"You're so pretty."
Victoria's movements are soft, half formed, as though she'd not quite thought the action out before it started. She feels her ears heat up with embarrassment. It had been happening more often lately - moving before she can think clearly, as though dealing with two separate entities within herself, brain and heart. Perhaps Jennyanydots' amused diagnosis of "twitterpated" was not too far off the mark; there had certainly been enough reasoning to back it up.
Plato blinks, slow and confused, as though being pulled from a dream. And perhaps he was; he'd been staring at Victoria for the better part of an eternity, focused, but very clearly somewhere else. He did that sometimes - disappear somewhere she couldn't quite follow him, eyes hollow and dark. Victoria wishes she knew where he went; perhaps one day he'd tell her.
The staring, she couldn't fault, however; she'd been staring at him right back.
"What?" he asks, furrowing his brow.
"Pretty," Victoria signs again, submitting to having been caught, exaggerating the movement so he'd get it. Perhaps he'd been half paying attention, and only seen the tail end. "You're very pretty."
Plato wasn't much for laughing, Victoria had come to know - smiling, yes; Plato had developed such an easy smile over the year spent with them when they could coax it out of him. Laughing, on the other paw, not particularly, though he was never able to put quite into words why that was. Perhaps he was self conscious of the way it sounded; perhaps he hadn't much in regards to a sense of humour.
Be that as it may, for some reason, that affirmation plasters bewildered scrunches between his brows and his eyes practically disappear under his eyelashes. It even gets that odd, wheezing noise he'd make when particularly amused.
The queen could only be partially annoyed and a teeny bit embarassed - he was very handsome when he smiled, afterall, one fang hanging slightly lower than the other. An in consequential flaw that did nothing, Victoria thinks, flustered, than make him even prettier.
Victoria huffs. "What's funny?"
Plato tosses the motion back haphhazardly, as though brushing the thought aside. "You're funny."
"Not funny." Victoria frowns. "I'm serious."
Plato sobers immediately, smile gone as quickly as it came - it's like a candle being blown out; a night and day difference. The temperature in the clearing seems to cool as he continues to study her. There is an undeniable feeling creeping at the back of Victoria's neck that she may have mis-stepped somewhere, but all she'd said was...
She presses on, feeling an ache begin deep in her chest. She repeats herself, motions firm. "You're very pretty."
"I am not," he says after a long moment. There is an expression on his face that is difficult to read - he does not look embarrassed or pleased, even humbly so; he almost looks as though he is about to cry.
"Yes you ar-"
"You-" he points at her firmly, cutting her off, jaw set. The motion towards her is quick and harsh as a result, unsheathing his claws in the process. He startles as she does, horrified, staring at the space that has swelled between them; he is a breath away from scratching her.
"You," He points to her again after a moment, claw carefully pulled back this time. "Are very pretty. Not me. Look." He motions to the whole of himself, as though that were enough to dissuade her feelings. It only steels her resolve further.
"You look-" she insists, touching her paw pads to the delicate skin of his cheek to demonstrate. Plato flinches as though she'd hit him in retaliation; it looks to have been a struggle for him to resist moving away, but the desire is clearly there. There is fear burning in his eyes -anger and remorse and upset - like a bird trapped in a cage of teeth, waiting for its bones to snap in on themselves after the hunter had toyed with its prey.
Victoria pulls back, tangling her paws in her lap. The ache becomes a gnawing hurt. The fear in Plato's eyes burns hotter, guilt shining just beneath the surface.
"Please." Plato sets his jaw, and the fear fizzles slowly - forcibly - last of the flame suffocated. But he does not get near her again. He is gone to that place she cannot follow. "I cannot...do not lie to me."
"I am not lying," she manages, tears at the precipice of her eyelashes. The silence grows even heavier between them
"Then," he continues at last, breath hitching eyes wide and astonished, and Victoria feels ice settle at the base of her spine. After a moment, his expression dulls again. The smile on his face returns in a flash, a plaster over a wound, but it is bitter, cool. Empty. "You are being cruel? I did not think you had it in you."
31 notes
·
View notes
Duke and Danny bestie fic im co-authoring with some cool people for Patrol Partners! :D
A fic where Duke knows a lot about Gotham’s new problem, ghosts. The Waynes think the worst and assume he’s had some terrible experience with ghosts in the past (in reality is just very happy to talk about his best friends culture and doesnt realize how odd it is that he knows all this stuff)
Or
Duke is pretty much just vibing, the bats are having a meltdown, and Danny is having a blast!
