She asks for the note to know what she's dealing with and correctly translates it to: āthe number of people you believe love you will show.ā
Now they have to deal with what theyāve done and realize they were completely unfounded in what they did
Oh, but the pain afterward, so delicious. Something like...
Jason spoke first, his face taut, his anger barely contained.
"Read it again. There must be a mistake."
Zatanna didn't flinch. She merely raised an eyebrow. "I've only been studying this language for over thirty years, Hood. Of course, let's assume I'm wrong, not the newbies who know nothing about magic."
Newbie hit harder than she thought. Jason was about to respond, but Dick stopped him with a wave of his hand.
Jason was ready to yell at him when he saw how deathly pale his brother was. Dick looked like he was about to throw up.
"Hey, you're not going to believe this shit, are you? It's obviously not..."
"I took Damian away from him," Dick interrupted, not even looking at him, his breath coming in short gasps. "I told him he's a terrible man. I called him...a manwhore who can't take responsibility. And I was glad to see him suffer...I thought he deserved it..."
Dick put his hands to his face and groaned, "God, I was glad I made my..."
He didn't finish the sentence. But Jason knew what he was going to say. My dad.
But Dick couldn't say it, he couldn't. Not when he felt unworthy of using the word, not after everything that had happened.
Zatanna showed no sympathy. "Did you really think the number indicated the people he loved? Really?"
"Hey, you don't know mister feelings are an obstacle to the mission..."
"You are right, I'm just a childhood friend, ex-lover, and now friend of the League, but go ahead, Hood, I'm all ears," if looks could kill, Jason would be dead again, "Bruce is like a brother to me. I know him like I know myself. And that man has a damn bleeding heart and too much love inside him."
"And yet, there's no number to prove it," Jason repeated petulantly.
The sorceress's expression turned sad. "It's hard to convince someone they're loved when they're being punished for everything, don't you think?"
Jason was about to call out her bullshit, but Dick muttered, "We proved his point..."
Jason looked at him, Dick continued, "We proved him the damn point, that we didn't love him. God, the things we did to him... all of us... we fucking abandoned him."
"You're exaggerating..."
"Jason, what do you call isolating someone from their...from their family, from their life, throwing so much shit at them that a lot of the hero community now isolates Batman? We...ostracized him to the point that...that Tim was about to take the WE from him out of spite. He couldn't do it just because Lucius stopped him and... who the hell would do something like that?"
"Horrible people," Zatanna replied, oblivious to Dick's complete meltdown, "Selfish, wicked people who assume the worst and are just waiting to unleash some kind of holy vendetta to make themselves feel good. You assumed the translation because it was something you all thought deep down, without even waiting for a damn expert. You just needed an excuse to... well, do what you usually do."
Jason snorted, "What we usually do? We're not like that..."
Zatanna interrupted, "Aren't you? You're the one talking? Who planted a bomb under his car? Who tried to force him to kill after months of terrible, near-breaking moments, not caring about the consequences? Who wanted to destroy him for the twisted proof that he was loved?"
Jason had never felt so naked in his life. "I... I was right..."
"You were right? Is that how you justify your shit? Are you surprised Bruce thinks he's unloved? You've been giving him hell for years, and you've never apologized. You continie blaming him for what you did. Dick, for example. How many times have you said Bruce turned you into his soldier, when you were the one pretending to be Robin, the one trying to kill a damned mafia boss? He wanted to save you... he wanted to save all of you. And this is the result. Nothing. You can't teach an old dog new tricks."
Dick wanted to protest. He wanted to say they loved Bruce, they were grateful for what he'd done for them. But the words wouldn't come out, they tasted like ash in his mouth. He couldn't say it.
Because he knew they were lies. You don't do this to someone you love. You don't abuse them out of a twisted sense of justice, thinking you were right.
Everything they'd done, they'd done under the guise of "I'm better than you."
It was so fucking wrong. They'd...he'd...God, what had he done?
"What can we do?" he croaked, not trusting his voice, "I'll talk to the others and explain what happened..."
"What, so you can go back to normal and pretend it never happened? Make him wonder what he did wrong?"
"No, to...to make up for it..."
Zatanna frowned. "And why would you do that, Dick? To see the numbers increase? For vanity? And when the spell lifts, will you go back to the way you were before? Treating him like shit, isolating him, going to him when you need him, yelling at him for being too present, slut-shaming him?"
She moved closer, face to face with Dick, smelling of ozone and sulfur, bluish skin, eyes like burning embers. "I've seen this before, and I don't like how it ends. There's always going to be something else, some other misunderstanding, some other excuse to hurt him. Can you promise it won't happen again? Can you?"
Neither Dick nor Jason spoke. They knew they couldn't do it.
And judging by Zatanna's expression, she knew it too.
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
stormborns
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
