#by my gods is it hard to get ahold of real linen

[sapphicdancer]

Okay after walking around in our stupidly hot mall in full victorian wear

Ive decided that part of my fashion research is gonna be developing summer victorian inspired clothing for like our modern global warming bc my goodness even tho im wearing cotton im sweaty now

[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #1: Submerged

Sunlight spilled into the small inn-room at the Quicksand, blanketing the scattered papers, books and half-eaten sandwich that sat beside Charlette’s head. Doubled over and laying her head upon a bent arm, she’d look out at the scraps she’d been organizing during the day. Hovering her free hand through the luminous beams, she’d let the glow play across her grey-blue skin and feel the, now familiar, burn of the Thanalan sun. It reminded her of how far from home she was. Of the long streams of light breaking through the forest canopy of Gridania, alight on the soft ground as a cool breeze tempered their hot sting. Not like here, where everything was heat and every gust came with the sting of sand. A soft smile broke across the Duskwight’s face, struck by a nostalgic moment.

“It’s not allowed!” a much younger Charlette whined at her fellow apprentices. They’d only just been inducted into the order called The Archives, and already the new generation of guards were planning disobedience. The thought of it churned her stomach, the disappointment if they got caught… “C’mon Charlette, it’s summer! We’ve spent the last two seasons surrounded by brick and books! Even you must be tired of this library by now.” Frederick, the young Hyur that had quickly established himself as the troublemaker of their group, sounded as impatient as always. He never seemed comfortable to stop for a moment and take stock.

