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hailsatanacab · 3 months

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I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache.

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were.

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too?

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence.

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How?

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman.

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year.

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating.

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..."

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he...

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please."

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now. "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb.

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc fanfic #wip game #thanks for the ask <3 and thanks for helping me remember this fic lol #also huge thanks for having the prompt linked because i have S O M A N Y prompt wips that i can't ever post because i've lost the post #didn't really know how to get danny to calm down #that's a lie #i have a few ideas of where this can go but no motivation for it - not against all the other wips #i'll keep at it and ig post to ao3 should it actually start looking alright #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#dudes did u kno u can pin shit to your clipboard on desktop because i fucking love that #also if you use the windows key + . there's like emojis and shit #(((φ(◎ロ◎;)φ)))#<- and kaomoji too!!!!!#anyway that's been fun facts and fanfic with me. ur welcome #oh shit my writing tag #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #at some point 'oh shit my writing tag' will just become my writing tag #anyway thank you again for the ask #good night everyone!!!!!

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stemmmm · 10 months

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going fastsly

#m.3d #wip spam #blender3d #lowpoly #looping gif #the arms are really hard to work with. the slightest movement elsewhere impacts them massively in ways i dont quite understand

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ink-fireplace-coffee · 1 year

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Heart of Stone: PrinceLover St. Valentine's Special (Part 3)

A/N: everything goes according to plan <3 beware of the angst though...

Pairing: PrinceLover (Agatha and Jasper)

WC: 1387

Warnings: mentions of death and the same hopeless feeling from the 2nd part...

[Part 1] [Part 2]

-----

Jasper dreamt again of the night he was turned into a Statue. It was a peaceful night, a summer -no, not summer, Thae, it was the second month of Thae- breeze blowing every now and then, creating a melody when passing in between the tree leaves.

The Witch was in front of Jasper, right in the middle of the interior garden. The King and the Queen (once upon a time referred to as Father and Mother, but not anymore) watched from afar, as if they were supervising that everything went along correctly. Drae wasn’t even there, and Jasper knew it was because it said more about her if she wasn’t.

He could imagine the comments of the maids and then butlers and guards the next morning: “Poor Princess, couldn’t even manage to say goodbye to her dear brother. The pain she carries is so big!”

All lies, of course. But again, all unimportant.

He locked eyes with the King in his dream: brown eyes meeting silver. His pleading and a little scared. A lot scared, actually. How could they allow this to happen? Even for the best of Cheasya?

His father’s eyes reflected nothing, as if he were watching a boring play, or staring towards a white wall, waiting for paint to dry. Unforgiving and uncaring. Just as Jasper always remembered them.

They seem to say: We do not care. Not about you. Never about you. You are just another pawn, another piece in the table that means ruling Cheasya. We do this for the Kingdom, but most importantly, for our own benefit.

Never for yours.

And yet, even if Jasper now wanted to scream at them, wanted to refuse doing this, wanted to leave (he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. It would mean not being alive now, not meeting Agatha, not escaping his family), that Jasper just wanted to be a good son, a good Heir, a good person.

So the Witch started chanting and the world turned white and gray, the stars vanishing. The Stars also vanished.

His last coherent thought was about how, if he wasn’t being cursed right now, he’d be staring at the night sky, admiring his kingdom, falling in love with life again. It didn’t matter. He was a piece of marble.

He was awake now, and with the realization of being conscient, the pain returned. It was as if he were burning, flesh unable to breathe, covered by stone again. It was slower and painful and nothing like how the Witch did it. It was torture.

Agony.

He grunted again, his thighs being constricted by the stone, forgetting how to breathe, how to move, how to think. There was only pain, only suffering.

This is how I die. The only coherent thought he could half muster. This is how I die.

Then, a cold hand pressing against his cheek. It was wet. Why was it wet? Had he been crying? His eyes focused on the figure above him: he was not crying but Agatha was. Eyes swelled by tears, tears running through her cheeks, landing on his face. A look of sorrow.

She was scared, he could tell. Jasper couldn’t let her be scared. Not now.

“Hey,” he whispered, and smiled a little, ignoring the pain, ignoring the feeling of being an ember.

“Jas,” her voice was broken and she was sobbing, heartbroken. A sadness he couldn’t ease. A problem he couldn’t solve. “What’s happening to you?”

But he couldn’t answer that, aside from an unhelpful “I’m turning to stone again. It’s more painful than last time. I don’t know how to stop it.”

This is how I die. If this is how I die, then-

So he picked up her hand, with all the energy he could gather. He couldn’t lift his own arm now. Their fingers grazed and then touched and then both hands were intertwined in the other.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded. He wanted to speak at a normal level but all that left his mouth was barely a whisper. Did Agatha hear him? She must’ve had, because her grip on his hand tightened, her weight lowered until she was sitting on the foot of his bed.

