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britcision · 2 years

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CHAPTER 4, PART 2!

May this brick all of our apps less and stop being a little fucking bitch about the page breaks. It takes me longer just to scroll to copy this section than it does to do my laundry one handed

Ask me how I know.

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Previous part:

First chapter:

————-/

Frustration prickling across his skin, Damian ducked quickly away from another group of high society women, making for a quiet spot behind a large plant in an urn.

Galas were intolerable at the best of times, and this one was proving to be even worse. Todd’s new acquaintances were deeply suspicious but Drake and Brown already seemed enamoured.

Even Grayson seemed willing to trust them far, far too easily. It was… disappointing.

For all that Damian did trust their words when they said Masters was a danger, that certainly did not make them allies. He did not trust them.

They were all suspicious, from Foley being able to detect his presence to Fenton himself.

No matter what the others said, Damian knew that he hadn’t slipped. He’d not made a sound, not ruffled the tablecloth, and still he knew.

There was something off about all three Amity Parkers, and Fenton’s admitted pit exposure was only the start.

Normal people did not have access to a Lazarus pit. He couldn’t have named a single one not under the League’s control, not even a rumour. Whoever he was, however he had come to be exposed, he was not a civilian.

That he had died did not give him some sort of blanket acceptance. It did not solve the question of how, even if his other siblings did admonish him.

If Fenton had been exposed to the pit, knew its rage enough to help Todd, who’d been burdened with the worst rage Damian had ever witnessed, he was a dangerous threat indeed.

More dangerous because he was personable, and chatty, and friendly. He made them overlook him! It was crystal clear! Being charming to prevent them from growing suspicious.

It would not work on Damian. He had no use for charm or friendly chatter. He would remain focused, remain on guard even as Todd and the others failed.

He may have lost Father for now (intentionally; Damian had no wish to witness his painful flirtations with the Kyle woman), but he would stay focused.

He finally slipped into the solace of the plant’s shadow, and nearly bumped directly into the youngest Manson. He’d had no idea she was there.

Brows drawing down, Damian realized that Todd and Fenton were just a little further beyond, their backs to the wall but still close enough to be unnoticed. Both were watching Todd, who seemed pained by something.

“Were you not to be making a spectacle?” He hissed sharply, making both Amity Parkers jump.

Jason cracked an eye open and glared down at him, then at his two companions. Perhaps he was finally wising up to these new “friends”.

“They’re bothering me about fucking pixie boots. I didn’t want to do it in view of the whole crowd,” he grumbled and Damian’s brows drew further in.

Disappointing. Mere annoyance, not the suspicion they deserved. Whatever these “pixie boots” were, it was inconsequential.

He focused his attention on Manson instead.

“If you wish to antagonize your parents, you will need a much more public scene,” he reminded her, irritated that he needed to.

He may not trust the mission, but at least he could stay focused.

Manson rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him.

“Dude, being caught snuggled in a corner will get their hopes up just fine. He does have a point though,” she added to the other two with a reluctant sigh.

As if there was any doubt.

Todd frowned down at him.

“Why aren’t you with Bruce anyway? Wasn’t that your job?” He asked, when he should have been thanking Damian from distracting the other two from whatever this pixie nonsense was.

Ungrateful. This was why he preferred Grayson.

“He is pursuing Selina Kyle,” Damian explained, not feeling the need to go into detail. He didn’t need to as Todd’s face morphed into immediate understanding.

“Yeah, fair, not something for young eyes,” he agreed with a soft chuckle and Damian nodded curtly. He couldn’t imagine whose eyes or ears would enjoy such a display at any age.

Fenton was grinning again, prodding Todd’s shoulder.

“The voice of experience?” He asked in clear glee, and Todd grimaced.

“Unfortunately. So, Sam, want to hit the refreshments so I can offer you a drink?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Manson rolled her eyes again but offered her hand, her other hand firmly tucked into Fenton’s elbow.

“I feel like I’ve come in half way through a movie and missed all the good bits,” she grumbled, and Damian was surprised to find he sympathized.

There was far too much going on here that he did not understand, and too many secrets. He would have his answers though.

Most importantly of all, the reason Jason was keeping so many secrets and letting strangers so close. But that would wait for another time.

Watching the three move towards the room, he checked his own internal clock.

Fifteen minutes. Father would likely not be done with Kyle yet.

He could stand to observe some more of these strangers. And perhaps their shenanigans.

From a distance, of course.

Vlad was having a wonderful evening.

Oh, most of the attendees at this event were simply sheep waiting to be shorn, the wealthy and well connected who liked pretending that meant they mattered.

But he’d already made some promising connections with Mr Wayne before he’d had to hurry away, and he’d given the Mansons a subtle reminder that Daniel was his.

Better that they do remember that, even if their relationship was a little… fractious. Daniel would see the light soon, student loans were an awful thing and Vlad could make them disappear.

It would be… nice.

He’d half expected the impulse to control, to train and raise the boy would end once he’d reached adulthood, but no. Daniel was 21 now, legally a full adult, and Vlad still craved that closeness.

Age was such an immaterial thing, though he was hoping that leaving his teenage years might also dull the boy’s rebellious tendencies. He and Daniel would have the rest of eternity together.

There would be all the time in the world for Vlad to teach his godson everything he knew, prove his value as an advisor.

He had once hoped that Madeline might one day become a ghost herself, but he’d begun to suspect it’d never happen.

Oh, she had the passion, the drive, but she wanted answers too much. She was determined to know what came after death, and when the time came to learn she wouldn’t balk.

She would leave him behind.

One day he may even wish to follow.

But not while her son lived (as much as either of them still lived) and needed guidance. Needed training, even if it did have to be disguised as combat.

Daniel could be something truly special if only he applied himself. Vlad would see himself Fade before he let that potential go to waste.

And ah, there was young Tucker Foley, tucked as usual up to Daniel’s side. Likely filling him in on what had happened with the Mansons.

Smiling to himself, Vlad adjusted his vest and headed over to say hello.

Tim was honestly surprised by how much he was enjoying the gala. He’d expected it to be work, spending the time gathering data and assessing Jason’s new boyfriend.

Recon.

It’d beat the usual drudgery on that alone, but he was actually having fun. The most important thing he’d learned about Danny so far was definitely his own connections to the pit, but…

Well, he hadn’t expected to like the guy. To bully Jason about him, obviously, 1000% that was just going to happen, but liking him on his own merits?

Apparently Jason had good taste. Who knew?

Tucker Foley though, Tucker was way more Tim’s speed. He’d come to drop the knowledge that Selina Kyle was floating around and then stuck around, cheerfully chatting tech.

Tim would be much easier to mistake for Danny hanging out with Danny’s friend. It didn’t even need to be said.

And Tucker was just… so easy to talk to. They drifted around the room, chatting and greeting various business partners of Tim’s, talking like they’d known each other for years.

Tim was 1000% checking if they had an internship for Tuck. Hell, if they didn’t? He was the CEO, he could damn well make a space in R&D.

Tucker hadn’t given him the full download on his PDA yet, but he was more than happy to talk about some of his simpler modifications, and Tim already wanted the rest.

The guy might enjoy a retro aesthetic over Tim’s futuristic designs, but who fucking cared? His tech ran on old mods as fast as Tim’s newest of new wrist computer.

And, yeah, maybe they were currently engaged in a hack-the-pentagon race rather than socializing like Bruce always begged them to, but it was fun.

Tim’d come to another gala if he got to bring Tucker. For sure.

As he had the thought, Tucker glanced up from his PDA for a moment and Tim took advantage. He’d been tracking Tuck’s progress (knew Tucker was tracking his, and fuck that was exciting), and delicately tripped the firewall ahead of him.

Tuck’s PDA blanked out and Tim sailed through the last levels of security, grinning broadly in victory. He wouldn’t try and get a worm in, Tucker would notice for sure, but getting him locked out?

Yeah, that was a win.

Tucker barely seemed to notice though, leaning in with a wicked grin.

“Vlad, 5 o’clock, moving in. Ready?” He asked quietly, and only then glanced back at his PDA. His face fell and Tim snickered.

“Totally ready. And in, by the way,” he added, showing the other guy his screen.

Tucker let out a truly heartfelt groan, shoving at his shoulder and Tim swayed with it, laughing.

“Hey, you know the game. You blink, you lose!”

“It’s called spatial awareness,” Tucker shot back, half his attention now focused on bringing the PDA back up. And probably stopping a couple Secret Service alarms.