—-
Then Duke pops the question
“So, what are you guys researching?” He asks raising a brow to the papers littered all over the room
Collectively the entire room groans as Duke absentmindedly picks up a paper on the table with the failed, static over-run image.
“We don't know!” Steph bemoans frustrated
Tim starts, “There are new entities–”
“Creatures.” Bruce corrects
Tim casts a piercing glance at his father, “I am pretty sure those are entities. Eye witness reports state that they look fairly human-like–”
Bruce challenges him right back, “Eye witness reports were also very likely to be unfactual, they seemed partially intoxicated. It’s more likely they are some kind of mutated animal.”
His son’s teeth grit, “Even so we still can’t rule out–”
“Oh right, the ghosts are back in town,” Duke's comments, gaze absorbed in the static image
Silence drowns the room as their weary eyes blink at Duke, processing what he had just said.
Then it clicks
“R-repeat that?” Tim stares intensely at Duke
“Um, the ghosts are back? That's what these are.” Duke nervously replies confused, “It’s been a bit since they visited Gotham
Tim opens and closes his mouth, immensely struggling to find any words to say. It seems like the rest of his family is fairing no better, some of them letting out noises of surprise and shock with others trying to hear if they heard that sentence right.
“There used to be ghosts in Gotham?” Bruce says incredulously
“Yeah?” Duke tilts his head, “I mean they don’t like living here with the corrupt ectoplasm but I’m friends with a few ghosts?”
Jason springs on him with wide eyes, “What are ghosts like, personality-wise?”
Duke thinks and responds with the first thought that comes to mind, “Fickle, they can be super friendly or super destructive. They do whatever they’re in the mood to.”
“Are they aggressive?”
“Sure? Sometimes?” Duke blinks at them bewildered before a petty smile crosses his lips, “They can be, hmm, commanding.”
Dicks eyes turn cold and protective, “What–”
“Listen guys,” Duke backs away from the discussion going with his internal task list in mind, “I gotta go wrap up putting together all my documents for my topic on my science fair project so uh, see-ya!”
The second youngest bounces out of the cave and the rest of the family stare dumbstruck at him.
New entities (ghosts?) pop up in Gotham + Duke describes them as fickle and commanding =
Duke is being made to do things for Ghosts who can be kind and cruel which =
= Duke is being bullied by Ghosts?!
Not on their Bat-watch!
Damian is already sharpening his ‘not murder tools’, Tim has sprung into research on the bat computer and the rest of the family have already dipped into Gotham ready to search for these perps!
Paranoid Family #1 will help Duke’s ghost problem starting now!
( pssst heres the fic :)
970 notes
·
View notes
do you have any nice headcanons to share? feeling under the weather and I really enjoy your posts. :) (you don't have to share if you don't want to, of course.)
i'm so sorry to hear you're not doing great :( i hope you feel better soon. and ty for asking - im really flattered that my posts are so enjoyable for you!!! idk if you wanted something specific, so feel free to let me know if you wanted something different!
but one nice (like opposite of sad as opposed to complimenting myself eogkgjdfkgj) headcanon i have is that all senior enchanters have a repertoire of entirely useless spells. things like, for example, the ability to create entirely harmless little creatures made of light, that glitter and sparkle -- butterflies and puppies and dragons and birds and kittens. it's useful, they argue, because it helps calm down the younger apprentices and entertain them. it's not, though, because there's other ways to do that, which means this magic has no use.
and we never really see magic that isn't for use. and i assume this is partly because of things like the in-game mechanisms (and ive been feeling out a whole host of ideas to make thedas feel more... magicky) but i also think it's a product of magic primarily being used for war and battle. (magic, after all, exists to serve man - a universal truth in thedas that seems to persist across cultures and races.) i think a lot of things that aren't useful have been carved out of regular magic practice because the idea of magic existing - without purpose, without use, but just existing, as natural as air and water - makes people extremely uncomfortable (i haven't quite decided if this is applicable to all cultures but i do think it's something to think about because i HAVEN'T seen the kind of casual magic use i'm imagining).
and so it brings me fierce joy to think about useless magic. not just in apostates who have never had to be in the circle but specifically for circle mages, who are incarcerated and told daily that the only good thing about their magic is that it's useful. and they know all these useless bits of magic - magic that doesn't cause harm or hurt, magic that isn't for healing or making someone stronger, magic that has no use for battle or war.
it's just... magic. magic cast for the sake of magic.
53 notes
·
View notes