With her other hand, Agatha lifted his hair, plastered to his forehead. It felt nice to be cared for like that before passing. It felt like a treatment he wasn’t supposed to have, wasn’t supposed to deserve.

“How can I be worthy of this?”

“You need to stop thinking like you don’t need basic treatment,” she berated and that was much better than to see her cry, to glance at the decided look on her eyes, at her stubborn frown he loved to erase, to listen to her words, addressing him and telling him how he was not a failure- “... Are you listening to me?”

“Love, I think-”

“Don’t,” Agatha silenced him. “If you are going to say what I think you are going to say, don’t. We can’t give up yet: Imara and Kit went somewhere to search for something to make this all go away, and-” She paused, swallowed tears again, looked up to stop them from falling again. “You are going to be fine.”

It was the certainty of her words that filled him with hope. Such a strange feeling, a warmth inside his body, dreaming that everything will turn out to be okay. That he would recover and maybe they would make plans tomorrow or she would stay for longer that evening (oh, how he wished she would stay longer…)

“Cerad visited you again this morning?”

Agatha nodded. “Before Imara came and we arrived here I was talking to her… About you,” She frowned, like it was difficult for her to remember the conversation they had, only a few hours ago. “She said that our souls were-”

But the next word was replaced with a gasp: It had been easy to ignore, or not to perceive at first, the tingling feeling on the tips of her fingers, the hand that was firmly locked to Jasper’s. Now the feeling was abrasive: a cold sensation covering every single nerve termination, just above the cuticles, as if she was permanently holding ice, or were brushing a full blizzard.

She set free the hand and held it at eye level, at first unable to give an explanation to the pain, the feeling. It downed on her hard, like the world had fallen on top of her shoulders unexpectedly:

The pads of her fingers, almost covering completely the nails of the middle, index and ring finger were turning white, skin at the edge in deep purple. It reminded of the time Kit has covered his hands with plaster, after a crazy idea he had of working with clay and making sculptures.

Jasper’s eyes were focused on her fingers as well, every single oxygen particle had left his body, as well as the color from his face.

He called her name at the same time she called his. A whisper of warning, a cry for help, a beg, even if there was nothing neither of them could do. Both of them, affected by a curse they didn’t know about this morning or yesterday. Both of them, turning to stone in his bedroom, completely away from the world.

Above from the Azure, the Stars were watching The Prince and The Lover, huddled together as they transformed.

Hailmya turned to Arei.

“How much more?” She had been against this from the start, but they had outvoted her.

“We have to make sure,” the Star of Guidance replied, but she could see how Arei was not happy about this either.

“But what if they never… What if they turn all the way?”

“Hailmya,” Cerad cut her off gently. “Their friends would not let that happen, you know that.”

“They won’t be able to find anything to reverse my magic. I also know that.”

Arei closed his eyes, and then turned away from the scene. It pained him to watch this, no matter how necessary for their own existence and safety was. “We can only hope for them to realize the only way to break the spell sooner than later.”

The world stilled, as if it were holding its breath, watching the young couple. A test, designed and conducted by the Stars: cruel and unforgiving.

----

Marble and Magic taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @enchanted-lightning-aes @zonnemaagd @alexwritesfiction @euphoniouspandemonium @fiercely-raging-writer @dontcrywrite @47crayons @the-writing-moon @diphthongsfordays @writing-is-a-martial-art @shamblingthing @kingsinking @generalblizzarddreamer @chayscribbles @rose-bookblood

#i apologize to everyone in advance #it'll get better i promise #not yet but you know #my writing #ship: princelover #princelover valetine's special #writers of tumblr #wip: marble and magic #wip: m&m #series: the descendants of the stars #writeblr #am writing #spilled ink

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cilly-the-writer · 1 year

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Magical and Magicless | Excerpt | Teo, Ember, and Rayna | 1,175

CW: Violence, blood

Teo turned his wrist over, inspecting the sleeved glove. The white crystals had been set neatly on the top of the black metal armor. It felt like something royalty would wear to a fancy, formal magic duel.

“This is perfect. Now I just have to block your town’s magic before the anti-magic effect wears–.”

That's when Rayna appeared with a flash of sparkling dust in front of them. She had teleported into the shop with a grim look on her face. Rayna took a sharp step in Teo’s direction as she began to speak low.

“I’m warning you now,” Rayna said, “If you don’t give me those stones, I will kill you.”

Teo’s knee-jerk reaction was to make a nervous, teeth gritting face and teleport. He wasn’t sticking around just to get attacked.

Teo reappeared somewhere in the middle of town. There were several exposed formations of underground crystals almost everywhere he looked. He may as well start here. Teo waved his hands apart, similarly to how he had seen Rayna draining the forest’s energy, and held them out. Except he wasn’t taking the town’s magic–he was casting an anti-magic effect on it. It was only going to be out of order temporarily.

