Huy guys!

So, it has DEFINITELY been a while since I have posted anything on this website, and I want to apologize. I know a lot of people wanted more work with the Pregnancy Files and Light, but I honestly just haven't been writing lately. I've been so busy with finishing up high school and getting my priorities together for college that writing was just the last thing on my mind.

But that's pretty much over now! I am almost done with high school. I don't have anything left to really do accept my one AP test, so I am as free as a bird and have plenty of time for writing now. I really want to get back into it, so this is my attempt at doing so while I try working on an actual story.

This will be a one-shot series inspired by different songs I like, so it will probably be pretty random. I won't necessarily be taking requests, but I'm always open for suggestions so feel free to leave them. Otherwise, I really hope you guys enjoy this. I am going to try working on a full story, but I don't know how that's going to play out for now so I will keep you updated.

Thanks for reading and sticking with me, and if you're new here, welcome! Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Batman, any of the DC franchises, or the song "Father" by Demi Lovato.

Father, I wanna say thank you
Even if I don't understand...

Growing up in the Wayne household had never been easy for me.

I was adopted into the family at the age of 16 from the orphanage that I was sent to after the death of my mother.

I never really knew who my father was when I was little. Every time I would ask my mother, the woman would simply say that it didn't matter. I had her, and that was all that mattered. We didn't need him.

She was a proud, independent woman. So after she passed, and my father showed up at the orphanage to collect me, I realized almost immediately why she never said a word about him.

He was rich. Filthy rich. Wayne was not a name that people took lightly. He was powerful— a playboy type that I had watched control the media in this small, rotting town for years now.

But she was right. We didn't need him. It was no secret that the two of us had struggled. Living was definitely not easy going from paycheck to paycheck. It was difficult to make ends meet most months, but we managed. I might not have gotten all of the small, insignificant things that all the other kids had while growing up, but that never really bothered me too much. I saw how hard my mother worked to support the two of us, so I never really pushed matters such as those. I had what I needed, and that was enough.

I went my whole life not needing my father. I never really hated him— neither did my mother— but then again, I never really felt any sort of emotion towards him. I had no connection to him. He was just a minuscule thought that popped up in my head from time to time, never really holding much importance but still there nonetheless.

So after moving in with him and his big, makeshift family, I found that the disconnection I always had towards the idea of my father didn't really change. The two of us didn't talk beyond what was necessary, and I rarely saw him due to his busy schedule.

His sons were, unsurprisingly, no different. They were all busy doing their own thing, which was fine in retrospect. But after a couple of years living alone in the same household day in and day out, it began to get to me. I never thought that I would feel this way. I was so used to the idea that I was the outsider of the house. I came in too late. The only reason they took me in to begin with was out of pity that my mother passed and I had nobody left. After all, nobody wants that on their conscience.

But now that I was older, I began to realize something.

I wanted a family.

I wanted to have people I could talk to about my problems and listen to theirs in return. I wanted to have a connection with people that went past the superficiality of friendships. I wanted to go out to lunch with my father after school now that I'm a senior and get out early enough to do so. I wanted my brothers to trust me enough to tell me where they're sneaking out to nearly every night. They think I can't hear them, but they're loud as hell climbing in and out of windows and creaking doors at the early hours of the morning.

I wanted a family. I craved it. And I tried. I tried so hard to create something from nothing.

But I wasn't a magician. I wasn't a miracle worker.

I tried to schedule some lunches into my father's busy work schedule. When bringing it up, he gave me a confused look— asking what was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Why was it wrong to want to spend time with him?

Despite the inquisitive glances I'd get from him, he agreed.

However, work always managed to rear its ugly head, and he was never able to make it. I could see that he didn't think it was a big deal, but it was. Why couldn't he see that? It was a huge deal. I wanted a relationship with him. Something beyond a nod as we passed each other in the halls of our house or a dinner full of small talk and silly arguments between my brothers.

How was I supposed to do that though? What could I do to make him see what this meant to me? Maybe it was too late. I was eighteen now, after all. I was an adult. It was too late to build anything with him.

Then I tried my brothers.

Jason was always gone, however. He lived elsewhere and was never in the manor anymore.

Tim spent all of his time holed up in his bedroom behind his computer, but it was what made him happy so I didn't question it.

Damian was the most simple in his thoughts about me. He hated me. He didn't like the fact that I shared his father's blood because it took away that special connection he once had with the man. If he looked hard enough, however, he would understand that blood meant nothing in this situation. He still had a much closer connection to the man than I ever would. But I never said anything. I let the situation be. It wasn't worth it.

Dick was the most willing to give me a bit of affection. However, the pats on the shoulder and cheerful smiles made me feel like nothing more than a stranger.

Because that's exactly what I was: a stranger. A stranger in my own home. As the months flew by, I grew increasingly bitter about the idea. The bitterness grew and grew until hatred began to form in its place.

It wasn't until my graduation that I had a small epiphany. As I walked up onto the stage to grab my diploma, I looked into the crowd and saw my whole family sitting there watching me.

They actually showed up.

It threw me off. I wasn't expecting them to actually show up. They were all just so busy…

And it was then that I realized.

It's not their fault. It seemed silly to really think about, but for the past few years I had begun to grow this hatred towards them for excluding me— making me feel like I didn't belong. But they tried. Just like they tried to show up tonight for this important moment in my life. They didn't purposely ignore me. They didn't purposely cut me out. The situation was just… odd.

I came into the family really late in the game. I couldn't help that, but then again, neither could they. They didn't have to tell me their secrets— I knew for a fact that they had secrets— because they didn't involve me. They at least treated me with civility. That was more than most could ask for in this type of situation.

I was lonely and wanted more, sure. But that wasn't their problem. It was mine. I can't put the blame on them. I just have to accept my situation for what it is and learn to live with it.

Alone.

Because that's what I was for now. I was alone, and if I wanted to change that, I needed to do that on my own terms.

As I looked out from that graduation stage, I came to accept my situation for what it is. As I looked at the hint of pride showing on Bruce's face, I could feel a weight lifting off my chest. And as I looked at the various smiles and grimaces my brother's faces held as they watched me, or purposely chose not to, I smiled a true, genuine smile. A smile that I hadn't shown in a long time, since before my mother passed.

I should be thanking my family. Because really, all those years that I thought were hurting me were actually building me into the strong, independent person I am today.

"Thank you," I mouthed to them, a look of content taking over my features.

Bruce's expression softened and he simply nodded. He understood exactly what was going through my mind in that moment, and it was then that I felt closer to my father than I ever had before.

I released a deep, pent-up breath and made my way off the stage and back into the crowd of my newly-graduated peers to take my seat.

'Everything would be okay,' I told myself for the first time in three years

Everything would be okay.