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#sorry for the shorter chapter

abyssalzones · 9 months

Text

is that a sense of impending doom, or just the summer pollen? probably just the pollen.

anyway, i don't plan on posting full chapters like this too often but take this as a reminder to go check out Ad Astra Per Aspera on its neocities page, where it updates every Friday! In case you’re into comics about things that already exist.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #lab creations #webcomic #comics #this is so many images sorry. but i really wanted to post the whole thing since it's a shorter chapter anyway #thank you to everyone who has supported me with nice feedback so far! i really appreciate knowing other people keep up with it #and i have many plans.

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farfaras · 1 year

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I think I got an ex but I forgot him

Part 1.

Part 2. (You’re here!)

Part 3.

They came up with ground rules, boundaries were important and whatnot. However, they didn’t plan on doing this for long, so they also had to come up with a believable storyline for the future course of the relationship.

This is what they have so far:

Only Dustin knew, it would stay that way. For now.

Hugs and holding hands was okay.

Pet names that were allowed included: babe, baby, honey… and that’s about it.

This will last only one or two months to really sell it.

No kisses required.

As for the storyline. That was a little bit harder to come up with. Obviously the timeline was a no brainer. They got together two weeks after Jonathan and Nancy broke up. Jonathan tried to protest. “That makes me look bad.” “Yeah well, you dating me overall makes you look bad.” “Makes you look weird, then.” “Whatever.” But they didn’t have too many options, it was that or the literal last week. And call them paranoid, but Steve thinks Dustin would see through that.

When that was out of the way, they planned the way their (fake) relationship would go wrong. “Maybe I realized I was a rebound.” “Do you want Dustin to hate me?”

At the end, what they agreed on wasn’t even that far off. They came up with phases they had to complete. Hopefully they would be able to showcase that Jonathan started dating Steve because he was supposedly just lonely and needed someone, he didn’t realize what he was doing and didn’t mean to hurt Steve. They would say they talked it out and decided to stay friends because that would be for the best. No hard feelings.

Phase one. Jonathan being an attentive and affectionate boyfriend. Steve gushing about it to Dustin.

Phase two. Jonathan spends less time with Steve. Steve starts saying he misses him now and again.

Phase three. Jonathan acts distant. Steve is freaking out.

Phase four and final. Jonathan realizes his mistake and ends things.

It was almost foolproof! And they only had to really fake in front of one person, so it shouldn’t be that hard. Steve didn’t want Jonathan to come out just because Steve needed a favor. This seemed like the best way to do it.

They were hanging out in Jonathan’s room, everything was set and all they needed to do now was act like a couple in front of Dustin and stand a little closer when they were in bigger groups if Dustin was there.

Easy.

But for another day. All they wanted to do right now was just chill.

Steve heard someone knocking on the front door. It was incessant and loud. They wanted to have a chill night but whoever was there, was starting to get annoying.

“Aren’t you gonna…?” Steve pointed to the direction the sound was coming from. “Are you gonna get the door? Are you expecting someone?”

“Nah, ‘s probably a salesman or something. They’re annoying but they’ll be gone soon.” Jonathan muttered, and he really didn’t seem at all bothered by the persisting knocking.

They heard Will come out of his room. “Seriously!” Teenage irritation and disdain. Classic. Looks like he’s gonna get the door.

As soon as the door opened, they heard a familiar voice. What was Dustin doing here?! Was he here to ask Jonathan about Steve? If that’s the case thank god Steve got to Jonathan before Dustin. This kid is something else.

“Is Jonathan here?”

“Wha- he’s in his room. Why?”

“I need to talk to him for a bit. Alone.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Just- I’ll go to your room later.”

Oh Dustin really is here to talk to Jonathan.

Steve jumped in the bed and turned to Jonathan. “Quick. Cuddle me.”

Confusion was all over Jon’s face. “Huh?”

“Dustin is coming, just do it!” He whispered.

“Ugh. Harrington.” Complained Jon.

“That’s babe to you. And you said hugs were fine. Cuddles are just long hugs, come on.” Steve laid in the bed next to Jonathan.

Jonathan turned him so he could spoon him. Steve has never been the little spoon before, but it was kinda nice. They were settling when they heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?” Asked Jon.

“Dustin, can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

When he opened the door his eyes looked like saucers. “Oh my god, it’s true.”

Steve just raised an eyebrow at his antics. He closed the door and sat down in the chair by the desk. “You guys are actually dating.” Dustin whispered-yelled.

“What? You didn’t believe me?”

“I’m a scientist! I need proof to believe stuff!”

Steve and Jonathan got up and sat down by the edge of the bed. They were pressed together, thighs and shoulders touching. Jonathan took his hand and laced their fingers together. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you?” Jonathan asked. He’s a better actor than he thought, he looks protective. Although this is another coming out for him, Steve thinks he’s handling it really well.

“No, no! I already told Steve I don’t care. I just kinda had to confirm it because… well I kinda want to talk about something.” Suddenly Dustin looked wary, hesitant to continue.

“Okay?” This was unexpected. Both Dustin being here and the imminent serious conversation he wanted to have based on his expression alone.

The teen took a deep breath. “First of all I wanted to ask you guys something.” He looked at them expectantly, as if asking for permission to continue. Which was so bizarre because this kid says everything and anything that goes through his mind. Steve nodded. “Are you planning on, you know, telling our friends? The party?” Why would he want to know that?

“Um.” Steve glanced at his fake boyfriend. “No, not really. At least not for a while” Jonathan just nodded at what he said.

“I think you should do it.”

“Huh?” Jonathan paled. Steve understood, that was a big thing. And sure Dustin didn’t seem to be taking it lightly but he still doesn’t understand what something like that can feel like.

“Dustin, I don’t think you get to have an opinion on that.” Steve tried to sound firm.

“No, I know just. I think it might be a good thing. Listen, maybe you’re aware of this or maybe you aren’t.” Dustin leaned in as if he was gonna share a secret. “Someone in our party is having a hard time with their… sexuality. At least I think so. I think seeing a happy gay couple could be good for them. To show that there’s hope or some shit.” He was almost eloquent, if it wasn’t for that slip at the end.

The supposed couple looked at each other, processing what the younger boy just said to them. Steve doesn’t know if Jonathan is out to Will, or vice versa. Steve is not dumb, he sees the way Will looks at Mike sometimes. It was the same way his brother looked at Nancy. It had to be hard, being so young and feeling so alone. Will had to be the person Dustin was talking about, right? The only other gay friend Steve knows they have is Robin, and Dustin has no idea she’s gay if we take into account that he wanted to set her up with Steve not long ago.

“We’ll think about it.” Steve heard Jon say. He was surprised, it looked like Jon was considering it.

“I can assure you our friends will be okay with it. And seeing that might encourage this person to come out! I really think they need the support and I wanna give it to them but I don’t know how.” Gosh. He looked so pained about not being able to comfort Will. Dustin is a really good friend.

“As Jon said, we’ll think about it.”

“O-okay. Thanks.” Dustin got up and exited the room, presumably to go to Will’s.

When they were sure he was in another room they separated and inhaled deeply.

“What do you think?” Steve asked.

“I hadn’t… thought about that.” His hands were in his lap and he looked at the door. “I’m gonna assume you know who he was talking about.”

“I’ve… had my suspicions.” Steve ventured. “Will has been looking sad lately.”

“Yeah. Maybe Dustin’s right. Could be a good thing.” He still looked a bit nervous about the whole idea.

“We don’t have to though.”

“I think we should.”

“Really?” Steve didn’t want to pressure Jon, but he also thought it would be good for Will. That kid needs support but he needs to feel comfortable enough to ask for it. No one knows how he would react if they just dumped on him the information that he’s not as subtle as he thinks.

“Yeah. How hard can it be? Same plan just, more people are gonna know.” Jon smiled. “And Will might feel better. I’d do anything for him.” Will was lucky to have such a caring brother.

Steve grinned mischievously. “We might have to revisit the kissing rule, though.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes and smacked him with his pillow.

———

This is a bit shorter than the last one, sorry about that.

I think I might post a chapter once a week.

Also, the tag list is getting really long! I don’t know if I’ll be adding more to the list.

Thanks for reading. Ps. Eddie might finally be in the next chapter. Watch out.

#I think I got an ex but I forgot him #stranger things 4 #stranger things #st4 #steve harrington #jonathan byers #dustin henderson #will byers #steddie #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eventually hehe #platonic steve x jonathan #mer writes sometimes #my fics #hi sorry this shorter!!#the fun REALLY starts next chapter I promise #thanks for being patient

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quillkiller · 6 months

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i wanna make you drive all night (just because i said maybe you should come over)

bartylus, mature, wip

barty: do you think i could get away with murder?

regulus: i genuinely can’t tell if you're joking or not

barty: hot

or,

Regulus is a sheltered, angry and emotionally repressed business major. Barty is a bored and restless delinquent runaway who scams people over text since he dropped out of uni.

Regulus falls for it, forgets about it, and moves on. Until Barty texts him again.

Regulus has been a ticking time bomb for as long as he can remember, wanting nothing more than to explode and take everyone down with him.

Barty wants to let him.

#bartylus #regulus x barty #barty crouch jr #regulus black #listen the first chapters are gonna be shorter #sorry about that!!!!!#they’re getting to know each other you know how it is

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sophiethewitch1 · 1 month

Note

UwU any spoilers for the next chapter,,

I have meant to do this multiple times but keep forgetting so here's an extra long snippet in apology! It's basically the entire start of the next chapter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite passtime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but yours business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and geniune mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still wanted to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight, or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s excercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson, and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room, and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unneccesary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his tone stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Per chance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his thirst traps have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense.

#sophie speaks #sophie answers #series:www #www spoilers #i am. EMBARASSED #look i put a warning on my blog that id regularly forget things and i meant it #im sorry :/#i really wish i could fix it but like i... can not #dissociative disorder + fibro fog = never getting any shit done #but also i think im on the rise again!! i feel motivated and want to write so I'm gonna get doing that #this chapter will probably be a bit shorter but I'm uncertain #just trying to get it out really #i promise i really havent given up on www I'm too invested at this point lmao #if i do not see these bitches fucking i will be upset

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nightmarevore · 10 months

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I Get A Craving and I Wake Up For You

4/?

Start Here! | Previous | Next

Once again, Luke belongs to me, Rowan to @wonderful-bellies !

Luke and Rowan Deal with the aftermath.

Word count: 1,127

“He’s just a complicated individual.” Luke’s voice insists. He’s wrapped up in a blanket, legs curling up against him. There’s a mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of him, and the freckle-faced man scrunches his nose out of frustration.

“Luke, he swore at you. Told you to fuck off.” His neighbor replies. Oliver, his loyal friend, as always.

“He was just upset. I upset him by trying to get him to talk to me.” Luke shakes his head, insistent.

“Dude.” The annoyance that seeps through Oliver’s voice is all too obvious. “You’ve always had a terrible taste in men, what makes this guy any different?”

Luke’s nose scrunches at the last comment, and he shakes his head as his eyebrows furrow.

“I do not have a terrible taste in men!” He retorts defensively.

“Oh my god, do I need to remind you of Terry, the high school’s football Quarterback?” Oliver responds, rolling his eyes. At this, Luke’s face flushes a deep red, nearly the color of a freshly ripe tomato. His eyes are wide as he inhales sharply.

“Shut up, shut up! That was…. a different time, shut up!” The size shifter stammers, looking away and nearly laying down on the couch he sat on.

Oliver laughs at him, taking a moment to enjoy the redness in his neighbor’s face. After a moment, he clears his throat.

“Seriously, though. Why are you so insistent with him?” Oliver finally asks.

“Oh… Well… Uh… You see… He’s….” Luke pauses, sits up, and fiddles with the blanket that he’s wrapped in. “You know what a predator is? The human kind. They eat people. Need to eat people.”

“Uh huh….”

“Well, um… On that hike I said I was taking him, he… I guess he needed to eat then, so he ate me. Like, full size. He didn’t wait for me to shrink down. And, uh… We got lost. For a few hours. Almost the whole day. He… Kept me in there for a very long time, and I liked it. It was nice, it was comfortable. I’ve… been thinking about it ever since, and I haven’t been able to sleep because of it.” Luke is squeezing the fabric in his hands nervously, balling it in his fists, avoiding Oliver’s gaze. His voice is quick and gentle as he speaks, beyond anxious and more about the topic at hand. His face is red, and tears gently swell up in his eyes. “He keeps talking about how it ‘didn’t happen’ and yelling at me about it. He ate me again, this time when I was small, and it was just so nice, I finally fell asleep! But he still won’t… I dunno. I’m just being pushy, I think. I just think he needs to take care of himself, he’s gonna starve if he doesn’t eat properly.”

Oliver’s face is still as he listens to Luke’s words, taking in all of this information. Presently, he has no idea how to process any of this. Oliver is aware that predators exist, but for the roommate that Luke just so happens to be crushing on being one? On top of him being obsessed with the idea? He knows Luke. He knows that when he has his mind set on something, he’s not going to stop until he’s satisfied. He’s pushy, and it can be charming at times. It just seems like this roommate of his may not be tolerant of his stubbornness.

“He sounds like a dick, Luke.” Oliver finally responds plainly.

Luke winces at this. It’s like a hot rusty knife stabs into his middle and twists. It hurts. It burns.

“Ollie, I really don’t need to hear this right now.” Luke’s voice is pained, his eyes closed. He looks visibly upset, and it’s clear to Oliver that he went too far.

“… You're right. I’m sorry. I just don’t want him hurting you.”

“I get it.” Luke begins, his voice soft. “But I just… I dunno. I wanna make this work, y’know? He’s different. He said… He said I tasted nice. Like a cherry. There’s something really endearing about that.”

Luke sounds serious and full of emotion. He looks inspired, determined, and like nothing is going to stop him or change his mind. Oliver still thinks that this Rowan person is a dick, and he’s going to punch him if he hurts Luke, but… Oliver sighs.

