#[[ he is Trying ]]

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #14

"You foolish, stupid child," Vlad hisses, pinning Danny to the wall. Danny's eyes turn green as he wraps both his fists around the one Vlad has clenched in his collar, his feet dangling in the air. Vlad leans in, his own eyes burning red.

"When, exactly, did you plan on telling me your biological father was Bruce Wayne?" he says furiously.

Danny's hands drop in surprise. "W-What?" he gasps.

Vlad drops him unceremoniously and he lands on the floor in a heap. Vlad claws at the air in frustration.

"Don't lie to me, boy." Vlad says, omitting his often used possessive "my" in front of "boy".

"How do you know that?" Danny asks warily, propping himself up. He watches Vlad push a shaking hand through his hair. The man looks down at him before dropping in an ungainly squat beside him.

"Of all the sperm donors, Bruce Wayne, Daniel? Really?" The man asks, despairingly.

"I didn't exactly choose him, Vlad."

"No, I suppose you didn't."

"Seriously," Danny says, watching the man rock back on his heels as a growing pit forms in his stomach. "How did you know about him?"

Vlad's mouth twists bitterly. "Because he now knows about you."

"What do you—"

"Vladdy! Danno! What are the two of you doing on the floor?" Jack flops down beside them, a tray of freshly prepared fudge in his hands. "We having a heart-to-heart boys? Let me in on this!"

"Jack," Vlad says. "If you truly want to have a heart-to-heart with your son, I suggest you tell him the real reason I've come over today."

Jack's face falls.

"Vlad," Maddie says from behind him. "Thank you for coming. We're grateful for all you've done, but I think we can handle it from here."

"Madeline," Vlad says, rushing to his feet. "I must insist—"

"And I must insist you see yourself out," Maddie smiles tightly. "You know where the door is, don't you?"

"Mads," Jack says gently, looking between the two.

"I can show him out," Danny says, getting up as well.

"That's alright, Danny," Maddie says. "Why don't you go get your sister? We need to have a talk...as a family."

Danny glances at Vlad.

"Now, Danny," Maddie says. Danny heads for the stairs, pit growing ever larger.

--

The next time they meet it is Danny who has Vlad pinned, the gaudy chandelier above him shaking with the force of his rage.

"You should've told me," Danny growls.

"I thought your parents had you informed," Vlad says, utterly unbothered by the teen cracking what is thankfully not a load-bearing wall of his mansion. "Honestly Daniel, we could throw around allegations of deception on both sides, particularly mine as I assume you've known for quite some time now, if not the entire time, about your father hmm?"

Danny's eyes flick away in an obvious tell.

"Yes, I thought as much. But rather than whinging about being blindsided, I suggest we focus our energy on the solution."

Danny drops Vlad, barely biting back a snarl when the man lands gracefully on both feet.

"Which is?" Danny asks.

"First of all, your well-meaning but frankly moronic parents seem to believe that they can make a case for your custody without the assistance of my legal team. It is in both of our best interests to dissuade them of this."

"They don't like feeling indebted, Mom in particular."

"Well, to be crude for a moment Daniel, tough shit. Yes," Vlad says in response to Danny's widening eyes, "I said it. Bruce Wayne has the best of the best on his payroll and your parent's rinky-dink attorney from the local practice won't stand a chance against Friedman & Sons. Especially once he establishes paternity."

"He can do that?" Danny asks. "I mean I'm almost eighteen, can't I just refuse?"

"The keyword here, Daniel, is almost. As in, you are not. The judge can take your wishes into consideration, but I suspect Wayne will make a case for an unsafe living environment alongside his paternity to win his petition for full custody."

"Un-unsafe living environment?" Danny sputters. Vlad eyes the boy dryly before gesturing to all of him, currently clad in silver and black hazmat. Danny drops the transformation with a wince.

"In fact, I suspect that's the main reason the man filed in the first place," Vlad continues. "Lord knows he doesn't need anymore heirs to fight over his fortune once he passes—"

"Jesus, Vlad,"

"—so I believe he did some digging and found your home to be, well, wanting. On paper, Daniel, your parents sound eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. Pull the right strings, and hospital records just fall into laps. He probably thinks he's rescuing you." Vlad sneers. "If only he knew how quick you are to spit in the face of one offering you a comfortable and wealthy home."

"Fuck off," Danny says. "Is that what this is about? If you can't have me, no one can?"

