he should be doing anything

Loki tries to provoke the Avengers by summoning a Tony Stark from fifty years down the timeline, grabs him and snarls that the Avengers should not do anything or he’ll kill their future friend. 

The summoned ninety-six year old is disappointed in him. 

He tells Loki this, tells Loki that with his brilliant mind he should think of other ways to defeat the Avengers than holding hostages. It’s the crudest kind of emotional manipulation. He knows Loki can do better than this, he’s had over a thousand years to learn for Earth’s sake. Loki should let him go and think of a plan that uses his best asset: no Loki, not your magic, your brain. 

“And of course,” The older Tony adds at the end. “consider that Thor is always going to take you back as a brother. You’ve only kept fighting with everyone because you can’t accept what you are and can’t believe that he doesn’t care. Consider using that brainpower to believe you can be something other than a villain, okay?”

Loki stares at him in astonished horror, then drops him and teleports away. Crapcrapcrap this Tony KNOWS.

anonymous asked:

my dad invalidates my sexuality and he insults me. i also told him about my anxiety and he still hasn't done anything about it. what should i do?

im sorry about that, that really sucks. 

i have a “coping” tag that may help with some of the anxiety.

unfortunately there isn’t much you can do about getting medication if your parents don’t agree. if you have a counselor at school (if you’re still underaged, i realize im assuming you are) you can talk to them. i think finding people you can talk to about the anxiety is very important to help get it off of your chest. finding people who also identify with your sexuality can help validate it for you. there are people out there like you and if you can find some of them, you will feel much more secure about it.

i hope this helped

Some Quotes From my Art History Professor:
  • “Caravaggio was the BEST renaissance painter, because he knew his shit.  Literally.  Look at this painting, he’s painted shit on everything, even Saint Peter!”
  • “For those of you fortunate enough to Not grow up catholic, a baptism is where you mist a baby like an orchid to keep it from going to hell.”
  • “You get Extra Credit for you eerily comprehensive knowledge of Muppets.  Now stop talking.”
  • “GOD I love flying buttresses.  They’re so melodramatic!”
  • “I don’t call him “Da Vinci” because that means “From Vinci”.  That’s like calling Steve “Of Greeley” instead of his real name and that’s just rude.  And not just because Greeley is Awful.”
  • “Michelangelo was really depressed because his job sucked.  Also because he was a bit of a douche, but mostly the job.  He should have been doing literally anything else.”
  • “Everything can be improved with a Simpson’s reference!”
  • “Send me Memes, I like having recent content in my lectures.”
    *Next day* “Stop sending me memes. Please.”
  • *whilst angrily pointing at a picture of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles* “The Turtles have all their names mixed up for their personalities and frankly that’s embarrassing.  The techie should be Leo, the Flirt should be Raphael, The Boring Leader Dude should be Donatello and the angry one should be Carvaggio because that asshole literally spent his life drunk, fighting people and blackmailing cardinals.  Carvaggio was the BEST.”
  • “I could have studied in Rome. I could be trying to match boxes of broken dicks to statuary.  Instead of dicks I have you assholes.”
  • “Warhol was, as you young people say, A Troll.  The art is not the Art, the Outrage is the Art.  Which is kind of a Dick Move, which we old people say too.”
  • “Remember Kids- mental illness and heavy metal poisoning are not actually substitutes for Talent and Hard Work! Get therapy and don’t drink your paint water!”
10

Don’t forget Gorillaz fans, Jamie Hewlett exist! He made all you’re favorite band members come to life in the music videos, shorts, ect! He continues drawing them countless times and works day and night to give you new content with the band members! So please appreciate him!!! ❤❤❤