“You know you’re always safe in my apartment. If you need a break from him, like now, I’m here for you.” The orange-haired man finally responds.

“Thanks, Ollie.” Luke smiles, picking his mug back up and taking a sip.

. . .

At work, Rowan’s stomach growls. He’s hungry again. Getting a couple tastes of his roommate led to being obsessed with eating him, and that’s not normal. He sits at the desk of his workspace, staring at the same cameras that cover every nook and cranny of the mall he works at. The idea alone that he has to rely on eating people makes Rowan’s skin crawl. He hates the fact that he’s a predator, and he wishes he wasn’t one. There’s a way out of this, he thinks. He just has to ride it out.

Despite it all, he imagines the flavor of Luke on his tongue. The feeling of his roommate curled up inside his belly. Letting out a breath and feeling the warm embrace of being full. Feeling like Luke belongs in there, that he should be inside him always. A subtle flutter within his core as Luke shifts inside his stomach. The giddiness it brings, the smile he felt across his lips.

Luke’s gentle, green eyes staring at him most curiously, leaving the predator with thoughts of grabbing him and shoving him down his gullet, into the darkness of his very being.

WHY didn’t pushing Luke away work? Why must he suffer like this? Should he just pack up and move away again? He can’t, not with how expensive the move was. So why is he so obsessed with the idea of holding Luke so close to him?

If… if he just… let himself eat Luke again, would that be so bad?

Rowan’s growling stomach pulls him out of his mind, and drool falls from his lips. The man wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head and furiously closing his eyes.

Of course eating Luke would be bad. He can’t force his estranged roommate into a situation like that. No matter how much it hurts. Perhaps he should simply go out into town and bribe someone to eat. It’s a lot less troublesome than eating his roommate and facing the consequences.

Rowan pinches the bridge of his nose.

This is going to be a long day.

#I Get a Craving and I Wake Up For You #size on the side #luke #rowan #sots #vore writing #vore story #mentions of vore #( not depicted but daydreamed about )#rowan continues to pine over luke #local idiot doesn't understand what a crush is #sorry for the shorter chapter!#fluff chapter #soft vore #vore mention #male pred

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britcision · 1 year

Text

Today’s chapter is dedicated to @lehana37

One day, beloveds, one day we WILL get to Sam and Dick… but not today, I was having way too much fun bullying Vlad and Bruce

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog1 @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids

Previous chapter:

First chapter:

———————

Pay Attention To Me Dammit

“Okay,” Danny sucked in a deep breath, surfacing from Jason’s suit to two deeply concerned pairs of blue eyes, “let’s get somewhere private real fast.”

Tucker snickered, helpfully extracting both him and Sam from Jason’s arms.

“I can’t fucking believe you forgot Vlad was coming,” he sighed, voice still shaking as he gave Jason a once over.

Sam, sucking in huge gasps of air, pinched his arm as she straightened.

“Oh shut up, not like you brought him up either,” she wheezed, still grinning.

“Vladdie’s gonna be fucking heartbroken,” Tucker sighed happily, shoving Danny towards a corner.

People were definitely looking. And not just the other four bats; regular guests were watching behind fans, hands, or just deadass staring.

Tim took over, catching Danny’s wrist and pulling the other boy after him. They weren’t that far off the same height.

“So, should I take it that “Vlad” being here is a good thing or a bad thing?” He asked, pulling on his best socialite smile, heading for one of the hall exits instead.

“Back room?” Jason wondered, guiding Sam and Tucker quickly after him. Tim nodded without looking back.

“They shouldn’t be busy yet. We can talk without being overheard,” he added to the other three, who obligingly sped up.

“As for your question, Vlad being here is… probably gonna end up being nothing?” Danny offered, doing his best smiles for the rich assholes they passed.

Sam kicked him in the ankle.

“Wait til we’re alone,” she said quietly, hustling Tucker along.

Unsurprisingly to Jason and Tim, the first back room already had four other people sitting in it, on two extremely plush couches, angled at right angles and facing a fireplace. Before Danny could turn to find another, Steph caught his hand and pulled him in.

“Hi, Stephanie Brown, friend of the Waynes, we’re gonna talk all about Jason’s adorable little crush on you but first, what did you need privacy for?” She asked, eyes bright with innuendo.

Danny grinned right back, already liking this one, and relaxed when Tim and Jason guided the others in and shut the door.

“Well, I guess you all being here means no one has to be found later… and the more eyes the better in this case,” he mused, looking over the other teens and young adult.

Dick waved at Tucker, grinning sarcastically.

“Danny. And Danny,” he added, nodding to Danny himself.

Sam hid a snicker behind her hand.

“That’s what you went with?” She asked Tucker, and he grinned entirely unrepentantly back.

“What, Jason said he told them who I was,” he said in his very best innocent voice.

Before they could get going, Jason raised a hand.

“I’m gonna guess there was a reason you snuck Danny in other than getting back at Sam’s parents? Vlad Masters,” he prodded, dropping to sit on one of the plush royal blue couches next to Cass.

All three Amity Parkers sobered immediately.

“Right… yeah, we should sit for this,” Tucker agreed, glancing around the room. Seating for nine was going to be tight, but… well, he may no longer be a teenager, but he was still seating-flexible.

Introductions were made as people juggled themselves around, finally ending with Cass, Jason, and Danny on one sofa, Sam, Steph, and Damian on the other, and Dick and Tim perching on windowsill or sofa arm respectively. Tucker took the floor.

Once movement stilled, Danny exchanged glances with Sam and Tucker. Maybe hoping that for once, he wouldn’t be doing the explaining?

He shoulda known better.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and didn’t lean intentionally into Jason’s side. It was good to have another halfa around, that was all.

“Sooooo… cliff’s notes? Vlad Masters is a shady billionaire who uses some seriously unethical shit to make predatory deals with other rich folks to steal their fortune. We think he’s here to cement that flashy “b”, byyyy stealing your dad’s fortune,” he explained quickly, glancing around at the Waynes and adjacents he could see.

They did not look convinced.

Tim frowned, leaning forward on his knee and steepling his fingers.

“If you have proof of that, shouldn’t someone already be looking into him?” He asked contemplatively, eyes fixed on Danny’s face.

It was. Weirdly intense.

Fighting down discomfort, Danny shrugged.

“So remember when I said deeply unethical? Think like, mind control. He’s hard to investigate.”

“You make him sound like a supervillain,” Dick noted from the windowsill.

Sam raised a pointed eyebrow at him.

“Duh, we said “billionaire”.”

“Hey,” Tim protested, leaning around Steph to frown at her, “I’m a billionaire.”

She stared him dead in the eye while Steph snickered.

“I said what I said.”

“And you’re a millionaire,” he shot back sharply, eyes narrowing.

Sam didn’t blink.

“I work at a plant nursery my parents don’t approve of and pay my own tuition. My family are millionaires; I’m not,” she said plainly.

Tim puffed up his cheeks, but let them deflate silently. Jason definitely wasn’t smirking.

Cass leaned forwards suddenly, eyes darting around the room searchingly before settling on Sam.

“Masters. Your connection?” She asked softly, the others stilling to hear her.

Both of Sam’s brows rose, but she didn’t comment at hearing the other girl’s voice for the first time. She looked to Danny instead, raising an eyebrow.

Danny blew out a huff of air, ruffling his bangs.

“So… we… well…”

“He wants to fuck Danny’s mom and adopt Danny,” Tucker said bluntly, tipping his head back to hit Danny’s knees and grinning up at him.

Danny poked him in the forehead, but didn’t refute it.

“Yeah. So he’s kinda been my problem for a while. And he’s the mayor of Amity Park now? Is he still?” He asked, looking from one to the other.

Sam shrugged.

“Think so. I haven’t heard about anyone new.”

The Waynes and co were all kind of just… staring at them. Danny gave them jazz hands.

“And now he’s heeeeeere. He probably won’t make any moves if he knows I’m around, but we should keep an eye on him around Mr Wayne anyway.”

“And we can add him to the fuckery list, along with Sam’s parents,” Tucker added with a very satisfied smile.

It drew all eyes his way, ranging from intrigued to sceptical.

“How?” Steph asked, eyes bright.

Tucker waved a hand over the room.

“Black hair. Blue eyes. For one thing, Mr Drake-Wayne is even the same height, so if he sees you from behind, he could be confused. Dick’s not far off either. And best of all,” he added while the others did quick visual comparisons, decidedly smug, “we hint that Bruce is thinking of accepting Danny as an intern. Step one of Wayne Adoption.”

Sam’s eyes lit up with evil glee.

“Oh he’d do his fucking nut if you cozied up to someone richer than him, Danny,” she gasped, hands bouncing on her lap.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Jason. Who was looking back, gears clearly turning. Seeing that he had Danny’s eye, he leaned in quickly.

“Vlad Masters would be Vlad Plasmius, yes?” He asked in a low voice. He’d scanned the database more than read in detail, but he knew the basics.

One very important basic.

Vlad was the other halfa.

And Vlad could sense other halfas. For a hot second Danny very nearly took off out of the room, ready to go find and kick Vlad’s ass and keep him far, far away from Jason.

He didn’t realise he’d clenched his fists until one of them was held in a large, hot hand. Slowly, shakily he uncurled them, checking for blood in the deep half moon crevices now dug in his palms.

Nothing. He was fine.

“Danny?” Jason asked softly, and Danny looked up to his face. There was something in his eyes, something familiar in the way they flashed a deep, sudden green when their eyes met.

Yeah, Jason’s Obsession was fucking definitely Protection, at least in part. Danny clasped his hand quickly, half worried Jason was gonna do just what he’d had to try so hard not to.

Would it have been that bad if Jason was just his friend, not his knight?

There was no way to know anymore.

Covering Jason’s hands in both of his, he gave Jason the best smile he could.

“I’m fine. But yeah, that’s him. And we… should probably also have a private word.” Because there was this sudden, very nasty little temptation curling through him.

“Would this private word have anything to do with Jason almost going full feral?” Dick asked with a studied innocence that had at least a master’s degree.

Which was when Danny noticed that the rest were all staring at them. At their clasped hands. At Jason’s still a little too green eyes.

Jason grimaced, fully aware of what they must have seen. He tamped the green down firmly, pushing against the wave of protect-protect-PROTECT the pit was damn near screaming inside him.

Wasn’t entirely sure it was only the pit.

Watching Danny tense up like that, clearly in the throes of fight or flight, pulled at something primal inside him.

Jason didn’t know who Vlad Masters was, what he looked like, what he was doing, but he was fully willing to throw him out of the building by the neck if Danny would relax even a little.

He threatens my king, something growled in the back of his mind and Jason’s hands jerked.

That was fucking new. And not fucking welcome.

He looked to Dick instead, giving him a strained smile. It was the best he could do right now.

“Yeah,” he admitted, not fully comfortable with how strained his voice sounded. How tight his throat felt.

Had the pit tried to use his mouth? Make him speak?

Just the thought made him want to puke, but he pushed that down too. He had shit to do today, and the pit wasn’t gonna ruin it.

“I told you he was helping me with the pit,” he added when Dick still looked calculatedly calm. Definitely not about to tackle him to the ground if he moved too suddenly.

Fuck Jason hoped Dick never tried. When they fought for fun, for training, sure Dick could hand him his ass six ways from Sunday. But when the green took over…

He didn’t want to hurt his brother. None of his brothers, ever again.

Except maybe a little bit psychologically.

“Fenton’s eyes changed too,” Damian said sharply, and oooh absolutely nothing in Jason liked that accusatory tone.

Not about Danny. Not about his king.

His head snapped around to glare at the youngest and knew his eyes had gone green again from the way the others recoiled. All but Sam and Danny. And Damian, suicidal little gremlin.

All but Cass, who slipped herself carefully but immovably back into his lap, hooking her feet into the backs of his knees and hands on his cheeks. Pinning him in place.

Making him look at her, not Damian.

She studied his expression intensely, her eyes saying more than even Dick could manage.

And there was a hand in his again, gently soothing across his fingers until his knuckles opened, and Cass let him look away to Danny. Doing just what Jason had done less than a minute ago.

Danny didn’t have to tell his secrets to anyone he didn’t want to. Not now, not the first time they met, not before he trusted them.

Anger-protect-not their business

And Danny smiled back, all gentle and soft, and Jason settled back, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed tensing.

Reassurance-calm-safe safe safe-trust

If Jason trusted them, Danny would too. And if that didn’t sting something right in his chest.

Danny cleared his throat, turning back to the rest of the room and giving them a slightly tighter smile.

“Yeah. I. Uh… I was exposed to the Lazarus pits? About a year before Jason was. So I know what it’s like when it gets too strong.”

Half truths at best, but close enough to be believed. To make sense.

Close enough that no one except Damian, tactless boy wonder, would ever ask.

“Only the dying can survive exposure to the pits,” the boy snapped, eyes sharp as he studied Danny in a new light.

Jason’s hands nearly clenched again, but this time Danny’s was in the way. Protecting Danny meant not crushing Danny’s hand.

Good loophole.

“The dying and the dead,” Danny agreed placidly, calm just barely tinted by amusement.

Jason closed his eyes, let himself focus on breathing in Danny’s aura.

Was that a hint of trouble-fun-plans plans mayhem?

Damian squinted at Danny for another long moment, then nodded sharply and sat back. Steph punched him.

“Damian, you can’t just go asking people if they’ve died,” she hissed in a comically loud whisper.

“It was relevant to the conversation!” Damian insisted, immediately sitting back up to defend his honour. Steph tweaked his nose and he properly growled, gearing up to tackle her.

“It was rude, Dami,” Dick coaxed gently, coming from the windowsill to the couch to scoop Damian into his arms.

The only one of them who could have done it and survived. Damian glowered up at him too, then folded his arms and scowled at the floor.

Dire retributions would surely be incoming.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Danny caused, grinning along with the others now that the tension had broken. “He just wanted to know I’m not gonna hurt Jason, right?”