Tim would have helped, but a deceptively strong hand had just clapped onto his shoulder. It felt possessive even without seeing the expression that came with it, and Tim shivered, grin sharpening.

Oh, yeah. That wasn’t gonna go well for someone.

“Daniel. Imagine my surprise at finding you here,” Masters all but purred behind him.

The urge to twist away from the hand, break the grip, or possibly just throw the asshole were all very strong, but something in that grip made Tim think it wouldn’t be that easy.

And he was here as a civilian.

He marshalled his expression into one of Brucie’s best, cool politeness and greeting, and turned to look over his shoulder.

“Imagine mine at such an informal introduction,” he said with just a hint of teasing, cocking a brow as Vlad snatched his hand back like he’d been burned, “have we met?”

And fuck the guy was tall too, because of course he was. Not quite as tall as Bruce, but… definitely close to Jason’s height if not his size.

And currently glaring at Tucker, who was hiding giggles behind his hand.

“My apologies,” Vlad ground out like he was chewing glass, gaze finally sliding back onto Tim with a calculating curiosity that was more than familiar. “And you are?”

Tim put on his best smile, turning and offering his hand to shake because he was pretty sure that’d annoy the man more than anything else.

“Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. And you are?”

And yeah, he didn’t like the smile that spread across Masters’ face as he took the hand, his grip firm and strong.

“Vladimir Masters,” he all but purred, actually giving a slight bow as he pulled back. Fucking weirdo. “Founder of DALV. CO and mayor of Amity Park.”

Tim blinked, the name suddenly clicking.

“You named your company after your own first name spelled backwards?” He asked, actual amusement sneaking into his voice.

Vlad raised a brow.

“Not an unusual practice, CEO of Wayne Enterprises,” he remarked coolly.

Tim grinned and spread his hands.

“Hey, I didn’t name it. You’re not wrong though, and I guess “Masters” has already been taken several times over,” Tim joked and Vlad’s eyes narrowed just a little.

“It is one of the unfortunate side effects of being a self made man,” he said with a convincing false humility… or at least it would have been convincing if Tucker hadn’t laughed.

Vlad’s eyes shot back around to the younger man like he’d forgotten he was there, narrowed again, and then his face smoothed into a shoddily sincere smile.

“And of course, Tucker Foley. We know each other through my dear godson, Daniel. I was quite surprised to hear that Daniel would be joining us this evening, Mister Foley. I don’t suppose you’d know where he is?”

It was the barest layering of civility and politeness, but since Tucker looked shocked by that, Tim had a couple guesses about their usual relationship. It did not endear Vlad to him.

Tucker didn’t stay off balance for long though, just shrugging and grinning. Tim finally got to see his utterly blatant lies up close and in person.

“Oh, is Danny here? I hadn’t heard. I dunno Vlad, I’m sure if he’s around he’d say hi. He’s really changed a lot though, not sure I’d recognise him.” All the same confidence he’d used to tell Dick his name was Danny.

Tim was maybe just a little bit in love with his sense of humour. Shifting until they were almost arm in arm, he grinned up at Vlad too.

“I do hope you find him, Mr Masters. Though I’m afraid if you think he looks like me, there’s plenty of us floating around. You know how Brucie collects the boys with dark hair and blue eyes.”

Vlad visibly flinched at the jibe, maybe not noticeably to anyone but a bat, but Tim wasn’t Red Robin for nothing. Still, he managed a decent answering smile and another weird little bow.

“Of course. Perhaps we shall speak again later, Mr Drake. There is a lot our companies can do for each other.”

Tim wouldn’t have let the opportunity go for a lifetime supply of espresso.

“Of course, don’t be afraid to reach out if you want to get in touch,” he said innocently, keeping his expression completely open in the face of a sudden and steely glare.

Quite sure he was being made fun of but unable to prove it, Vlad nodded stiffly and turned, walking away.

Tucker and Tim turned back to each other, grins suddenly broad and out of control. They had to suck them down quickly, one of the other boring businessmen approaching to “check if they were okay”, “so shocked someone would dare manhandle him”, blah blah blah.

No one who’d approached when Masters was actually around, of course. Just sucking up and enjoying the chance to smear dirt on someone with a little more wealth.

Tim would be very happy to smear a swamp on Vlad Masters, so he pretended his shoulder had been sorely wounded, rolling it and rubbing carefully.

Tucker actually looked concerned, hurrying him away to the refreshments table to grab him some ice. Tim let him fuss until they were away from direct witnesses, then tipped him a wink.

And the guy caught on fast, Tim had to give him that. They’d carried on to the table a little more loudly, Tucker keeping up a running commentary of “are you sure you’re okay?” While Tim did his very best Civilian Brave Face, But Not Actually Brave.

They even got him some ice, which Tucker held to his shoulder even though it felt fine. Just the visual was going to do a lot of work for them.

Distracted on his way to the back rooms, Bruce was alarmed to hear a couple talking about one of his sons being injured at the party.

His mind flashed immediately to Jason, though whether as the cause or the victim didn’t follow. When he heard it was Tim, worry shot through him and he forced himself to breathe.

Jason hadn’t done anything to hurt Tim in two years. He was actually more gentle with him than with any of the others, and Bruce didn’t imagine he’d faked all the regret.

It didn’t mean he couldn’t or wouldn’t slip again, hoodlum stranger monitoring the pit for him or not, but he wouldn’t make the accusation. It would hit too close if incorrect.

Changing course, he made his way across the room to find Tim instead. Best to get the information directly.

Tim looked well enough, though he’d draped his jacket over one arm while a young Black man - Tucker Foley, Jason’s mysterious plus one that he’d implied should be Danny - applied a makeshift ice pack to his shoulder.

Eyes narrowing, Bruce made his way gently closer, drifting through the nearby groups to pick up the local gossip. Though some lips closed when they spotted him, others opened faster.

There’d been some miscommunication between Tim and Vlad Masters, Vlad actually grabbing Tim and apparently mistaking him for someone else.

Their following exchange seemed to have been pleasant enough, but now Tim was “discreetly” seeking medical attention. Just how hard had the man grabbed Tim?

Masters had a firm grip, certainly, but he’d seen Tim slammed face first into concrete and walk away without flinching, broken nose and all.

He wouldn’t fuss about a real injury, not if he didn’t want an immediate assessment in the med bay when they returned home. He had to be faking, and Bruce knew why.

A message, likely to him and his siblings about Masters. Tim didn’t trust him, had found something about the man that warranted suspicion.

Masters had been very complimentary to Jason’s “Danny”, though even he’d admitted the boy had problems with authority. Was Tim telling him it was a lie?

But no, the boy tending Tim was Danny’s best friend, Tucker Foley. Tim could certainly fool a civilian into a fake medical emergency, but why would he involve Tucker if Danny was suspect?

Unless Tucker was potentially dangerous too, and Tim wanted him out of circulation. Away from Danny. Away from Jason.

Jason, who’d been so pleased to see the other young man only an hour ago. Now nowhere to be seen while Tucker tended to Tim’s arm.

Eyes narrowing, Bruce turned and made his way firmly towards the back rooms once more, eyes now sweeping the crowd for Masters.

It was possible Jason was no longer there, but he’d at least pick up the boy’s trail. He had to get Jason away from these people, at least until Tim could give a full report.

As he moved, he caught sight of Vlad Masters now approaching Dick and Cass, and nearly changed course again.

But no, Dick was a solid lad, he could handle himself and Bruce very much doubted a single person in the building could get anything past Cass.

They would be fine, whatever Masters was up to. They weren’t as unreliable vulnerable as Jason.

He had to get to Jason.

He couldn’t be too late again.

Cass did not like galas. To be fair, she didn’t know anyone who did.

She usually didn’t have to go; much less than her brothers. Bruce respected her desires for privacy, but she’d volunteered to go once.

It was a rite of passage Dick said, and he was usually right. It had been… well. She was one of Bruce’s later adoptees, long after it had become a running joke.

She had very nearly broken a man’s kneecaps for what he said about her brothers, but Cass was good at keeping quiet. Unobserved. Undetected.

Broken kneecaps were detectable.

Honestly, Cass was also the one who got into the least trouble at galas. She was used to sitting quietly while being verbally abused.

It was probably why no one ever tried to make her go. She’d gotten a little… lost in her own head the first time. It took days to find her words again.

Now if she went to a gala it was because she’d decided to, and someone stayed with her for most of the evening. Both so she didn’t have to talk to people and because that was usually why she chose to go.

Usually one of her siblings had planned something interesting, or needed her help. That was always fun, and they could chat in sign language about the assholes around them.