2

a soft and beautiful man and the sharp asshole that lives in his house

5

You know what’s a really good ATLA scene

In Southern Raiders when the gaang swoops down to rescue Zuko and leaves Azula to plummet. And Zuko looks over, seeing his baby sister falling to her death, and is stricken by this sudden complicated emotion of “Did I want this…?” Sure, Azula was there quite literally to kill him. She’s tormented him his whole life, mocked him for being slotted for execution by their own father, hunted him down mercilessly. And yet Zuko spent such a long and complicated time vying for her approval, her affection. Zuko thought he wanted acceptance from Azula and their father both, so much so that he chose to betray Iroh in Crossroads of Destiny. And moreso, Azula has always been perfect. There was never any defeating Azula. There was only escaping from her. And in this moment Zuko is stricken with the realization that Azula can lose, Azula can die, and he mutters out this single, confused “She’s…not going to make it” as he watches her fall. Azula dying never seemed possible. And now it’s in front of him. Undeniable, irrevocable. Does he want this…? Should he let this happen…? Is there anything he can do to try… to maybe……

And then Azula pulls this Sick Fucking Move and rocket launches herself toward the wall and uses her own hair pick to anchor herself to the sheer cliffside and just stares at him gloatingly like “bitch you thought” and all complex emotion fucking vanishes from Zuko’s mind and he returns fully and completely to “jaded inferior sibling mode” and just goes “Of course she did” and stops thinking about it because. You know. Whatever. He coulda done that too he just didn’t try. 

Fucking Azula. 

That asshole. 

4

Jongin for Esquire Korea 2017 Feb issue

hunk’s mama: hunk is almost two years old and he still hasn’t said anything yet… do you think we should be worried? do- are we bad parents?

hunk’s mom: of course not, honey! every kid is special, y’know? they all go their different ways. and our hunkadunk of dippin dot love is fine just the way he is <3

hunk’s mama: (sighs) you’re right, of course. but you know me. i’ve never been able to let things lie, i always have to tinker with them. i know i shouldn’t project my own insecurities onto our baby, but…

hunk’s mom: babe, you’re not the first parent to overthink themselves, and you won’t be the last. maybe we’ve just been approaching this all wrong! we’ve only ever talked at hunk… what if we tried to have a conversation with him, or something?

hunk’s mama: it’s worth a shot.

hunk’s mama: (squats down next to hunk) hunk? baby? do you think you could say something, just for mama? i’m sad that i still haven’t heard your beautiful voice.

hunk: (continues sucking on hand)

hunk’s mom: … sorry, honey. it was a longshot anyway-

hunk: (removes hand from mouth) i’m sorry, mama. i didn’t realize i was making you sad ‘cause i don’t like talking. i’ll try to talk more though if you want me to!

I wanted to grab my phone and call him.” she stared at the photo she’s been holding for hours. She’s talking to her best friend, telling her about all the things she had been feeling these past few days. It had been a silent week for her. A week of gloomy days and drizzles from the grayish skies. A week of starless night and moonless sleep. A week of feelings she can’t truly describe.“ I don’t know the exact reason why I’m saying this to you. But I really wanted to talk to him. I need to hear his voice. I need to know that he’s doing fine. I need him to tell me that everything is going to be all right. I don’t know but now I feel that maybe, I need to hear it directly from him. Maybe he should tell me that he’s not coming back. That he’s going to avoid me forever even if we happen to cross each other’s path again in the future. Maybe he should tell me that everything is going to change and I can’t do anything about it. That I can’t make the impossible things happen, the way I wanted them to. I know he said it already, but maybe I need to hear it again and again, until it knocked me back to my senses. Until I believed that it was real. Until I believed that it was not just the scariest nightmare I’ve been through. Maybe someone needs to remind me that I need to finally loosen my grip to this photograph of him. That he’s no longer happy to be with me. That I need to finally let him go. For real.
—  ma.c.a // Tell me, You’re no longer mine

Severus Snape is living proof that even if you aren’t a villain, you can still be a “bad guy.”

What’s up, it’s Alexei!

When Ngozi posted this picture yesterday of young post-draft Tater “trying his darnedest to answer press questions in English,” I thought, “You know, I could make a play fic out of that.” Which is what led to the following 2700+ words about Tater and his ESL tutor.

Many, many thanks to @ktheunready for being my Russian authenticity consultant and beta!


Georgia Martin stood at the back of the media scrum and watched Alexei Mashkov stumble his way through his post-draft interview, saw the way his fingers kneaded the brim of the brand-new Falconers’ cap he’d been handed for the initial official photos, saw the way his eyes widened and stayed intently glued to whoever was asking him a question, like he was afraid he’d miss some key bit of meaning if he blinked.