All eyes turned back to Damian, who squinted suspiciously at Danny again. Jason was ready for the flare of protectiveness this time.

Danny was fine. He could handle the demon brat, even if Dick didn’t have him in hand already.

Jason didn’t want to hurt his brother.

Which caused a different, confusing flare of protectiveness because what he needed to protect Damian from was himself, and the self same flares.

He stifled a chuckle that would probably only make things worse.

Finally Damian huffed, turning away into Dick’s arms.

“Tt. Ridiculous. I only wished to be sure you spoke the truth,” he snapped, and the room resettled.

Danny raised both hands, grinning, and Cass shuffled to rest her ear over Jason’s heart.

“Okay?” She asked softly, moving her feet from his pressure points. Jason brought his other arm up and around her, squeezing gently.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” he replied just as quietly, resting his cheek in her hair.

“Well, this does also kinda simplify things,” Danny added with a chuckle, leaning back against the couch. “I can just tell all of you; Vlad’s also been ecto…. Pit contaminated. And we can sense each other, so he’s going to know Jason is too.”

That geared the bats back up, all turning back to stare at Danny. Who grinned utterly wickedly.

“So Vladdie gets to be on the rare and extremely valued double fuckery list.”

“Is he gonna try and do anything to Jason?” Steph asked sharply, posture tensing towards the door like it might open at any second.

Tucker shrugged, moving back to lean against the couch next to Danny’s legs. He’d wisely made himself scarce when there was a chance either halfa would make a break for it.

“Like Danny said, Vlad probably won’t try anything if he knows we’re around? He can’t do his mind control on Danny so he’s gotta keep it in his pants, even if he’d rather not.”

Sam brightened, catching on to where the boys were going.

“But because Vlad is like… Obsessed with Danny for being like him, there’s a chance he’ll wanna try and adopt Jason too,” she said slowly, her smile becoming full and wicked.

“And since we’re already planning to have me and Jason caught in some indelicate way to upset the Mansons,” Danny added, utterly self satisfied, “we can fry his brain thinking he can only adopt one of us.”

“And that’s after we make him play Find The Real Danny,” Tucker jumped in, grinning broadly, “because it’s not specific enough to track a single person in a busy room. Do you guys do accents?”

Tim and Dick exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Yours wouldn’t be hard,” Tim pointed out, a smirk pulling across his own face as he nodded to Danny.

“I’d like to know why we’re also fucking with the Mansons though?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Who shrugged.

“They refused to let me bring my girlfriend as a plus one. So we’re gonna ruin me for men and make them think twice next time.”

“Wait, so you’re not dating Danny?” Steph asked, proving she had been hovering during their little meet and greet.

None of the Amity Parkers seemed surprised. Not by her listening in, anyway.

Danny flushed cherry red, Tucker burst out laughing, and Sam smirked.

“Not since high school,” she said casually. Danny groped around for a throwable pillow but came up short.

For some reason, Jason felt absolutely no need to protect his king from some righteous bullying. Another fun loophole.

Must be the lack of potential stabbing.

Dick grinned suddenly, now leaning on the other arm of the couch from Tim.

“Okay, but we definitely don’t tell this part to Bruce,” he said eagerly, beckoning all the others closer. “If Jason’s job is to flirt with Sam and defile Danny, we were also here to meet Danny as Jason’s boyfriend.”

“Let Bruce think Danny’s leading you both on!” Steph finished, clapping her hands and cackling. “Oh it’s perfect!”

Sam cackled along with her, turning a much warmer smile on the other girl.

“Oh, my parents would love to trash talk Danny to him too, they’ve probably already hurried off to let him know I’m “eligible”,” she agreed with the most sarcastic air quotes Jason had ever seen.

Steph lurched immediately to her feet.

“We’re gonna miss it! Okay, so our first task is to make sure Vlad knows Danny is here, right? So he knows not to try anything on Bruce,” she added to confirm, looking between the Amity Parkers.

Danny frowned thoughtfully, touching his lower lip. Jason tried not to focus on it.

“He should know as soon as we get within proximity of each other… so probably once we’re both in the big room?”

Steph nodded sharply, turning to point to Tim.

“We need to know what he looks like. Can you get us a picture?”

Tim nodded, already tapping at his phone and rising along with Steph, the fire of planning in his eyes.

“On it. Sam and Jason need to be seen to be flirting, but Danny doesn’t have to be with them. Dick and I can wander through the crowd, keeping an eye out for Masters but keeping our faces turned away. Cass, can you help with that?”

Cass gave a thumbs up, sitting straighter and resting her head on Jason’s shoulder instead.

“Yes. Can be Dick’s eyes, signal you both.”

Tim typed a moment longer, then lowered his phone and wheeled, turning to point to Damian.

“And you should all have the photo… now. Damian, if you can get as close to Masters as you can, you can signal us too if he gets too close to Bruce or us.”

Damian nodded and glanced down at his phone, all ruffled feathers smoothing as he tucked it away and straightened his suit.

“I shall watch him for any suspicious moves. I can also run interference if he approaches Father.”

Steph nodded happily and clapped her hands, pointing both at Tucker.

“And you can join me in spying on the Mansons and recording them if they talk to Bruce, for the rest of us to enjoy later!” She declared triumphantly.

Tucker shot to his feet, grinning broadly.

“Yeah! And if they catch us we can tell them Jason and Sam are doing something, or ask if they’ve seen Danny,” he agreed, bouncing on his toes. He stuck a hand out in front of him. “Ready?”

Steph slapped her palm down on the back of his hand.

“Ready!”

The room now filled with purpose, everyone came to join Tucker, sticking their hands in in a circle, even as Damian complained about “ridiculous social rituals”.

No one else seemed to mind, tossing their hands into the air as they all whispered “BREAK!”, not wanting to be heard from the hallway.

As the room emptied, Danny hung back, catching Jason’s eye.

“So I know you’re probably not ready to talk about this,” he said softly as Sam lingered in the doorway, her back conspicuously to them, “but I just need to ask you if there was electricity involved when you died.”

Jason felt his whole body tense, less than pleasant memories rushing to the fore. Broken bones. A blade in his leg. Explosion.

No electricity.

He could see the strain on Danny’s face as his mind cleared, and shook his head.

“No. Why?” He asked warily, suddenly very concerned.

Danny made a face that did precisely nothing to lessen it, looking away.

“Because there was when I died, and Vlad knows it. And he… he can control electricity. But you’ll be fine, well, other than the usual “oh no a bad guy is shooting me with electricity”, right?”

Danny was babbling now, clearly trying to distract himself, but all Jason could see was pure, pulsing green. Before he knew he’d moved he had an arm wrapped firmly around slender shoulders, crushing Danny to his chest.

He didn’t need to be told that reminders of a ghost’s death wounds could be debilitating. He’d have known without the database. Without the catch in Danny’s voice.

“If he ever lays a fucking finger on you again I’ll fucking kill him,” he growled, his voice coming out almost as low as his helmet modulator.

Danny stiffened for just a moment in his grasp, then relaxed against him.

“I mean, I can handle myself,” he protested weakly, voice somewhat muffled in Jason’s jacket, “but I’m not gonna fight you on that one, Jay.”

It soothed something inside him, something hot in the center of his chest that burned at just the thought of anyone hurting the man in his arms.

Attacking him. Using the pain and trauma of his death against him. Attacking his king.

A gentle hand soothed up and down his spine.

Safe-protected-I’m okay-safe

It took a minute before Jason could bring himself to let go, smiling sheepishly down at Danny.

“Sorry. Guess I’m… uh, not used to dealing with anything other than rage from the pit,” he explained weakly.

It felt stupid, comparing something as soft as the urge to protect to those bloodthirsty rampages. That didn’t make it any less true.

Danny shrugged, rolling out his shoulders and grinning up at him.

“Hey, like I said. Shoulda seen me when I first changed. Anyway, shall we go make Vlad’s night a living hell?” He asked wickedly, a cheeky smile on his face.

Jason nodded and made for the door, giving Sam a small smile of appreciation. She looked between the two of them and snickered.

“Yeah, rumpling you both up in a closet’s gonna be easy breezy,” she said lazily, pushing the door open again. “You should trade ties.”

Danny’s hand flew to his throat and he chuckled softly, then shook both of his hands out.

“Okay… time to go make sure Vladdie knows I’m around,” he sighed, cracking his neck. Like he was limbering up for a fight?

Jason cocked a brow, taking Sam’s arm.

“What are you gonna do?” He asked as they moved out into the hall, back towards the ballroom.

Danny shot him a quick grin.

“Expand my aura to cover the whole room. He’ll know I’m flexing, and he won’t be able to miss it. Should help confuse him about Tim and Dick too, since the whole place is gonna feel like me,” he added, and Jason grinned.

Alright, that was gonna be a useful trick. Time to see that famous Ghost King aura put to the test.

He wasn’t really expecting to feel a change really. He was close enough that Danny’s aura was still brushing gently over his, soothing the pit that he was right there.

Ready and close if Jason needed to protect him.

And then Danny’s brows furrowed for a moment, he flexed his shoulders back, and Jason was surrounded in pulsing waves of DANNY-DANNY-DANNY.

He didn’t know he’d stumbled until Sam caught him, her hand small on his chest right over the thudding pulse of his heart.

He barely felt her touch. All he could see, all he could hear, all he could feel was the raw power surging out of the man beside him.

Feeling Frostbite in the Far Frozen had been overwhelming. This… this rewrote the beat of his heart, crawled with his breath into his lungs, curled around every deep and intimate part of himself.

It made him feel tiny and delicate, swept up and held off his feet by Danny’s sheer presence. Crowded and pushed up against the wall, held in place, and Danny wasn’t even fucking trying.

Everything was right in the world. His King was here. The pit fucking sang in his veins.

Aaaand Jason hadn’t been this hard in dress pants since he’d been an excitable teenager who couldn’t help it. Eyes closing, he swayed back against the hallway wall.

He could just barely feel Sam’s hand still on his chest, a grounding point as he sucked in deep breaths. Heard her snicker as the ringing in his ears began to die down.

“You’re getting better at that, Danny,” she noted, and Jason hissed.

This could have been worse? More? How?

And then Danny’s hand was at his shoulder too and he didn’t need to open his eyes to know it. Knew the touch, the feel, the way the pit surged warmth to the spot.

Heard Danny’s soft voice as though it were being broadcast straight into his head.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly, and Jason honestly wasn’t sure.

Think about Bruce’s old underwear commercials. Jane Austen novels. Alfred’s expression if Jason ruined his good pants this fucking early into a party.

Later, maybe, it’d give a flare of authenticity but Danny almost certainly wouldn’t be down.

Danny. There was someone here who wanted to hurt Danny.

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in another deep breath. It was still redolent of Danny’s aura, still cupping him on every side, but he had a purpose now. A job to do.

He managed a slightly strained smile.

“‘M fine. It’s just a shock.” He cleared his throat, reaching down to tug at the front of his trousers as subtly as he could. “Is, uh… is it always like that?”

Danny looked confused for a moment, still concerned, but it was easier to miss the pulsing beat of his emotions now. Easier to focus.

He’d protect Danny’s feelings too, but he couldn’t do that if he was overwhelmed.

Who knew he’d be this into feeling like he was drowning in someone?

Finally Danny shrugged, glancing out towards the ballroom.

“I wouldn’t know… it doesn’t feel all that different to me. Just like everyone in the room is now inside my personal space,” he added, pulling a face.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, wondering how the hell he was going to ask. If he even wanted to mention the effects it had had - was still having, cleaning guns, Alfred in lace, Vlad was still here.

Nope.

Just. Nope. Not opening that can of worms today.

If Danny didn’t know that just feeling him all around him like that was gonna send Jason to horny jail, Jason was just never gonna tell him. And if Vlad had an even similar reaction, Jason would double kick his ass.

Hauling himself away from the wall, Jason cleared his throat again and fixed his jacket.

“Alright… I’m good. Shall we?” He asked Sam, offering her his arm this time. She gave him a quick up and down, raised a brow, but didn’t comment.

“Sure you are,” she chuckled softly, taking his arm with a reluctant half smile, turning back to Danny. “Are you gonna stick close, or do you wanna recon Vlad?”

Danny considered it for a moment, moving with them as they returned to the hall. Then he shrugged.

“I might go take a peek, but if I see your parents I’ll third wheel back on over. You guys should go mosey,” he added, waving a hand quickly.

Jason nodded, tucking Sam closer, turned back to the room, and… froze. Sam, utterly unaffected, made it a couple steps forward before she noticed and turned back, frowning.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked in a low whisper, eyes flicking around them.

Good fucking question.

Jason closed his eyes, sucking in a slow breath and trying to work out what had shot down his spine like cold water. Brows furrowed, he tried to will his feet to move.

Took a step backwards and opened his eyes again, frowning back at Sam.

“Alright, I didn’t mean to do that,” he hissed, head turning automatically… to where Danny had taken a couple of steps away.

Green surged below his skin, asking what the fuck he thought he was doing. Abandoning his post. Leaving his king.

There was someone here who’d hurt him, who’d used his fucking death against him, and Jason was gonna what? Not be close enough to break his fingers for thinking it?

Eyes closed for a moment, Jason weighed the odds he could just push this down and keep going. Felt Sam tuck closer. They did have a whole ass plan…

Felt a sudden wash of concern-what’s wrong-protect from the surrounding warmth of Danny.

And sighed, shaking his head, pulling Sam with him after Danny. With each step the green sung, a deep satisfaction not his own rising inside.

He gave Danny a sheepish smile and a shrug.

“I don’t think I can leave you alone. Not if he’s here,” he added a little more quietly, well aware they were being watched once again.

Confusion flashed across Danny’s face for a moment, then he groaned and slapped himself in the forehead.

“Fucking Clockwork… alright, we stick together. Tim and Dick will have plenty of fun with Vlad anyway,” he said, grin slowly spreading again as he tucked himself in to Sam’s other side.