Vlad rolls his eyes. "Come now, Daniel. Are you really intending to keep up this pretense?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We agreed a long time ago that no matter the nature of our quarrel, we would leave the Justice League out of it," Vlad says, taking a menacing step forward. "You think I, running in the circles I do, would have no knowledge of Bruce Wayne's alter-ego?" He takes another step, voice rising. "I have avoided drawing The Batman's attention for years, no matter how often our paths crossed. I stayed under his radar for decades, and now, BECAUSE OF YOU, I AM ABOUT TO BE RUINED."

With a creak and a groan, the chandelier drops, landing between them with a crash. Danny coughs from the dust as Vlad takes a heaving, calming breath.

"Then why get involved at all?" Danny asks, staring at the ground.

Vlad sighs, clapping his hands twice. Several ghosts dressed in service uniforms fly out the woodwork, gathering up bits of chandelier as others begin to mop.

"Because, little badger," Vlad says, walking away from the mess. "If we lose this, he'll have you in the palm of his hands. Which is infinitely worse."

Entering the kitchen, he pulls an open bottle of white out of the kitchen fridge and pours himself a glass, throwing a Fiji water to Danny who takes it for the peace offering it is.

"He won't."

"Won't what, Daniel? Please speak in full sentences."

"Won't have me," Danny says, letting a thin coat of frost spread over the bottle. He tips the freezing cold water into his mouth and wipes his face with his sleeve, mostly to see Vlad grimace.

"Why, because you'll run away if he wins? Until you turn eighteen? I won't have you fail to complete your education because of a cockamamie scheme, Daniel—"

"Because I have a solution, Vlad, one that doesn't involve the courts or running away."

"And what is that, exactly, Daniel?"

--

"You're going to leave my family alone."

"Danny," Mr. Wayne says, blinking in surprise at the boy on his doorstep and miles away from Illinois.

"I mean it," Danny says firmly. "You're going to drop your petition and whatever smear campaign you were planning on and leave the Fentons alone."

"Danny...why don't you come inside?"

Danny takes a step back from the manor's large doors. "You want a relationship with me? Brute force isn't the answer."

Bruce takes in the teenager, lanky but almost to his eye level. His eyes are clear and sharp, his demeanor forcibly calm.

"I debated whether going through the court was the right thing to do," Bruce says slowly, matching calm with calm. "But I wanted to be above board."

"Because my adoption wasn't?" Danny says, arms crossed. "Yeah, I'm aware. Kinda hard to adopt a kid that doesn't legally exist. And I know what you're going to say, the Fentons should've reported me to the system, but they didn't do it because I begged them not to. Because I didn't want my biological parents to find me."

"Danny..."

"You can swing your dick around and get your way, exactly the way I thought you would do things," Danny says, "Or you can have a relationship with me on my terms. A relationship where I don't despise you because you took me away from the people who've loved me no matter their faults."

"You're asking me to choose your happiness over your safety." Bruce says carefully.

"That's bullshit," Danny says. "I had a lab accident when I was fourteen and went directly against my parents' instructions. They trusted me, and I made a mistake."

"It's not a matter of trust. You were a child, Danny, and you almost died." Bruce says, not bothering to feign ignorance. Footsteps echo behind him.

"Bruce?" A voice calls. "Is that..?"

"Your son did die," Danny says. "He took a flight with your credit card to Ethiopia and got blown up. I bet you trusted him too."

Bruce reels back as a hand lands on his shoulder, the other on the door.

"Whoa, whoa, uh, Danny, right? I'm Tim, I'm—"

"I know who you are," Danny says, clenching his fists. Powering through the hurt he is causing. "I didn't come here to point out what a total hypocrite you are. I just want you to back off. And if you give me your number, we can text and I'll come to Gotham for Thanksgiving or the ski chalet in Vermont or your villa in where-the-fuck-ever and you can be Uncle Bruce that I maybe even tolerate being around once in a while. Just leave my family alone."

"Bruce, what is he talking about?" Tim asks. "Back off of what?"

"Your Dad is suing my parents for full custody," Danny says when it becomes clear Bruce isn't answering.

"What?" Tim hisses, turning to Bruce. "That isn't what we talked about!"

"Danny. I..."

"Here," Danny says, thrusting an index card forward that he's scrawled his phone number and email onto. On the other side is the past participle conjugation for 'venir'. "I won't answer until you drop the custody petition. Which I expect you to do by tomorrow morning."

"Done," Tim says, stepping past Bruce and taking the card. "Give me about noon to get it all squared away with the lawyers. Do you have a hotel? A way home? I'd be happy to reimburse your flight and accommodation."

"Overstepping already."