She pulled out her phone and made a call.

***

«No, Mama, I promise, my room is very nice. The family is very nice. Everything is very…»

«Let me guess, nice? »

Alexei sighed. «Yes.»

«You know I don’t doubt you, right, Alyosha? I’m not worried you can’t do this. You will be fine. But I know this is your first time to live in another country, with none of the boys from your teams here. It can be… hard, sometimes. I know.»

«Yeah, Mama, I know. You told me.»

«Are you telling me you’ve heard the stories of my youth too many times?» she asked in mock outrage.

«No, no!» he laughed. «Of course not.»

«Good. I should think not.» He could picture her face exactly, and it made him smile. «I’m glad your host family seems nice, Alyosha. I’m sure you will have many friends in no time.»

He flopped back on the bed again and stared at the ceiling. «I hope so.»

«We’ll talk again soon. Love you, son.»

«Love you, too.»

He hung up and let his phone rest on his chest. He’d been to America before. He’d thought he’d known what it would be like, that it wouldn’t be so bad. Different, yes, but there would be so many interesting new things to see, and new teammates, and he certainly knew how to play hockey. What he had failed to take into account, apparently, was how exhausting it was to try to function in English all day. For a US hockey team, the Falconers’ roster was shockingly low on Russian players, so his host family was one of the French Canadian ones. To their credit, they did speak some Russian, but it was hardly enough to have a real conversation. Alexei felt like he’d been practically mute all day.

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1allicia  asked:

On a scale to 1-10 who sleep the most (i know Henry sleep the less ^w^

Bendy: 4
Boris: 8
Alice: 3
Joey: 5
Henry: 2.5
Sammy: 4
Susie: 6
Wally: 7
Norman: 6

((henry is perpetually sleep deprived))

((edit - let me clarify this was written with 5 as “average amount of sleep”, 1 as “almost never sleeps”, and 10 as “probably sleeping right now”))

Thursday Night Dinner at the Byers

I keep mentioning ‘Thursday Night Dinner at the Byers’ in all of my Stranger Things fics (here, here, and here) and, like, I just realized this is my random ass season 3 headcanon and I should probably explain it: 

  • Hopper means it when he says he shouldn’t have lied to her. That there are a lot of things he should’ve done differently. But he also knows that he’d do anything to keep her safe, that if Owens suggests one year then he’s gonna go with one year. But he keeps his promise and things are different this time around. 
  • He suggests Thursday dinners at the Byers house as a way for El to see her friends. He can’t very well take her over to the Wheeler’s house and the cabin is too far away to bike to every day and there’s no way in hell he’s shuttling kids back and forth to his house all the time, so he sets up a weekly dinner at the Byers because it just makes the most sense. Nancy can bring Mike, he can bring El and no one will ever suspect anything. 
  • He doesn’t think too deeply about the fact that no one questions, that no one even seems all that surprised about the fact that he’s going to weekly dinners at Joyce’s house. Flo takes to telling him to say hi to Joyce for her, encouraging him to dress up nicer on Thursday nights and goddammit Flo, for the last time there’s nothing wrong with what I wear.
  • Except that at some point, he does make it a point to rush home early on Thursdays and change out of his work clothes into something that’s ironed and not khaki. 
  • Jonathan is the one that cooks most nights and he has to admit that the kid is a damn good cook. Hopper makes El and Mike and Will set the table so that Joyce doesn’t have to worry about rushing home from work and taking care of it. He always helps her with the dishes afterwards, while Mike and Nancy and Jonathan and Will take turns tutoring El. 
  • Nancy bargains for a movie night every other week after dinner rather than tutoring and he gives in because she gives him these huge puppy dog eyes and he can literally feel Joyce laughing at him as he begrudgingly says yes. They take turns picking movies, though he always gives his turn to Eleven. 

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Has this been done yet?

I kept thinking about this since my revelation the other day.