“And we can have more fun with my parents,” Sam pointed out innocently, scanning the crowd around them. Shot them both a sidelong glance each, half smirking. “And I get two lots of cute arm candy.”

Danny and Jason turned automatically to look each other over, Jason’s grin broadening as Danny’s cheeks flushed.

Dick had said he looked a treat in this suit. Must have been right about something.

Suddenly Danny’s aura was all very studious and concentrated nothing to see here.

Jason bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing, letting his eyes trail a little slower over his king’s frame.

Wherever Danny had gotten his suit from, they knew a thing or two about tailoring. It fit him well, emphasising the lean lines of his legs and torso. Didn’t quite square off his shoulders.

Jason still hadn’t had much practice with projecting his own emotions back, but he had the feeling his… appreciation got through when Danny’s blush darkened.

Grinning down at Sam, Jason patted her hand.

“Only if my code name’s Gummy Bear.”

A startled laugh from Danny was the reaction he’d been going for. Sam’s sudden, utterly wicked smile was a lot more concerning.

“Alright. Danny’s is gonna be Jawbreaker,” she decided, her gaze darting briefly down to Jason’s lips as she smirked.

Jason looked away quickly, his own cheeks uncomfortably warm as Danny choked.

***

Vlad Masters smiled to himself as he moved through the crowd, a shark among minnows. Their vacuous chatter was a soothing background noise; practically already the emptying of their pocket books.

Oh, he didn’t like to come to Gotham, not with that Bat that flapped around. The Bat didn’t like metas, or people who could do just a little more than curl up and die.

But, well, this had been an opportunity just too sweet to pass up.

He could dip his toes in Daniel’s new haunt, remind the boy that he’d never be too far away if he needed him. He could get a look at this son of Bruce Wayne’s, that had died and come back.

And just maybe he’d get a claw into Wayne Enterprises, and get a look at some of their latest technology for his own… uses.

Yes, Vlad was feeling productive just being here, even if he did have to keep his ghostly abilities on lock.

He drifted through the crowd, joining conversations, sniffing out weaknesses, moving on. Oh, some of these wealthy types thought they were hunters too, he could see it in their eyes.

He’d made his fortune by taking from those types of men and letting them see what true power looked like. It was much more satisfying to break a man who thought he was unbreakable.

Bruce Wayne wasn’t one of that type, but he had something that Vlad wanted. Still, the man seemed vacuous enough, all laughing and drink and flirting.

He’d handed control of his company to his teenaged son (and oh Vlad was a little jealous of him for thinking of that move… if only Daniel was more… pliable).

But Vlad could see himself letting Brucie keep at least some of his assets. The man was entertaining, and it’d show Daniel he’d listened.

He could change. In ways that weren’t too… inconvenient for him.

And then he’d have a shield in Gotham, and Wayne could deal with that meddlesome Bat, and he could pay Daniel a visit.

He’d just caught sight of his true quarry, standing in a small circle of fawning admirers when the felt the Presence flood the room.

It sent a shiver up his spine and he locked his knees, refusing to let any weakness show as the air filled with the heavy static of Daniel.

So the boy was here? Interesting. He’d have a chance to see his Little Badger even before he left the party.

He had seen the Mansons on the guest list and he had to wonder if the lad had finally gotten closer to his little goth friend. Close enough to be a plus one?

The elder Mansons would surely hate that, and make that hatred known. Unless Vlad were to… step in. Save the boy from their judgemental stares.

Remind them that Daniel may not be from a wealthy family, but he was still connected to the Masters name.

Yes, this was wonderfully good news and Vlad felt almost chipper, a spring in his step as he advanced on Wayne. Oh, the boy was flaring off, showing Vlad he had some power too, but Vlad wasn’t here to fight.

All he needed was to set up one simple meeting between himself and Wayne, and then all of tonight could be for his Little Badger. Imagine, Vlad Masters having the chance to play the hero.

He was most definitely looking forward to it. And ah yes, here they were, the Mansons already at Bruce Wayne’s elbow, chattering away.

Everything really was coming up Vlad.

Bruce had met the Mansons before of course, at other charity events across the country. They were… well, pretty much exactly the type of nouveau riche he kept his children away from at all costs.

Never impolitely, of course. Never letting on how their false smiles and honeyed lies made his gut squirm in distaste. He was always cordial, and could safely rely on the effect his smile had on both of the couple.

But they weren’t what you’d call close, even in gala circles, so it was something of a surprise when they sought him out.

“Ah, Brucie! There you are, good to see you,” the husband, Jeremy, called jovially as they approached, clapping him on the back.

Bruce gave them one of his better Brucie smiles, returning the gesture with a calculated firmness.

“Jeremy! Wonderful to see you,” he greeted them both exuberantly, eyes discretely scanning both to try and work out what they wanted. They always wanted something.

The wife, Pamela his mental rolodex said, simpered up at him, clutching at her husband’s arm.

“Of course we were simply delighted to hear that your son was found, we couldn’t possibly miss the party!” She gushed, letting her hand flutter over his. “You know, our Samantha is about the same age.”

Ah.

Well, that was a first. For Jason, anyway; Tim and Damian both had plenty of parents hopefully thrusting their children his way. Even Dick was subject to occasional propositions.

Jason had barely been his long enough to be considered eligible when he’d… well.

Bruce would mention it to Dick later, so his eldest could tease Jason about this latest milestone. Best not broach the subject himself.

He cranked the wattage on his smile down a little, looking carefully behind the couple.

“Yes, I believe I’ve met Samantha before,” he said genially, mind scanning through his gala notes.

Samantha Manson. Usually seen in elaborate pink and frilly gowns, always seen utterly despising them. Quiet, rebellious eyes.

At least Jason might find someone tolerable to talk to.

“Is she here tonight?” He finished, like he hadn’t personally memorised the guest list.

Pamela and Jeremy Manson. Samantha Manson. And plus one.

Plus one? Clearly someone the parents found less agreeable than Jason, and Bruce couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor kid.

Jeremy was already nodding cheerfully, a sparkle in those eyes that put Bruce on edge.

“Oh yes, she’s off talking to your boy right now in fact,” he said with a very self satisfied chuckle, shooting Bruce a knowing look. “I think they quite hit it off.”

“Poor Jason was just telling us how few friends he has his own age, and of course Samantha would much prefer his company than being stuck with her parents,” Pamela trilled, giving Bruce a knowing look of her own, about three shades smuttier than her husband’s.

He could very, very easily believe that, even with as little time as he’d spent with the elder Mansons. Still, best not let them get their hopes up.

“How lovely! I’m sure Jason will keep her well entertained, he has his own plus one for the evening and he does thrive with an audience.”

He’d been expecting them to dim a little at the mention of a plus one, and if not maybe to delicately hint that the current partner was male.

Bruce might not personally know how serious Jason was in this new relationship, but he’d have his son’s back against any of the gala harpies.

He was not expecting them both to beam even brighter.

“Why, that’s the best thing!” Pamela beamed, clapping her hands. “His plus one, Tucker Foley, is Samantha’s very best friend! They’ve been close since high school, very close,” she added proudly, like she’d curated the friendship herself.

Bruce was beginning to think he’d have to mention he knew Samantha also had a plus one when Jeremy nodded happily.

“And of course Samantha brought along her other friend, Daniel from home too, so we were quite concerned the boys might run off together and leave our little girl on her lonesome, but your Jason really took a shine to her!”

Something sharpened in Bruce’s spine, catching at his attention.

“Daniel?” He asked, innocently as he could, and spotted Steph and a young Black man heading their way. Certainly she’d hang back to get more information. “Would I know him?”

Pamela’s face scrunched for a moment before smoothing back into a perfect, empty smile.

“Oh, I very much doubt it. The boy is from a rather disreputable family I’m afraid, very bad influences, but our Samantha has never shied from offering her hand in friendship.”

Bruce took a moment to compare this sentence to the young woman he remembered, barely covering seething resentment under a very similar empty smile.

Friendship. Yes, he could see her offering that to literally anyone her parents disapproved of.

But if this was the same “Danny” Jason was getting involved with, it was his fatherly duty to learn what he could.

He schooled his face to his best politely interested morbid fascination.

“Oh? Please tell me more.”

Steph and Tucker sped up as they caught sight of Bruce, Steph leaning in to whisper,

“Are those the Mansons talking to him?”

Tucker nodded, slipping around to the other side of her for partial cover.

“Yeah, that’s them… wonder what they’re saying, he looks so concerned,” he whispered back, and Steph snickered.

“That’s his “your problems are so fascinating tell me everything” face,” she explained quietly, turning to plant her back to the nearest small table.

This one held a small crystal sculpture that was probably supposed to symbolize something, but she wasn’t gonna look twice. Instead she slipped her phone out of a discrete pocket and hit record.

Tucker took a moment to admire the new tech, leaning around her with an intrigued smile.

“Oh, is that the new WayneTech phone? Can I see?” He asked, brightening up.

Steph grinned and shook her head, carefully angling it to point at Bruce and the Mansons without making it look intentional.

“Not the newest release, but the one before. Tim lost a bet so he had to give me some free upgrades,” she added when Tucker looked confused.

“But aren’t you one of the Waynes? Why would you be a release behind?” He sounded honestly dumbfounded and Steph hid a snicker.

He sounded like Tim every time she turned down one of Bruce’s toys.

“I’m really just a family friend, and I don’t wanna have to get a whole new phone every time Tim or his nerd team has a new idea. You can look later, I wanna catch what they’re saying,” she hissed and he reluctantly quieted, still looking at her like she was crazy.

Yeah.

Tim 2.0. She was gonna have to text Connor later.

Tuck pulled his PDA out and she half expected him to start recording too, but instead he pulled up a handy decoy screen so he could pretend to be showing her something.

And…

Tapped into the video currently being recorded on her phone. She raised a brow and he grinned back, tapping a few buttons and boosting the volume.

“There are some advantages to upgrading your tech,” he said smugly and pulled out a pair of earbuds, offering her one.

They pulled them out about five minutes later.

Steph clapped her hand over her mouth, fighting down giggles as she dropped the earbud into Tucker’s hand.

“Holy fucking shit to people still actually talk like that?” She hissed between her teeth. Tucker, also fighting laughter, stuffed the headphones back into a pocket.

“Yeah, honestly? My mom loves Saturday morning soaps and even she’d call that overplayed,” he snickered, shaking her head.

“You’d think Danny ate their fucking cat, what the hell happened there?” Steph asked, lips pressing tightly shut on another laugh as she made awkward eye contact with some passing guests.

“Honestly? Nothing, they just don’t like his parents, and that makes Danny a “hoodlum”,” Tucker rolled his eyes and grinned, flipping his PDA to a different channel, and then suddenly flipping back. “Aaaaand shit, that’s Vlad. This is gonna be good.”

Steph pulled the PDA quickly from his hands as he lunged back into a pocket.

“Quick, get them back, there is no way I’m missing this!”

Vlad couldn’t say he was honestly surprised to walk in on the Mansons telling some outlandish story that was almost all sly innuendo. It was why Pamela came to these parties after all.

What was surprising was the way Wayne’s face grew more and more serious as she spoke, painting a picture of Daniel as some kind of delinquent thug.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t an entirely inaccurate picture of the boy on his worse days, but hardly represented his best.

And if he reached into just a hint of ghostly stealth to come up behind her, well, watching Pamela Manson startle as he cut in with a well placed greeting was more than worth it.

“My, that does sound like a fascinating story Pamela! And you say this was young Daniel?” He asked, watching with satisfaction as both Mansons spun to stare.

“Brucie” gave him a sharp, almost assessing look too, much more thoughtful than he usually bothered with. Interesting.

Pamela brightened when she recognized him, beckoning him in.

“Oh, yes! Vlad, do join us, I was just telling Brucie here about some of those silly ghost adventures Daniel would pull Samantha into in high school!” She clearly expected him to join in.

Ah, but today Vlad’s role was to be Daniel’s hero, not Phantom’s nemesis. And maybe to see just what had managed to rub two brain cells together in Wayne’s famously amicable head.

He gave her a fond smile, nodding in greeting to the men and taking his place in their circle.

“Why, Pamela, I do hope you’re not disparaging my godson before Mr Wayne even has a chance to say hello?” It was a calculated guess, but honestly.

However Daniel got into this party (and he would put money on his dear goth friend Sam herself), he wouldn’t be introduced to the man holding the purse strings.

From the corner of his eye he also caught a very familiar red beret, and his brow quirked slightly.

Daniel, Sam, and Tucker Foley, all in one place. They must have heard he’d be coming.

How… adorable.

His smile spread as Pamela’s faded, even as Brucie turned to offer him a hand and a warm smile.

“Mr Masters, yes? I believe we’ve met at a few of these before,” the man said, all charm and sunshine.

Vlad shook the offered hand firmly, resisting the urge to just poke directly into his mind.

Tucker was listening. Best give him something interesting to report.

“Yes, I wasn’t aware you knew the Mansons too? One of our finest families in Amity Park,” he purred, giving them both an almost predatory smile.

Jeremy puffed up under it like it was actual praise, but Pamela was still watching him curiously.

“Oh yes, we’re going to be quite close,” she said airily, giving Brucie a secretive smile.

The man didn’t quite return it, the same friendly, open smile not changing in the slightest.

More interesting still.

“And perhaps you and I will be getting closer too, Vlad. Can I call you Vlad?” He asked, and Vlad’s smile widened.

“Of course. Is there something I should know?” He asked, half teasing.

Brucie’s expression flickered almost too fast to see. Something like actual thought under that big soft smile.

“It seems that my son Jason has been spending time with young Samantha and Daniel,” he explained, still sounding just the same cheery fool.

Vlad’s smile widened further, and he took a moment to reign himself in. It wouldn’t do for him to stretch too far. It could make people nervous.

“Oh, how wonderful!” He exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together. “I was hoping to congratulate him personally on his return, it is quite a rare feat!”

And if Daniel was sniffing around him, that added credence to the rumours that the boy really had died. And possibly changed.