“It’s as if thought is completely lost on you, Fred.” the disapproval on Charlette’s tone made her uncomfortable, she knew she sounded like the Matron, but she also knew she was right. Despite this, Frederick laughed and every other peer she had was already packed and getting ready to leave. “We can’t just sneak out, the Archive is in the centre of the village, we would be caught before we got…” “Classes! Training! Our exercise regime for the week!” A’nidreah, a Miqo’te Sunseeker refugee that’d settled in the village after the Calamity interrupted her. “Who's going to stop us? The Archivists, Librarians, even the Head Armsman are all at the Council Building planning the Harvest Festival. Gods, Charlette, for a Duskwight you’ve little rebellion in you.” the Miqo’te pushed herself off one of the bunks that lined their barracks dorm, each bed covered in basic white-linen. For all their mischief-planning, every bed was made and the area around each was clean and organised. “But what if…” a hand gripping her shoulder and stopping her mid-sentence. Frederick, the short Midlander having to reach up high to grab it, was giving Charlette a look. A sparkle-eyed, fire-in-the-belly inspiring gaze that she desperately wanted to ignore. “Adventure, Charlette. That’s what all the heroes get up to! You read those books so much you may as well step into the pages and live there!” he’d lean in, well, forward and up, Charlette being far taller than most of her peers. “Here’s a chance to do that. Just, step on in. And go swimming with your friends for goodness sake! We aren’t burning The Shroud down.” She didn’t like this. Didn’t like how Fredrick was just, so good at whipping everyone up into disobedience and mishap. Worse, she didn’t like that he got through to her. She did appreciate that he helped her pack though. The walk through town put a lump in Charlette’s throat and she felt like she might choke on it. Decked out in their training uniforms of black and white blouses for the girls and shirts for the boys they’d look no different than any other group of apprentices. But they’d march, calm and confident on the outside at least, and make it to the forest's edge. Just like Frederick had said, the council members were nowhere to be seen. Too busy with the festival planning to step out and catch the wandering students. Once they’d cleared the edge of the village, it was like the younglings let out a collective breath. Frederick being the first to pull his uniform shirt off and turn to the rest of the group, smug smile as bright and charming as always. “There we have it! Nothing to worry about, even our Elezen mother-hen managed to keep her head on.” he’d wink at Charlette, getting nothing but a lidded gaze and tight frown. “Put your shirt back on, Fred, you’ve only gained two small hairs since we last saw your chest. You're not impressing anyone.” He’d slap a hand to his bare chest, mouth and eyes wide in mock-insult. “A challenge! Fiendish Duskwight! Last one to reach the river must declare the winner their eternal better and master of all group decisions from this day forth! Also, they must scrub the latrines for two moon- WAH! HEY!” he’d barely finished the last sentence before Charlette had tossed her boots off, handed them to A’nidreah and made good use of those long legs of hers, bounding past him with a stolen head-start. Frederick never lost his smile, even as he chased after her, the others cheering and breaking into a more civilized jog to keep up. “Is this the real you? Outside the village for a second and out comes the devious Duskwight?!” his voice yelling out behind her, but Charlette was not going to be beaten this time. It had been almost half a year since she’d been outside of the village, outside of the great Library Archive, and it felt good. Her bare feet digging into the soft earth, long arms and legs pumping through the cool, summer air as she charged down the path, barely missing Farmer Lindor as he made his way to the village, a chocobo-drawn cart behind him stacked high with this years produce. “Charlette?! That you?!” he’d yell after her, she’d only just managed to spin and wave for a second before Frederick came blazing past him as well, one of the chocobos fluttering its wings and letting out an irritated “KWEH!” For such a small Hyur, Frederick was fast, having almost caught up. Spinning back around and sprinting into a full gait, Charlette would turn off the path, bounding through Old Fallen, tree that was cut in half and the empty trunk used as a tunnel entrance to the forest proper. Each hard stomp of her feet cracked a twig or dug into moss and dirt, trees whipping past her so quickly she had only mere seconds to jump over roots or push herself out of the way. She’d gathered such momentum by now, it would be impossible to stop without considerable skidding. But still she felt Frederick, heard him yelling and thumping through the brush behind her. She’d not be beaten. She’d been pushed to break rules, risk her standing with her family, risk punishment at the barracks. She’d win this one, she was sure of it as soon as she reached the short cliff that looked down on the bank to the river. Piece-by-piece she’d strip away her blouse, undershirt, belt, bracelets, trousers until she was in nothing but her underwear. The first foot to hit the water cut a long gash in its surface, the cool liquid blooming up on her sides as she dug herself further and further into the water, and to victory. She’d slow, her breathing raggad and huffing as he race was won. Turning in time to see Frederick jump from the cliff and down into the waters, mere meters from her. A jolt of worry hit within her belly as he disappeared and images of him breaking a leg or his neck came pouring into her mind. But eventually, he’d surface, spitting water directly into her face. She’d flinch away and swat uselessly at it, but the laughter on her lips was undeniable. It was worth it, to be here in the river, basking in cool water, under the shade of the canopies and the broken beams of light burning bright lines on the water's surface. “I guess mother-hen will get to lock us up next time then.” They'd both swam out far enough that for once, Frederick and Charlette could look each other directly in the eye. Albeit, with Frederick paddling his legs and Charlette standing on the river bottom. “Maybe, I have a feeling you’ll always have a way of changing my mind.” His smile, bright and enthusiastic and full of all the thirst for adventure Charlette wished she had. His head bobbed comically in the water as he paddled over to her, she’d reach her arms out to him, letting him grab ahold of her and stop treading water for a moment. “Wet and winning is a good look on you.” “Shut up.” “No really, I watched you all the way down, nearly caught your blouse. Couldn’t quite avert my eyes. Sorry.” His apology sounded sincere, even if they both felt a soft burn at their cheeks. “Thanks, for getting me out here. You were right, we needed this, I needed this.” Fredrick couldn’t quite keep his excitement locked behind the usual, charming exterior, even as he gripped her shoulder and almost dipped below the waterline. He was a good runner, but a terrible swimmer.

“Y’know, I don’t mind fighting you. Bring on the debates, I’ll get you breaking rules again, taking chances, going on adventures. It’ll be worth it, so long as they end like this.” There were bare centimeters between the two of them, and just how improper this was burned in the back of Charlette’s mind. The rules, the Oaths they’d taken and promised to adhere to... But that cheeky, charming smug face cracked her worry in half and brought out a bright, toothy smile of her own. A soft chuckle passing between the two of them as they floated in the water, a tense moment passing over them as they caught each other's gaze before…

SPLASH!