"Fair enough," Tim says coolly, raising his hands. "Our lawyers will reach out when it's settled."

"Great. Bye." Danny says, turning to leave. He waits until he hears the manor door close behind him before pulling out his cell phone.

Ring!

Ring!

"Hello?"

"It's done."

"What's done? Again, little badger, full sentences, I beg of you."

[tare-anime]

One thing that I like about sxf is that despite being a shonen (with not a teenager protagonist), Endo makes Twilight hot and very capable, but at the same time, make it hard for fans to give him harem.

Like, Endo does create lots of awesome women, but it is clear that Twilight has no (romantic) interest at them at all.

Karen?

Twilight didn't even bat an eye. Dumped her just like that

Nightfall?

Twilight clearly never see her more than colleague and mentee. He even despise the idea of their cover story as married couple

How about older woman? Handler??

Twilight clearly afraid respects her as older sister boss and mentor. And that's that.

The City Hall women who swoon at him?

Twilight imagine them as evil and despicable.

The only woman who can make him making lots of expressions, such as:

Devastated and confused

Flustered

Melancholic

Proud

Lovestruck Skipping a heartbeat

And truly smile

Is just Yor.

Love it 🥰

[divine0rdainment]

Adam: So if we are dating... Does that technically make me Charlie's step dad?

Lucifer: Well, no, we aren't married yet-

Adam, not listening: Charlie, to start I want you to know I'm not trying to take your dad away. Or become your mother...cuz she's a bitch.

Charlie:...

Adam: *grabs her shoulder* And one day, I hope you and I will become close... Close enough to call eachother family... Also give me back my fucking Axe. If you don't, I'm gonna ground you.

Charlie: No.

Adam: Damn it!

[affableramen]

@ pants when tartaglia listens to zhongli’s osmanthus wine instead of his economical brainwashing

[flowerscentedartist]

Horror: Kill him I'm the real Horror!

Other Horror: No! I'm the real Horror!

Cross: Who do we kill?

Killer: I don't know man.

Dust: I have an idea

Dust: Hey Horror, spell banana!

Other Horror: B-A-N-A-N-A!

Dust kills other Horror

Cross: WHAT? BUT THAT IS HOW YOU SPELL BANANA!

Dust: I know. But Horror dosen't.

Horror: B-A- uhhhhhh N-......N-A-N-A-N-A-A?

Horror:

Horror: Huh? What happens to that guy?

[eidolons-stuff]

Wednesday: "What is taking Xavier so long?"

Thing: *signs* "Who cares! We need to get ready!"

[priapussdick]

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

[daisybell17]

Fourth if July — Loki [song fic] {PART 3}

(warning: death‼️)

Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head Was it all a disguise, like Junior High

Years had gone by since your passing and while Loki wasn’t the same God he once was, he’s living out the simple life. He no longer visited your grave as frequently as he did, which he had forced himself to do, he knew that if he kept wallowing at your grave every other day, it would drain him of life too, which he knows you wouldn’t have wanted.

So as life went on he packed up the house you both built your life on and sold it off, it felt wrong for Loki to live in the walls and room you no longer filled with life, and every corner of that lovely place only brought a sharp pain to his heart, knowing that those moments of love are now but memories in his heart.

Moving into a new cottage just outside Asgard, Loki had built himself his own little life. He had an alter dedicated to you and planted flowers that would blossom in a beautiful garden, all for you.

Besides his princely duties, he started taking care of stray animals. He used to watch you take in all sorts of creatures and it only felt right by him to do as such. Now he truly understood the “why’s” of you and it only made him fall deeper.

Despite all this, he always found himself seeing you in everything he did, almost like you were disguised within the walls, just a moments glance from Loki’s perception. It reminded Loki about how you both were in your early 20s, playing all sorts of silly games and pranking each other every second you got…Oh how he wishes you were here, but alas, you haunted the mind of the mischievous God, disguised to seem real in walls you never entered.

This realisation made Loki breakdown on a random Wednesday morning.

Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction

There was one day Loki had come to visit your grave with a scrapbook in hand. He sat in front of the moss covered stone and held the scrapbook up “I made this for you…it’s been 8 years since you left me my darling…I brought a gift for you”

He opened the scrapbook and faced the pages to your stone “I gathered everything I have learned in the 8 years since your passing…It’s been a long time my Love.” He opens a folded letter, revealing a long paper filled with inked remarks “This was the letter I wrote on the one year anniversary of your passing…”I wish you were here, I wish I was with you. There have been nights where I created false realities in my head, just so I can pretend to have you alive and with me again…I slowly realised that I could dwell in this fictional fantasy forever…or I could change my life, do something right by you…and I’m trying…I really am…I just wish you were here to see that your light shines brighter, even when you’re not with me…I miss you each day my Love, and I will miss you forever…but I must leave fiction and build another future…Please forgive me for moving on so quick, but I know you never wanted me to be dwelling in pain for so long…Missing you does not pain me, it allows me to always be reminded of the person who changed my life, who changed their own life, and everything we built - L.L” It was quite a letter hm?” He looks up at your grave, allowing for silence to fill in as he imagines your response.

He continued to flip each page, reading another letter or showing an old picture or miniature gift you had made, the scrapbook is beautiful, Loki knew that if you could hold it, you would read and admire each page for hours.

——————————————————————————

(a/n): hello! i wanted to get a part 3 out so here you go!! will definitely follow up with a part 4 and lokius HAPPY headcanons! hope you enjoy thus short update!

——————————————————————————

TAGS: @ladychota @scoliobean

[nolanhattrick]

WHY IS ILYA SAMSONOV BEING FORCED TO DO HIS JOB!! FUCK ALL OF YOU!!

[castieldelamancha]

dean writes silly little poems in his head about cas' eyes but the thing is he's an awful poet so they all sound like "your eyes are so blue like...like that cool mustang i drove past a couple weeks ago...and that doesn't even rhyme"

[crimson-door]

okay so q!Forever and Richas are now cooking a way of kinda doing what q!Bad wants, but using a website instead of his voting machine

[alchemistdetective]

"Hey Honey, just out of curiosity... When Chloe was growing up, what did you get her for special occasions like her birthday or special celebrations?"

Nyalter's actually here to collect info, but she's also here to make sure that if she ever gets the chance to get Chloe a present, she doesn't double up with Rirune-

"Different things! I gave her things like her very own alchemy lab, her alchemy set, recipe book, clothes, and the like! We even had birthday parties!"

"... Although, she feels really embarassed that I got her clothes last birthday and said she didn't want it. I wonder why?"

[dreamsb0u]

cat cross [callin em stray] would for SURE think cur is a little weird

but that'd be mainly because he's only ever encountered cat-types like himself

hound boy is for sure a New Creature

like ".....why are your ears so big??"

The inspection

[separatist-apologist]

YOU CANT END IT THERE I NEED MOMMY AND DADDY TO KISS AND MAKE UP

Rhys isn't done suffering

[generalized-incompetence]

“You have, like, books here, right?”

Myrtle, the librarian, looks up from her desk, at the library, where she has been finalizing a new order of library books. 

“Yes,” she says. “We do.”

Read on AO3 here

“Oh!” says the man with a relieved smile. “Great.”

Myrtle eyes him over the stacks of books and notepads on her desk. She has been a librarian for nearly four decades, and she’s seen all sorts, though she can’t recall anyone ever asking this particular question. The man in front of the desk is… hm. Muscular is the best word she can think of, though she would have more choice adjectives if she was a few decades younger and/or inclined in that direction. Chiseled, perhaps. Blonde, predictably, with the sort of haircut that had been popular on Ken dolls, back in the day (do they still have Ken dolls? Barbie has certainly traveled; she’d heard something about a breakup?). His smile is pleasant enough, though somewhat vacant, and judging by his question, this might be the first library he’s entered in his life.

But, librarians didn’t judge - not books by their cover, and not patrons by their questions - so she shifts away from her computer and says, “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

“Oh!” says the man, brightening at the offer of help. “The thing is, this guy Mike? He’s, like, really smart? And I’m not? So I thought, maybe, if I read some books and stuff, he might like me more?”

He looks so hopeful that Myrtle doesn’t have the heart to tell him that changing oneself is rarely worthwhile, and that his best hope with this “Mike” likely involves who he is now. The man misinterprets her silence and blunders forth with, “Not like like, obviously. Just as, um. Is there a word for, like, people who hang out all the time, and talk a lot, and think the other person is really smart and cool and funny and just make each other, um, I guess. Happy?”

Myrtle raises an eyebrow. “...Friends?” she says.

“Yeah!” says the man with the biggest smile yet. “Yeah. Friends.”

Myrtle has always considered her duties as a librarian to extend past the books and towards the well-being of her patrons, but she feels this man may need more help than she is able to provide. “What kind of books does this Michael enjoy?” she asks. “Any subjects he’s interested in?”

“Aliens,” says the man instantly.