Now, if he could just speak to the young Jason alone, see how easily he could be swayed… if the boys were already friends, perhaps he could even plead Vlad’s case to Daniel directly.

Brucie gave him a dazzling smile, gesturing to Pamela jovially.

“Well, I certainly hope so! From Mrs Manson’s stories I was beginning to worry that Jason might be falling into some rough company.”

Vlad gave the woman a smile that would have chilled if he’d had Daniel’s ice core, but instead crackled with his own electricity.

“Oh, young Daniel may be a bit rough around the edges, but there’s no more loyal boy anywhere in the country,” he assured Wayne smoothly, and noted Tucker and the blonde girl he was with breaking away.

Off to report to Daniel, then. Good.

“Really, you can judge best when you meet him yourself,” Vlad all but purred, watching them go, “after all, you yourself know all about taking young men from rough circumstances and polishing them to a shine.”

Brucie’s smile was all proud paternal joy as he looked out across the room, and for a moment Vlad wondered how many of his interminable brood had actually come.

A young man was very suddenly at Brucie’s side and even the man himself seemed to startle, but his smile only grew as he clapped the boy on the shoulder.

“And here’s one of them now! Mr and Mrs Manson, Vlad, this is my youngest son Damian.”

The boy certainly had Bruce’s jawline, and the same wide eyes the press so loved, even if the eyes themselves were green. Any other similarities would be hard to spot as the boy fixed Vlad with a glare that could have been Daniel’s.

“Good evening,” he said curtly, and Vlad pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling.

“Why, such a stern young man!” Pamela cooed beside him, bending down to give her sweetest smile to the boy. Wilting just a little when he turned the glare on her.

Brucie’s hand tightened momentarily on the boy’s shoulder and his expression immediately smoothed out.

“I’m sure he’d much rather be off with his friends, but he was good enough to come tonight and support his brother,” Brucie explained cheerfully, giving Damian a proud smile.

“Wonderful to see young people who understand the importance of family,” Vlad nodded, keeping half an eye on the boy as he spoke. His eyes had narrowed just a little, probably looking for a patronizing tone.

At these kinds of parties, it’d likely be all he heard.

Still, Vlad settled in to make some idle small talk, whiling away the time until dinner. No serious business would be discussed until after the meal after all.

Perhaps he could persuade Brucie to introduce him to Jason.

It was Steph who zeroed in on Jason’s flash of white hair first, but Tucker who crashed almost directly into Danny and hissed the news.

“Vlad’s here and he’s complimenting you!”

Danny stumbled back to catch them both, staring in bewilderment.

“He’s fucking what?” He asked incredulously. Tucker nodded quickly, grabbing his elbows.

“Seriously, he basically told the Mansons to fuck off for badmouthing you,” he hissed, and now Sam was intrigued too.

“Vlad? Our Vlad? “Phantom is the greatest threat our city has ever known” Vlad?” She asked.

Danny elbowed her sharply and she rolled her eyes, but Steph definitely noted it down to ask later. Tucker nodded again, faster than before.

“Right? He’s definitely up to something.”

“Could be his new plan to win you over,” Steph added, closing the rest of the distance to tuck herself into the group.

Danny paused for a moment then grimaced and shook his head.

“Nah, it’s never that simple with Vlad. He knows I’m not gonna just hear some kind words and fall into his arms.”

Sam rolled her eyes, turning and firmly piloting their new cluster to one of the windows, out of the way of the less nosy eyes.

“Danny, it’s Vlad. He’s still convinced your mom just needs to be alone with him for five minutes to fall head over heels, no matter how many times she karate chops him.”

Which, yes, Steph was adding that to the questions list too, a smile tugging at her lips. She cut them off anyway, making pointed eye contact with Jason.

“Not that this doesn’t already sound fun, but I’m also pretty sure I just saw Selina Kyle,” she told him sweetly, and had the joy of watching him actually blue screen.

Just. Stared into space for fifteen seconds.

Then sighed and scrubbed both hands down his face.

“Of fucking course she is. Why not? Does anyone wanna call the Joker, see if he wants to join too?” He asked sarcastically, tossing both hands into the air.

Steph snickered and rose on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair, ignoring the confusion of their new friends.

“Hey, look at it this way. She’ll keep Bruce off your ass,” she offered cheerfully and Jason groaned louder, giving the window a speculative look like he was considering jumping out of it.

Tempting.

Sam leaned in, giving them both a sharp look.

“Who’s Selina Kyle?” She asked bluntly, and Steph paused for just a moment, wondering how best to put it.

How to describe the fucking disaster that was Batman and Catwoman to someone who couldn’t know either of their identities. Ah, yes, she knew.

“Bruce’s kleptomaniac ex-and-sometimes-current girlfriend. Every single conversation they have is riddled with innuendo and pussy jokes that she makes, and she’s been around since Jason was knee high.”

“So she’s got stories?” Tucker asked, eyes brightening as she twigged.

Jason turned and pointed his most menacing finger at him.

“She does not have fucking stories and you do not want to talk to her, she’ll steal the filings from your teeth,” he warned sharply.

Danny’s lips moved soundlessly for a moment and then suddenly the most wicked glee Steph had ever seen from anyone not a sibling lit his face.

“Jason… she has pixie boot stories, doesn’t she?” He asked in a low hiss, and Steph’s brows shot straight to her hairline.

Jason had only ever willingly worn pixie boots for one reason. Guess things with Danny were serious serious.

So how much had Jason told him?

From the way he was now glaring warningly at Danny, and Sam was rounding on Jason with intrigue, glee, and a complete lack of understanding, it was just Danny for now.

“We’re not talking to or about Selina,” he hissed, crowding up into Danny’s space and ooooh Steph wasn’t too worried about their mutual secret to miss that cute little blush on Danny’s cheeks.

Which also didn’t stop the man himself from grinning up at Jason, even if he did have to crane his neck back to do it.

“Does she have pictures?” He asked with a genuinely wicked glee that Steph just adored.

“Pictures of you in pixie boots?” Sam cut in, crowding up to Jason’s other side.

And now Jason’s cheeks were flushing red.

“They were in fashion at the time!” He defended weakly, and Steph had to laugh at that.

“Yeah, them and mullets,” she cackled and Jason shot her a scowl too.

“Weren’t you guys supposed to be keeping an eye on someone?” He asked sharply, changing the subject like that had ever worked.

Didn’t work on Tucker either apparently, and Steph liked that in a man as the Black guy gave Jason that pure and innocent smile.

“Yeah, Bruce and the Mansons, but that part of the show’s over. Damian’ll let us know if anything happens,” he dismissed easily, and Jason scowled.

Steph braced herself for the flare of green, especially when it had already been so close tonight, and was almost shocked when it didn’t come. When was the last time Jason had glared so much without it?

Maybe Danny did know what he was doing.

The rest of their families’ secrets notwithstanding, she decided that for the moment she had to approve.

It’d be subject to change, a bat never planned against new intel, but for now? She liked Danny. He was honest, easy going, and made her brother blush in ways she’d never seen before.

There were clearly secrets, but he’d dropped a big one on them already with his own Lazarus exposure. Secrets never lasted long in this family anyway, but Steph could wait on digging for these.

She had much more important things to do, like tease Jason mercilessly.

For now, she popped up on his other side to press a kiss to his cheek and ruffle his hair again.

“Well, I’m gonna go find Dick and let him know Selina’s around. Tucker, do you wanna find Tim? If he has you beside him Vlad’s way more likely to be confused,” she added innocently.

Like Tucker’s eyes hadn’t always lit up at the chance to hang out with Tim. She’d be offended if she hadn’t also seen the appeal.

The smirk Sam shot her meant the other girl definitely knew what she was doing, and Steph took a moment to grin back.

Yeah. Getting Sam Manson’s number before the night ended, preferably willingly. Girls gotta stick together, and mercilessly bully their mlm besties.

Tucker hesitated a moment longer, clearly also dying for pixie boot stories, but in the end his nerdery won. Surprising no one.

“Yeah, we’ll go spread the word,” he agreed dramatically, like it was all down to him. Then he pointed back at Jason, utterly unintimidated by a full mountain of muscle. “But I want pictures too!”

“No one’s getting pictures,” Jason said firmly, and Steph danced carefully out of earshot.

“I know where Alfred keeps the scrapbooks,” she called in a sing song voice, and was a little surprised not to even feel anticipation when Jason lunged at her.

Teasing him was usually a careful game, something she had to put her mind into. Watching the pit, calculating his limits, ready to fully run if he broke.

But he was so fun to tease, and it felt… yeah. Nice to wind him up like Dickie or Tim, or Bruce himself. Nice not to be prepared for a sudden attack.

It wasn’t like she’d have ever stopped if he had lashed out anyway.

Danny was good for him, for whatever reason. She shot them both finger guns, heading back for the middle of the room.

“Try not to get into anything scandalous,” she called, loud enough to turn a couple heads. Which would only help their primary, Manson related plans.

Jason flipped her off while Tucker hurried after her, chuckling to himself.

“So, scrapbooks?” He asked hopefully, and Steph shot him finger guns too.

“Not tonight, but it’s happening. We need a group chat.”

“We so fucking do.”

Bruce was not having a fun evening.

He’d been happy Jason had found a guest to bring. Over the moon, really. He needed a life outside of his crimes.

Less happy that Jason had held out on the name of his guest, only sending it when Bruce would be too busy to properly investigate, but he couldn’t exactly blame him.

Bruce knew he could be paranoid and overbearing, his kids made sure to remind him constantly. And Jason deserved privacy.

But it had quickly become clear that “Tucker Foley” and “Pit Helping Danny” were not the same person. Whoever Jason wanted to introduce them to, it wasn’t just his mystery date.

Fortunately one had led neatly to the other, the Mansons revealing the trick quite by accident. And they’d known a lot more about Real Danny too.

None of it predisposed Bruce well to the boy.

Apparently he was reckless, lazy, trouble prone, unmotivated, and a very bad influence.

It felt fucking stupid when he knew full well that Jason was a crime lord and official serial killer, but Bruce just didn’t want him to get into any more trouble.

And if this Daniel Fenton was still half the boy the Mansons knew, there was a whole other world of shady exploits he could be dragging Jason into.

Ghost hunters. Really.

Everyone knew about Amity Park’s “ghost problem”; a cheap way to drum up tourist dollars, just like Bigfoot sightings.

They’d tried calling the Justice League out more than once, but Constantine had marked it as a no fly zone. Which meant there was nothing supernatural there worth bothering with.

The regular Justice League had no time for claims of magical mayhem.

Vladimir Masters had been interesting too, both on the Amity Park perspective and in news about Danny.

As the boy’s godfather of course his opinion could be biased, but according to him Danny was a loyal, kind hearted young man. Still rough and tumble but hardly dangerous.

And he’d been right; Bruce had plenty of experience with that type of young person. He’d soon be able to tell just what this Fenton was.

But Masters could be a useful source there, both for information and potentially sympathy. He’d seemed to understand Bruce’s concerns quite well.

Perhaps after dinner he could catch up with the man again. Make some plans, a meeting somewhere a little more private, where his children wouldn’t all be listening in.

He didn’t want to give them the impression that he didn’t trust Jason to handle himself.

He was just.

Concerned.

Jason hadn’t been himself since before they’d buried him, tangled in that mess of his birth mother. He’d done terrible things, but he’d been lost.

Bruce would do all he could to help his boy find himself again, even if that meant taking a more subtle approach. He wouldn’t let Jason be taken advantage of.

Meeting with Masters would have to wait, however, because as they’d been chatting he’d caught sight of an unfortunately familiar slinky black dress.

He’d excused himself from the adults and slipped past Damian with a meaningful look, and followed her trail through the crowds.

She slipped through easily, winding between people and Bruce could easily guess just how many would be finding their pockets all the lighter for it.

He had to go a little slower, his broad shoulders making him more noticeable and kept him from her tighter squeezes, but she couldn’t avoid him forever.

For one thing, she clearly didn’t want to. He finally caught up at the foot of the stairs to the entrance, turned away from him to admire the lion statue at the base of the banister.

“Bruce,” she greeted without turning, leaning back and just knowing where he’d be. He hated being predictable, and yet… he couldn’t disappoint her.

“Selina. I didn’t realize you were coming.” He’d checked the guest list twice today, but there were always so many plus ones. He hadn’t invited her, but that’d never stopped her before.

She tipped her chin up to smile at him, hearing every unsaid word.

“And miss young Jason’s return? Why Bruce, I’ve known the boy almost as long as you have, I’m happy to see him alive and well.” It was a gentle reprimand, and for a moment he wondered if she’d expected an invitation.

If he should have asked Jason if he’d like her there. But then, which of his children had ever liked it when Selina came around?

Not least because she always broke the rules, and he always found himself letting her. Never the most important, never the one Jason broke, but…

Selina wasn’t his weakness, he didn’t have one. But she was a distraction.

He smiled back, calculated, charming. The one she liked to see in public.

“Of course. Have you seen him?” She might have valuable insights into Jason’s condition, though she’d refused to get involved since his… original return.

Not getting caught in family squabbles. He’d always liked that about her.

She hummed softly, leaning more of her weight into his chest, hand reaching up over her head to caress his chin.

“Not yet, but I’ll say hi eventually. Rumour has it he’s growing quite the harem,” she purred, and Bruce damn near choked.

Harem? Jason?!

“Oh?” Was all he managed, and even then he knew she heard the strain when he felt a low chuckle rumble through her back.

“Word has it the young Samantha Manson and her own date are both all over him. Poor boy, and his own plus one is being borrowed by half the Waynes. What have you been teaching those boys?” She teased, fingertips running just shy of his lower lip.

Definitely feeling where it puckered slightly into one of his minimal frowns. Nothing he’d heard about this “Danny” was setting him at ease.

Still, best not to let anything too real show.

“He’s always been good at making friends,” he allowed, gaze now scanning the rest of the room for his son.

Selina chuckled again, finally stepping away and turning to face him, giving him an appreciative once over.