(I have a bonus too :) I’ll post it with a reblog)

sometimes i think about how if the writers had given delphine an ounce of backstory they could’ve made the conflict so much more interesting.  if they had shown, not told or implied, that there was a figurative or literal gun to her head to become a monitor, to be cosima’s boss, to be the interim director, to do things for dyad that she didn’t want to do.  actually shown it.  the conflict would have been two women fighting for their own autonomy, the right to decide what they do with their bodies, who they do things for.  the conflict would have been two women finding someone who understood, who could help, who needed help, who was willing to help.  they would have found love and safety instead of more pain and fear.  who when they made one stride forward for one it was two backwards for the other.  the story would have been of two women fighting for each other instead of against.  it wouldn’t just be ‘what’s that crazy bitch delphine gonna do next’ because we would actually know her motivations.  we would know who she was outside of cosima and her own sexuality.  not only would she no longer be the untrustworthy or depraved bisexual but the conflict would have been deeper.  it would have brought up questions of who is right when neither party has a choice?  is there another choice?  whose priorities take precedence?  

it just would have been… more.

Be Kind To Your Daughters

AN: A request from an Anon who wanted a Bruce xDaughter!Reader who was estranged from the batman side of his life. Hope you enjoy!


You hated the dining room. In your opinion, it was one of the worst features of Wayne Manor. It served no purpose. No one ever sat and ate here, except you and Alfred. To you it would have been better if the two of you could eat in the living room in front of the T.V., at least that way you wouldn’t have to scream across the table at him whenever you wanted to have a conversation.

“Hurry now, Mistress Wayne, I know you enjoy your waffles, but there is traffic today and it will be horrible getting to school,” Alfred says he walks into the dining room and clearly away the dishes that you’d already finished with.

What was worse about the dining room was when Alfred was too busy to eat with you. You hated being alone in this house. Despite the years, you’d been with your father you’d never gotten over the coziness of the small two-bedroom apartment that you and your mother shared. Though, you may have started to feel more comfortable if you thought of your father as a parent rather than a sperm donor, and even sometimes that description didn’t fit.

“What about Damian?” you question, “Isn’t he coming with us?”

“I’m afraid not miss, your father had to pull him out of school today.”

“I see,” you say pushing away from the table. “I’ll wait by the door.”

“Of course, just give me a moment.”

Walking through the halls was something else you hated about the manor. Instead of having pictures and paintings of animals or flowers the way normal people had, most of the artwork that decorated the halls of Wayne Manor was of members of the Wayne family. Every time you walk past them, you’re constantly reminded that you look nothing like the man called your father. Not your hair color, eye color, or facial structure. You were, in essence, a carbon copy of your mother. In fact, if it had not been for the DNA test, you probably wouldn’t have been dropped off to live here with him.

Alfred finds you leaning against the couch in the entrance hall waiting for him with your school bag in hand.  “Ready for the first day of your last year, Mistress Wayne?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you say with boredom filling your tone and walking toward the door. Before the turn the knob you through a quickly glance over your shoulder. You wouldn’t admit it if anyone asked what you were looking for, but you had hoped that he would at least come down to send you on your way off for the first day.  You were disappointed but not surprised when you didn’t see him, it’s not like you were important to him.

***
“Fifty Million Dollars?” Damian questions watching the screen.

“Syphoned out of the bank using a virus. It’s untraceable and the perfect crime,” Dick adds.

Bruce doesn’t respond, but they know he feels frustrated. This was the second time the Bank of Gotham had been hit in two months, and it was for the same amount of cash as well. He hadn’t been able to solve the case then, and he didn’t know if he would be able to do it now.

“Master Bruce, I’ve just finished dropping of the young miss at school,” Alfred’s voice sounds over the intercom.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“She was looking for you, sir.”

Bruce pauses, “Did she need something?”

“I think she was hoping her father would see her off on her first day back to school, sir.”

“I don’t have time, I’ll make it up to her, Alfred.”

“Very well, sir.”

Its silent in the room, save for the slight tapping of Dick’s shoe.

“You have something to say?” Bruce asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Just that, you could have eaten breakfast with her, or something,” Dick says with a shrug.

“If she’s so immature that she’s upset that she had to eat alone, who would want to deal with her?” Damian says with a shrug.