Today’s gala was double fun, because Tim and Dick had asked for her help with Danny (once they knew she was coming), and because Jason was fucking with Tim and Dick.

Cass didn’t choose sides.

She did like Jason’s new friend Tucker though. He was open and undamaged in a way very few vigilantes were. Perhaps he took a support role.

She’d known what he was since he spotted Damian, and the Amity Parkers even having their own evil billionaire was basically confirmation. Civilians just didn’t have those kinds of problems.

She hadn’t decided about Danny or Sam yet, but she did know that Jason already cared very deeply, which had surprised her. And probably Jason himself.

He needed more friends.

Cass would like more friends. Maybe someone for backup when she went overseas.

She hoped Jason’s new friends would be able to stay. They made him so happy, and tonight so very interesting.

It was easy to ignore the half-whispered comments as she and Dick moved through the crowd. Dick was a great performer, easily turning on the charm and making people smile.

All Cass had to do was smile at appropriate moments and keep an eye out, ready to alert him when it was their turn.

An older lady in a long blue gown was just telling them that Tim had been caught up in a scene when she caught sight of Vlad Masters making his way towards them.

Luckily Dick was already facing the right way, doing all the right expressions of wide eyed fascination. Sliding her hand from his elbow to bare wrist, she tapped out a message in morse code.

‘Behind.’

She didn’t need to look at Dick to know he’d received it as he shifted just a little, hand ready to pull from hers just in case. Apparently Masters already had a bad habit of grabbing.

Cass watched him from the corner of her eye, hidden behind her bangs as he stalked up.

Apparently he’d already learned his lesson; while he looked confident, he was moving more slowly, scanning the group. She let her hand drop from Dick’s before his gaze tracked down, shifting her position to “politely interested stranger”.

Dick gave a rather convincing laugh as their “informant” cut herself off quickly, spreading his hands and shrugging.

“Hey, Amity Park’s an informal scene. Not a big city like Gotham, right?” He said cheerfully, slipping easily into Danny’s tones.

It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t like he had to fool a voice recording. Cass switched to watching the older woman’s eyes widen as Vlad approached, and she held down a smile of her own.

Now if Vlad made a grab for Dick… but no, he’d learned well apparently, stepping in just a little too close to be casual at Dick’s left shoulder.

“Not downplaying our fair city, are we,” he began in a confident drawl, which faltered when Dick turned that wide, friendly smile his way.

“Oh, I’d never! Gotham’s got its troubles but it’s been my home for most of my life, Mister…” he let it trail into an obvious question.

Cass made eye contact with the older woman, whose eyes were still at that “deer in the headlights” strain. Seeing she had Cass’s attention she tried to discretely point with her fan to Masters.

And mouthed “that’s him” so obviously Masters couldn’t have missed it if he tried, her gaze snapping back to Dick. Civilians were so funny.

Eyes narrowed, Masters cleared his throat pointedly and stepped back, extending his hand to shake.

“My apologies… I thought you were my godson. He’s recently joined your university here, and I would hate to think he’s been letting the side down.” He sounded much more formal too, colder than the almost insinuating tones before.

This was a man who liked people to believe he knew everything, all the time. Didn’t like admitting a mistake. But still vain enough to make bold guesses.

Cass gave him a gentle, empty smile as she shifted up alongside Dick, ready to offer support.

Dick, meanwhile, was having fun.

“I know that feeling. Of course I was just a kid when I came here, but Gotham’s just so big and all enveloping. Why, I almost forgot about my home town completely!” He added with a light laugh.

Master’s expression tightened.

“Quite. And you are?” He asked, though he still hadn’t given his name.

Dick fake startled like he hadn’t noticed, catching the man’s hand to shake just after he’d started lowering it.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Dick Grayson, first of old Brucie’s wards. And this is my little sister Cass,” he added, other arm looping around Cass’s shoulder and pulling her in.

She held out her hand too, watching Masters’ eyes as Dick released him and he took hers, shaking like a perfect gentleman.

Not a flinch. Either he hadn’t decided she was lesser yet, or he thought they both were and there wasn’t much difference.

Less likely to underestimate her. Ah well.

She shook back firmly, not her strongest grip but enough that a moment of surprise showed as she released him, giving him her Gala Smile.

A polite, welcoming brick wall with nothing behind it.

Masters held his hand out for just a heartbeat longer after she let go, then tucked both hands behind him and pulled up a smile of his own.

Not real. But not fully forced.

“Ah, of course! I was told quite a few of you have come out to celebrate your dear brother’s return,” Masters said, a glint that Cass definitely didn’t trust in his eyes as he looked from her to Dick. “I am Vlad Masters, I was just speaking to your… guardian?”

“Our dad,” Dick corrected genially, and that was definitely jealousy that shot through Masters’ eyes, there and gone in an instant.

Interesting. He really did want Danny’s acceptance.

And he knew how to keep a public face.

“Of course, my apologies. I suppose you both knew long before we did that poor Jason had been found?” Masters asked, almost sounding sincere for the first time.

Dick clocked it too, his arm tightening around her for a moment before releasing.

“Yes. It was so terrible when we heard that he’d…” his voice trailed off for a moment, putting just enough into the grief to be convincing when he forced himself back a moment later, “but he’s okay after all!”

Masters stepped closer, honing in on perceived weakness like a shark.

“Of course, of course… it must have been such a relief,” he agreed, his voice almost oily as he lowered it, “and I certainly hope it’s not too much to ask, but I had heard that you had even buried him?”

Which, in the spirit of fairness, was a question Cass had been hearing in their periphery for most of the evening. But no one had actually dared say it directly.

Dick’s eyes went comically wide, like the thought had never even occurred to him.

“Oh no, you’re right… I wonder who we put in that coffin,” he gasped with fake horror, stopping just shy of clapping both hands to his cheeks.

Cass pressed her lips closed on a smile. Now no one would.

Even Masters looked surprised, leaning away but not backing down.

“So you know that it wasn’t…” he began, and Dick cut him off with a hearty gasp, swaying like the thought sucked all the strength out of him.

“No, of course not! I saw his grave last week, it was perfectly undisturbed,” Dick said breathily, leaning heavily into Cass and beginning to shake in suppressed sobs.

She pretended to stumble, steadying him and wrapping her arms around him. Masters was beginning to look a little alarmed, but underneath she was sure there was a hint of satisfaction.

Whatever he was pushing for (probably the pit contamination Jason had mentioned), he thought Dick had confirmed it.

Which was… odd. For his body to have been put in the pit, it couldn’t also be in an undisturbed grave? Oh, the grave could have been replaced, but he wouldn’t know that just watching Dick.

He’d have had to look in person, but there was no air of impatience. No hint of an intent to leave, to check something out.

He looked like he had everything that he could possibly want in this moment, except maybe for Dick to be less dramatic.

He took a step closer, directing his focus more to her as she “consoled” her brother.

“I am so sorry to have said anything,” he said quietly, his voice respectful and contrite even if his eyes weren’t, “I can see I’ve caused a great upset. Perhaps we should bring him somewhere to calm down?”

Before Cass could respond, the lady from before (who’d been hovering in abject glee for a second dose of Wayne gossip) butted in.

“Oh, young Cassandra can’t speak, Mr Masters. You know,” she added coyly, doing one of her special discrete fan gestures and whispered “a mute.”

Cass didn’t quite roll her eyes, shifting Dick more across her shoulders and guiding him off to one side. Masters hovered for a moment, clearly still considering assisting, but let the lady draw him into conversation instead.

Never mind that Dick was nearly half a foot taller than her and outweighed her too.

Nothing she couldn’t handle, obviously, or hadn’t handled before, but she couldn’t decide if it was annoying or suspicious.

Annoying from the woman. She was beginning to lean towards suspicious from Masters, though.

He was used to people being stronger than they looked. Or wanted to see if she’d fail. Either way, she added both to her notes on Danny too.

And, frankly, if Masters thought Danny might be Dick’s height when he was a little closer to hers? They hadn’t seen each other in a while.

She’d been sceptical when Tucker suggested the idea and she’d seen it on her brothers too, but apparently he’d still been fooled.

For all that he may want to be close to Danny… For all that he seemed exactly the sort to try and spy and maintain that air of omnipotence… he hadn’t gotten close in a while.

Good.

Danny was too happy to be put under that oppressive thumb. It was why Cass kept putting on her mask, and she’d happily do so again for the boy’s sake.

Nobody should have to see the worst the shadows offered.

Danny was having fun being dragged around the room by Sam while Jason flirted with her.