The others arrived in a great flurry of enthusiasm and pent-up youthful energy. It didn’t take long for the rivers pristine waters to be muddy with the tramping of their feet, Charlette and Frederick exchanging sheepish smiles and broke away from each other. It was a good day, spent swimming and talking far from listening mentors and disapproving townsfolk, free of rules and uniforms and expectations. Eating food stolen from the barracks larders and napping on the mossy earth beneath the trees as they dried off. Charlette had a dumb, fond smile on her face as she remembered it in her small room in Ul’dah. As she remembered home, the river, The Shroud, Frederick and his stupid ideas. Submerging herself in the water and coming up feeling, rejuvenated. Her hand, still laying in the beams of the Ul’dah sun was starting to feel uncomfortable, the skin prickled as it stung from the midday blaze. Pulling it away and into the shade, she’d straighten in her seat and look out the window. She’d come to this city to find what was stolen from the Archives, the sooner she was about it, the sooner she could go back home. Maybe visit that riverbank again, see if the others had time from their duties for a little reunion. Perhaps even Frederick will be there. The thoughts of it continued to distract her, all the way until she was out the door of her room and down into the city.

[danithegrrrl]

Birthday Breakfast

It’s Bruce’s birthday!!! I only thought it appropriate to show my favorite local bat enthusiast some support, so here’s a little fic. :) Happy birthday dadman.

Summary: Bruce may have forgotten what day it is, but his family didn’t! 

Words: 1,394

Rating: Gen

AO3 Link

All the warning Bruce gets is the quiet jiggle of his door handle, the soft footsteps across plush carpet, and then-

The whole bed bounces and startles Bruce into awareness, before he turns to look at Dick’s bright, sunny smile. His twenty-five year old son is kneeling, bouncing on the bed like a ten year old. “Good morning Bruce!”

His surprised expression draws into a deep scowl and he flops back down to his stomach, yanking a pillow over his head and holding it there with both arms. “No.” The single word comes out muffled by the mattress, but he prays it might be effective.

No such luck. Dick starts poking at his back, then his neck, but Bruce doesn’t budge. “C’monnn, Alfred has breakfast ready for you.”

“No,” Bruce says again. He’s only been asleep for-

“You’ve been sleeping for nine hours, old man, let’s go!”

Oh. So maybe he had been sleeping longer than he thought. But still-

“Mmf… no.”

There are a few moments of silence in which Bruce is sure Dick’s just frowning at him, but much to his surprise, Dick leans over and starts working the heel of his hand into the muscles in his back. Bruce goes stock still for a moment, before relaxing and letting Dick give him a deep, slightly painful massage. He uses his knuckles and even his fingertips to work into his back, and it hurts in the best way ever. They all have to do this sometimes, to work out all the tension and knots in their shoulders and backs and calves. As much as Bruce wants to shove Dick off and go back to sleep like a teenager, his back has been absolutely killing him lately, and he couldn’t even imagine asking him to stop.

Bruce flinches slightly as Dick passes over a tender bruise on his right shoulder blade, but Dick quickly learns and avoids that spot. Bruce loses track of time. He lays there, surrounded by the smell of clean linen and the warmth of Dick’s hands working into his sore muscles, and drifts. He has totally forgiven Dick for the rude awakening at this point. He must have drifted a little too much at some point, though, because Dick notices and retaliates by digging his fingers into Bruce’s sides instead, in just the one spot he’s actually ticklish. Bruce jolts up so fast he almost head-butts Dick, and he immediately covers his sides with his hands. He’s frozen there, looking at Dick.

Dick sits back, laughing loudly at Bruce as he gave him his absolute best death glare he could manage. One that criminals run from but Dick is cracking up at. It’s infuriating. Finally, Dick gets ahold of himself and snatches the pillow from Bruce before he could stick it back over his head. “Alright, I gave you a hellishly good massage, now you owe me so let’s go downstairs,” Dick says. Before Bruce can protest, Dick smacks the pillow back down on top of his head, and vaults off the bed. By the time Bruce moves the pillow off his face, Dick is gone.