“Don’t be a jerk,” Dick says with a sigh. “What I mean is, she doesn’t know about any of this stuff. When it was me and I had to be alone at least I knew why. If I was her I’d think my father hated me.”

Bruce felt the guilt pool in his belly, had he given you than impression? Maybe he should have interacted more. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how to talk to you. You were like the others, all hurt in some way, but something about you had been different. Nothing that he did when you first came to stay with him after your mother died had been able to console you, and as a result he winded up letting you work out your issues yourself. Perhaps that was the wrong tactic, especially considering in the five years you’ve been with him, he can’t remember a time when you the both of you had willingly spent more than ten minutes in the room together.

“Alfred,” he calls as he presses a button on the intercom. “I’ll pick her up from school.”

***
“Will Damian be in school tomorrow?” The older woman asks.

“I believe he will, he just had a fever this morning,” you say with a pleasant smile. You hoped she couldn’t tell how much your cheeks were twitching in pain from the small smile. It was a foreign expression. One that you reserved for strangers and your father’s acquaintances you were introduced to at his benefits. At those parties, it was easier to keep one on because no one noticed the small amount of alcohol you would put in your sodas.

You took Damian’s Syllabi from the teacher and stuffed them into your schoolbag and began to make your way to the gate of the school.

Surprisingly, the black town car that Alfred usually picked you up was not there. Instead there waited your father, leaning against one of his many sports cars, waiting for you.

You pause, taking in the sight. Why is he here? Did something happen?

Your thoughts are redirected when you see him toss a hand up calling attention to himself as if you couldn’t see him. As if there weren’t parents and students oohing and awing at his presence already.

“Father?” You question, eyes narrowing in confusion as you walk up to him.

“I thought it would be nice to drive you home on your first day as a senior,” he says with a smile awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“I see,” you say stepping in to the car as he opens the door for you.

As you wait for him to enter the vehicle on his side, you notice some of the parents excitedly snapping pictures. Was he so important to them?

The car smoothly peels away from the curb, engine quiet as the both of you begin the drive home.

“How was the first day back?” He questions.

“Uneventful.”

“Make any new friends?”

“No.”

“Did you try?”

“Does it matter?” You question cutting your eyes at him. “In a year I’ll be gone, there’s no point in making hollow friendships. I’d rather not over exert myself.”

“You’re planning on leaving?” He asks slightly surprised.

“I was planning on going to college and there aren’t many quality higher education opportunities in Gotham. Or are the boys the only ones allowed to leave home?”

He doesn’t know what the right thing to say is, especially because he is thrown off by your hostile tone. “Where ever you want to go, I’ll support you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

A stiff silence falls over the car, and it’s one the two of you are both grateful for. You both know nothing about the other, and it seemed a little bit late to get to know one another, at least from your perspective. He hadn’t tried in the last five years why should he start now, in nine months you wouldn’t have anything to do with him anyways.

You closed your eyes as the buildings of the city passed. Both in attempt to make sure that he didn’t start another conversation and to get in at least a couple minutes of sleep. You had a late night last night, the second of many that were sure to come.

***
It’s October, and the second full month of school is almost over. Halloween, luckily landed on a weekend and it was more than excuse enough to get out of the house. Yet somehow you find yourself locked in your room, a chair pressed under your doorknob so that you wouldn’t be able to wiggle the door knob off.

“Let me out, Dick!” You scream as you pound on the door. If he could see into your bedroom, he’d see how serious you were. The anger you felt was causing the furniture to levitate. Something that happened often when you were unable to control your emotions, but something that you also hid from your family.

“I can’t it’s not safe to leave. You know this is one of the most dangerous nights in Gotham,” He reasons, almost pleading for you to drop it and find a way to entertain yourself.

“Why is it okay for Damian to sneak out at night, but not me?” You question arms crossed in anger.

“What?” He asks in surprise.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Dick.  All of you do it. You, Jason, Tim. You think just because I’m locked away at night that I never noticed that most nights I’m here by myself? Or the vehicles speeding away from the house in the middle of the night.”

“You don’t understand, we had part-time jobs.” He tries pathetically.

“What can a ten-year-old do at one in the morning?”

“Please just drop it, sis.”