Jay knew just how to toe the line to stay on the “charming” side rather than “obnoxious”, introducing her to people and always listening when she opened her mouth.

Which was usually to reiterate stubbornly that she was here with Danny, or grudgingly answer some question about her life. He’d made her laugh more than once, and Danny figured it was aaaalmost time for them to stop pushing him so hard.

Frankly Danny was mostly just watching them both and enjoying not having to talk himself. Something about Jason turned on the charm sucked most of his snappy retorts right out of him.

Probably cuz he didn’t wanna accidentally hit the nail on the head and upset his new friend. No way to tell what would be a hot button, right?

It definitely wasn’t because watching Jason’s eyes shine when he laughed made Danny think of the stars. It’d been a while since he’d gone up past Gotham’s smog to stargaze.

Besides, he wasn’t the star of this show, so it was fine if he was mostly just exchanged grins with Jason while he and Sam talked.

Sam was having way more fun than she’d ever had at a party too, and Danny reeeeally hoped that her parents knew her well enough to tell.

She’d pull out Manson Party Voice whenever they bumped into another group, but when the three of them were making their way from one spot to the next? That was Sam’s real smile.

It wasn’t as bright and shiny and perfect as the fake one, but honestly, they weren’t comparable. Sam’s real smiles were small and much rarer than her plotting grins, but that made them special.

Val knew too, and Danny made sure he snuck a couple of candids of Sam laughing in her getup just for her. Sam Manson, happy in frills and bows?

Yeah, he also took a couple of her diabolical grins. And a couple of Jason in his suit, which looked waaaay better than Danny’s.

Jason had a lot more to fill it out, and maybe one day Danny would ask about his fitness routine. Fighting ghosts had stopped him from being a stick, but he was still ridiculously wiry.

This just in, fighting for your life with the bare minimum of training and mentorship? Did not make you a beefcake. Well, not if you also had laser eyes.

Danny’s eye muscles were probably better.

At least until he got Jason on his halfa training.

They’d all heard the latest Hot Party Gossip, about the mayor of some little town actually grabbing young Timothy Drake! The scandal!

There’d been another flash of protective rage from Jason at that, but this time Danny was expecting it and ready to soothe with some calm-reassurance-safe.

Seeing Tucker delicately fussing with an ice pack in a “discrete” corner had settled Jason down ironically, and Danny had to wonder how hard Vlad had grabbed him.

Yeah, he’d given Danny bruises plenty of times, but usually mostly after the fighting started. Or when Danny was being a little asshole.

Which, to be fair, was most of the time.

They were just watching Cass drag a sobbing, shuddering Dick past them towards the back rooms (and considering going to help) when Jason stiffened.

About to open his mouth to ask, Danny’s eyes snapped suddenly past the larger man and suddenly he didn’t have to.

Vlad. Behind and between Danny and Jason, looking… ruffled, almost, but very satisfied. Just the look sent a shiver down Danny’s spine before he even opened his mouth.

“Ah, Daniel. And you’ve been making a new friend, I see?“ he asked smugly as Sam and Jason wheeled to face him.

Danny came closer, moving in between them and stepping carefully in front of Jason.

Who growled softly, caught Danny around the shoulders, and stepped in front of him instead, close enough that Vlad had to take a step back or stand chest to chest with him.

And yeah, okay, maybe Danny wasn’t expecting that and it threw him for a loop. What of it.

“Yeah, he has,” Jason said, his voice suddenly cold and menacing in a way Danny had never heard before.

Even Vlad looked surprised, eyebrows rising at the tone.

“And you’ve been teaching him your attitude issues as well, how charming,” he noted to Danny directly, then gave Jason a sly smile. “Vladimir Masters. I assume Danny’s been telling you all sorts of stories?”

“He doesn’t need to dude, your vibes are rancid,” Sam snapped, rolling her eyes when Vlad shot her a glare.

Which, yeah, helped snap Danny out if it and he tried a step to the side to get back into view. And stifled a snicker when Jason moved with him, resting a hand on the taller halfa’s hip.

Calm-breathe-don’t give the game away

It was difficult to keep it local, since he was currently bathing the whole room in his energy. Although, since Vlad had already successfully found him…

Danny winched it back in, letting his aura go from overwhelming back down to conversational, shoulders settling as the pressure dropped.

Felt Jason stiffen for a moment under his hand, then relax, and yeah now Danny felt a little bad about that part of the plan. He hadn’t gone as big as Frostbite, but Jason didn’t react well to big auras.

Maybe it’d help him settle down.

He did at least shift aside enough to let Vlad see him again, and Danny gave him a cheeky wave just to see his face pinch.

“What’s the matter Vlad, worried about what I’d say?” He asked innocently, and enjoyed the way Vlad’s eyes narrowed.

Right up until Jason cleared his throat pointedly and Vlad’s eyes shot to him, widened, and the man stepped back. Which was… wild.

Vlad might be just a little taller, he didn’t have even half of Jason’s bulk but he’d never backed down from Jack Fenton before.

Then again, Jack loved Vlad and would never stare at him with such open threat in his face. Even for a baby halfa, Jason could exude an aura of menace.

Danny was maybe just a tiny huge bit loving it.

Vlad glanced his way again, teeth gritted, and stopped. His expression shifted enough that Danny had to actually look at him again, rather than vaguely watching while enjoying Jason.

Was that… actual conflict? On Vlad “I Know Best I Made The Universe From Scratch” Masters?

And then Vlad gave him a careful, polite smile that he usually saved for cops and adults and that was just too weird.

“Daniel, I understand that we’ve had our differences and I will admit my own part in that. But do I not even deserve a chance to make my own first impressions?” He asked, turning the same smile to Jason.

Who glared back.

“You’ve been running around and accosting my brothers, I think that’s a pretty clear first impression,” he pointed out, muscles flexing as he folded his arms.

Danny wasn’t gonna look. Nope. Focus on Vlad, focus on Vlad, you’d think it wouldn’t be hard with his actual nemesis in front of him but ooooh the fabric of Jason’s jacket was straining in a very interesting way.

Definitely stealing his training routine.

Vlad seemed to have deflated proportionately too, inclining his head in a sharp nod.

“Yes, well. I certainly didn’t intend to be so upsetting. Perhaps we can turn over a new leaf together, Jason? Daniel?” He offered with a slightly more strained smile.

Poor guy never did cope well when one of his plans went wrong. It was Danny’s favourite thing about him.

So he gave Vlad his very best shit eating grin and nodded, leaning against Jason’s side and crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Yeah, why not? We can get all buddy buddy together while I tell Jason all about that camping trip you took me and my mom on,” he said cheerfully, waving a hand. “Maybe I should send you on one some time.”

Vlad’s eyes narrowed, then his expression resolved into a snakelike smile as he pointedly looked at Jason instead.

“Certainly. And perhaps I can also show you some of Daniel’s baby pictures, Jason?” He hummed, voice suddenly silken.

Danny fucking stumbled as he rushed to regain his footing.

“What no fuck you you do not,” he stammered at the same time as Jason raised a mildly interested brow.

“Baby pictures?”

And Vlad had that stupid, annoying, self satisfied asshole smile on his face again. Like he’d fucking won something. He continued to ignore Danny and Sam, smiling up at Jason.

“Oh yes. His parents kept a very clear documentation of his early years, his first tooth, his first Halloween costume, all of it,” he said smugly, entirely confident.

Which just was not fucking fair. What the fuck was Danny supposed to say to that?

“There is no way his parents gave you those photos,” Sam snapped, folding her arms too and glaring.

Hero goth queen.

Vlad gave her a smug smile too.

“And yet I have them. Jack was delighted to bring me through all of the family albums, so I also have stories,” he added, shooting Danny a look that had usually accompanied an ectoblast.

Ectoblasts were better. Ectoblasts only hurt in the moment.

Danny groaned, closing his eyes and scrubbing his hands across his face.

“Alright never mind I liked it better when we were fighting,” he grumbled under his breath, startling a chuckle from Jason.

Vlad finally found a way to beat him.

At least until Danny could call his dad for college stories.

—————

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton x jason todd #dead on main shipping #also dead me #why u like this tumblr #why

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disastertoaster3d · 5 months

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Can you write a Cricket X Introverted IceWing reader? (Wings of Fire writers are so hard to find)

of course! I’m going to do headcanon format if that is okay with you (:

cw: maybe ooc cricket? Spoilers for books 12-15. Unedited..