A white light glowed at his fingertips, covering all the exposed crystals as he held his arms out. These white lights lit up across town, everywhere where there were crystals in the ground. But his magic reach only went so far. And Rayna saw the lights shining weaker to the east and brighter as she looked out of the shop. She just had to follow the lights in the ground. She dashed out of there and hit the ground running hard.

It wasn’t too long before Rayna caught up to him. She was fast. She found him in less than a minute. Her boots striking the stone path made him turn around with a tight feeling in his throat. Maybe he hadn’t thought this through too well. He didn’t have any magic to defend himself now.

“Wait!” Teo threw his hands up. “You don’t really want to kill me, right? Can’t we talk?”

“About what?” Rayna asked, sidestepping around him to keep an eye on the surrounding civilians who had taken interest in the spectacle unfolding.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you taking everyone’s magic?”

“Magic is a curse,” Rayna said, “It invites selfishness and ruin. Power hungry monsters. Just look at yourself. What are you here for? Power. You can’t stand the thought of losing magic apparently.”

“I’m not power hungry!” Teo said.

“Sure. Maybe not you. But there are plenty of bad apples out there. And the power they hold over people needs to be extinguished. Every trace of it.”

“You don't understand. It’s not all bad. Magic saved my sister's life. She needs–.”

“What a coincidence. Magic killed my sister.” Rayna’s dull tone was followed by a knife attack and at the speed she hurled it at him–it was too late to dodge. It struck him in the gut and he cried out, holding a hand over his stomach around where it had impaled him.

“Ugh…”

He struggled to hold his stance as a heavy sinking feeling swept over him. Rayna strode toward him and he realized he shouldn’t have taken the town’s magic yet. He should have fought her off first. But it was too late for that.

Luckily though, not everyone’s magic was gone.

Ember teleported in right beside Teo and hooked his arm under hers before teleporting out somewhere far, far away. They were gone in an instant. Rayna froze upon the realization that they wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. She huffed, a bitter look wiping the surprised look off her face.

Ember and Teo reappeared in a stone cottage in the middle of a forest. The outside walls were overgrown with moss. Clusters of lime green crystal grew around the perimeter of the cottage. Bird songs echoed everywhere around them from deep within the forest. The inside of the cottage was a bit dark, except for a bright veil of sunlight shining over them. Teo looked around, breathing hard on a count of being impaled with a knife and having no clue where they were. They had teleported onto an old couch covered in a dusty, white sheet. The hardwood floors were pretty barren. There was a fireplace and some tables and chairs. It didn’t look like anyone had lived here in a long time.

“How did you–?” Teo glanced at Ember.

Ember held up her armored glove. A colorful crystal with a rainbow gradient was set on top of the glove.

“I set it real quick when Rayna ran after you.” Ember said. “I think you only blocked the crystals in the ground.”

“Oh.” Teo said, blinking. Then looking down at the knife in his gut, he added, “You think you can teleport us to a hospital?”

Ember laughed. She moved the goggles over her face to the top of her head and then pulled out a small burlap drawstring bag.

“Don’t worry, I came prepared.” Inside, there was a collection of marble sized crystals in all different colors. Ember pulled it open and pinched one of the red crystals in between her fingers. “I have a healing crystal.”

Teo stared at it skeptically. How was that little grain of a crystal going to heal his knife wound?

“Please tell me you have a sleep inducing crystal in there.”

“Why do you ask?” Yet, before he could respond, Ember grabbed his side and yanked the knife out.

Teo held back the yelp of pain in his throat as he sank backward and his head hit the armrest. The sudden blood loss was dizzying. Ember moved quickly to hold the red crystal over his wound. The red light glowed and the blood gushing from his wound slowed. It wasn’t going to heal him super fast, so he was going to feel it for a little while.

“That’s why…” Teo said.

“If you’re brave enough to face Rayna by yourself,” Ember said, “you’re brave enough to handle that.”

“No, I’m not.” Teo argued weakly.

Ember laughed at his insistence.

“So what was the plan? Attacking Rayna without magic? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know…” Teo said. “I just wanted to stop her… My sister needs magic. She has a bad heart condition… I just can’t let her take all of the world’s magic."

Ember didn't respond right away.

"Well, if that rock really blocks her magic," Ember said. "I'll help you stop her. If my town loses teleporting, everything's going to fall apart. Our city was built around magic. That holds up all our transportation, our business, our doctors and healers… everything." Ember kept the red crystal steady over the side of his stomach. The wound was closing, but it was still very red and Teo still looked like he was in a lot of discomfort.

"I should probably warn you, she has a lot of knives."

Ember grinned.

"So do I."

#scheduled #writing #writeblr #magic #wip: M&M

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