It’s the endearment that gets you. A warmth that spreads over your body and flush that bites at your cheeks. It wasn’t often that it was acknowledge that, blood or not, you were their sibling. Dick tried his best, but he was older when you arrived, and he wasn’t there to treat you the way that a big brother would a little sister.

It’s also the endearment that causes the furniture to drop gently back to the ground and your fists to unclench.

“All right, Dick.”

“Tomorrow why don’t we got to the fair or something maybe we could hang out?”

There is a warmth in his tone that you aren’t used to and it makes you feel slightly guilty as your reach for your cell phone and scroll through the list of names.

“I’d like that.”

“Cool. I’ll come check on you later.”

Just as his footsteps are gone from your hall you press talk on your phone.

“Jason, do you think you can do me a favor?”

***
You liked Jason. You got Jason, and for the most part he understood you. You didn’t know why he resented Bruce as much as he did, but you were happy that you had at least one person you could talk to that wouldn’t report everything you said to Bruce the way that Alfred did.

“Is here fine, kid?” He asks as he stops his motorcycle.

You look up at the large city library in front of you and nodded your head as you slipped your leg over the side of his bike.

“Thank you, Jason,” you say with a pleasant smile as you pass him the extra helmet that he’d given you.

“I’ve never seen someone want to sneak out of the house just to go to the library. You know there is one in the manor?”

“I just wanted to get out of the house for a while. I’m never quite comfortable there, it’s almost like I’m not supposed to be there. Like everyone is in on some big secret and they are all avoiding talking about it when I’m there. It feels that way with you sometimes too.”

Jason looks at you solemnly, letting your words wash over him. He swallows thickly when he meets your eyes that are pleading with him, longing for him to tell you the truth.

“We all feel a little out of place sometimes, kid,” he says smoothing some of your hair down that had been trapped in the helmet. The warm gesture caused a smile to run over your face. “But we all find a place where we belong.”

You nod, “Thanks, Jason.”

“What time, do you want me to pick you up?”

“The library closes at, one I think.”

“Geez, people are actually here that late?” He questions turning his engine on.

“It’s a community college library, students have to study.”

“I guess. Catch ya’ later, kid.”

You watch with a smile as he speeds off. When his form disappears, your eyes find their way to your watch.

‘Five hours’ you think to yourself. ‘Five hours to hit five banks, shouldn’t be too hard, especially since my power is growing.’

***
“It’s Sixteen Banks in November alone, and there seems to be nothing we can do,” Dick says as he leans against the desk. “Do you know how rich whoever this person is now?”

“You almost sound as if you admire them, Grayson.” Damian adds.

“You have to give credit where credit is due,” Dick says with a shrug.

“I’m not going to give credit to someone robbing the people of the world,” Bruce rumbles, causing his eldest son to roll his eyes.

“At least we know they’re here in Gotham. And besides, its better than all the other assholes who go and hold the banks hostage.” Jason says pouring himself a cup of coffee. They’d all been analyzing the data for hours, with no luck, and he was beginning to get tired.

“Just because no one’s getting hurt doesn’t mean that its okay to commit the crime,” Tim says with narrowed eyes.

“Never said it was, loser. I’m just saying that it’s not a 911.”

Tim glared at his older brother but didn’t say anything else.

“Sir, I have something to show you.”

Alfred’s interruption snaps not only Bruce but the rest of the boy’s attention.

Tim notices the sad look on Alfred’s face first, “What’s wrong, Alfred.”

“I’m afraid that young Mistress Wayne has been keeping a secret from all of us.”

Alfred walks forward toward the group pulling a stack of documents from his breast pocket and hands them to Bruce.

Bruce feels his throat tighten in guilt as he looks through them, “These are acceptance letters.”

“Yes, to various Ivy League Institutes, sir.”

“She didn’t even tell me she applied,” Bruce mumbles to himself. “Why would she throw these away?”

Jason pulls the limp letters from his father’s hand, “Harvard, huh, I guess those late-night trips to the library paid off.”

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed, “You’re the one who’s been sneaking her out at night?”

“Yeah, so? It’s not like she has anything to do here. Do any of you actually talk to her? And I mean make more than small talk.”