Cricket x introverted icewing reader

Cricket met you in possibility, (def not too lazy to make a whole new scene..) and her being the enthusiastic learner she is, wanted to ask you the hundreds of questions in her head.

after a few questions though, she would realize that you are not really responding (and seeming to trying to find a way to create space between the both of you)

it will take the hivewing a split second to figure out that you are not too social and tones it down a bit.

After about of two weeks of interaction, she started to develop feelings for the introverted icewing.

she by far would be the one to announce her feelings to you. And she was rather excited when you accepted her feelings. She had to hold herself back from bombarding you with questions about your feelings for her which was not very successful.

she would definitely try her best to get you more fine with social interaction but will not push your boundaries too far.

She does decide to properly introduce you to bumblebee. But it ended with the small hivewing dragonet practically attacking you with affections then being startled to realize your cold scales.

Cricket loves how your scales are cold, and finds it amazing that you have frost breath. She often asks you about your tribe and makes it a little friendly research project on how icewing biology works.

in total, Cricket helps you with socializing and you help her with not being accidentally pushy with her questions.

she also asks to meet your family and offers to introduce you to her friends and Katydid

Cricket might be ooc since I didn’t reread her book in a while-

#Wof #wings of fire #requests #book #book character #wings of fire cricket #wof cricket #cricket wof #cricket wings of fire #WOF #wof headcanons #gn reader #cricket x reader #wof cricket x reader #cricket x gn reader #icewing reader #introverted reader #Cricket x icewing reader #cricket x introverted reader

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snapdrxgon-ivy · 6 months

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HELLO! Ask and ye shall receive! I wanna hear about your Pokemon OC you were talking about 👀

First things first you are a saviour and I am proposing and building you a shrine as we speak thank you so much <333

SECOND

His name is Katydid Sunblaze and his son is Nico Sunblaze (And Laurel but she's still a wip)! Katydid is based closely on the Legends Arceus game whereas Nico is based on the Violet game!

Katydid worked at a pokemon control company (similar to animal control, he subdues wild or out of control pokemon that are threatening people) in Alola with his Lucario, Vick-Tori (named after his favourite musical)

His family were strict and highly respected, and cut him off when he chose his career because they considered it below the name. Katydid never left it, though, and eventually met his first partner! A grass trainer from Sinnoh named Laurel, corner by a pack of wild Magmar that Katydid and Vick-Tori took quick care of.

Laurel originally came to Alola to complete the Island Challenges, but when something between her and Katydid sparked, she permanently moved there and they eventually were married!

They had a son, Nico, and that's when Laurel retired as a trainer herself and became a coach for the younger ones. Katydid kept his job, personally, and was moving quickly up to even become a manager for the company!

One day he was called on a weird job full of pokemon not even his pokedex could identify, and when he got to the place, he was swept up and away.

[Cue Legends Arceus intro]

The travel back in time had caused so much stress on Katydid that his mind repressed most of his memories, only the thought of his wife and son giving him the motivation to get up and look for help as he fell in the Obsidian Fields instead of near Jubilife Village.

It was Volo who found him, and brought him to the Village, but the professor still recruited him for the research as Vick-Tori was brought with Katydid so it was clear Katydid was skilled in pokemon training!

Most events go the same as the game does, the only difference is Katydid sticks closer to Volo. He would go days without eating or sleeping, instead focusing on the research at hand or calming the frenzied nobles as a distraction. Katydid reasoned with himself that if he carved a place for himself in this world, he'd get the help needed to get back home.

Then he was exiled, as in the game, and all hope seemed to drain from Katydid. It took Volo, Cogita, Irida, AND Adaman to drag him out of his depressive state long enough to gather the Plates and the Red Chain. During this time, Katydid relied heavily on Volo and the two even started a very loose relationship. Katydid seemed to accept he was never getting back to his wife and son, so he thought building a life with Volo would help instead.

Yeah uh,,, Volo's betrayal really destroyed him. Katydid had fought, of course, because Adaman and Irida asked him to, but it hurt every step of the way. When it was done, Volo didn't even stick around for a goodbye. Katydid searched the region for him multiple times over the next month, because he just wanted answers. Or closure. Or he wanted the only stable thing in his life back, considering he'd never get his other family back.

It ended when Katydid's depression was the death of him. As that month ended, he was at the Cobalt Coastland one final time. His exhaustion taking its toll on his body until he ended up collapsing in a cave. He let his formed team out of their pokeballs, telling them to go explore while he rested, and fell asleep. Sadly for him, the cave belonged to an alpha Arcanine, and while he slept, his life was ended while he was alone </3

His story doesn't exactly end there, his legacy is carried on in Nico's story! But that'll take even longer and I have a friend who reblogged the request so I'll put Nico's story in there :DD

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING YOURE REALLY AWESOME ONG <333

#pokémon #pokemon oc #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon #clan leader irida #clan leader adaman #pokemon volo #pokemon cogita #katydid #katydid pkm

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deusvervewrites · 1 year

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Given what we know about the Entrance Exam and that it includes both a Written and a Practical(depending on course), and what ideas we can get from the Finals, we may get an idea on how some pass the Entrance Exam and how others failed.

Given that UA is an elite school that has multiple courses, I would say that the average student applying should be, at a minimum, be able to do the General Studies Course Entrance Exam(Most likely Written only), even if the other courses' General classes(in the school year, not the Entrance Exam) are easier to adjust for the actual purpose of those courses(Heroics, Support, Management). In return, the students must proves their knowledge in the basics in the Entrance Exam to even be accepted on the next stages and this applies for all courses. If a non-Gen Ed student proves that they are incompetent in the written exam, in UA's terms, it may not be worth it at all to accept them as such a student requires a lot more work in the fundamentals to even be barely passing the General courses. As a result, those students would struggle in the Heroics/Management/Support courses when they're not doing practical stuff, like knowing the laws of Heroics and what is legal or not for the 3 aforementioned courses.

On the practicals, I can see that even the best Heroics student failing because they lacked the basic idea for the theoreticals and it makes them look like a low-level mook(UA is trying to reach a standard) and I would guess that the lowest score of the accepted Heroic students would either be in the 20s to 30s. Both the Heroics student and the Support student would need to know some basic laws and fundamentals to legally do the stuff they want to do. A Management student would fail because of citations and needing to know a lot of basics to communicate to their audience.

There might be an exception, but I think this requires extreme circumstances that only exist in fan fiction since it likely requires Nezu, some approval with the teachers, the new student having some sort of significant backing(though I would believe such a student would be able to pass the exam normally), and some sort of situation that enables them to be at UA. The only one that I can think Fear No Evil by katydid and that's because Izuku kinda proved himself, got a lot of approvals, had AM helping out, and could pass the exam had he been there.

Although if one really wants to, one could say the Hero Society is so corruptive, that it permeates the culture to the point that they lower the written score thresholds for the Heroics students to become Heroes(regardless of school). After all, only UA(or insert any Heroics school) know what score the student got on both exams(outside of top 10 Heroics) they could "fix" the score if the student reaches a certain grade if they do extremely well on the Practical.

It's very true that the corruption of Hero Society means that it would be easy enough for students who show promise in the practical exam to be allowed to pass even after a poor showing in the written exams, we can infer some things about the UA curriculum from the few times we see it appear

In chapter 167, Ectoplasm is having the class work on Definite Integrals, a part of calculus. This chapter takes place early in the Overhaul arc, meaning this is the start of their second term. As such it can be assumed that the classes at UA are highly advanced--by American standards, this is a subject that might be taught in their third year, not their first.

As such, it seems fair to say that the exam results aren't doctored because the students would be unable to keep up with the actual pace of the classwork.

#asks #meta

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miyamorana · 1 year

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September Fanfic Recs

I'm a few days late, but here are the fics that I’ve really liked this past month. All of these are complete. Enjoy!

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia (4), D&D: Honor Among Thieves (1), Haikyuu!! (1) Jujutsu Kaisen (1), Julie and the Phantoms/Voltron Legendary Defenders Crossover (1), Merlin (1)

Find August’s Recs here or browse my fanfic recs tag.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Title: Twenty-Four Pairs of Craft Scissors Author: orkestrations Pairing: None Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1155 Summary: Twenty-four pairs of craft scissors, one pissflake, paper scraps everywhere, and glitter all over the floor.

Or: Eri's first time making paper snowflakes.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Title: flip the switch and watch them run Author: noxum Pairing: None Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 6316 Summary: What Izuku thinks is just another hellish day at Aldera takes a turn for the worst when disaster strikes. Trapped in a collapsing building while digging his once-childhood friend from the rubble, what will he do when the roof caves in?