“Now that’s a lot tamer than what I heard. I’ve heard that they’ve already bustled off to the back rooms, and reemerged en déshabillé,” she purred, and Bruce tensed.

Jason wouldn’t. Not with a stranger. Not at a gala.

True, it wasn’t on the (long, extensive) list of forbidden gala behaviours, but that was because it didn’t have to be.

Jason didn’t like following any of his other rules.

Jason was an adult. Bruce wasn’t… a fool. He was aware that quite a few of his children had grown up. And may, possibly, in an abstract way, have a sex life.

He didn’t like to fucking think about it at the best of times, but Jason? Who couldn’t control himself, who had those unpredictable rages?

No, he did not like that thought at all. His face must have set into stern lines because Selina’s hand was on his cheek again, brushing like she could smooth them out.

“Now now, Bruce. He’s twenty-two. Remember what you were like at that age?” She cooed, and that really didn’t help.

“That’s different,” he growled, keeping to the Brucie ranges with the iron control he’d prided himself on. The control Jason lacked.

Selina examined his expression for a moment longer then shook her had, patting his face just barely shy of being a slap. He caught her hand, gaze whipping round to focus on her again.

Just what she’d wanted, of course.

“Darling, you can’t stop him. You two are on rocky enough ground as it is, hmm?” She reminded him gently, voice low.

His grip tightened on her wrist, gaze flashing across her person.

“And if I searched your pockets right now, how many stolen rocks would I find on your person?” He asked equally quietly. Not changing the subject.

Just a good question.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then her lips curled into a smile and she stepped closer.

“Well if Jason’s left the back rooms free, you can search me as closely as you’d like,” she purred, pressing herself to him from shoulder to thigh.

And definitely felt him twitch in annoyance, grip tightening again. He forced himself to let go, step away, before his reactions could betray him further.

“Enough, Selina. Why are you really here?” He asked sharply, carefully balancing the line between Brucie casual and the answers he wanted.

She looked him over for a moment more then shook her head, half smiling.

“Touchy touchy. I’m here to give my best wishes to Jason, darling. Nothing more. And if some of these jumped up little pheasants find their tails a little lighter for it, I don’t think you really care, do you?” She asked rhetorically, turning away to slink back into the crowd.

Bruce considered following her. Pushing for more, working out what she really wanted.

It could wait until he’d checked the back rooms. Or found Jason. Whichever came first.

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 #dp x dc #dpxdc #dead on main shipping #danny fenton x jason todd #fun with the batkids #and vlad #vlad’s day was going so well too #i ran out of fucking text breaks 5 times pasting this over #i need to do shorter chapters ><#BUT #SOON #SOON WE BULLY DICK GRAYSON #I FORGOT THE FUCKING READMORE I AM SO SORRY

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volivolition · 1 month

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Any updates on all wip fics? and what is your ao3 username if you have one?

if you don't want to share any info, it's all good

i hope you know how hard i am YIPPEE-ing after getting this ask, I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY FIC WIPS!!!! YEAHGKJH!!!! <33 my AO3 is also volivolition, but i dont have anything posted there yet :]

TL;DR: I have 4+ WIPs im working on simultaneously: Unstoppable Force Kisses Immovable Object - A Voli/Echem enemies -> enemies with benefits -> friends with benefits -> lovers fic that started as PWP but whoops its not just smut anymore lmao? Meet the Parts that Make You - A "Kim introduced to the Skills" fic! Let's Make It (a) Home - A Skills fic showing the aftermath of the amnesia wiping out Harry's mindspace, with the Skills working together to rebuild it into a home during the Hanged Man case. Mostly domestic fluff. Swept Up in the Feeling - An Empathy-centric fic, originally an excuse to do Skill character studies. Empathy understanding each skill while they do activities together <3 (gained a plot. suddenly.)

ANYWAY!! more info, snippets and musings under the cut!

Unstoppable Forces Kisses Immovable Object Word Count: 18722 Rating: Explicit Okay, so technically this document isn't just one story. It's my catch-all "any Volistry writing goes HERE" containment zone. Like I said, this wasn't supposed to be anything big, I just wanted to write a bunch of drabbles and practice writing smut because I've never done that before. But then the drabbles started connecting to each other and Voli and Echem started falling in love without asking me and so it's like. A whole thing now lmao?

they bring me so much joy. they're so fun to write, because volition will say something so normal and echem will find some way to misconstrue it and volition will bicker and echem will flirt back and volition will sigh and they're so fucking funny to me. they just keep talking, their back-and-forth banter is so natural to write, which is why this fic is so long hkgjh

they learn to balance each other out!! i want them to be soft and witty with each other and i'll. cry about them. if you catch me at the right time i will wax poetic about their relationship but right now they're just being incoherently rotated in my brain.

anyway here's a snippet, i have so much written for this damn fic that i had trouble choosing lmao. it's like. mildly suggestive? but truly nothing blatant, just cutesy shit lmao

Meet the Parts that Make You Word Count: 3886 Rating: Mature This fic is the closest of the four to being abandoned lmao? Or at least I want to finish Swept Up before writing this one, because as it stands I feel like I can't grasp everyone's characters right without doing some character study beforehand. It might also be because I'm currently more obsessed with the Skills instead of the humans, though i still love them.

but yes! Meet the Parts that Make You is a fic after Martinaise, established relationship for KimHarry, where Kim is casually introduced to the skills over dinner, and they document their findings in Kim's notebook over the course of about a week. it's a lot of skills banter and silly moments!! harry can honestly say that every single part of him loves Kim.

here's where they're trying to show off each of their different specialties, featuring Reaction Speed and Hand/Eye Coordination who are my sillies.

Let's Make It (a) Home Word Count: 1896 Rating: Teen+ I think if I want to finish any fic first, I want it to be this one, because it really sets the scene for the rest of the universe of all my other fics. The main gist is that Perception can pull in anything that Harry's looking at into the mindspace, and once they figure this out, most of the skills go "Hey we should bring in more things so we can decorate!"

volition my friend and perpetual spoilsport :3 anyway, different skills affect the object's properties! Perception can pull things in, Interfacing can give it texture, Conceptualization can make it different colors and Reaction Speed can duplicate it. Empathy makes it so the object has the correct feelings attached to it (Dora's letter, for example) and Half Light can immediately destroy the object (Dora's letter, for example).

this fic is basically The Hanged Man case, but from the perspective of the Skills. i think it focuses on some specific skills, but maybe not all of them because I'd die if i had to give each one of them an individual chapter. maybe i'll smoosh some skills together? i love all of them and i want all of them to get some screen time, but it would wreck me lmao

i have a whole Volition scene written out and i think its so fucking gorgeous bro... i love writing. it's like... rebuilding after death, the skills have a kind of blank slate too, you know? they're learning to work together again, regaining memories, making new ones, making a home together. the way different skills need to work together to make an object in the mindspace real. I WANT THEM TO BE A HAPPY FAMILY. AUHG.

Swept Up in the Feeling Word Count: 5103 Rating: This is Mature. Except the Echem chapter. Which is Explicit.

EMPATHY MY FAVORITE SKILL. OUGH. EMPATHY. MY FRIEND. this fic is about Empathy getting roped into a bunch of shenanigans with the other skills, and goes along with it all while better understanding each of them.

so remember when i said I'd die if i had to give each one of them an individual chapter? yeah. that's because THIS is the story where i give each one of them an individual chapter.

24 chapters, one per each skill. Including, but not limited to:

Exercising with Physical Instrument!

Art time with Conceptualization!

Performance with Drama!

Listening to Encyclopedia infodump!

Reminiscing with Volition!! (THEY ARE CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS!!!)

Staying up late with Endurance

"Overstimulated Skills Support Group" with Perception

Talking about understanding people vs understanding machines with Interfacing

Talking about understanding people vs understanding specific people with Esprit de Corps

Apologizing to Composure about making their life harder with UNNECESSARY FEELINGS ("as if we don't deal with enough of our own, you bring in other people's emotions for me to hide?" "why do we always need to hide them?" "BECAUSE... :| Just because.")

A Talk with Half Light.

Y'know... with Electrochemistry (there's more to it than just that though lmao)

This fic will be the death of me, with all the skills, but I really really want to do skill character studies. I need to research their lines on Fayde and understand each of them so I can write all of them better.

This is also so I can be obsessed with each of them. Currently I have a lot of faves, but I don't care about all of them yet when i WANT TO!! i want to know each of them intrinsically!! I wrote a bit of the Endurance chapter and I didn't use to care for him very much, but then I wrote the lines

"Endurance is not tired; he can't afford to be. Not when everyone else is. He would stand before any of them, from the first intellect to the last motoric, in order to take a blow meant for someone frailer, less capable of surviving it. He will endure it instead."

and now I'm sympathetic to him. like, ough. If I understand them, then I learn to love them, and that's also why I'm writing it from Empathy's perspective! Empathy feels what other the other skills feel and does bonding activities with them with similar feelings, does that make sense? i really want to learn characterization for each of them, this fic truly is just an excuse for me to do character studies so i know all their character motivations.

BUT. it also has backstory plot now that im invested in lmao? based off of character design that i have. I STILL NEED TO POST MY SKILL REFS. RAUGH. but yeah all of my stories get too big for me really, i always bite off more than i can chew for projects like this lmao.

Other Fics: Skill Body Swap Fic! its shoved into Unstoppable Force's document for the time being, since this is mostly an excuse for Volition/Echem swap (Echem's body is ~sensitive~ if you're not used to it and i love putting voli through Situations. meanwhile Volition's body has the morale health pool in it that echem has to take care of), and ive only written that specific swap, but i think it'd be cool if i swapped EVERY SKILL.

Logic and Drama would be funny hkjgh Drama would 1) immediately slot into the new role and be extremely good at pretending nothing is wrong. What do you mean, he hasn't switched bodies with anyone? That's highly improbable. 2) love saying lies as if they were appropriate conclusions, and actual Logic would be like "That's literally wrong. Stop that."

Empathy and Composure would be interesting! Empathy's body is constantly picking up on everyone's emotions, and also is always on the brink of tears. Composure's body is not made to experience the same emotions, much less the emotions of others. Empathy's cut off from feeling and Composure is struggling not to fucking cry, poor guy.

Shivers and anyone? I just think Shivers should be small and worried about her connection to Revachol. and some other skill is just like "WHY IS THIS SO OVERWHELMING. HELLO??"

i dont know, theres a lot of ways i could go with this, i'll figure it out lmao. if anyone has suggestions for interesting/funny swaps and is even reading this far, let me know

The Sunrise Momentum. I SWEAR TO GOD IF I DONT WRITE THIS FIC. I NEED TO FUCKING WRITE THIS. Volition's vow with Harry that i cry about once per day. VOLITION IS TO HARRY AS HARRY IS TO REVACHOL. AUGH. "I will do everything in my power to keep you alive. I will keep you on this earth." my knight in lavender armor i am OBSESSED WITH YOUUUU!! *vibrates at high velocity*

okay that's about it, thanks for reading my RAMBLES!!

#inland drabbles #volta transmissions #BIG OL POST!! i love talking about my wips. i have so much to say #sorry this took a bit to compile. every time i checked word counts i added a little more to each story and had to keep updating word counts #ad infinitum forever hkgjh I JUST ADDED 500 MORE WORDS TO SWEPT UP JUST NOW WHILE UPDATING IT!! FUCK!!!#sorry this drama chapter is really fun hkjgh ANYWAY!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING!!! ASK AGAIN ANYTIME <33 #it will be shorter next time i promise. probably. lmao??#task: unstoppable force #task: meet the parts #task: let's make it a home #task: swept up

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avelnfear · 1 year

Text

Chapter Eight

Masterlist

Talia wasn’t as cold as she was made out to be. Not in the depths of her heart, anyway. She couldn’t have been with her childhood friend that had kept her company, telling her tales of the outside world and showing her ways to win fights without showing her hand. Eventually, she’d understood how special her friend was, but even before then she’d been keeping her softer demeanor hidden. It would not do to show the League of Assassins or Father that she wasn’t as cold and unbothered as an Al Ghul should be.

Her friend featured in her dreams as often as in her waking moments, although the dreams were so different from what her life was like. It showed her in a very different environment, older, with a son, Father was long dead, and she was just meeting her friend for the first time as a grown woman. It showed her the consequences of her friend knowing their history too soon from the start, and anytime she was tempted to spill the beans about what she knew it was quick to remind her. The dreams were clearly not always in order and some details were hazy, but she was grateful for the valuable information they provided.

As was inevitable, her friend had to stop visiting for a period of time due to the rules of time travel and all that. She didn’t look for them, knowing that she’d find them again when the time was right. Father never found out about her friend, although he was suspicious for a little while about what she was hiding until she threw him off the scent with a more feasible “secret” than a time traveling friend from other lives. On the outside, she shouldn’t have had the level of experience needed to lie to Father, but, on the inside, she knew how because she’d lived longer than him.

All this rushed through her head in seconds as one of her people knelt before her. She hummed lightly to let him know that she wasn’t upset, merely thoughtful, and his relaxation only proved to her that this was the right way to lead. Leading through kindness and respect rather than fear and respect. The information was so much more free this way, and the loyalty was even stronger.

“You did well Simon.” She practically purred the words as a plan with several contingencies sprung to the front of her mind. “Keep watch as you have done for so long and don’t worry about interfering just yet. Everything will work out. Report back to me when the day is set for that man’s plan, and remember Plan Ouroboros.” She nodded her dismissal, and the nod was returned as Simon retreated to his post.

Talia settled onto the ground with her legs crossed and her hands resting on her knees. She let her eyes close, extending her awareness to make sure she was still alone in the room while she descended into thought. It would not be wise to let down her guard even in her own room at the heart of a stronghold that belonged to Father. She needed to be careful, now just as much as ever and maybe even more than usual.