He doesn’t get a response.

“From what I hear, she wakes up alone, eats alone, goes to school alone, comes home alone, eats alone again and then when she’s out like a light there is no one here with her. I mean I don’t live here so that’s my excuse, but what is yours?” He spits accusingly.

Dick folds his arms across his chest but he diverts his gaze knowing he can’t say anything. As much time that he spends at the manor, its usually to babysit Damian and make sure that he doesn’t mess up then it is to spend time with his sister.

Tim doesn’t say anything either, he recognized that due to her intelligence the two of them would probably get along well. However, he’d never seen the need to interact with her. She wasn’t one of them, and since she was in school most of the day he barely saw her anyway.

Damian didn’t know how he felt. He knew that when he first came to live with his father he was slightly disappointed to find out that he was not the only biological heir that Bruce had. Yet his training and experience had pulled himself and Bruce close together very quickly, a bond that he noticed very early on that his sister did not have. Anytime he interacted with her, he realized that he lorded the relationship with his father over her, but he couldn’t help himself. A part of him felt satisfied when he tormented her. However, he also realized that he didn’t know much about his sister other than her first name.  If she hadn’t told him, would he have ever made the effort to actually find out?

Bruce regarded Jason with guilt in his eyes and he almost instantly understood why Jason was so close to her. He had felt abandoned the same way she had.

“It’s not something that happened on purpose, Jason,” Bruce starts. “I’m not ignoring her because I don’t care about her. She knows that she could have told me about this.”

“But she’s just a kid living in a house full of strangers that is supposed to be her family. If I was her I wouldn’t say shit about me getting accepted into these fancy schools either. Why would I think that any of you cared?”

***
December came and it was the time you were happiest. The snow in Gotham made the city nearly bearable and the end of the semester brought you an almost unbridled joy. For one thing, the holidays were your mothers favorite time of year and you were quite looking forward to the winter ball at your school. You weren’t particularly interested in the outdated courtship ritual, but there was a grand prize for whoever became snow queen. Your competitive nature made you want to win. Of course, you hacked the system to tally the votes in your favor, so the only thing left to do was to show up and claim your prize.

“You look beautiful, Miss.”

You whipped around and saw the faithful butler standing there waiting for you.  You find yourself blushing slightly at the compliment, swaying back and forth causing the large white ballroom skirt to sway with you.

“You don’t think it’s too much, do you Alfred?” You question fingering the diamond necklace nestled in the dip of the sweetheart neckline.

“It is very extravagant, miss, but imagine it is in the Wayne DNA not to do anything particularly subtly.”

You fight the smile that it brings your lips and move to grab the shawl that’s lying on your bed.

“Shall we be on our way, Alfred. I’d like to be home before it’s too late.”

***
Bruce is stunned when he sees is daughter come down the stairs to the foyer. Having just walked into the manor himself, he’s surprised to find her leaving.

“What’s the occasion?” He asks and the words feel strange coming out his mouth. Shouldn’t a father know where his daughter is going? Especially when she’s dressed like this.

“I have a trophy to pick up,” she says with a smirk on her lips, but it’s not meant for him. In fact, her gaze is looking past him, as if she’s thinking about something that brings her great satisfaction. “Damian didn’t tell you what tonight was?”

“No,” he says solemnly.

“I’m surprised,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “I thought the two of you were close. But I suppose Winter Ball isn’t something that would appeal to someone that young, it’s not like he could attend anyway.”

She walks past him, Alfred following closely behind her. He notes how ornate her gown is. A white princess type dress, with a pale gold trim. He’d even caught a glimpse of large diamond that was gleaming on her chest.

‘Where did she get that from?’

***
Perhaps winter break wasn’t as relaxing as you thought it would be. Given the fact that your brother is currently pointing a pistol at your head, you’re inclined to believe that things were going to get bad real fast. You aren’t sure how it turned out this way, one minute you’re alone in your bunker and the next he’s crashing through the door, waving his guns at you. It most likely that he followed you into the library this time, instead of driving away.