---

When he finally shuffles downstairs, still in his white t-shirt and sweatpants, he rounds the corner to find everyone sitting at the table. He pauses in the doorway, blinking to make sure he’s right. He counts heads. Dick, Tim, Steph, Cassandra, Duke, and Damian are all seated around the breakfast table, grabbing bacon and sausage and eggs from the plates in front of them. Six people. He’s blown away. Usually they can’t get more than four of them together for breakfast anymore. Damian and Cass were the only real constants. Duke often skips out so he can see his girlfriend before school, Dick and Steph don’t live here, and Tim only stays in the manor maybe a third of the time, usually staying at his own apartment nowadays. Jason isn’t there, which wasn’t really a huge surprise, but still disappointing nonetheless. Maybe Bruce will be able to ask him one day. Maybe.

“Hey, Happy Birthday, Bruce!” Bruce’s eyes move to Duke, who is smiling at him through a mouthful of pancakes, and - oh.

“Oh my god,” Tim says. “He forgot.”

Cassandra snickers and Bruce wants to scowl at them, but honestly, he had forgotten. Well, mostly. He’d thought about it a couple times in the past few weeks, he knew it was coming soon, he just hadn’t realized the date was upon him until it already was. So he doesn’t glare at them, because it was true. And also, because they are all gathered around the breakfast table and look so...functional? Bruce almost laughs at the word when it comes to his mind. When was the last time he had a “functional” family?

And then, out of the blue, it hits him. They were doing this for him. Trying, for at least a moment, to be a family that eats breakfast together, even if just this once. Something bittersweet spills into his chest at that thought, and he doesn’t choke up, he doesn’t.

Instead, he walks around the table and sits in the chair he always sits in, and looks at the absolute mountain of banana pancakes Alfred has stacked on a plate. His kids are all talking, chattering about school and Steph’s new internship she’ll be doing this summer, and the club Duke’s joining at school, and Damian’s “date” with Maps. And that’s the point in which they begin yelling and tossing food at each other, which Bruce honestly doesn’t mind too much because at least they’re doing it together.

Alfred comes out a minute later and most of the food stops flying instantly. Bruce doesn’t understand how Alfred has so much control over them; so much so that he doesn’t have to say any words at all to make them behave. He carries a mug of black coffee over to Bruce. “Happy Birthday, Master Bruce.” He produces a blueberry muffin from behind his back, with one lit candle, and places it on the plate in front of him. Bruce looks at Alfred gratefully.

“Thanks, Alfred,” he says. Most of his kids are still talking to each other, but a couple watch as he blows out the candle, then plucks it out of the cupcake to stick the other end in his mouth.

Dick rolls his eyes. “There’s not even any icing on it, Bruce, it’s a muffin.”

“Did you make a wish?” Steph asks.

“Wait,” Cassandra says, holding up a hand. “You can’t tell us.”

Bruce doesn’t intend to, because if things continue as they’re going right now, it wouldn’t even matter.

Bruce begins eating Alfred’s blessedly good banana pancakes, one of his all-time favorites, and sits quietly, perfectly content to listen to his kids. He knows that before too long, most of them will have to go. Damian and Duke to school, Stephanie and Tim to their classes, Cassandra to her recently found job at a branch of Gotham General hospital teaching self-defense classes to young girls, and Dick back to Bludhaven before nightfall. For now though, just for a little bit, everything is nice. The windows are open, letting the unusually warm February air fill the room, and Titus is perched under Damian’s chair, often inclining his head to grab a scrap of meat that Steph or Tim keep sneaking under the table not-so-discreetly.

It is nice. Birthdays are often hard. Bruce knows that any special occasions or holidays get harder the older he gets, with more and more memories of hard years past. For now, though, Bruce feels okay. Happy. His chest is light and somehow everything feels good. He knows Jason will probably sneak into the manor later to punch his arm and tell him happy birthday, or maybe just send him a sarcastic card, but that is more than enough for Bruce because it’s progress. Barbara will probably call, too, and talk to him for a bit. Maybe he can go over and visit later; he hasn’t seen Jim in a while either. As for the rest of them, they are all here, gathered around the breakfast table. It’s all more than Bruce could ever hope to ask for.

He catches Cassandra’s gaze from across the table, and she smiles at him, something gleaming in her eyes. He smiles back, gratefully, and takes another bite.