This situation was truly one that she could never have dreamed of, even when she’d discovered that she was not alone in her memories with the arrival of her precious child, her shining star. He’d kept it fairly under wraps, enough that no one who didn’t know what he should be acting like wouldn’t pick up on it, but she picked up on it, responding by nurturing him the slightest bit more in whatever way she could.

It’s not to say that she didn’t hope for her and her child to reunite with the friend they both knew, no, Talia had always hoped that such a situation would happen. She just didn’t think it would be so… perfect. The friend was currently away, there was no evidence of anyone else remembering anything, and she was currently in a position where taking over the League, with her friend and Plan Ouroboros to help, would go off without too many issues in most scenarios. It was absolutely wonderful, almost as wonderful as the faces of her loved ones as they realized just who she actually was and who she stood with.

That thought led her to think about Bruce, her Beloved. At first, she’d thought what they’d had was true love, but now, through the lenses of hindsight, she knew that it was true love, in a different way then her first imaginings. Bruce was her Beloved Brother, which made it a little weird when she remembered he was the Father of her precious child, but she dealt with those feelings as they came. Choosing to ignore them most of the time, like right now for instance.

Talia wondered how her other precious child was doing. It had broken her heart to have to curse him to deal with the side effect of the way she brought his mind back, but she knew it was a necessary part of his character going forward. She’d not tried to manipulate him nearly as much nor in the same direction as previously, but she still knew he’d done some heavy things that he’d surely regret, again. She hoped that one day he would see her as the maternal figure she’d hoped to be.

Her friend was going to absolutely tear Father apart, but that wouldn’t be beneficial. No, to truly make the amount of impact while maintaining the distance they wanted, she’d have to be the one to face Father. Which meant that she’d finally be able to show her friend the fruits of her labor combined with the genius of their training. It would only make the shocked faces of her loved ones even more amusing and entertaining. It would single handedly prove that she was correct to hide cameras all over the League’s bases, aside from all the obvious information gathering opportunities.

Talia was starting to grow restless, itching for a weapon in her hand or something to do, somewhere to move, but that was not what this exercise was for. She already had great self control, but there would never be any harm in making sure to hone that particular skill. Out of spite towards herself, she emptied her head of thoughts for the next two hours.

A knock at her door pulled her out of her thoughts, it appeared that it was time to go on a mission, and, judging by the breathing pattern and the depth of said breathing outside her door, it was one of Father’s minions and it was urgent. This was likely the mission to go and set up the structure that would be used to kidnap the Bats and the Birds, how amusing.

Standing and wiping any and all signs of emotion from her face, she made towards the door, this would prove to be very interesting, no matter how the cards fell.

~`~`~

Elle stared at her sleeping original, at her ma. They’d talked to Ghost Writer who’d told them that he’d do some research yet promised no results. She’d read between the lines to see that Ghost Writer just wanted a good story with plenty of suspense this time around. Danny had been mildly annoyed at the prospect of waiting, which she understood given what case they were looking for the answers to, but he hadn’t gotten too angry, meaning there must still be time or hope left. Clockwork had worked Danny till he was ready to drop, and even sleeping as much as he had didn’t fully get rid of the exhaustion.

Her thoughts were a mess because of the excitement-anxiety-happy-belonging that churned in her core due to the upcoming chance to live with Danny. She knew that she’d have to watch her behavior in order to not accidentally incriminate her beloved template to any of their precious bats, but she could, no, she would do it. Elle wanted so badly for all of them to remember, to know what all they’d been through together, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

She hoped that there wouldn’t be too many misunderstandings with her around. She’d only been speaking in Ghost Speak for a couple of years now, and it never really translated all that well into simple conversations in mortal languages. Elle had been exploring the Realms for those years, only using mortal languages again when she needed to go on missions now and then to keep Danny safe.

Putting that thought from her mind, she curled around her original once again, basking in the complete sense of safety that they were giving off. Things would be okay as long as she always had her wonderful parent to come back to. She just hoped, prayed and desired for her Pops to wake up, or his memories to at least. She wasn’t sure just how stable her original would remain without him by their side.

~`~`~

Jason had slept until just an hour before Danny returned, and he was now standing outside of their door, building up the courage to knock. He didn’t know why it was so difficult, it was just Danny after all, but something was telling him that knocking on the door would change a great many things. It seemed nonsensical at best to assume that something so simple could truly change so much, but Jason hadn’t gotten this far by ignoring his instincts.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock, only for the door to swing open and an unfamiliar girl to look up at him, blinking slightly in shock. A wide, teasing grin swept over her face as she leaned back to face further into Danny’s apartment and called out, “Ma!! Tall, Dark and Handsome is here to see you!!” Jason flushed at the words. What?!

Did Danny have a girlfriend? Who? Why hadn’t they told him beforehand? Had Danny moved or gone missing? Who was this strange girl standing in the doorway? Why did she seem to recognize him? What was the nickname for? Why-? What-? Huh-? He could swear his brain was shutting down because his vision was going all weird and he could hear a strange humming that seemed to bubble in volume.

“-ason. Jason. Jason!” He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was laying on Danny’s ridiculously comfortable couch while Danny’s face swam into view in front of him. “Can you see me, Jason? Do I need to give you the same treatment I gave Tim?”

Jason flinched at the idea of being slapped like that, it had sounded like it really hurt. “No, no, I’m… good, I think. Um.” Why was Jason fumbling on this so hard? There was no real explanation for it.

“Ma!” The word was extended teasingly from someone out of sight, the voice was gleeful and reminded Jason of the girl who’d opened the door. “Is Tin Can awake and aware yet?”

Tin Can? Wait, did she know who he was? Who was-

“Danielle Helene Rhea Nightingale, you stop teasing our guest right this instant.” Danny’s voice cracked like a whip with all the intensity of one of Alfred’s commands. He was glaring at someone behind Jason, and the fire in his eyes captivated Jason. It was so intense and so breathtaking and- he stopped the train of thought right in its tracks before it became a train wreck and got himself slapped.

“Sorry Ma.” It was the sort of dragged out apology done by someone who’d been reprimanded about this very thing far too many times. “I’ll be good.” The girl walked around the couch and into his sight, looking properly chastised.

“Why does she call you Ma?” It took a second for Jason to recognize that he was the one who asked the question. The other two were looking at each other by the time he did, having a silent conversation that Jason couldn’t understand.

Danny sighed. “We come from a place that often uses a language that doesn’t translate well into any language that I know of. It’s a small town on Earth with a lot of immigrants that taught me their language. Elle here is my adopted child, and she used only that language for a couple of years. Old habits die hard and all that. The actual translation, before you ask, is a little bit close to something like: the parental figure who primarily looks after emotional needs that is there for their child in any time they are needed. English translates that to Mother and all the variations of it due to the supposed gender roles enforced by the history of the language and other stuff like that. She also tends to call me Pa or Da as well, but she’s been calling me Ma since I agreed to let her come live with me full time now that I have a safe space.”

The girl, Elle, nodded behind Danny, affirming what they were saying. “Yeah! I might have some weird stuff that I say sometimes, but I’ll always try to elaborate if it’s brought up that there’s a misunderstanding!” She beamed at him with a massive smile that lit up the room better than the lights were.

“Oh… That makes sense. What does the language sound like?” He felt his head tilt, internally cursing the fact that he’d started to copy a couple of Danny’s mannerisms, his brothers would never let him live that down.

Elle and Danny shared another series of looks that Jason couldn’t translate. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s not very… human in nature.” Elle seemed almost, afraid? concerned? conflicted?, one of those three or maybe all about the answer she would receive.

“I gathered as much from the translation and how you two are dancing around the subject. If you don’t want to share with me, then don’t, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re someone Danny cares about, so you’re someone I care about.” He tried to smile to show more emotion than his voice was giving off, but he didn’t think it worked because Elle looked close to tears.

“It’s your decision Little Rocket, you decide. I’m not quite comfortable speaking in that language right now, so it’s all up to you.” Danny was more gentle and soft in voice and face and behavior than Jason had ever seen, and it made him fall more for him. Wait-

“Okay then, here goes!” She opened her mouth and made some sort of noise that sounded like sunlight filtering through water on a warm and sunny day mixed with the feeling of lots of clouds covering the sun while simultaneously feeling like watching the stars on a windy night while on a tall perch covered in the warm sensation of knowing where you’re going, who you’re going to, and how far you’re willing to go to get there over the rippling view of watching light bend at a molecular level all spiraling with the distinct flavour of peppermint and spearmint combined. It was an odd sound, but it wasn’t one he hated. The strange flavour was something he could do without, but the overall sound gave him an odd sense of peace-joy-mine. It was beautiful.

Looking over at Danny, Jason saw the sheer look of pride on their face, and it just made Jason fall even farther. He could admit it, to himself if no one else, that he’d fallen for his gorgeous neighbor with the wonderful fighting skills, mysterious past, good cooking skills, and the beautiful behavior around children. They were stunning, marvelous, funny, and loyal. He had always been able to feel something in his chest screaming in joy every time he was around his wonderful neighbor, but he’d ignored it before now.

~`~`~

Talia smiled darkly as she went over the plans her people had leaked to her about Father’s plan. It was wonderfully stupid, leaving her plenty of room to separate her precious child from the group to keep him away from the devastation and destruction that would surely be wrought upon the League when this plan went through. She checked the date for the kidnapping against the schedule in her mind, causing her smile to grow in darkness and size. Yes, that date would be perfect for the maximum destruction of Father’s ways.

She composed herself before turning back to Simon, who’d brought her the wonderful news. “Wait until the prisoners are with Father and you will not be missed before activating Plan Ouroboros. Alert the others. Thank you for bringing this to my attention and following my orders.” She received a simple nod as Simon headed out, but she considered that enough, knowing that her orders would be spread among all of her followers.

Turning, she walked deeper into her quarters. There was a small window of time for her to prepare everything that she would need to make Father’s devastating plan immediately backfire, but she was still confident that it would happen. All she needed to do was finally reach out to an old friend of hers as soon as Ra’s decided where he was going to imprison their loved ones. Truly, nothing could be as wonderful or exciting as this. Then again, her friend always was one prone to surprising things. Oh how interesting this was turning out to be.

~`~`~

Ra’s Al Ghul was excited. Everything was proceeding according to plan. Finally, he would have all the tools necessary to rule the world for all of eternity. All that was left was a little kidnapping, a little torture, and a little bit of breaking a civilian with wonderful connects, and he would have what was rightfully his. He couldn’t wait.

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spid3r-trans · 10 months

Text

Chapter 4 of boy kisser is up 🙂✌🏾

#fens fables #punkflower #i’m kind of working on chapter 5 but not really #this is also shorter than the others so SORRY LOL

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randomwriteronline · 8 months

Text

(As Below So Above)

When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. The pillow felt warm against his cheek; the shadows were interrupted only briefly by the glowing numbers decreeing the time to be somewhere around three in the morning.

Emmet inhaled deeply.

Of course he woke up now. Two hours and half ahead of schedule. He should just get up, get dressed, and go to the station ahead of time to get something done, since sleep was definitely not an option anymore.

Wait, no.

Free day.

Enforced by threat, too.

He would have been hurled through his own window frisbee-style.

He'd seen Briosa hurl something frisbee-style before. It had been her Cryogonal, and she'd thrown her so hard that she had gotten lodged into the wall like an ice shuriken.

He did not want to get lodged into a wall like a meat and bone shuriken.

A loud huff left him: thwarted again.

He sat up - out of habit, uselessly, because he could not go anywhere anyways.

If he began wandering around the house aimlessly he would have likely stepped on some beastie or other, promptly awakening it and every other Pokémon in the apartment, and he would have ended up being dragged over to bed again. If he turned on a light to read a book or do anything else it would have yielded the same effect and he would have ended up smothered in his own bed, which was usually fine but he wasn't in the mood for that at the moment. If he tried to grab himself a snack or a glass of something to drink his stomach would have shut itself tighter than the safe of a bank and he might have had to make an emergency detour to the bathroom to spit acid and saliva in the toilet, which would leave his body trembling and would cause everybody else a great deal of worry. If he kept sitting idly on his bed he would have lost his mind.

His hand reached out to grab his Xtransceiver; contact found, he sighed as he fell back into habit and called.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four rings.

Five rings.

Six rings.

Seven r

"Hello?" a very sleepy voice rumbled back.

The surprise made Emmet launch the device into the air.

He fumbled to grab it again before it shattered in the floor: "Ingo?" he replied quickly as his heart seemed to beat itself out of his chest.

"Yes," was the answer.

Ingo answered? Ingo answered?

"I am Emmet," he breathed.

"Uh-huh."

"Where are you?"

"Room."

Room? What the hell did he mean, room? Room of what? Hospital? Hotel? Home?

The words caught up in his throat.

He slammed the back of his free wrist against his forehead as hard as he could.

Room.

He was in the room.

His room.

The room in the house that was his.

The room specifically chosen by him to be his.

That room.

Like yesterday.

And the day before yesterday.

You dumb fuck.

How had he answered? He didn't have an Xtransceiver. No wait, he did. Yesterday. Iris and Marshal. He had panicked about the whole situation. Twice. Or thrice. Four times? No matter. Still didn't explain why he answered. He had a new number now. He'd called his old one. The one that didn't respond. It hadn't responded in years. It might still be laying broken somewhere in Sinnoh. Unless this was his old Xtransceiver, he couldn't have answered. And the chances of him somehow buying his old one again were so few it might have been just straight up impossible.

This contact already exists, he remembered just then what the warning that had appeared on the device’s display and which he had so very carelessly ignored the previous day had been about: Overwrite old number?

He shut the call and hid his face against his knees.

Dragons please devour him.

(What was WRONG with him?)

(Somebody grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him harshly and repeated, What is WRONG with you? What is it that you want? Why do you keep doing this, why do you keep doing these things? Why do you keep forgetting he's here? Did you even want him to be back? Did you ever want him to be back? To be here again? Did you want that just so you could avoid him? Like you did for everybody else? Did you just want to complete the set? Did you want to make sure all of them hated you? Worried for you? Tried to get through to you while you rot all by yourself? Did you want to make them all feel miserable? Was he the last one you needed to complete the set? To check all the boxes in this stupid game you’re having with yourself of making everything worse for everybody all the time? Is that what you wanted?)