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Title: Kill All the Lights Author: JoWithTheFlow Pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Monoma Neito/Todoroki Shouto Rating: Mature Word Count: 20,996 Summary: What kind of operation…led to a hero and a vigilante being thrown into a cell together?

Judging by the look on Phantom’s face, he was thinking something very similar. There was a noise from further in the cell, though, and his body language shifted, his eyes lighting up with a touch of fear as he squared his shoulders as much as he could square them. “We’re not alone,” he warned Shouto.

Shouto raised his eyebrows, turning his attention to the depths of the cell.

“What’s this?” a voice rasped, from deeper in the cell, darker, the part covered in the most shadows. Phantom flinched at the sound of it, and there was a rattle, a clink, and Shouto realized that the third member of their company was more heavily chained than them. A moment later, and the second realization hit—that meant something. “A new person to join us in suffering?”

Another shuffle, another clink, and the owner of the voice finally stepped into the little bit of light coming through the window on the door. The light caught the edge of his hair, so dark it almost looked black, but Shouto knew better. He knew better.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Title: The League of Vigilantes Author: katydid Pairing: None Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 8575 Summary: An amnesiac Izuku joins the League of Villains. To their frustration, he keeps being nice and helping people. Now everyone thinks they’re an organization of vigilantes!

Fandom: D&D: Honor Among Thieves Title: vicious mockery Author: andthentheybow Pairing: Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar, Simon Aumar/Doric Rating: Mature Word Count: 4195 Summary: “He doesn’t use magic,” Doric says, jutting her chin toward Edgin. Holga makes a noise that might be described as a grunt. Simon nods and takes another bite of stew. “Is it another tragic backstory thing?"

Simon looks like he’s about to speak through a mouthful of stew, then thinks better of it and swallows first. “Don’t ask me.” Doric gives him a look and turns to Holga.

“I don’t know,” Holga says. “Probably.”

Five times Edgin actually uses magic, and one time he doesn’t.

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Title: Beach House Author: spideywhiteys Pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7669 Summary: Atsumu falls in love with Shouyou the same way he falls in love with volleyball. Immediately, suddenly, and obsessively. It just takes him a lot longer to accept, especially in a world where loving a man could end his career.

So he loves in secret, in the remote quiet of his head and over the long distance separating him and Hinata Shouyou, a man who probably doesn’t think of Atsumu at all. He dreams of a future he’s not sure he can ever have.

Or: Atsumu pines for five years.

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Title: when heaven’s a mindset away Author: bitadori (mochirou) Pairing: Itadori Yuuji/Sukuna | Ryoumen Sukuna Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3445 Summary: Itadori wakes up in Sukuna’s domain after passing out from fever. But the curse is nowhere to be found, leaving the entire room unnervingly silent. So where the hell is he?

Fandoms: Julie and the Phantoms/Voltron Legendary Defenders Title: Second Skin Author: breakaway71 Pairing: None Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 591 Summary: Lance doesn’t always feel like Lance.

Fandom: Merlin Title: Detect Magic Author: Jabber_Moose Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 979 Summary: There’s a strange, shimmering blue orb above them, and the dark haired man’s eyes are glowing gold.

"Police say they arrived at the scene to find one of the muggers knocked out, the other dead on the scene,” Percy says. “The victim was being held by his companion, who was said to tell anyone who approached ‘You can cut me, bruise me, skin me alive, but you will not take him from me.’”

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aimportantdragoncollector · 11 months

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ON THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT, I OFFICIALLY OPEN THREE WEEKS OF TRIOHOLDERS!

I'M SO EXCITED I'M SPEAKING IN ALL CAPS!

Event Announcement!

Three Weeks of Trioholders is an event in dedicated to shipping the first three One for All holders in fics and art, hosted by yours truly. I commissioned the lovely announcement art from @poysean5. This event will run from Monday October 30 to Sunday November 19 2023!

Rules:

I will be accepting not only Trioholders (Yoichi/Second/Third) but also Duoholders (Yoichi/Second aka Ichinii), Yoichi/Third, and Second/Third. Basically, if your fic or art romantically ships the first, second, and third One for All holders in any combination/pairing, then it counts. I just picked the event name to be alliterative.

There will be both an art and writing category.

You may submit as many entries as you’d like. However, you will only be eligible to win once in each category.

The minimum word count for a fic is 1,000 words. Drawings must be colored.

AI (artificial intelligence) art or writing is NOT allowed.

I will be accepting any degree of heat for the romance, from mild crushing to NSFW.

The romance does not have to be the sole focus—for example, if you wrote a crack fic about the vestiges with a side of romance then that would be accepted. At the least, two of the first three One for All holders should be main characters.

Collaborations are allowed, though you can only win one prize for the group.

I’m not picky about time zones so I will count anything submitted until it is no longer Sunday November 19th anywhere in the world (GMT-12 is the last time zone.)

Prizes:

First place in both art and writing will receive a fic of a minimum of 3,000 words from me (Katydid on Ao3) based on a prompt of your choice. Second place in both art and writing will receive a fic of a minimum of 1,500 words from me. Honestly, if you participated in my One for All October contest last year, you know when I write prizes, I tend to go over the word count. I will also be offering an undecided number of honorable mentions (awarded with snippets) depending on how many submissions I get. One honorable mention will be given out randomly to ensure that everyone has a chance to win.

I reserve the right to ask for a different request if I do not feel capable of writing the prompt.

Submission:

Please use the tag Three Weeks of Trioholders if you submit your entry on Tumblr or Archive of Our Own. Also, please @ me (aimportantdragoncollector) if you share on Tumblr. If you post elsewhere online, then you can message me, send me an ask, or leave a fic comment with a link to your entry. Twitter or Fanfiction.Net entries are welcome, just please send me the link to make sure I see it. If I haven’t reacted at all to your entry within four days then you can assume I haven’t seen it and contact me again. I reply to all comments on my fics, and my tumblr asks will be open for the duration of this event.

Please contact me here on tumblr if you have any questions. I’m excited to be hosting this event, and I can’t wait to see what gets created!

#Three Weeks of Trioholders #bnha #bnha event #mha #mha event #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfic event #fanart event #yoichi shigaraki #Second One for All holder #Third One for All holder #Trioholders #Duo holders #duoholders #Ichinii #Ichisan #Ichiniisan

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 6 months

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The Haunting of Wayne Manor

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/bZM8oEB by melonadeskii No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. - Shirley Jackson No one was willing to accept what they saw when in solitude so it gathered them. Words: 7, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018), The Haunting of Hill House - Shirley Jackson Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: Gen Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Horror, Family Drama, it's all confetti, Fluff, Angst, Ghosts, Psychological Horror, Love read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/bZM8oEB

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

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v1ctimplagued · 11 months

Note

“you stayed.” // katydid or soleil, take your pick! <3

memes. / always accepting.

alternatively, send in " you stayed. " for the sender to wake the next morning and find the receiver is still sitting by their bedside, having stayed the whole night to ensure they slept.

　HE SHOULD HAVE LEFT. But there was a pull that kept him firmly rooted by her side as she slept. Hunched uncomfortably in the chair by her bedside eyes closed until he felt her stirring and the ocean hues open blearily, stifling a yawn 'cause he hadn't slept really much at all. After the events of being hunted the night before he couldn't with good conscious just leave her defenseless if those people came back. Who they were was unknown but one thing was for certain, they had definitely had malicious intent.

❝ Did you sleep well? ❞ The words leave his mouth before he can even think and it feels a little wrong and a little too polite 'cause normally he'd be complaining about this whole ordeal and how much it inconvenienced him. But something about that felt wrong too. ❝ Who the fuck were those people last night? ❞ His fingers moved to tidy his unruly curls tucked all over the place from his restless nap.

#marshthing #&. dialogue.#&. answered.#( picking katydid so i can use one of billy's verses ! )#( i cannot decide if vamp billy or hunter billy :O or even mutant billy )#( but having a witchy friend :O )#( and sorry he's an ass )

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udbhaskbhoi · 1 year

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'3:00 AM'

Night is so beautiful, especially the period just after midnight around 2:30 or 3:00 AM in the morning (it's technically still night). The atmosphere and the vibe let us say is simply calming. A strange silence continues to fill in the void left by the daily bickering of human actions, a strange humming too quiet to be heard is dominant, crickets, cicadas katydids and grashoppers add to this grand concert of silence.