“What have you done, kid?” His voice is slight distorted through the red mask that sits on his face, but you know its Jason.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” you say with a smirk as you cross your legs. Your hands grip on the edge of the desk that your sitting on in slight agitation at his presence. “It’s not like I kill people, I’m not you.”

It seems to irk the older man as he lets out a bit of a growl.

“How are you doing all of this?” He questions, using his other hand to motion to the facility around him. The sound of typing computers had been ringing in his ears since he found your workshop, underneath the library. The rows and rows of computers that line the rather large room seem to be generating the buzz. Half, simultaneously hacking in to banks across the world, the others masking your location as you complete the necessary transfers. However, you both are the only ones in the room, making him think that you are the one controlling the computers, the one that they have all been searching for months. However, since he’s been observing you, you haven’t physically touched any of the machines once.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you say with a cock of your head.

Suddenly, Jason’s arm feels weak, like it’s fallen asleep after having been immobile for too long of a time. He watches as his hands drop his guns and his gaze catches yours as a smile crosses your face.

“You know, you’re the first person that I’ve actually tried this on,” you remark casually. “Usually it’s inanimate objects, big or small, it doesn’t matter, but I never thought I’d be able to control a person.”

Quickly, before you take total control of his body, Jason presses a button the side of his helmet that sends his visual recordings to the bat cave. The moment his fingers leave the button, his wrist snaps backward as you begin to break it with your mind.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Jason,” you say with a frown. “I’ll have to hurt them all now, you know that, right?”

There is a sigh of disinterest that leaves your chest as he feels a pressure on his neck begin to tighten and his vision begins to fade.

“Just be glad you are my favorite,” he hears your voice murmur as he falls to the ground passing out. “I’m not going to hurt you too badly.”

***
To say Bruce was stunned was a bit of an understatement. The feed from Jason’s camera hadn’t cut out and instead focused on the ceiling.  Bruce can hear his daughter’s small footsteps as she walks over to Jason’s unconscious body.

Her face comes into the screen and she still has the small smile on her face as she removes the helmet and lifts it to her face.

“I know you’re watching this, Father or will be watching this, whenever you figure out that Jason and I aren’t home. Don’t worry he’s not dead, just sleeping. You might want to come get him soon though, I’ve already rigged this place to blow three hours after I leave. So hopefully you see this in time.”

She begins to walk around the room and one by one the computers around her begin to explode. “I told you I’d be leaving soon, didn’t I? To be honest, this is a little ahead of schedule, but it doesn’t matter I already have everything I need.”

The camera pans to show her placing a small laptop in a briefcase and what looks to be a horde of fake passports and I.D.’s

“Don’t look for me, father, you won’t find me,” she croons through the speaker. “Jason only found me because he followed me. Know that I won’t let that happen again.”

The case closes and her footsteps begin again and as she walks out, the lights behind her begin to turn off.

“You should know I don’t hate you father, I don’t know you well enough to hate you. However, you shouldn’t be happy about that, because I’m rather indifferent toward you. Know that if any of you live or die it doesn’t matter to me. So, if you do choose to come after me, I won’t hesitate to end you, to end all of you.”

She drops the helmet, and all he can see is an image of her walking away, down a corridor.

“Goodbye, Father.” She calls over her shoulder and the screen goes black.

“You’ve watched that tape many times now, Master Bruce, have you found anything useful?” Alfred question as he prepares to serve the man some tea.

“No,” the older man says solemnly. It’d been almost a month since she disappeared and while there was indeed no trace of her, the robberies hadn’t stopped even though she had amassed a fortune that rivaled his own. “Only a glimpse of a few aliases, however none of them have been used. I think she showed me them on purpose.”

“Master Jason stopped by to search through her room again, he found nothing.”

“How did he look?”

“Like he has not slept since that day, sir. I know this must be hard for him, to lose her like this.”

“He blames himself, even though this is my fault. She’s doing this to spite me, I know it.”

“Oh?”

“I never paid attention to her, so I never noticed what she was doing. Never noticed that the enemy that I’d been giving all of my attention to was the one person I didn’t have time for. Now, wherever she is I won’t be able to reach her, no matter how much I try.”

“She was always fond of poetry, sir.”

Bruce pauses, “I didn’t know that either.”



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