(Somebody shook him harder and bared his teeth at him, and looked at him with the ugly face he used to see look back at him in the mirror, the face of a crying kid with too long hair haphazardly dyed black, and repeated with his voice still deepening as he would soon be reaching the end of his adolescence, What is WRONG with you?)

Somebody called him.

He picked up.

“I am Emmet,” he replied to the Xtransceiver without moving an inch, still mortified.

“Where are you?” Ingo asked.

“Room.”

“Ah. Ok. Hold on.”

End of call.

Emmet remained immoble. He didn’t even want to yell at himself anymore. What good would it have done? He was an idiot.

He had to look up eventually, however, because he heard something shuffling closer.

From where his bed was laid, he could see the entrance to the room very well; with his eyes acclimating more and more to the darkness, he consequently could make out the figure of his brother as he walked right past it with a sleepy, shambling step, a little like a dead tired Banette that has lost part of its stuffing, and disappeared.

The sound stopped after a few more seconds.

“Emmet?” Ingo called a little further down the corridor.

“Here,” he replied.

With the same slow uncertain gait, the older twin came back and smacked his whole body directly onto the doorframe.

“That’s the door,” Emmet informed him.

“Hm,” was the mostly unamused reply. He turned slightly, hands tiredly finding the rest of the structure to properly angle his body through it.

Now that he was slightly closer, the younger brother noticed his eyes were closed.

“Emmet?” Ingo called out again.

“What are you doing?” he replied, honestly confused.

“Echolocation,” the other answered. He turned his head a little in his twin’s direction.

“That’s stupid.”

“Hm. Emmet.”

“What.”

“Are you laying?”

“No.”

“Lay down.”

“Why.

“Lay down.”

“Why.”

“Just do that.”

Sighing, he laid back on the bed, face up, like he hated to do.

“Are you laying?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.”

“What’s this for?”

No answer.

Ingo finally moved again, dragging himself over to his side; then his knees hit the bed frame and he collapsed diagonally across his brother, knocking the breath out of him in the process.

“What the-” Emmet tried to protest before a limp hand slapped his mouth shut.

“Go to sleep,” his twin grumbled.

“I am Emmet. I’m not tired.”

“I am.”

“You slept four additional hours.”

“And I’m tired.”

“I’m not.”

“You will be,” the older sentenced. “Goodnight.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Good. Night.”

“Ingo-”

Whatever else he might have said was effectively coughed out of his lungs by his brother as he lifted himself up to rearrange his position and let himself fall gracelessly back on him to lay fully on him: “Sh,” he hushed him: “Nap time. Pull back your claws. Don’t poison me in your sleep. I love you. Shut up.”

Emmet did not dignify him with a verbal response.

He sulked, squashed under the weight of a whole human body, for what felt like an hour, which instead turned out to be more around a minute at best with a quick glance to the alarm he’d been convinced to turn off the previous evening. This knowledge made him even angrier.

Maybe, if he wriggled really hard and made enough of a nuisance of himself, this cumbersome warm shackle would get tired of him and get the hell off.

What he got was a suffering sigh and a hand scratching his hair.

In a very gentle way.

He stopped.

His brother hummed in the satisfied tone of a caretaker who finally managed to put some sort of cub to sleep, ear planted firmly on the left side of his ribcage, and simply passed out again.

Emmet stayed awake to stare at the ceiling.

His hands found their way on Ingo’s back on their own, fingertips brushing his spine under the pajama shirt without purpose, causing him to grimace lightly as he felt the vertebrae through the fabric - the ways they rose and fell, the gaps between them, their texture, almost. The thought made a strange vertigo-like nausea overtake him; he moved his palms to lay somewhere softer, avoiding coming into contact with as many bones as possible.

The weight didn’t bother him that much. Neither did the body heat. Or the feeling of being enveloped in a hug.

He certainly wasn’t bothered by his brother's presence - not in a way that made him want to shove him off with all of his strength and kick him out of his room in genuine fury or groaning annoyance.

Yet he kept evading him. Finding ways to go as far from him as possible, to put distance between them, only to send himself into a panic when he couldn’t find him again.

What was wrong with him?

Just the day before yesterday he’d been so eager to leave without even looking at him once. He’d tried his hardest to go a whole day without acknowledging his existence, and he’d hated himself for caving in and calling Elesa to ask her if he really was there. Then again, he’d hated himself for wanting to call Elesa in the first place, like he’d hated himself for doing so hundreds of times. Like he’d hated himself for wanting to call Cris or Astrid or their cousins or their uncle, or anybody. He couldn’t even tell what he hated more, if it was the simple desire to ask for comfort or finally managing to do so.

He didn’t have these sorts of troubles with the Depot Agents, because he reasoned he couldn’t have asked colleagues for something like that. They must have been of the same opinion, because as much as they might have been walking on eggshells around him they never offered comfort once: their concern was heavily professional, focused on anticipating any struggling request for help on the job by asking if he needed their aid or if they could do something in his stead first.

Elesa asked first too, sometimes. It was nice: he found it lessened the sting of the vitriol pouring into his own liver like poison a little bit. Other times she was the one seeking comfort, and it would have been crueler to deny it to her; others yet she simply arrived, unannounced, without asking at all, and he didn’t have a say on that.

Briosa never asked, period.

He enjoyed that. Not being asked. It spared him from having to pick between two options he would have inevitably despised himself for choosing in the end either way, simply leaving him at the mercy of whoever’s whims.

It was a nice change of pace from the anxiety and self-loathing.

He enjoyed being forced to do as he was told too. For the same reason, more or less. People (and Pokémon, of course) tended to have his best interest in mind after all. Unlike himself.

His thumb softly caressed the fabric. He could feel his brother’s chest rise and fall against his own stomach; he could hear his snores muffle against his sternum.

The reminder that this was real felt fake.

What was wrong with him?

He could see Ingo. He could feel his weight and hear his voice, he could even smell the faintest scent of cleanliness from his hair since he almost had them up his nose. If he bit his arm or licked his palm in a final attempt to gross him out so badly that he would have to finally get off of him he would have probably even tasted his presence, which he quickly realized sounded so disgusting that he gave up on the idea instantly.

Yesterday morning he’d been picked up like a pebble by the arms vaguely hugging him, and he’d hated it. He’d held his brother’s hand to drag him away from the mess and noise of the station and pressed his palm intermittently to calm down the panicked breathing he could hear through his face mask. That evening he’d gotten body slammed and yelled at with unbound enthusiasm by him, and they’d still argued about which leftovers to eat and ended up trading orders just for Ingo to regret that, as he really did not like boiled poultry.

For the whole day he’d been a real, proper, existing person; and yet he’d completely forgotten that just moments ago.

He’d immediately settled a new fabricated layer of detachment between them.

Emmet focused on the breathing that wasn’t his.

In, and out with a whistle.

Why had he been so scared of asking Elesa if Ingo was there?

Maybe he was still unsure if it had been real, if he had truly come back.

Maybe he’d been so hellbent on avoiding family that his instinct to push them away from himself under the pretense that they would distract him from the duties of his work (the way everything from eating to resting to seeing people seemed to be conspiring to do, if one was to listen to him) had activated with a lag in his sudden bout of confusion when his brother had begun apologizing.

Like a faulty antivirus he’d read his presence as a threat to his self-made self-destructive hermitage, a failure in his decision to run away from the people he had undoubtedly hurt and continued to hurt in a way he could have never been forgiven for, and so he’d hurried to push his mind and body alike as far as possible from him.

What was wrong with him?

He suddenly stopped thinking.

Emmet blinked, then blinked again, eyebrows furrowed, trying to distract himself from the blank silence inside his skull to no avail.

His fingers were laying on skin. The shirt of Ingo’s pajamas must have hiked up at some point during their argument after he’d not so kindly deployed his entire weight on his twin’s stomach to get him to go back to sleep. Maybe after he’d adjusted himself before telling him to shut up. Or after he’d raised his arms to scratch his head, so that he would stop trying to wiggle his way into forcing him to fuck off.

Fingertips traced something that felt much different. He mindlessly dragged them back and forth a little to the side of his brother’s spine to figure out what on earth that texture belonged to.

It snaked upwards, he found out. Its edges felt strange, like the aftermath of an acid burn, leaving coarse skin that slowly smoothed towards the center in a large, long line.

He knew that feeling, but couldn’t place where he’d felt it.

Absent-mindedly, his index rubbed a small scar near his thumb, where he’d almost pierced and ripped the skin off in a moment of unparalleled anger at nothing and no one and everything and everyone.

A slight chill overtook his finger.

It spread all the way down into his heart in a matter of seconds.

His hands shaking slightly, he carefully grazed his brother’s back in search of something, anything, with a potent dread making his arms into sculptures of lead. He found, not far from the first, two more deep chasms of healed burns containing rivers of fixed skin, stretching until mere centimetres beneath the shoulder: the scarified tissue grew larger, larger, larger, the further upwards it went.

Maybe he should have stopped searching at that point.

Maybe he shouldn’t have found a myriad of smaller patches and patterns and lines of newer skin that shouldn’t have been there.

Maybe he shouldn’t have moved onto the uncovered sections of his brother’s arms to try his luck, to test if he could find any more, and be met with a new series of constellations painfully carved by who knows what outside forces.

He traced them in silence, devoid of thoughts.

(The ones that might have come to him wouldn’t have been pleasant anyways.)

He adjusted his grip a little better around the older twin, hugging him properly, sinking his face into his temple.

Emmet cried, for a while.

He cried, and felt very glad that his brother was there, crushing him under his weight.

At some point he must have started drenching Ingo’s hair with saltwater, because he heard him groan in a slightly annoyed tone; a hand reached out to scratch at his head as gibberish mumbles seemed to gently chastise him.

He might have apologized if his throat hadn’t felt so clogged up.

Another huff as mangled arms squeezed him a little more between them: “If I sing for you will you calm down?”

He responded to the sleeptalking with an affirmative whine.

“Alright,” Ingo sighed.

Emmet listened to the barely intelligible lullaby his brother whispered tiredly in his doze and allowed it to swipe away everything - his thoughts, his emotions, the blankness of his mind - to replace it all with simple sounds.

It was still so dark.

His eyelids were sort of heavy.

He snuggled into the embrace a little more.

They slept nine uninterrupted hours, not bothered by the alarm Ingo had wisely turned off with Eelektross’s help nor Crustle’s screams to be fed – which were masterfully kept silent thanks to Gurdurr and his increasing familiarity with the kitchen cabinets’ placements, contents and method of approach in case they were too high for him to reach – only awoken by a ring of the doorbell that informed them of Elesa’s arrival to check in on them.

(Considering he spent the rest of the day perfectly fine and more than functional despite spending it only doing barely anything more than idly existing in the company of people and Pokémon he loved more than life itself, Emmet had to admit a little begrudgingly that perhaps his theory of how getting more sleep was the thing that turned him into a barely coherent mess from time to time was not correct.)

(He did not allow the wandering reflections he’d unwisely unearthed while staring at the ceiling to resurface.)

(And if sometimes he still felt the burnt edged chasms he hadn’t seen on Ingo’s back under his fingertips, he could softly slam his head against his twin’s, and the steady tum – tum-tum, tum – tum-tum cadence with which his brother’s thumb pressed on his palm would melt his own increasingly frantic heartbeat back down to a calm rhythm.)

#pokémon #pokemon legends arceus #submas emmet #submas Ingo #random writing #hellooooooooooooo #this is much shorter than the previous chapter bc i was planning another one (that i need to write) but then said hmmm. too quick #im so sorry im still tagging this as pla i PROMIse its still relevant #anyways. have at thee #oh right. since theres affectionate touch. blnkshippers get the fuck out of here. no fucking romance allowed.

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astrobei · 1 year

Text

a body in motion - chapter 3

“Tell me something,” Mike says, as the silence stretches on. He’s still looking up at the ceiling, and it’s so dark that his eyes might as well be closed, but turning– being face-to-face with Will– feels daunting. Even without eye contact, the idea is enough to make something swoop low in his stomach, dangerous and warm. “Since we’re awake anyway.”

The sheets rustle some more as Will shifts. “What do you want me to tell you?”

#i'm sorry i lied #there is more #bc i have no self control and ended up with a 30k+ chapter #and i cannot in good conscience publish that #remember when i said this chapter would be shorter than ch2 for sure #i lied .#anyways i promise it's DONE IT'S DONE I PROMISE #I JUST NEED TO EDIT #SO TAKE THIS BC I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT #BUT PT 4 COMING SO SOON LIKE THIS WEEK #OK BYE #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fic

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sexynetra · 4 months

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY

Hi besties I lost track of time and uhhh long story short here's your wip Wednesday on a Thursday <3333 Editing is still happening - I want to get this out into the world asap!!

~~~~~~

“Fine, I’ll try it. But you have to teach me how to do it the right way.” Marcia leaned back, watching the minute changes in Anetra’s expression. Marcia had a fleeting impulse to kiss her but she brushed it aside as quickly as it came.

“Alright, you’re the boss. Just watch me.” Marcia preened a little. She liked the sound of that. The boss.

Anetra brought the pipe to her lips, eyes on Marcia as she gestured at the way she was holding the pipe. Marcia tried her best to pay attention, to figure out what to do without making a fool of herself, but she kept getting distracted by Anetra’s hands, missing whatever instructions Anetra was telling her. The way her finger pressed delicately against the small hole on the side of the pipe; the short, bitten-off nails; the easy, practiced way she held it.

She watched Anetra take a short breath and hold it for a moment before blowing a slow, lazy cloud of silver-blue smoke out the window. It was beautiful. Marcia still didn’t have the slightest idea how to do it herself but it was beautiful. Anetra held out the pipe to her and she hesitated, unsure what to do, and certain she was about to look like an idiot.

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