With cool and calming air, this midnight becomes the best therapist one could afford. What one simply needs to do is look up to the skies, find the moon and talk. Let your feelings flow like muddy floodwater, washing away everything in its path. Cry, laugh, love or just sit in silence, there's nobody to see except for A billion of stars and celestials listening, which scientifically of course doesn't even make the slightest sense, but emotionally, it affects. It makes you feel small and insignificant, which in daytime would fuck up your mind and the world around you. But this insignificantness, this smallness, sometimes answers a lot of questions for us. If it happened, it happened, it was supposed to happen. Acceptance is what it teaches us.

#creative writing #write #writers community #english #essay #creative works

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vbsvartalf · 2 years

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A Crown of Violets, Roses, and Crocuses, Part II

The evening was quiet. The songs of grasshoppers and katydids played like ambient noise, the air was cool with just a hint of the bite of winter, and the fire was comforting with waves of delicious heat and the snap and pop of burning wood. On another night, this would have been magical, but tonight everything felt like it was being observed behind glass. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep her mind from wandering, couldn’t stop thinking about… Odohe dropped her chopsticks for the third time and gave up trying to eat. She wasn’t hungry, but the ritual of cooking and eating was perfunctory, a requirement for her state of mind. She was a creature of routine, an elf of prosaic ceremony. Everything in her small house had its place, and every ritual in her life gave it purpose. It was the only way she knew how to live. At the start, the routines and the rituals grounded her and kept her from focusing on the losses. However, as time went on, she grew dependent on the rituals until they were the structure of the world in which she lived rather than the foundation.

Tonight was the first night in five years that things had gone amiss. She’d spent nearly a decade in Mikelburg now, not quite enough for her to consider it a home, but it was more than a temporary hideaway. She’d come here to escape, to break free, to discover herself. The old forests of her home, after the losses she’d suffered, no longer felt like home. It was an alien world filled with alien people. Or perhaps she was the alien, the child out of the outyards. They all looked at her with pity. She hated the pity in their eyes; it made her feel so weak and out of control. She came to Mikelburg on a whim. Most people south of the city didn’t even know it still existed. It was a shell of itself, the people that lived there said, but the embers of the city still burned hot against the gathering cold.

She endured looks of suspicion and distrust, bearing them easier than looks of pity and sorrow. In time, the people here wore down and accepted her. She was an outlier, but she was welcomed. “Every city should have an elf,” they said. It was an odd phrase, one that made her, at times, feel like a porcelain doll on display, but they didn’t mean it maliciously and, over the years, she let it go.

She wasn’t really one for storytelling and saga-sharing. While she did her part to participate in annual events, blóts, and ceremonies, her talents were in gardening and cultivation. History was something she’d rather forget than be eternally called upon to recount tales of glory and woe.

She had been doing fine, living a life of quiet fulfillment, disconnected yet connected, boundless but organized. She had found a spot, consciously and unconsciously, where all her mannerisms and proclivities existed in a state of equilibrium. It was not happiness, per se, but something near that, closer to contentment.

Then, just this morning, she heard that there was another elf in the city. It was strange, looking back, but initially, when she heard the news (and what news it would be that there was not just one elf in Mikelburg, but two) she felt jealousy. Mikelburg was her home, her sanctuary, her ship on the astral sea. What right did another elf have to come in and take that from her? She was no longer special. Odohe did not want to just be another bead in the mosaic.

However, as the hours climbed by, the excitement died down, and with it, her jealousy; the elf, whoever they were, cloistered themselves in the remnants of the library, a place Odohe had only ever passed by. There was very little chance she’d run into the interloper. She didn’t know if that feeling relaxed her or put her on edge.

Her house was small, but it was one of the few places in the city with a yard large enough for growing more than a few flower pots. It had taken years of hard work to make it the way it was now, something of which Odohe was very proud. That morning, however, she barely did any work in her garden. It was time to start harvesting her leeks and deliver them to Léofrid, her grocer friend in the marketplace and the closest thing she had to a real confidant, but that was going to have to wait until tomorrow at least.

Under normal circumstances, the garden was the place wherein she felt most at home, where serenity and calm permeated the air, but today all the greens, blues, and yellows were muted and blurred. All the sharp edges, the pleasures of damp soil, and the smell of tilled earth were blunted. Her mind kept wandering. Odohe was not a woman whose mind wandered!

She was going to get no work done in the gardens, she concluded, so Odohe set about her house fulfilling all the other chores that begged for her attention, things she’d put off for lack of necessity (or interest). She worked up a sweat and soon the apprehension faded into the background. It was not gone, but it was not insisting on taking center stage. Once all her drawers were reorganized, her clothing mended, and her shelves dusted, Odohe needed something more to do. She could feel the cold fingers of anxiety edging closer. Errands. She could run errands. She needed to visit with clients and suppliers. That would do the trick; a busy mind has no time for the periphery.

She’d been so busy with her errands that she forgot about her anxieties. She met with the proprietress of the bathhouse on the eastern edge of town, with the owner of the Winding Stair Inn, and the theatre manager at the town center, and discussed all the upcoming events and needed arrangements, haggled over pricing and came to agreements on delivery dates. She ventured to the marketplace and visited with several merchants, farmers, and grocers for seedlings and pots. She wound up talking to Léofrid for nearly half an hour. They gossiped and speculated about half the townsfolk and their idiocrasies, each expertly avoiding the topic of “the second elf” until finally daylight and customers forced them to finish and make their own ways back home.

Without thinking, though, Odohe took a route that took her near the library. She was so distracted that she didn’t even notice until she bumped into her, into the other elf. She’d taken such pains to avoid this person, refusing to see them, to even know their name or gender. But now she knew. They only locked eyes for a brief moment, and in that brief moment, Odohe had learned far more than she’d ever wanted to know about anything.

The look in the elf’s eyes flung her back to a time before she’d been born. Memories of a time she’d never seen, dreams of a place she never imagined. There were so many lights and sounds, they grew to a crescendo. Odohe thought they’d overwhelm her, but then everything vanished into stillness.

Everything except a small lawn overlooking a deep verdant forest with more shades of green than any poet could ever name or describe. There were birds singing with voices that sounded like those of the ancient songstresses, clear and vibrant. She was not alone. She could not see their face, but she knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

She was weaving flowers into her hair: scabiosa, camellia, and dahlia; pristine white flowers enmeshed within tresses of scarlet, crimson, and ruby. There was an intimacy here, an intimacy Odohe had never felt before. The simple touch of fingers on flesh sent shivers down her spine and stole her breath. They were so close to one another, clad in naught but their skin and hair. She could feel the warmth of the one she was with, a warmth inviting and alluring. The light was silver and cast deep purple shadows.

That moment, simple as it was, held more emotion within than Odohe had felt her entire life. What was this? What was this place? She didn’t want to leave it. She didn’t know this woman she was with, but she didn’t want to leave her. The woman turned. Soft brown eyes framed by hair a million shades of red. Their eyes locked and kisses sweet as cherries followed.

It was only for a moment, shorter than a breath or a heartbeat, but it carried so much more weight. Odohe was confused. Who was she? She’d never seen this elf in her entire life. Yet the dream, or memory, or whatever it was, felt so vivid that it had to have been real. To her shame, she ran. She heard the woman speak, but the words were lost as she darted back home, scampering like a frightened deer.

Now, she was home. Or was she? Home suddenly didn’t feel like it. This building, this place, it had held her together as much as she’d held it, but now it felt empty, and Odohe felt alone, unmoored, and drifting. She felt the overwhelming curiosity to find the elf, to see her again, to confess the vision she’d had when they ran into each other. That slow moment of perfect time when their eyes locked, and she saw the vision of something unburied by a single soft smile and the scent of cherry blossoms.

She longed to hear that voice, it floated in her memory but was too light and airy to remember its lilting cadence, dandelion seedlings dancing away on a spring breeze. Each time she tried to remember how the voice sounded, the seedlings floated further away, slipping from her grasp. Her face, however, her face Odohe could not forget. The image of the elf’s face, even in that briefest of moments, was carved on her mind forever. She knew that face, knew it like she knew her own reflection. She knew it like she’d seen it every day for a hundred years, and yet, and yet she’d only just seen it, the barest of glances, the most accidental eye contact. How was that possible?

She went to her garden. It was dark out and naught but the stars held any light in the city. Odohe took a deep breath. The air was cooler and the bite of oncoming winter was stronger than she'd realized. A tiny plume of mist blossomed from her lips. The cold made her skin prickle, or was that the thought of fingers caressing and entwining…

She shook herself and rubbed her eyes. Now was not the time to get lost in a fantasy, even if that fantasy was tender as rose petals and…

She clapped her hands, sending everything scattering. Her visions fled; there was a hiccup in the forever drone of insect tunes.