“Aliens?” says Myrtle.

The man nods enthusiastically. “He knows everything about them,” he says. “Like, all the stuff the government’s been covering up - he got access, or I guess I gave him access, and he says it’s just what he thought the whole time and people are super not paying attention. And then he said a bunch of science things that sounded really smart. So maybe if you have some books that could, um, explain that?”

“You’re looking for,” says Myrtle slowly, “scientific books about aliens?”

“Yeah!” says the man.

Myrtle takes off her glasses, polishes them on her sweater, and puts them back on. “I’ll… see what I can do,” she says.

“Oh! One more thing,” says the man. “Sorry, I know you’re a librarian and everything, but reading, like, kinda sucks? So if there’s any books you have that you, like, don’t have to read to get smart - could you find those?”

Ah, she thinks. Thoughts of UFOs fly out of her head as she recalibrates her illicit judgments. There are reasons she is a librarian, and this man is one of them. She is suddenly and overwhelmingly grateful that this man has chosen this library, on this day, to walk in and present her with an opportunity to unlock literature, outside the written word.

“Have you ever tried,” she says, “audiobooks?”

An hour and a half later, she has loaded the man down with several audiobooks; a stack of graphic novels; links to browser extensions for changing font size/spacing and rendering text to speech; and, of course, a brand-new library card. 

“Now, these are all just starting places,” she says, methodically scanning out each graphic novel in turn. “If any of them don’t work for you, you don’t need to push it. But if it does work, then you feel free to come back and ask me for more, alright?”

The man, who, to his credit, did not flee when she went Full Librarian, swallows. “I - I guess,” he says. “But, I mean. Are you sure? Like, this isn’t really reading, right? Picture books are for babies.”

“These aren’t picture books,” she says snippily. “They’re graphic novels. It’s a perfectly legitimate form of literature, and if anyone gives you a hard time, you send them straight to me.”

He pulls the closest book towards him and flips through the pages, lingering over some of the more vivid illustrations. She’s had this conversation so many times she could have it in her sleep, but it still breaks her heart a little, to think a little thing like formatting has stood in his way for so long. 

“We’ve only had writing for about five thousand years,” she tells him, “but we’ve always had stories. True purists should still be sitting around a fire carrying on the oral tradition. There are plenty of ways to read that don’t involve words on a page.”

“Huh,” says the man, staring at a full-page spread of a detailed spaceship. “That’s - that’s kinda cool.”

“It certainly is,” says Myrtle. She finishes checking him out and slides the rest of the books and resources across the desk. “Good luck with your Michael,” she says, looking him straight in the eye. “And everything else.”

“Thanks!” he says with a bright smile. “You know, I always thought libraries sucked? But you don’t suck at all.”

Myrtle refrains from a sigh. “Thank you,” she says instead, and waves him out.

—

She thinks of him a few times over the next couple weeks. She doesn’t seriously expect to see him again; there are return bins outside, and her shifts are fairly irregular. But roughly three weeks later, she looks up and there he is, with a slight, nervous-looking man in tow.

“Hey, it’s you again!” says the man with an oversized wave. “Mike, this is the nice librarian lady who gave me all those, um, graphic novels. Hey, librarian lady, those links you gave me were so cool! I never knew there were all those things that would read emails and stuff to you, so you don’t have to read them at all!”

Myrtle does try to remain somewhat detached, but she can’t help but feel warmed by this outcome. Even better, Mike responds to this speech with a fond smile, first in the man’s direction and then in hers. “Thank you,” he says. “That was, um. Overdue, I think.”

“Oh, no, I turned all the books in on the day they said!” says the man quickly. “No library fines here!”

Mike laughs and pats the man’s arm. “Come on,” he says. “Didn’t you want to look for the Predator sequels?”

“Yes,” says the man, and tows Mike inside. Myrtle watches them go, still feeling like a job well done. Maybe she needs a new slogan, she thinks. Libraries: We don’t suck at all! She snorts and shakes her head. She’ll work on it. She has plenty more patrons to practice on.

[chuuyanakaahara]

If Atsushi had it his way, he and Junichirou would’ve grabbed a bite to eat at some ramen place and gone home, and he’d sleep on Junichirou’s couch again, and that would be that. Except life doesn’t fucking work that way, and despite the fact that Atsushi is exhausted, the adrenaline long-gone from his system, he’s sitting like a scolded child at Kunikida’s kitchen counter with his head hung low, his stomach growling, and the emotional backbone of a Ken doll. 

i am so serious about my street-racing au you guys