Odohe saw the flowers as if they glowed with an inner light and called to her with tiny melodic voices: scabiosa, camellia, and dahlia. She gathered up enough to make a bouquet and brought them inside. They sat on a workbench, Odohe stared at them for a long moment, wondering what exactly she was doing. Was she going to make a bouquet of flowers for this mysterious elf? Was she just going to hand them to her and, and what? What was she doing? Was she impulsive? No, no she wasn’t but, but the feeling of those fingers, those lips, the fiery redness of that hair, and the enigmatic, fae quality of her voice, it was too much. She had to know; had to know why she knew.

She couldn’t go off wandering in the middle of the night, however, wandering hither and thither like some lost specter. She needed, well, she didn’t know what she needed. Odohe knew what she wanted, but did what she wanted and what she needed have anything in common?

Tomorrow, maybe, she would come up with at least one answer.

#lesbian elves #sapphic elves #sappho #queer romance #fantasy #high fantasy #ace romance #Bjorn Svartalf #A Crown of Violets Roses and Crocuses #Elves #gardening #reincarnation #LGBT romance #representation matters #Yoshiyo #Odohe

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deluxewhump · 3 years

Text

Bo, meet Nicolas

pt 1

cw: unconscious, whump, cigarette burns, smoking, other burns, handcuffs, bruises, abuse, implied abuse, blood, fear, drugging mention, self defense attempt, whumpee thinks caretaker figure is going to hurt them

****

Nicolas couldn’t stop looking.

There was always more to look at. The first thing he noticed was the bruises on the boy’s face. Then, the marks in the hands like stigmata, still weeping blood. Burns. Some were clearly cigarette burns. Others were harder to determine. Each mark told a story of cruelty, a singular incident that could be digested and accepted on its own. Altogether, Byron’s masterpiece was difficult to look at. It was too much to imagine it all at once, to try and figure the timeline, the extent of the pain this boy had been through.

He was dirty. His hair was a sooty ash, but under that Nick thought it looked like it might be the color of beach sand.

Thank god he’s not awake yet, he kept thinking as he set him down on the floor. It was with only a twinge of guilt he admitted this was to preserve his furniture from blood and filth. He cradled the curly blond head in his hand, trying not to bang it on hardwood as he set him down.

“Oh, god,” he whispered. The bottoms of his feet were burned, and his kneecaps were so rugburnt they were nearly flayed. Under his mercifully closed eyes were dark purple rings that might have been bruises, and his lip was split and swollen on one side. There was a scar over one golden eyebrow. Bruises ringed his neck.

Nicolas knew he was not on Byron’s level of power or callousness, nor did he aspire to be. It’s an honor I dream not of, he’d said to himself that morning in the shower, watching soap suds circle the drain. But he couldn’t understand the mindset Byron, Fox, and all of the others had to be in to allow something like this to continue. To spectate.

“You poor fuckin’ thing,” Nick muttered. He sat on his floor with his back against his sofa and lit a cigarette. He reached up without looking and found a glass ashtray on the table. He set it on his knees and let his eyes unfocus as smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling fan.

It had been a risk taking the fire escape. He might’ve dropped the boy, or seriously hurt one or both of them. But no one saw. That was the key. The alleys were dark and seedy in this neighborhood, and anyone in one at this time of night didn't want to be seen by him either. His balcony doors were wide open, live oaks swaying in a humid breeze. The sound of katydids and crickets was dulled only by occasional traffic on the street below. He exhaled smoke at his shoes. The right one had blood on the tip.

Watch him, was all Fox had said. Do not lose him. Watch him.

He would watch him. He was just afraid of how much pain this kid was going to be in when he opened his eyes.

___

As far as he could tell, it was a lot. Bo whimpered before he fully woke, a sound at once alarming and pitiful. It was unselfconscious, unawake and honest. Nick could hear the pain in it, but beyond that— fear. The sound wounded him, somewhere in his gut. He felt a call to action, but was afraid to frighten him even more.

The boy’s eyes blinked open, bleary midnight blue. Slowly, they focused. They turned on Nicky and widened. The boy sat up with alarming speed, banging his head on a table and yelping like a kicked puppy.

“Hey, heyheyhey,” Nick put his palms up. The boy was frantic, feeling for restraints, for the cuffs that had dug so deep into his wrists they were open wounds now. Finding his limbs free, he backpedalled against a wall. His chest rose and fell violently with panicked breath. He stayed there, like a rabbit in a field.

“You done?”

He was not. Nick set aside his ashtray and moved to stand up. In response the boy grabbed a cactus that sat on the floor, round and happy when the sun came in the window in the morning, and smashed it, putting a dent in the hardwood and breaking its ceramic pot so soil spilled out in a three foot radius. He picked up the most shank-like shard and held it, pointy end out, at Nick.

Nick tilted his head. “Well holy shit, Bo.”

Confusion flashed across his face when he heard his name.

“You’re way too banged up to be doing all that.” Deep down, Nick was happy. He’d been afraid Bo would be too sick to move, or all empty-eyed or something. This was better. He could deal with this. Maybe.

“Put that thing down, Bo,” he used his name again deliberately. “I don’t want to have to call Fox now, do I?”

The ceramic began to tremble. Nick felt bad for playing dirty, but he was not known for his indirectness. The boy’s split lip wobbled, but he tightened his grip on the weapon. A trickle of blood trailed down from his palm, dripping on the floor.

“You’re hurting yourself,” Nick said more gently. God, his nerves were shot. He lit another cigarette. “I don’t want you hurting yourself. Seems to me you’re already pretty hurt.”

Bo glared at him with those sharp cornflower eyes. He was listening.

They had met last week, or rather Nick had met Bo, but Bo wouldn’t remember it. They had him doped up something awful. It had been hard to watch, honestly.

“I’m Nicolas. I’m a friend of Fox.” He did not say Byron’s name. He was not trying to scare the boy. The ceramic lowered an inch. His arm must be fatiguing. And no wonder. Nick tried his luck at stepping closer, under the guise of going for another ashtray that was on a table two feet from Bo’s curly head.

He watched the tip of the cigarette like a prey animal. Nick flicked his ash and drew it away. He remembered some of the telltale circular burns. Now seemed like a good time to state his intent.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said. He sat on the edge of his couch, very close to where Bo cowering against the wall. “I don’t think it’s fair to blame you for anything that happened. I think that’s absurd.”

Shame glowed bright in his eyes before they dropped. He knew what Nick was speaking of. The reason Byron and the rest treated him the way they did. The ceramic lowered slowly to the floor, still in his fist. Nick held his cigarette between his lips and lowered, slowly, onto his knees in front of Bo. He took hold of the broken shard and Bo’s fingers uncurled, surrendering it to him. He shook all over, from his dirty, burnt feet to the tips of his hair. Nick set the shard aside. He put his cigarette out on it.

“Bo?”

Long, curling lashes lifted reluctantly. God, his neck. There wasn’t an inch of it that wasn’t abused, purple or green. His collarbone stuck out from his shirt collar like a coat hanger. It was a wonder no one had broken it.

“This is my house.” He looked around to indicate he meant the space they were in. “Which means my rules. You know that. But I want you to know this... As long as you’re in my house, I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

The exhaustion on his face alone would break your heart. You don’t have the stomach for this stuff, Nick told himself. You should go back to sales, buy some khakis.

Bo looked stricken. A bit skeptical. That was fine. Of course he was.

“Do you want a shower or something to eat first, Cinderella?” he asked softly.

Bo looked down over his filthy clothes, his dirty fingernails and the streaks blood had left in the dirt on his skin. He smelled like overripe fruit left on the vine, the preamble to decay underscored with the metallic stench of blood.

“Where is Byron?” he whispered, looking over Nicky’s shoulder like he might be standing in the kitchen.

“Not here,” Nick shook his head. “Just you and me.”

He didn’t look like he liked that a whole lot better. “I’d like to get clean,” he whispered, as if it were a shameful thing to be dirty. As if he’d done it to himself.

“Okay,” Nick agreed. He was afraid for Bo at how much the water was going to hurt all those awful wounds. “Lets get you clean then.”

-tbc

The everything bagel taglist: @finder-of-rings

#whump #hurt/comfort #abuse cw #bruises cw #blood cw #burns cw #cigarette burns cw #multiple whumpers cw #unconsciousness cw #drugging mention #smoking cw #handcuffs cw #i was gonna rewrite carlos story as a personal project but then i made new characters with very familiar tropes instead whoops

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